Category Archives: Faith

Thanksgiving Traditions

If your home looks like mine, colorful fall leaves have found their way to every room of the house, my one annual, frivolous expense, a yummy smelling pumpkin spice candle is more than half-way used up by now, and the hall closet has been ransacked by kids hurrying to find a jacket to take to school on unexpectedly chilly mornings.  I love it!

With Thanksgiving next week, I am scouring Pinterest and my familiar cookbooks to decide what to make for “the dinner.”  We share this holiday with extended family, and it’s just so fun to have everyone bring their family’s favorite dishes to share.

One dish that represents our clan is pie.  No, I’m not a great pie maker.  I’m not sure I’m even a good pie maker, but the story behind this pie is what has made it a family tradition.

Several years ago, I was in the kitchen, with the other women folk in the family, and we were cooking up a storm.  Every burner was hot, the oven was roasting, and every last inch of counter space filled was with cutting boards, knives, vegetables – you name it.  I was totally in my element.

In the background, the Macy’s Day Parade played with my husband and kids narrating every float so I could run into the family room to see our favorites.  The sun was bright, the air crisp, and Thanksgiving smells filled every room.

While I was busy chopping, dicing and slicing, my firstborn, barely double-digits, walked into the kitchen.  He came over to me and said, Can we bake something?

Um, huh? I thought as the menu was set and every minute leading up to the glutton-fest was allocated for demanding recipes already in progress.

A bit confused, I asked him, Like what, Honey?

I was thinking pie.

Pie? I asked.  I don’t really know how to make a good pie.

I’m sure we can find a recipe, or just make one up, he insisted.

Hmm.  I’m not sure we even have the ingredients and the grocery store is closed now, I answered while stirring pots and checking oven thermometers and whisking and blending and chopping.

I love to cook with my kids.  But, now?  It had to be right now?  I was obviously a little busy at the moment.

How about an apple pie? he suggested.

Welll, um, I began.  At that moment, my mommy’s eyes caught his gorgeous hazel eyes and I saw the sincerity in his request.  He wasn’t asking to make more food to eat.  He was asking to be a part of what I was doing.  He wanted time with me.  He wanted to do something special with me on Thanksgiving.

I gazed at his tenderness and saw just how young he still was, and the longer I looked at him, the more I realized my children won’t be little forever.

I put my cutting knife down, rested my hands on his shoulders, and said, You bet.  Let’s bake an apple pie!

He got so excited, but I didn’t know where to begin.  Putting everything on simmer, I abandoned my cooking projects for time with my son.

We combed through The Joy of Cooking cookbook and found a basic pie crust recipe.  Everything we made had to be scratch because stores were closed.  I am so glad they were, because otherwise I never would have know what an awesome pastry crust maker my son is!  He kneads that dough until you can almost see your reflection!  I am way too impatient to stand there and work it, but he loves it.

We found 2 apples, but a decent pie really needs at least 4, so we found out in our quest.  Thinking hard for something else we could add, I remembered my mother-in-law made a grape pie once that was really good!  I never would have thought of using grapes in a cooked pie, but it was delicious.

My son foraged through the refrigerator and sure enough we had exactly 2 cups of grapes. Perfect.

We assembled the apple & grape pie, and with a little leftover pastry dough we cut out a single turkey shape using a cookie cutter and placed it on top of the crust.

The Great Turkey Pie was born!

Not only was it delicious, but we had the time of our lives making it together.

Holidays can quickly become a nightmare when the stress of expectations steals our joy and the true meaning of the season is buried under futile projects (many of them self-imposed).  For that Thanksgiving, and every one since, I am truly thankful I have children who want to be with me, do fun things together, and aren’t afraid to ask and not assume Mom is too busy.

I never want to be too busy for my kids – especially on the holidays.

Every year when my son and I make this special pie together, it is time I so look forward to, because he’s getting older.  I want to make life promise me that he and I will always make this pie together, perhaps even with his children helping us one day, but life won’t make that promise.

What I do have is this Thanksgiving, Lord willing.  Whatever else is swirling around on the holidays, The Great Turkey Pie is my reminder to love, cherish and enjoy my family right now.  Here’s the irony – I have no idea what all of the other food I made was now!  All that hard work with no memory now whatsoever!  The perfect turkey or impressive side dishes, cute homemade place cards or a magazine-worthy table setting doesn’t come near to equating making memories with my family.

Yeah, I’d love to have a table and trimmings that look like something out of Pottery Barn or Sur La Table.  But, I’ll take committing to fewer bells and whistles in order to have more of myself to give my family.

More than a gourmet meal, my son wanted to spend time with me.  Me!  A regular wife and mom who constantly questions whether she’s getting this parenting thing right.  His desire for my attention told me how much he loved me, and stopping my agenda to be with him told him the same.  Fun times now.  Cherished memories tomorrow.  I am blessed.  I am thankful.

Does arguing with your spouse count as going to church?

Our family attends church every week unless we are out of town or ill.  This is not to achieve some perfect attendance award, but if a solid commitment to go is not regularly upheld, it is way to easy to find excuses not to go.

Excuses not to go?  But, we love our church!  We absolutely love going to church.  It’s a warm, loving, Bible-teaching church filled with many of our favorite people in the entire world.  So what’s the problem?

The problem is this annoying thing called sinful nature.  Speaking for myself, after living this many years on earth, I have realized that it only takes me missing two consecutive Sundays before the temptation begins to creep in to use that allocated time for myself.

When we take the day off of work, or forego a class in college, it opens up free time that wasn’t there before.  Do you get as excited as I do about how to spend it?  Work, play, sleep – I can fill bonus hours in countless ways.  When going to church feels optional, I begin to think about all of the other things I could be doing.

That’s the enemy’s whispers because of two reasons: One, he knows the Bible instructs us to go, and it does because of the second reason…there is blessing in going.  We worship, learn, fellowship, and are inspired and encouraged by others as well as have opportunities to serve fellow believers to list a few.

Hebrews 10:25, Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another – and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

So, our family attends church every week without question.  However, recently, the train in our family derailed.  Actually, it derailed Saturday night.  That was the first problem.  My husband and I have been married for 22 years.  We’ve seen each other at our worst and at our best.  We’ve been through tragedy, victory, and just about everything in between.  But, this Saturday night, we sinned.

We let the sun go down on our anger.

Every marriage has hot spots.  If not, I’d love to meet the couple that never, ever has any problems whatsoever.  When two sinful people take an oath to live the rest of their lives together, differences are sure to appear.  It’s just going to happen.

We had an issue that is an actual problem.  None of this leaving the toilet seat up or down or where to squeeze the toothpaste tube stuff.  That’s newlywed growing pains.  This had to do with different parenting styles in a certain area.  The details aren’t important here, but with a valid issue as real as this one, that Saturday night we went to bed unwilling to budge in our positions.

In the wee hours of the night, when my head finally hit the pillow, I thought about church which was only a sunrise away.  Ug.  Realizing it wasn’t going to happen because of Bruce’s and my standoff, I turned off my preset alarm and fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up with a heaviness in my heart.  Going to bed angry with each other was our first mistake.  We know better, so how is it we can justify and rationalize sin?  I knew a couple once who went to bed in a heated argument so much so, one of them left the bedroom and slept somewhere else in the house.  Overnight, the wife had a massive heart attack in her sleep and died.  The husband is left living the rest of his life knowing a fight was his last interaction with her.  A heavy weight to bear indeed.

Scripture is clear – In your anger do not sin; when you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent… – Psalm 4:4

‘In your anger do not sin’ Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. – Ephesians 4:26-27

We did.

We should have gotten out of bed and dealt with it, but let’s face it – too much stubbornness and pride was at stake.

The next morning, while the kids slept in, Bruce and I had to figure out where we were going from here.  In the early years of our marriage, there were times we went to church blazing mad at each other.  We didn’t speak to each other the whole time, but were nice and sweet as honey to everyone else.  Hypocrisy.

