The M.K. Way!

M.K.’s (Missionary Kids – of which I am one), have a simple motto that allows them to cope with the not-so-glamorous moments of missionary life. It’s called: The M.K. Way! Here is how it works: I’m in Africa. I’m sitting in a pastor’s home with something completely unidentifiable on my plate, from an animal my dad slaughtered with a machete - right before church began - all the whilst dozens of flies are hovering and landing in what appears to be “soup”. The dinner prayer has been prayed and we’re supposed to dig in. So…I dive…with a big smile on my face because…it’s the M.K. Way!

It came in handy while itinerating and visiting various churches across the United States. As my sister and I were paraded in front on hundreds of people we didn’t know, being prompted by our mother to proclaim, “Bwana Sifiwe” we could only do so, and manage to keep a smidgen of our pre-teen “dignity”, because…it’s the M.K. Way!

Someone else used it on me when I went to a college M.K. retreat in Colorado (my freshman year). I had never been on skis before, and the whole retreat was centered around God and skiing. Needless to say, as I stood at the top of the Black Diamond slope, looking down at an endless path of moguls something told me this wasn’t going to turn out so well. Just as I was thinking, “How the heck did I get up here?” a fellow M.K. smacked me on the back and said something stupid like, “You can do it Amy…it’s the M.K. Way!” I did it all right…I did it so well they had to call the ski patrol to come to my rescue. The first aid guys that placed me on the stretcher and carried me down the mountain were pretty cute, so I guess it kind of worked in my favor after all. Picking up guys…the M.K. Way!

I used it when I lived in France, and while mingling with a group of young professionals proceeded to call one of the men “cheri,” (over and over again) which is actually a term of endearment in the French language. I thought I was saying “cherry tomato”. I was able to smile and laugh (silly American) instead of crawl in a hole, because…it’s the M.K. way!

The M.K. Way has been a great coping mechanism through some challenging times in ministry too. Someone says something disrespectful and insensitive about my husband or myself, I can smile graciously and keep my mouth closed because…it’s the M.K. way!

However, while the M.K. Way works like magic in dealing with those not-so-glamorous moments of ministry, it really only masks what sometimes is a very deep hurt or pain. On the outside I’m smiling, I’m saying, “It’s okay,” (for the gazillionth time), and mentally willing the tears to not start pouring down my face…because, on the inside, I’m feeling lonely and rejected.

A year ago I sat in a crowded café, all by myself - for an hour - waiting for a group of women to show up for a little summer get-together. None did. I sent a text message to a friend that I thought for sure would be coming.  She had changed her plans at the last minute…I really wish I would have known. I would have changed my plans too.

I have lost count of how many times I have sat in a room, all by myself, waiting for someone…anyone…to show up for an event that I’ve planned. It is a very lonely place to be. In those excruciating moments, when the M.K. Way just won’t cut it, I begin to question God’s calling on my life, or at least my ability to fulfill that calling.

I started a mom’s group two years ago. (MomsConnect – yes, I will shamelessly put in a plug for this awesome group of women). For weeks – a lot of weeks - no one was coming. It started to get a little depressing. “What’s wrong with me?” I would ask this of myself, my husband, my sister, my parents…anyone and everyone! Every Thursday night I would cry my eyes out for at least an hour in the arms of my wonderful and loving husband. “What’s wrong with me?” The answer? NOTHING! There was – and is - absolutely NOTHING wrong with me. Thank God!

So, rather than masking the pain of loneliness and rejection - or whatever hurtful thing may be going on in life - with the M.K. Way, how do I/we cope?

Here’s how God is working on me in this area: I am encouraged by the fact that God knows where I am, what I am doing and the deepest desires of my heart. He has put me in this place for a season of time, and I know I am on the right track. I am encouraged inside to keep moving forward…keep putting myself out there…to keep initiating opportunities. While I love walking into my mom’s group – which has outgrown our little meeting room  – and seeing moms and kids mingling, laughing and socializing, I do so with a deep respect for the One who has drawn those other lonely mommies in there. Just as nobody showing up had nothing to do with me, all those chatty coffee mamas - who I get to laugh and cry with every week - aren’t coming because of me either. I guess I’m finding my “place” in God’s calling.