How dare I hug a neck or share a laugh with a friend or casual acquaintance while I shoot laser eyes at the man who voluntarily entered a covenant with me to spend the rest of his life with me – and me with him.

But, sometimes problems just can’t be solved by the time the music starts.  Like problems that pop up on the way to church, for example.  What do we do then?  We have different roles of service we are committed to serve.  Things are expected of us.  Do we let everyone down?

Wow.  Writing this lets me see how much going to church can become more about people and less about God.  While we are tangled up in our drama, it’s like God is standing there saying, Helloooo!  What about Me? I thought you were coming to meet with Me?

Church is God’s house of prayer (Isaiah 56:7; Matthew 21:13).  So what does God say about conflict and attendance?  Jesus spoke directly to it in Matthew 5:23 –

Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar.  First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come offer your gift.

Ouch.

But, He’s right.  Believe me, I’ve tried to skirt around this.  I’ve gone to church before knowing this Scripture, so I thought that if I just didn’t worship while the music played I could still reap all of the other benefits of church and serve my duties.

What?

Everything we do is an act of worship.

Romans 12: 1-2, Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. 

But, Bruce and I not going to church meant our kids would have to miss, too.

Yep.

There is a cost to sin.  Our first sin was going to bed angry and not resolving it.  The cost?  All of us miss church.

So we did.

They slept, blissfully unaware of Bruce and I working through this sticky issue we had between us.  For two hours, we talked, debated, talked…round and round we went.

We eventually resolved our conflict.  New strides were made in this area more than in many attempts in the past.  It was great!  Progress! Apologies were offered.  Tempers cooled down.  And everything culminated in praying together and starting the day over – ironically just as the last hour of church ended.

I remember thinking to myself, It’s strange, but I feel like I’ve been to church today.  We missed the music, the teaching, our friends and our service, but God was able to finally break through our stubborn hearts and help us resolve a long-standing issue.  We grew as people and as a couple.  We grew in our faith.  Hey, aren’t those things some of what church is about?

We’ll stream the sermon we missed online, but I’ll tell you that I feel like I got a great one at home.  We felt God’s hand of discipline in that our kids missed church as a result of our sin of going to bed with unresolved anger.  Children learn future habits from their parents.  Do I want my children’s marriages to be ones laced with fake smiles hiding hard hearts on Sunday morning, or be willing to miss a rare Sunday to resolve conflict and return to church with genuine love and living in peace and harmony with their spouse?  I would beg them to forfeit the proverbial perfect attendance gold star in lieu of being righteous in God’s eyes and in the eyes of their spouse.

Here’s the two ways the rest afternoon could have gone: We could have gone to church spitting mad and held it in for a few hours.  However, the minute we got home that can of worms would pop open and everything would start up all over again – probably for the rest of the day.

Or, as it happened, after praying with each other, we prayed with the kids for God to be with us in our day.  This resulted in a picnic!  We went to a favorite little shopping place that has green space and each of us got lunch from where we wanted – all within walking distance from each other.  We had a family picnic – even brought the dog and our newest pet, a hedgehog.  Bruce, leaning on crutches and me with my surgical shoe firmly planted in the ground, threw the football with our kids.  We played frisbee and took silly pictures of our pets.  We thoroughly enjoyed the gorgeous fall air and warm sunshine.  We stayed for hours.  It was some of the most enjoyable family time we’ve had in a while (thanks to the medical issues we’ve battled lately).

One very surprising thing happened that afternoon I must share because it wasn’t a coincidence.  Like I mentioned, we each got a to-go box from the different restaurants we wanted.  Donning my casual athletic shorts, a t-shirt and one running shoe :)I walked into the place where my food was waiting.

Stepping up to the counter, I waited while two guys looked pretty busy filling orders.  One of them looked up at me and said, completely out of the blue, You look like you’re expecting to have a great day today!

Not convinced I heard him correctly, I kindly asked him to repeat.  He said the same thing.

I almost went the self-deprecating route, telling him how much a shower helps, but I decided not to.  Instead, I smiled and muttered a quizzical Thank you.

He paused from his duties, looked at me, and said, It’s like you are shining.  You have this glow about you.

I must say I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that before.  A little embarrassed, I wasn’t sure how to respond.  I think I let out a nervous giggle (I do that sometimes).  I paid for my food and joined my crew at the picnic.

While eating, I told my family what happened.  Bruce said, He saw Jesus in you. (Matthew 5:16)

Hmm.  That guy’s remarks was such an odd moment to experience.  But, I believe God allowed it for a reason.  It proved to me, in a most unique way, that God’s ways really do work.  They really are best.

I know my marriage and I know me.  I can be stubborn!  If we had gone to church under false pretenses, the afternoon would have been miserable. A dark cloud would have hung over our house and who knows how long we would have drug out our argument.

Instead, we dealt with the matter at hand, however inconvenient to our family’s schedule, and enjoyed a blissful afternoon of rest and relaxation, laughing and sharing life together.  The light of Christ shone through our humanness because God knows what He’s doing.  A light so bright that evidentially it can radiate to the naked eye.  Humbling!

He’s given us instructions for living because they glorify Him and are in our best interest.

More than that nice guy in the restaurant, I want Christ’s light in me to shine on my family – my husband and children.  I want to be the same person in the privacy of our home that I am in public view at church.  Their opinion of me matters most.  But, more than what they think, I want the God I serve to be pleased with me.  Even above my husband, God is the One I must ultimately answer to.

My family ended the awesome day yesterday watching the 1966 classic, It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (an annual tradition for us).  Linus thinks he’s found the most sincere pumpkin patch for the imaginary Great Pumpkin to visit.  He tells Lucy, Look around, not a sign of hypocrisy in sight.  May we be found the same.

I realize some problems are bigger than a weekend.  I get that.  But, what God is getting at is that what is in our control, what is our responsibility, we should own.  We have the freedom to be angry, but are instructed not to sin in our anger.  As a friend and I were just saying earlier this week, we reach our victories quickest when we don’t stumble along the path.  Had Bruce and I dealt with the conflict head-on, tired and all, instead of going to bed, we would have reached resolution hours earlier, gotten a better night’s sleep, and had been able to go to church with clear consciences and whole hearts.

Below are some go-to Scriptures I frequently reference and hope they are a blessing to you as well…

Hebrews 4:14-16, Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence,so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Jeremiah 6:16, This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls…”

Romans 12:9 – 10, Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.  Be devoted to one another in brotherly love.  Honor one another above yourselves.

Romans 12:18, If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

Hebrews 12:1-3, Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross,scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

1 Corinthians 9:24, Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?  Run in such a way as to get the prize.


The pink backpack

I don’t know about you, but today, my whole household is so thankful it’s Friday!  What a week.  Weathering peaks and valleys, failures and victories, at the close of this day we will tuck this week into the history books and look forward to much needed rest this weekend.

But before I can go into chillaxin’ mode, one last day must be completed.  This began with 2 carpool runs to the same school.  My kids were struggling to get ready on time, and when one was finally good to go, I decided to make the first run.

On the way, I passed a dad walking his little girl to school.

Once through the drop off line, I headed back home for my second child.  Making an about face with my van, I headed back to school with my teen in tow.

Going through the same carpool line again, I noticed at the intersection of the school light was the dad and little girl I passed before.

They stood on the corner together, and what they were doing caught my eye.

He had her bubblegum pink backpack on his back and her lunchbox in his hand.  Slowly, he pulled the backpack off and gave it to her.  He handed her the lunchbox and told her he loved her.

I’m sure it was the blazing morning sun shining offensively in my eyes that made them water.  Or was it?  Pulling out of the school parking lot, I rounded the corner and glanced at them in my rear view mirror.

All the way home, I replayed the image of this very tall dad with a small, pink backpack strapped to his back.