In regards to the loneliness, pain and rejection: The fact of the matter is, all three are quite certainly unavoidable. There is a void in my life that only God can fill – not a best friend, not success, not a dozen compliments. At the lowest and most challenging point in Christ’s ministry on earth he sought a dependable friend to tarry the night in prayer with him. Sadly, even those who were closest to him let him down. The anguish he must have felt when the reality of his own loneliness set in. I wept pretty intensely after being stood up for coffee last year. That cannot even come close to the heart wrenching weeping that caused Jesus’ tears to turn to blood. He stood alone in a way I never will. If I am ever wondering if anyone knows what it feels like to be alone, I don’t have to look far…Jesus is far more acquainted with this kind of pain than any human who has ever shed a friendless, lonely tear.

So, what can we count on? We can trust that: 1. God will always be there for us, 2. Human beings will eventually let us down, and 3. God knows what that feels like. I am learning, ever so slowly, to let God fill the God void, allow him to bring the right friendship at the right time to fill the friend void and not be discouraged even when my most dependable friend lets me down. Loneliness is a fact of life. Some of us have to endure seasons like this longer than others. So, we can take heart, keep putting ourselves out there, trust that God is in control and eventually we will all be meeting at a café, sipping cappuccinos and laughing about all our silly sob stories of lonely days gone by – M.K. style!

The "Stuff" In My Purse And A Trip To Barnes & Noble

I reached into my “mom bag” yesterday searching for a pen.  I knew that, somewhere in the deep recesses of my gianormous purse, there was a pen to be found.  In my search, I discovered a collection, of sorts, that has been accumulating in my bag:  One strawberry ponytail holder, a Lightning McQueen matchbox car, children’s plastic sunglasses, a stuffed monkey, a silk rose, and a miniature leopard purse.  Needless to say, finding my pen took a little longer than anticipated.   

How does this happen to an organized and meticulous perfectionist?  I hate clutter and yet, my purse is filled to the brim with mini racecars and stuffed animals; it’s like the “City of Lost Toys” in there!  Not only does this excess stuff hide my essentials and turn me into Mary Poppins pulling out everything aside from the kitchen sink, but they weigh my purse down so that I feel like I’m carrying a five-pound baby around on my shoulder. 

I guess I could always downsize and use a smaller purse, but I really like all the extra space I get with my “mom bag”.  Plus, it’s very trendy, and I’m all about being trendy.  (Note: I’m “Wearing” Children.)

Another option would be to prohibit my children from putting anything inside my purse, but I can tell you right now- that is never going to work.  I’m a mom.  Moms have purses…big ones, and their kids know it.  They know that mom probably has a band-aid in that massive shoulder bag, along with a quarter for offering and extra paper for doodling.  Plus, the “mom bag” has to be available for toting all those miscellaneous playthings.  Who else is going to make sure those sacred toys make it home in one piece? 

After thinking about it for a bit, I realized the key to this “problem” I’m having is for me to daily unburden my “mom bag” of all the extra stuff.  It’s as simple as that.  There will be plenty of opportunities for my purse to be filled again the next day, but at least it won’t be adding clutter to clutter.

This got me thinking about God and the stuff in my own life – the never-ending clutter that amasses itself in my thoughts, my desires, and my heart.  I seem to collect all kinds of unsightly things such as:  Impatience, a critical spirit, jealousy, comparing myself, negative self-talk, laziness, fear - it’s a pretty nasty list.  Then there are the distractions that also jumble up and leave my life a mess:  Finances, unreached goals, blocked goals, searching for significance.  I find that I can so easily get bogged down with all of these that even when I am supposed to be having my quiet time with God, I end up thinking about all my “stuff” instead. 

Which brings me to today.  I love Barnes and Noble.  I love walking through those tall double-doors and instantaneously coming face-to-face with shelves upon shelves of books.  I have a little ritual I do every time I go to this beloved bookstore.  First, I head straight to the Starbucks in the back of the store and purchase my grande, soy, caramel macchiato.  Then, with a yummy coffee drink in hand, I start weaving my way through the various sections of the store until I reach the Bargain Books.  If I can find something particularly interesting for $5.98, then I’m sold and ready to hunker down on one of the soft and cushy B&N chairs with my newly found treasure.  Today was no exception as I headed towards the bargains, perusing the shelves of various topics and genres along the way.  I was on the hunt for something thought-provoking and engaging and somehow managed to end up in the “Self-Improvement” aisle.  I was dizzy with awe as I skimmed through a myriad of book titles claiming to hold the secrets to a fulfilling life:  “Rich Dad’s Guide to Financial Success”, “Personal Development – All-In-One for Dummies”, “Oprah’s Big Book Of Happiness”, “Live What You Love”, “Plato Not Prozac”, “How To Improve Your Marriage Without Talking” to name a few. 

Rather than feeling inspired to snatch one of these books up and take it home with me, I walked away feeling heavy-hearted.  There are literally hundreds of authors and book titles offering techniques and step-by-step processes to find inner-peace and fulfillment in life.  And really, the only thing these books end up doing is creating yet another pile of clutter.  It’s not just me; everyone is looking for something:  Personal satisfaction, fulfillment, a life-calling.  We are a society lost and internally dry and empty.  There are a lot of sad people in this world, and not sad because they have no food to eat or no roof over their heads; they are sad because they have too much of all those things, but lack peace.  We run ourselves ragged searching for “that one thing” that will complete us and make us whole.  Usually, “that one thing” is clutter.

I sat in a chair holding my Starbucks and began processing both my pen search from yesterday and my book hunt of today.  I was feeling rather convicted regarding the “stuff” in my life that God was bringing to mind.  In all the countless times I worry, fret, and react in a state of panic, I’m not being very godly.  It doesn’t matter if I wake up at 5:30 in the morning to spend time with God when I fritter the time away thinking about how unfulfilled I am.  This junk leaves my heart and soul in disarray rather than drawing my heart towards God.  I think about all of those “self-help” books, and they do exactly the same thing.  They don’t point towards God; they keep pointing to self.  Upsetting to me was that, as I skimmed through a couple of these books, I found at no place did they touch on finding fulfillment and meaning beyond satiating one’s own desires. 

I’m not about completely emptying my purse because there are some pretty essential things in there.  If I were to follow the advice of many of these self-help gurus, I would end up completely empty, as though I had completely dumped all the contents of my purse out on the floor.  What I’m shooting for is removing the “stuff” that bogs me down and keeps me from living life to the fullest.  I don’t want to be empty.  I want to be full, but full of the right things – the best things.  When I need to find something, I don’t want to sort through a bunch of junk in order to find it. 

Philippians 4:6-9

“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.  Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”

The things I want in my “purse” are those that are true, noble, right, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.  When I allow the clutter to pile up, it takes such a long time to find the truth.  When fear becomes another pile in my heart, and I don’t dump it immediately, then I end up anxious and worried.  While there are certain things I may struggle with for the rest of my life, I don’t have to let them stick around.  It just means I must continuously empty my “purse” - my life - of the clutter and allow the peace of God to settle inside and fill the contents with all that is excellent and praiseworthy.

This is no small task, both literally and spiritually.  It will require much discipline on my part, but God is faithful.  I don’t need to run to Oprah to discover happiness and a guide to life.  I just need to run to God, to His Word, and hide it in my heart.  It is when I do this that I will find the pen I’ve been searching for and the peace that transcends all understanding.

When God Doesn't Make Sense

The other morning I sat around a table drinking coffee and solving the world’s problems – like Clairol versus L’Oreal - with fellow stay-at-home moms.  We shared candidly about our various hair coloring nightmares:  One woman experimented with an alternative brand only to end up with green hair – she was a blonde originally.  Another was visiting family in Norway and was cajoled into trying something “new” which, surprise, turned out to be bright red.  I was very daring too, fifteen years ago, and tried dying my hair “deep brown” (my natural hair color is dark brown – I’m such a risk taker!).  The “deep brown” I was going for transformed my dark brown hair to a horrifying jet black.  I looked like Morticia from the Addams family.     