I stopped the day long enough to grab some breakfast and have a moment with God.  I read my devotion, some Scripture and began to pray.  This week, I confess, has been filled with prayers on the run.  Not something I am proud of.

Today was different.  After hearing a message from David Jeremiah yesterday on the radio about the importance of giving our daily priorities to God, I realized I had asked God to go along for the ride instead of asking Him to drive.

So today, I stopped and prayed.  My raw, honest words surprised me.  I said something like, I’m sorry God that I cannot present to you a prettier me.  I am weary.  Weary of the stuff in life that won’t turn me loose.  I’m trying to live in the spiritual realm, but it’s really hard when tangible stuff grabs a hold of me and won’t let me go.  Things that demand my time and attention.  I feel like…like…like my office desk.  I am the desk, and all of the stuff in life is burying me.  Everything demands, ‘Do me first!’  Everything screams, ‘I’m most important!’  Paperwork, phone calls, emails, errands, medical stuff, school stuff, volunteer stuff, so many kinds of stuff!  I am supposed to take care of everything, at the same time and with the same amount of energy and effort, while standing and holding myself and all of it up – with a bad foot.  It’s just so much!  I’m weary of it all.  And, I’m weary of my foot recovery.  I’m weary of my husband’s injury and the havoc both of these have reeked in our family life.  I’m weary of homework, watching my kids struggle for sleep, clutter everywhere because 24 hours in a day aren’t enough, and that no matter how behind I feel, or how slow I’m moving with my dumb, hurting foot, life just keeps bringing it.  I dread getting out of bed in the morning because from the moment my eyes open, the problems are right there – staring at me while I bury my head in the pillow.  From the time my feet hit the floor, the issues demand my attention – before I can brush my teeth.  I wish I could present to You a beautiful bride of Christ who radiates calm and who is organized, and efficient.  Instead, it’s me.  The office desk.  Flat, silent, and who feels more practical than pretty.  Will You help me order my day?  See, I’ve written it all down.  Everything that must be done.  Please arrange it according to Your divine plan – and grant me the strength to do it.

God met me in that moment.  He brought to mind that dad, his little girl, and her backpack.  He said, I’m with you Baby Girl, every day, from the moment the sun rises.  In fact, I’ve been with you all night.  Watching over you (Psalm 121), singing over you (Zephaniah 3:17) and tending to you.  Everything you have on that list is packed in your backpack.  It may not be bubblegum pink, but it’s heavy for you, with things you must do and what is expected of you, like that little girl’s was.  And like her father carried her load for her, so I want to carry yours.  Let me strap it on and walk with you on this journey we call Today.  I’ll even hold your hand and carry your lunchbox full of needs.  I’d carry your backpack of demands even if it were girly pink because I am secure enough in who I AM to my children.  I am strong.  Capable.  Loving.  Willing.

Wow.  God has a way of breaking through walls around our hearts and going right into the deepest part of our souls.  The hidden places we guard so carefully.

I remembered feeling so touched by the moment of watching that dad and his little girl, but couldn’t put my finger on it as to why.  Now I understood.  It was bittersweet, quite honestly.  Part of me felt sad, okay, maybe a little sorry for myself, that not for one day in my entire life have I felt the tender touch of a father.  Neither by my biological father or stepfather.  Not for one day have I known what it’s like to rely on either dad to help me or be there for me in the tough stuff.  I felt those feelings first.

But, God paralleled those thoughts with Truth.  I may not have a human father figure to care for me, but God is my Abba Father, a.k.a. Daddy, and He loves me very much.  He always has, and always will, be happy to help.  He is there to share the journey, hold our hand, and provide for our needs.  Moreover, He’s not just there to accompany us, but He offers to carry our load for us while we sojourney the 24/7/365 with Him.  His grace, love and faithfulness to His promise to never leave us fills my heart with peace and gives me everything I need to do the day…and smile doing it!

I’m glad my kids were running late today.  What began as a harried moment, transformed into an entirely different perspective on the day.  Had they ridden the bus, I never would have seen that dad and his little girl – or her pink backpack strapped over his broad shoulders.

What was heavy for her, was easy for him – sipping his coffee as they walked.

What’s in your backpack today?  Is the weight of it cutting into your shoulders or bruising the muscles in your back?  God is more than willing to carry it for you – if you will trust Him and release it into His care.

Psalm 91:1, He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

Psalm 55:22, Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall.

Isaiah 40:11, He tends his flock like a shepherd:  He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.

1 Peter 5:7, Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

Matthew 11:28-30, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Election hangover

This morning, I woke up blind with tiredness.  I reset the alarm for a coveted 15 more minutes – hoping in those 15 minutes everything would fix itself and I could start this day with a spring in my step.  Not.

Dragging myself out of bed, a lack of sleep stung my eyes.  I stayed up into the wee hours last night watching everything about the election, then fell into bed with a huge sense of disappointment and a feeling of dread about the future.

As I scurried around on my good foot this morning (now running late since I overslept) organizing lunches, breakfast, laundry, etc. my thoughts were completely preoccupied with bewilderment, confusion, and anger at how anyone thinks we are so better off now as a nation that we want to continue this for four more years.  I am utterly drained from the intellectual and emotional investment I made into the campaign season.  I feel physically sick to my stomach about the thought of the repercussions our nation faces.  But, there is a day to begin.

I woke up my daughter, and the first thing she asked was, Who won?

Telling her the results, she replied, So are you going to wear all black today?

She remembered that sometime during the election season, I said that if my candidate didn’t win, I would wear all black the next day symbolizing my mourning.

When it was time for me to get myself ready, I stood at my closet and stared blankly into the abyss of textures and colors.  Reaching for my black pants, I glanced at my tops.  Fingering my way down the rack, I look intently at the few black tops I own.

Hmm, I muttered to myself, what to wear…

I thought about my daughter and what I had said, and in that moment of decision I chose not to play.

Nope, no black for me, I said to myself pulling my favorite blue jeans from the rack.  Wearing all black seemed like giving into the feelings of angst that taunt me today.

Leaving the house, I plucked my political sign from the yard and tossed it in the back seat.  The heaviness and hopelessness in my heart was so strong it made my head hurt.

Driving in a daze of the sobering reality that awoke me this morning, I turned on the radio to drown out the sea of thoughts rolling through my mind.

One song after another sang of God’s faithfulness, His love and His encouragement to finish our race strong.  Note by note, lyric by lyric, His presence began to cut through the dark cloud that hung over my head.  I found myself ever-so-slightly humming the tunes to these familiar songs.  Then, I began to mouth them in the middle of morning rush hour.

Without warning, I was raptured in praise and my eyes were taken off this world and fixed on what is to come.  In a moment, my perspective snapped back as I shook off the negative attitude.

So, what did this election do for me?  It makes me very sad for my fellow citizens who will be affected by penalizing healthcare changes, mandatory work hour decreases, and the vulnerability we face with a decreasing military defense and increasing terror threats and actions toward us.  I could go on.

However, the stark reality of this life made me almost giddy about the life that is to come.  The one that will last forever.  This life is so short – but a breath – but what will come is eternal (James 4:14).  I’m not saying that I am going to be ignorant to the issues we face, or run from the fight to protect the unborn and the sanctity of marriage, as well as respect and care for the elderly, and advocate for religious freedom (Micah 6:8; James 4:17).

I am saying that in middle of this fight, my perspective remains on what is constant, not shifting like shadows or the tide.  I am a citizen of another country in the unseen realm.  There, there is no political divide, no fear, no harm, no sadness.  There is peace, wholeness, and holiness.

These election results almost made me slip in my outlook on life (Psalm 73).  Instead, I am empowered by loosening my tethers to this world as I look forward to God fulfilling His promise to me about what is to come (Hebrews 11:39-40).  I could be bitter and angry, but instead I will run my race stronger in hopes that others who do not call Christ Savior will one day and join me in the awesomeness that is coming (Hebrews 12:1-2; Philippians 3:13-14).

I realize all over again that believers are indeed strangers, foreigners to this world (1 Peter 2:11).  We speak nonsense to those who don’t know Christ (1 Corinthians 1:18).  Our values are different.  Our purposes are driven by divine inspiration, and our empowerment is given by a force (the Holy Spirit) that nothing in this tangible world can take away (1 Corinthians 2:14).

What began this morning for me as an election hangover (proverbially speaking), God redeemed in me as a reassurance of where my eternal citizenship belongs (Ephesians 2:19; Philippians 3: 18-21).

Will there be hard days of change?  Yes.  Will I get frustrated and even downtrodden?  Most definitely.  Will I lose hope and fear God has forsaken me?  No. (Deuteronomy 31:6; Joshua 1:5)

Believers throughout time have faced generations of difficulty (Matthew 5:12).  We can succumb to its bullying or remember where our loyalty lies and follow God’s ways – even if no one else around us does.

Life is short.  Time is relative.  The eternal promise God has given believers remains in tact.  Strong.  Powerful.  Unstoppable.  Reliable.  Trustworthy.

For the days God has ordained for me to traverse this planet, I will surrender them for His glory – come what may.  Jesus never promised us an easy life with no difficulties or disappointments.  In fact, He promised us there would be hardship and instructed us to pick up our cross and follow Him anyway (John 16:33).

Regardless of who calls 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue their temporary home address, I am excited about a life waiting for me with a permanent home that neither time or circumstance can take away.  Until that day, we plug on doing what He has called for us to do today, as today is all we’ve been given.  And, we aren’t doing this thing called life alone.  With the day that we’ve been given, God has given us what we need to complete it.  So be it.  Let’s get started, because the gift of salvation we were given wasn’t meant to be kept on a shelf in our souls.  It was meant to be shared.

I was in a bookstore today and saw two nannies enjoying coffee together.  The boys they had with them were just little guys – toddlers.  Peanuts.  Two of the cutest boys you’ve ever seen.  The nannies were getting ready to leave, when the sweet boys embraced each other tightly.  With their little bowl haircuts and lisps, they hugged and said goodbye.  Their tender hearts were so evident when they said they hope they see each other again soon.  What a moment to savor, and everyone – including me – did.

I thought to myself, I wonder if they will be divided by political party or controversial issues when they are older?  Will they grow closer or farther apart?  Will their hugs today turn into competitive, insincere handshakes later?  They are so innocent now.  What could prove to sever their friendship when they’ve grown into men?

It’s true.  What we feel passionately about draws boundary lines in our lives.  I was shocked to see that our neighbors had an opposing political sign  in their yard yesterday.  Shocked.

As believers, can we put aside the things of this world to extend a friendly handshake or hug or help to those who oppose us?  Not only can we, but we have a responsibility to be salt and light in this world.  As the hands of time tick closer to a day when all things will cease, and as issues grow hotter – along with tempers over them – may our hearts remain like these little guys I saw today…genuine, tender and kind.

In heaven and on the new earth, there will be no political parties.  We will be people, conformed to the likeness of Christ.  Let’s take every opportunity, while fighting the good fight of faith, to practice this on earth because many still don’t call Christ their Lord.

Driving home this afternoon, I glanced at the trees that lined the streets like soldiers.  Burning colors of red, orange and yellow lit the skyline as bright as any sunset I’ve seen.

They reminded me that, just like the seasons of the calendar, everything – including an election – has a season (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8).  This upcoming political season doesn’t excite me.  Rather, it disappoints me.  Nonetheless, it is just a season.  One that God controls, not man.  A season that will bring about God’s glory one way or the other.  May we be part of the work that lets Him shine.

Hebrews 13:21, May the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him,through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

~ Kristi

***Here is a great article regarding post-election perspective.  Check it out! http://onenewsnow.com/perspectives/peter-heck/2012/11/07/a-message-to-discouraged-christians

An unexpected election response

This morning, I left my home to vote.  Hobbling through the doors in my surgical shoe, I followed protocol and stood in line.  When it was my turn to vote, I stepped behind the machine and suddenly halted in my tracks.

I just stood there, staring at the electronic board.  Months had culminated to this moment, and I could almost feel an electricity in the air.

Inhaling a long, deep breath, I voted.  In the middle of casting my ballot, an applause broke out in the room.  Startled, I looked to the woman next to me voting and asked what everyone was clapping for.  She pointed to a pretty, 18 year-old young woman and said it was her first time every voting.  I was so proud of her!

Once I finished, I left and texted my husband, telling him to come right away as the line wasn’t long.  He’s on crutches, so the less standing time the better.  It’s a tradition for us to take our kids with us to vote.  They’ve been to countless elections.  I want them to be knowledgeable and comfortable with the process.  This year they got to go with Dad.  A treat!

Perhaps some of my passion for our children coming with us to vote is because, to this day, I vividly remember walking into my voting precinct at 18 and feeling utterly lost.  I had no idea what I was doing, and was embarrassed that it showed all over my deer-in-headlights expression.  I want our children, when they turn 18, to confidently know how to educate themselves on who to vote for and then make the time to do it.

America’s voting percentages have been pathetic at times.  We have been granted a privilege, and it is our responsibility to vote as citizens of this nation.  If I may be so bold, my philosophy is this…vote or don’t complain later.  Voting is our opportunity to speak, and if we forfeit that gift which was bought by the blood and sacrifice of countless men and women who have paid the price of our freedom, then don’t bother complaining later.  Harsh, I know.  But, it’s how I believe.

In the parking lot of my precinct, a wave of emotion hit me completely unexpectedly.  Tears welled up in my eyes and a lump swelled in my throat.  Bewildered, I simply let the emotion flow.  When I paused, I thought about what I was feeling, and realized it was an overflow of relief and release over this election.

For months, I have followed this election extremely closely.  I’ve listened to the debates, watched countless interviews and analyses and read many, many articles from every angle.  The only “information” I ignore are political ads.  Rhetoric.  And, for the first time in my entire life, I stuck a presidential candidate sign in my front yard.

After months of praying, pleading and begging with God to find mercy and grace on this incredible nation, today I awoke with no words.  I told God, I feel I am out of prayer over this.  I am exhausted over this election.

Instead, I have sung worship and praise songs that speak my heart – and prayed some more as the hours pass.

Emotion overwhelmed my soul this morning, even way before a result is rendered, and now that I have taken the last step and voted, I wait knowing there is nothing else I can do except continue to pray.  As an American voter, we are each a part of a very large team.  That team is running a generational marathon.  As a team member, I have done what I have been able to do in my own power, and casting my vote was my finish line.  The baton has been passed.

However the results turn out, I can sleep at night knowing I did what I could – in the midst of surgery, my husband’s injury, and the blessed, chaotic daily grind.

That is what I want our kids to take away from this election and every election.  Every person is important.  Every vote is important.  And being part of the process is important.  They are the next generation who will will lead this country.  We must be an example for them to follow.

Ultimately, we place the election outcome in God’s hands.  He is bigger than this election.  He is much larger than either candidate.  His plans have been set since before the birth of this planet and nothing can change them (Job 42:2).  He gives and takes away.  He loves always.  He disciplines.  He extends mercy and grace.  His ways are higher than our ways, and thoughts His are higher than our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8).  He is good all the time.

We may be electing the next president of our country, but my faith is in my God who created and sustains this world we live and vote in.  My trust is in Christ, who gave me citizenship through salvation in a country not of this world – one that will outlast everything we know to be normal.  My joy is in knowing that God is sovereign, and although the seat of the president is up for grabs every 4 years, God shares His throne with no one and never leaves it.  He rules.  He reigns.  God is God – yesterday, on election day, and forever.

Hope thrives

Yesterday, my husband and I went to grab a quick bite for lunch.  He is working from home these days following his rock climbing accident on Monday which left him injured.  We hobbled into the restaurant together, both donning a right surgical boot – him limping with a crutch.  We look comical, really, and were given many stares and glances at our predicament by those around us.  Twinsies.

As I stood in line to order our food, I noticed on my left a very elderly man and his aide, a home health assistant.  They were engaged in conversation, and what spoke most to me was her softness toward him.

Having had my grandmother go through the assisted living regime in her later years, I am quite familiar with all it entails.  I have known attendants that were so sweet and kind and loved their jobs, and unfortunately, those who felt the opposite.

This woman was precious.

When he said something to her (I couldn’t hear over the noise), she laughed and he touched her cheek with the back of his hand.  She could be his granddaughter, or great-granddaughter, and it seemed as though she felt that way to him.

While enjoying a coveted, rare lunch break with my husband, I periodically glanced over his shoulder to watch them in the background.  It was obvious that going on a lunch excursion was a big feat for this man and his disabilities.  An effort, but worth it.  Toward the end of their lunch, I watched from across the room as she wheeled him to the restrooms.

Attendants are unsung heroes.  Their job requires more self-sacrifice than what others will experience in a lifetime.

After some time, they reappeared in the dining room and headed out the door – as she gently pushed him in his wheelchair.  We left a few seconds behind them, hobbling back to our van.

As we drove away, we passed them approaching their car.  He looked at us, smiled and waved, with his attendant at this side.  We waved and smiled back.

In a time with so much sorrow and pain in our nation, this woman was such a testament to the human spirit.  She was caring, attentive and considerate.  He thoroughly enjoyed his lunch out because of the way she treated him.

I remember with my grandmother, I needed to walk slower than my usual pace, repeat myself numerous times, and be willing to adjust plans on a dime because of unexpected health concerns or circumstances.  I remember waiting with her in the doctors’ offices, picking her up for family events, and simply spending time together whether watching my young children play on the playground, walking the aisles of the grocery store, or sitting on the couch and talking and talking and talking.  This was precious time to me.

The reason I have so many fond memories of that time in my life is because she modeled these things for me first.  My mom did her best, but from an early age my grandmother helped raise me.  She picked me up from school when I was sick, took me to get an ice cream cone on special days, and taught me how to be a lady.  She played games with me, advocated for me when I needed it, and countless hours were spent sitting at her pink-tiled kitchen counter talking and talking and talking…usually over a home-cooked meal she spent the entire afternoon preparing.  She did the best she could to finish raising me after Mom died.  She was smart, gentle and funny.  I learned through my grandparents that the generations ahead of us have an unending plethora of wisdom and knowledge to offer those following behind.

We were made for community.  With God’s help, community gets us through the tough stuff of life.  None of us can handle everything completely alone.  We weren’t supposed to.

Watching this sweet woman yesterday, and thinking about all that my grandmother did for me over the years, a flicker of hope in my spirit fanned into a flame that together, we can survive the storm – whether it be physical, relational, or weather.

God puts people in each others’ paths to share the journey.  Let’s not miss an opportunity to be that person to someone today, or to welcome someone’s help in our life.  Either way, we are all more blessed in the end.

Unfiltered

I woke up this morning with such an overwhelming sense of urgency.  In addition to getting the kids to school time, I wanted to know how my husband is doing after sustaining injuries from a 20 foot fall yesterday.

I also desperately wanted to know:

* what our country looked like after Sandy invaded a third of it through the night

* that all of our family in Sandy’s path, spanning 3 states, is okay

* updates on the election season

* how my friends are whose freshman son died over the weekend

* how my foot surgeon is doing after having an emergency quadrupedal bypass only 2 weeks after my surgery!!

* how my young hairdresser is doing after her mom died of a massive heart attack less than two weeks ago

* how my sweet step niece is fairing after having twins just weeks ago and then developed blood clots in her lungs and legs

* how is my ever-recovering foot doing today – any better at all?

However, before I turned on my pc, tuned in to my tv or checked my iPhone for texts, a giant pause sat on my soul.  I was anxious, nervous, a little fearful, and eager to get updates on so much happening.  But, this pause wouldn’t let me go.

I was absolutely drawn to spend time with God first.  Just let me check this or tend to that, please? I asked Him.  Not yet, He replied.  I ought to know better, but sometimes life throws so many curve balls I feel like I’m ducking and weaving just to not get hit.  I wanted to get updates regarding so many extraordinary things, but God reminded me that I need His filter through which to perceive them.

I need His eyes to see, ears to hear, and His heart to comprehend the magnitude of such unbelievable events.  Without His wisdom and discernment, dare I make decisions based on my finite knowledge.  With His love and mercy I can open up my heart and allow compassion to flow to whoever needs it.  Through His perspective, everything everything looks different.

Spending time with God first thing in the morning – before electronics even – prepares us for the day ahead.  After all, we don’t know what the next 24 hours holds, but we know the One who does.

On my own, I get overcome by emotions and circumstances.  With God, I realize all over again that He sustains this world we share.

Putting on the armor of God, Ephesians 6:10-19, allows me to gear up spiritually for whatever may come my way.  Without it, I am unarmored.  Spiritually naked.  Vulnerable.  I am left to battle life in my own strength.  Living unfiltered is dangerous for believers.  It causes raw data to flood our minds and hearts without God’s vision in which to  frame it. We are unprepared to live the life of victory Jesus called us to in John 10:10 when the under toe of life tries to sweep us away.  With it, Philippians 4:13 it my battle cry, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

So why is it soooo hard to stop and spend time with God?  Why does my flesh and spirit wrestle against each other in this?  When I am trigger-happy with the pc or iPhone, it boils down to control.  I want to know something so I can choose how to react.  But God’s way is, Spend time with Me first, then you will know how to respond.

What does this world look like through our eyes?  What does it look like through God’s eyes?  Two very different views.  One is holy, perfect and timeless.  The other’s is sinful, skewed and lasts a mere breath.

As much as I wanted to go to news reporters, email, voicemail, texts and articles, God drew me to Himself first.  I’m so glad He did.  Like running a race dehydrated, our spirits need a daily infusion of God.  We need His Holy Spirit to filter everything we are about to see, hear and experience.  It’s for our own protection and for His glory.

With news rapidly changing, both personal and national, God’s filter is the best way to handle it all.  It may not answer all of our questions about why things happen, but it gives us faith and hope that one day we will know and understand – and grants us sustainable peace in the meantime.

Peace to you today,

Kristi

New Shoes

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4:6-7

This morning was a milestone for my recovery…I got to take a shower without having my foot being wrapped up and kept dry.  Yeah!  That may seem like a trivial thing, but I’ve waited 2 weeks for water to flow over, and soap to clean, my surgical foot.

However, afterwards I noticed something alarming.  It appears part of my stitches came open.  I won’t gross anyone out with more medical talk, but suffice it to say it led to texting my doctor for instructions.

Talk about deflating!  I went from riding a high one minute, to being consumed with worry the next.  Am I at risk for infection?  Sepsis?  Something I don’t know about?

I’ll admit that fear gripped my mind and soul, partly because I want to be thoroughly healed up, and partly because I’ve only allocated a certain amount of time for this surgical hiccup to interrupt our lives (like I have total control over it).

As I began my prayer time today, I said, God, I’m worried.  I’m worried about my foot.  This is all I’ve got to bring You today.

I continued by praying on the armor of God like I do every day (Ephesians 6:10-18).  When I reached the part of my prayer…I fit my feet with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of peace to go where, when and for how long You say…God interrupted me.

What did you just tell me, Kristi?

I told you I’m bringing you worry.

What did you just pray?

To fit my feet with my feet with peace.

That was my ah-ha moment!  How beautifully and creatively God works in our lives.  The same part of my body that I feel bound to with fear and worry, is the same part of the armor of God that is fitted for peace.

I understand that the peace Paul talked about was in regards to following God’s will, commands, and voice in life so closely that above our doubt, fears and our own agendas we can trust Him no matter where He leads us.

However, it was amazingly intertwined with how I am feeling, particularly about my foot, today.

In my prayer, I asked God to continue to heal my foot from the inside out.  It wasn’t until today I got a close look at the ramifications of surgery.  It’s taken a beating and I’ll leave it at that.

When I spoke of healing from the inside out, I know the benefit to waiting weeks and weeks for a solid, lasting recovery.  If everything looked great on the outside, but wasn’t healed properly on the inside, there would be future problems for sure.  Problems I can’t see from the outside, but would certainly feel on the inside.  The recovery process would be lengthened indefinitely.

God reminded me that this is the same with our hearts and lives.  He heals from the inside out.  Just as I sat down with my pc today, before any programs were even opened, my mother-in-law popped up on Ovoo.  Wow!  I didn’t expect that.  Neither did she.  She said her pc did the same thing.  We laughed that it was meant for us to chat.

She said, You look wonderful!

Thanks.  A shower always helps.

On the outside I am clean, dressed and accessorized.  On the inside, I am churning with worry about my foot.  This moment was a great reminder to me that God indeed heals from the inside out, and no matter how hard we try to put our best foot forward to the world, God sees what’s going on inside, and that is where He begins His work.

Is His work completed overnight?  Rarely.  So we wait.  We try to live the P word – patience.  Ug.  I have to keep coming back to a place where I am pliable in the Potter’s hands.  I have to remind myself to stop fighting against His healing hand.

My doctor says that some of his patients come in after the same foot surgery and their toe is frozen stiff because they didn’t  do their exercises at home.  I am determined to not be one of those patients, because I’ve learned from past experience that physical therapy hurts that much more when we don’t obey our instructions.

There is a time for us to surrender our souls and let God operate.  There is also a time that we are to sit still and simply recover.  There is still a time for us to do our exercises, so scar tissue won’t build up in our hearts – rendering them stiff, hardened and unmovable.

As believers, we have free will.  It is our choice to believe that God is working for our good (Romans 8:28), even in the tough times.  We have the choice to be patient and wait out the work He is completing in us from the inside out.  Waiting through the moments when no change is visible from the outside, rather small, subtle, lasting changes are weaving our broken hearts together again to make a new, stronger person both inside and out.

Oh, and about the timeline, I don’t know if you’ve ever given God a time frame in which to work, but I have.  Truly, this is preposterous because we simply cannot see the bigger picture of life.  When God looks at our lives, time constraints are of no matter from His side of heaven.  He sees it all – beginning to end – all at once and knows how the story ends.

We see merely snapshots of time.  Moments and blips on the radar.  I thought by now I had this one down pat.  That it is all about His timing, not mine, until I remind myself and God of plans we’ve made as a family once I am recovered – with little to no margin for extra time to recover.

Even my doctor cannot exactly tell me the day and time my foot will be 100% well.  God is the only one who knows all, and for that He has all my trust.

If you are like me, working on some inner and outer healing, take heart that God sees.  He knows.  He cares.  You and I are important to Him.  We matter.  Psalm 121 is a beautiful reminder that He is always present and working in our lives.

Psalm 121 – A song of ascents

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
    where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
8 the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

Our job is to let Him work.  Sometimes that means surrendering the issue to Him.  Sometimes that means waiting in what feels like nothingness when He is working deep in our souls.  Sometimes it means doing our part of the healing, our home exercises if you will, including forgiving others and ourselves, trusting God in a new way, picking up our cross to follow Him, praying for the issue at hand, releasing the issue, moving as the Spirit prompts us to go, stop, wait, run, walk, make that phone call, write that letter, pack up or settle down.

Healing is miraculous in the long run, but can feel unbearable in the process.  Our faith is that we, as believers, never live a minute of it alone.  Jesus bore all of our illnesses and injuries on the cross.  It’s by His stripes we are healed (perhaps in ways we didn’t expect), and it is in Him that we have joy in the meantime.

Today, I am trading in my shoes of worry and angst, and fitting my feet with new shoes of peace.  One thing I know for sure, these shoes of peace are a lot more comfortable to wear.

<<Check out the companion song to this post on my Tunes page! >>

Legacy of a Letter

For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt. Fear the Lord your God and serve him. ~ Deuteronomy 10:17-20

I received a letter in the mail a couple of months ago.  A letter that hasn’t left my mind ever since its words lifted from the page and inscribed themselves on my heart.  We have a sponsored daughter through Compassion International.  The letter we received from them announced her impending graduation from the program.

I knew this day would come, but I didn’t want to think about it.  For her, this is incredible news!  This means she made it! She has survived severely impoverished, third-world conditions and is now skilled in a job that will serve her for the rest of her life.

For me, however, it means letting her go.  As I’ve written before, I have a hard time with change, and this year has seen a lot of it.  My father died nine months ago.  Our senior pastor, who is my mentor and friend and someone I highly admire and respect, retired after twenty-one years of faithful service to our congregation.  My husband’s aunt died suddenly, and her memorial service marked a new chapter in our family’s history.  I closed a three-year chapter of homeschooling two of our children, and find myself missing my lunch buddies, their jokes, camaraderie and company in my days now.  We finally sold my husband’s car – a 1997 Honda Odyssey.  It was good to us, crossing 300,000 miles on the odometer, but it was time to acquire something that meets our current needs.  Our eBay car purchase served us well for six years. Silly, I know.  It’s just a car – especially for people who don’t place an unhealthy value on “things.”  But, it was familiar.

Perhaps that’s what’s hard about change for me…losing the familiar.

Compassion’s letter to our family was a request to write our Compassion daughter one…last…time. Ug.  My heart sank.  I kept that request on my desk for four months.  I simply couldn’t bring myself to write it.  This is the last communication I will have with her this side of heaven.  What do I say?

Compassion suggested we write words of wisdom, encouragement and Scripture.  These are the last words our beautiful daughter will carry from us for the rest of her life.  No pressure.  She who can’t ever stop talking sat speechless at my computer with our daughter’s picture smiling at me while the curser impatiently blinked on the blank page.

Dear God, I don’t know what to say.  Where do I begin?  How do I end?  Please help me give her the words You want her to hear.

As I began the letter, my mind flashed back over the 14 years she has been with us.  I remember the night we found her.  My husband and I were at a Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant Christmas concert in 1998.  During intermission, we strolled through the arena, curious as to what this Compassion thing that Amy Grant spoke of on stage was all about.  We came to a table and spread out on it were many children’s profiles.  My eyes scanned their sweet faces; many of them revealing a deep hopelessness in their expressions and thin bodies clothed in rags.

My eyes wandered to a beautiful girl.  Seven years old.  Across the sea from us in a land filled with conflict – dangerous for any female.  I picked up her card and read her story.  Her mother dead, her father removed, she lives with her grandmother and brother.  My breath caught in my chest and eyes stung with salty tears.  This was my story – this side of the ocean.  Replace the brother with a sister and she is me.  Captivated, I held her card close to my chest and knew she was meant to be a part of our family.  I wanted to offer her a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11) that God gave me in my darkest hours of trauma and loss as a child.

Through Compassion, we could pay for her medical needs, clothes, food and education.  Christian education.  If she couldn’t live with us, this was the next best thing.  We signed up immediately, knowing that we were committed to this for the long haul.

Over the years, we loved receiving her letters.  We learned about her culture and landscape, farming and weather seasons.  We learned about her life.  We prayed her through the dry seasons and rainy seasons.  We prayed every time her brother became ill and when she had trouble in math.  She wrote her favorite Scriptures to us and told us about her friends.

Each Christmas and birthday, we were given the opportunity to send her a monetary gift.  By American standards it wasn’t much at all, but it is reasonable for their economic geography.  Every time we sent a gift, she wrote us and enthusiastically told us what she bought with it.  It was always the same.  She bought: a new dress for herself, a goat for the family and sweets for her friends.

Her purchases sparked great conversation in our family throughout the years about giving and receiving, thankfulness and kindness.  The fact that she always shared her gifts with her family and friends touched our hearts in inexpressible ways.  She was thankful.  Can we say the same?

We told her about where we live, too.  We shared favorite school subjects, hobbies, pets and what we do in a regular day.  We shared our prayer requests with her, too.  Having a pen pal across the world was priceless to my children.

One day, when she was about 15 years old, she wrote and told us that a preacher was visiting their village to evangelize in their community.  She was asked to go along with him to preach the Gospel.  I will never forget how I felt reading her words.  Choking back happy tears, I said to myself, She’s got it.  She has her own faith and is now able to share it with others.  She’s going to be okay.

This news gave me so much joy and peace!  Despite her bleak circumstances, she accepted Christ as her Savior and knows there is an eternal home waiting for her.

When Compassion expanded its ministry to include online writing, versus handwriting, I was so excited!  Handwritten letters are always best, but not as practical as writing something online that could be sent immediately for translation.  I remember writing to her telling her this news of online writing.  I will never, ever forget her response.  I was excited that this would be quick and easy, no need to hunt for a stamp and was technologically up with the times.  Her response?

I thank our God that He has provided you a job so you can have the money to buy a computer to write me.

Talk about perspective!!!  Think about her response for a moment.  Deeply ponder it.  Without knowing it, she continually taught us so much about life, love, thankfulness, contentment and commitment.

When my husband lost his job in 2001, a week before 9/11 and in the middle of the .com crash (of which his job was directly affected), we had no idea how we were going to feed our babies 1, 3, and 5 years old.  We had no health insurance, no gas money, no savings.  We had nothing but our vehicles and our house – that we feared we could lose in a heartbeat.  We never once considered stopping our sponsorship of our Compassion daughter.  This is no kudos to us.  Through sponsoring her, we learned even more what commitment looked like and what trust in God felt like.  We could no more stop feeding and clothing her than we could our own children, because like our own children, if we didn’t meet her basic needs – who would?  We totally relied on God to provide for us, and for her, and He did.  She never knew any of this.  Her life is one of great struggle and hardship, and even in our most dire straight, we were still wealthy beyond measure simply because of the longitude and latitude in which we live.

In her last years with us, she wrote about graduating high school.  This was quite an accomplishment!  The letter came announcing she was accepted into nursing school.  Nursing school!  I remember jumping up and down and cheering with my children.

This meant, not only will she have a job she can be proud of, but she will be able to financially support herself and her family, AND it saves her from a dangerous and demoralizing future so many young women face trying to earn money to survive.  Wow!  Her future has never looked brighter.

She is truly a part of our family, and this final letter literally pained my heart to write.  How do I tell her words of wisdom as a mother, when my own mother never had a chance to speak them over me?  I feel like the blind leading the blind.  I don’t know where to go with this.

As I struggled with my letter, my heart brought to mind a very special book* by Susan Polis Schultz. This book has priceless value to me.  It is a book written by a mother to her daughter.  It is full of letters, encouragement, love and advice.  This is the last gift given to me by my mother.  She gave it to me on Valentine’s Day, 1987, three months before she died of breast cancer when I was sixteen.

She wrote on the inside cover that she had a hard time putting into her own words what she wanted me to know, so she used this book to say it for her.  In it, she starred, underlined – double underlined – words and phrases.  These are what matter most to me.  These are her words to me.  However, I have only read this book a few times in 26 years.

I am unable to express my hesitation in words.  It hurts to go back to the most painful time of my life.  It hurts to hear her speak to me through writing, because once I finish reading it, I am again left with an emptiness that she is no longer here.  The process of reading her words is emotionally draining, yet healing at the same time.  That’s the best I can do to explain my feelings.

While writing to my Compassion daughter, my mind drifted to this precious book and with my mom’s inspiration I began to write.  Space online is limited.  It took me three letters to get it all in.  Oh, I could have written more, but knew at some point, the end of the letter was inevitable – as hard as it was to admit.

I wrote how beautiful she is, and to never neglect herself as she cares for her patients.  To love deeply, laugh a lot, and stay close to God.  I quoted my favorite Scriptures and spoke blessings over her.  I gave her practical advice and (hopefully) words of wisdom.  I promised that, just as we have done for 14 years, we will continue to pray for her every day for the rest of our lives.

Wrapping up the third letter in the series, I told her:

I don’t like goodbyes.  I won’t say it to you.  Although we may never see each other on this earth, we are both Christians and will have eternity to spend with each other.  Life on this earth is very short.  So, instead of goodbye, I will say I’ll see you soon.  Whoever makes it to heaven first, wait for the other at the gate. 

I paused writing and broke down and cried.  I cried happy tears for all she has accomplished and overcome, and sad tears because the season of her life entwining with ours has come to a close.  However, Christians have a unique relationship.  We are brothers and sisters in Christ, because we are related by blood not of this world.  Christ’s sacrificial blood pumps through our spirit, and this bond is something no one can take away.  We are family indeed, and no amount of time or circumstance can separate us from one another – even if we are physically apart.

My children are still in my nest.  She is the first one to launch into the world and follow her dreams and the destiny that God has prepared for her.  I’m new at this launching thing.  I have no idea what to say.  I told her how much we love her and how incredibly proud we are of her.

It seemed that telling her how proud I am of her was a repetitive theme.  Perhaps it’s something I long to hear myself.  Both of my parents are gone and my biological father was only in my life for the past 8 short years.  Maybe I spoke to her some of the words I have been starving to hear.

Upon finishing her letter, my heart was nudged to pull my mom’s book off of the shelf.  I sat down and gazed at the simple artwork on the cover.  I gently turned the yellowed pages and read every word she marked for me.

I have felt a little lost with my writing lately.  Perhaps recovering from surgery has dimmed my creative juices, and I am physically more tired as I heal.  Ironically, my eyes fixed on one particular passage she underlined…

“Write your feelings down.  Create something based on your feelings, but do not keep them inside.”*

I soaked in her encouragement and let it penetrate my soul.  Her words were perfect timing for my life.

Through committing to child sponsorship, I thought we were rescuing a child and offering her opportunities to realize her dreams.  I hope we did just that, but I can tell you that this journey has rescued me and sparked hope for my dreams.  Even down to the last letter, when I was drawn to the words my mom left for me so many years ago for a time today when I really needed to hear her voice.

My mom left a legacy of a letter in the book she gave me.  We left a legacy to our Compassion daughter through the letters we wrote to her.  She left a legacy to us in her letters.  Her perseverance and hard work inspired us to continue with Compassion.

In her honor, we now have two more sponsored children each in a different part of the world.  They are young, sweet children who have their whole lives ahead of them.  I close my eyes and imagine the years of letters we will, Lord-willing, have to share with each other.  I look forward to expanding our family across the seas and investing spiritually, financially and emotionally into these two lives.  I smile with anticipation of all we will share.

It is easy to be discouraged from sponsoring a child because the financial commitment seems scary in this economy or we believe one person can’t make a lasting difference.  However, I know firsthand that our family can’t afford not to.  I am hopeful we made a difference in her life – but I am absolutely certain she made the world of difference in ours.  We are changed by her selflessness, love and tender spirit.  We are challenged by her resolve, strength, optimism and determination.  We will champion these same qualities in our new Compassion son and daughter.

If our paths do not cross in this lifetime and I reach heaven first, I will eagerly wait at the gate for my Compassion daughter.  I have a big hug I’ve been saving up a lifetime to give her.

It’s All Good

I wrote the other day that I’ve had surgery recently.  Not to add insult to injury, but while my life has been temporarily upheveled, I decided to take care of some skin issues resulting from years of sun damage as a child because I figured I’d be home and out of public eye.  So in addition to my temporary disability, I now look horrible.  It’s one of those processes that gets worse before getting better.  I told the doctor, I’m just that vain enough to not want to go out in public until this is done.  Dignity is worth something, right?  It was the perfect plan to execute my makeover and no one would be the wiser.  I’d just show up in public one day with radiant skin and two legs that work just fine.  I’d make a subtle, yet grand, entrance like I’m some Hollywood star.  Ha!

On the morning after the skin procedure, my phone rang unexpectedly.  I must admit, with the surgery and life still blazing a trail at 100mph, I can’t keep everything straight.  Perhaps the anesthesia is still working its way out of me.  I don’t know.  I do know I’m fuzzy on details of the day.  When the phone rang, it was a precious mom from our Moms in Prayer group (I have only met these women once) saying she couldn’t find my house as she was en route for our prayer time.  I sat stunned.  I knew it was today, but in the midst of trying to get 3 kids out the door, 2 of them still finishing homework and one needing to be early to school, I just lost a grip on the day’s calendar.

I gave her directions to my home, knowing she was right around the corner, hung up and took a look around.  With Fall here, leaves are continually trekked into our house.  I usually vacuum several times a week to keep them out, but I can’t vacuum right now.  Opened birthday presents were on the fireplace, laundry was strewn about, and clutter was everywhere.

My family is trying hard to keep the ball rolling here, but with several unexpected things that seem to pop up every day, I know everyone is doing all they can. They are great helpers, but there is only 24 hours in a day – minus sleep.

I hobbled around the house in the few seconds I had to pick everything up.  There was just no way.  It was what it was.

Then there is me.  I’m a mess!  I really didn’t want anyone seeing me like this.  In fact, at the time the doorbell rang, I couldn’t remember if I had brushed my hair, much less had any make-up on.  Earlier, I chose an old, faded t-shirt to wear because of the high neckline to cover the skin procedure, and because of my surgical boot, I chose shorts that, although they are fairly new, the inside seam unraveled after the first wash, so there’s a big hole in my pants.  Not to mention my shoes.  One gigantic surgical boot and one brown sandal.  The doctor said I need to even out the height of the boot so my back doesn’t suffer from walking at two levels, so the only shoe that works is this old brown sandal (that in no way matched my shirts and shorts).

I met not one woman, but three ladies at the door and invited them in.  Welcome to my chaos! I said with a laugh.  I was SO embarrassed.

I’m not pretentious, nor do I feel I need to impress anyone.  But, at least let my house be clean when people come over.  At least let me have washed my face and put on decent clothes.

They were extremely gracious – even when one mom went into my kitchen and saw both sinks full of dirty dishes and some unknown sticky substance on the counter after the daily brigade of breakfasts and lunchboxes flew through like a tornado.

I just couldn’t get over being embarrassed.  Do I really care that much? I asked myself.  But, I never thought I did.  Why is this bothering me?  

Martha Stewart I am not.  We are a crazy house of 5 extroverts who use every square inch of its space.  Creative juices flow, and usually so does something my kids want to try to bake or a science experiment, or a string of our dog’s toys that makes it look like a preschooler lives here.

Mess.  This day, my house was a mess.  I was a mess. There was nothing I could do.

God met me in that moment and reminded me of something He told me a while back.  He said, This school year will be a year of healing for you.  But…it begins with brokenness.

He wasn’t kidding.  A broken foot it is.  At least, that all I thought He was talking about.

I didn’t realize that there may be other areas of my life that need to broken to be healed.  My foot needed to be broken so the problem could be fixed.  So does my heart.

God’s ways are different from mine, but His ways are right – every time.

This particular morning showed me that I want to be accepted and approved by people more than I should.  This was the first time these ladies were meeting at my home, to accommodate my surgery recovery, and it drove me nuts that I couldn’t create an atmosphere (or image) that everything is semi-perfect.

It’s not!  Life is not perfect!  The only bell and whistle I could do was light a cinnamon candle.  Whoopie.

I had to accept the fact that I look like a wreck, because physically I am one right now.  How humbling!

God brought me from a place of panic that they were on their way, to humility over what my house and myself looked like, to a place where I could see what was most important -prayer with other Christian moms for our kids and their schools.

To live like we are created in the image of God, we make choices to reflect Him in our words and deeds.  This requires a lot of dying to self.  Approval is an issue I’ve struggled with my whole life.  Every time God works with me on this, I feel His fingerprint on specific situations as a gentle reminder that He is not cruel or uncaring, aloof or oblivious.  He is acutely aware of our frailties and weaknesses, and He desires for each of us a life of victory.

Living in strength and victory means we are wise enough to discern a situation and respond (not react) to it according to what pleases God, not ourselves.  We can trust this process, because God promised He is working all thing good for His children.  It’s a precious circle of love.  When we break out of the circle and go our own way, we forfeit the blessing of having His workmanship revealed in our circumstance.

For me, I could barely concentrate on what we were praying about because of the state of my house and my body.  It really wasn’t pride, as much as it was me wanting these women’s approval that I am at least acceptable.

Truly, it’s only God’s acceptance that I need to crave.  When I have it from Him, I am full and satisfied.  Everything else is gravy.  When I fill my tank with people’s acceptance, I am constantly having to refill it because people, frankly, let each other down.  We don’t perform to each other’s expectations.  We love conditionally.  We forgive when we feel like it.  And we are selfish.  When we seek God’s favor first, He has freedom in our lives to set us up for success in other areas – like bringing good friends into our lives.  Friends who will come to us to pray, when we can’t go to them.

That morning was so uncomfortable for me.  But, the lesson I learned in it made me more pliable in the Potter’s hand.  A huge benefit to me was that I could scrap the embarrassment over my house and my body and welcome others into our home who have since brought us meals, and I’ve felt comfortable inviting them to sit and chat.  Even yesterday, a friend from church brought us dinner, and as we sat in the family room talking, 3 loads of laundry stared at us from the sofa just feet away.  Underwear and all!  I chose to embrace God’s acceptance of me and enjoy my visit with a dear friend who took the time to come see me.  I told her with a laugh, For a couple of weeks, this stuff really doesn’t matter.  It’ll get done eventually.

Also, I breached my own vow of solitude to attend my son’s football game yesterday.  I look like I have a plague, but who cares!  My son was playing football and my friends were going to be there.  Those two things were way more important to me.  Yes, I looked like a sports diva sitting in a chair with an overhead canopy AND an umbrella fastened to the chair to avoid all sun, and had another chair in front of me to prop my boot leg on.  I said to my friend, I wasn’t sure I was going to come, but I knew ya’ll would love me regardless of how I look.  She replied, Of course we do!  I wanted to show my son, the one who made the love note for me (in the photo above) and left it on my laptop as a surprise, that he was more important than my internal issues…because he is.

Today, between the endless, monotonous hours of icing and elevating my foot, I will shed more of my embarrassment as my family meets two of our favorite families for frozen yogurt to celebrate two birthdays between all of us. I love these families so much, and I know they love me back.  I can feel free to show up just like I am because they are family to us.  I wouldn’t miss the laughter, fun and memories we make every time we are together just so I can stay home and save face (literally!).  No way.  Life is too short.  People are too precious.  We have some very special girls who need to be sung Happy Birthday.  Memories are just waiting to be made. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.  I’ll even let myself be in the pictures…how about that!  This is largely in part to an incredible bog post I read recently by Allison Tate on the subject of having moms photographed despite ourselves. 🙂 Take a look! click here.

Yes.  This whole experience has taught me a lesson I didn’t know I needed to learn.  When we fully release ourselves to God, even the secret places, untapped possibilities await.  Whatever we’re holding onto, whatever holds us back, whatever holds us down, let’s release it.  Then, with open hands and an eager heart, we are prepared to receive the abundant blessings God wants to give us.  And that, friends, is healing for the body and soul.