We laughed with each other (and at each other), sipping our coffee drinks, sweetly enjoying our moment of female bonding.  The conversation easily and naturally moved on to something about children:  who wants more, how many more, any plans for more, etc, etc, etc.  Almost effortlessly the discussion took on a more serious tone as one woman began to open up and share her reasons for having only one child.  Her story so deeply touched my heart that it is all I have been able to think about for the past week.  It’s late, my own little ones are all tucked into bed, and I am finally finding the time to put my thoughts into actual words.

This beautiful mom had tried for years to conceive, and finally at age thirty-eight, had a baby girl.  It wasn’t but a few days after she left the hospital from giving birth that she developed a sharp pain in her side that wouldn’t go away.  She was quickly diagnosed with cancer and began treatment immediately.  The chemotherapy, while successfully wiping out the cancer, also succeeded in destroying the rest of her eggs.  She suffered from chemo-induced menopause.  As she opened up and recounted the fears and moments of weakness and questioning God, my heart was overwhelmed and drawn to her. 

Another mom entered the conversation, relaying her own story of losing a baby in her third trimester, and due to complications, had an emergency hysterectomy…at age twenty-six.  She had already been blessed with two healthy children, but the pain of this loss, both baby and hysterectomy, was staggering. 

Both women - diverse in their appearance, backgrounds and age – echoed the same conviction:  God was with them through the entire journey, and it was only God who could bring them through.

Amazing.  So often I am prone to shake my fist to the sky when I see something happen that doesn’t make sense to me, or doesn’t fit in my little boxes of what is fair and what is not fair.  I get angry when I don’t understand the “why” - even more so when there is no apparent “why”.  I can become introspective and sorry for myself because I feel cheated that I lost one too many years to depression and an eating disorder.  Then, almost blind-sided, my eyes are opened wide to the suffering of others.  I cringe at my self-preoccupation.  There is so much pain in this world, and again, I want to understand “why”.  Sometimes God just doesn’t make sense.

A brief thought was expressed, but as I have been processing I have drawn it out a little further:  It’s not so much that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.  He does, in fact, give us more than we can handle.  It is during those times when we are under the immensity of a difficult situation and we can’t possibly bear anymore, that God reveals His supreme greatness and strength and carries us through.  It is not in our strength – ever – but Christ in us that will empower us to cope with the hardships, sickness, loss and pain that we will all experience, to some degree, in our lives.

Jesus never promised us a rose garden.  He never guaranteed a life free from heartache and sorrow. 

John 16:33

“In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.” 

Jesus also insured that, though life may come at us in unsightly ways and take us down a road we weren’t prepared to walk, He is still working in us to produce an abundant life.

John 10:10

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

It doesn’t make sense:  Living life to the fullest, yet facing a world of trouble.  God’s ways are so far beyond my tiny scope of vision.  I’m fiddling around with Crayola watercolor paints, and He’s looking at the masterpiece oil painting He completed long ago.  In my season of darkness and shadows, His hand made brushstrokes across the canvas of my life and created something beautiful and breathtaking.  The thief tried to take the essence of my friends’ lives and destroy any hope for a future.  Yet, I hear in their testimonies that, while there are still questions, still moments of weakness and doubt, that God is their sustainer.  When there was trouble, they had hope because God overcome that obstacle, and now they can live in the fullness of Him.

It’s really not about making sense of God because, quite frankly, none of us ever will.  God will never be One of whom we can fully fathom or understand.  I will have “why’s” on a daily basis.  God may allow us to walk through the darkest season of our lives, and it may never make sense in earthly terms, but God is working on a masterpiece far grander than the here and now.  His ways are not our ways, but they are higher.  His thoughts are not our thoughts, but they are purer and wiser.  The world, in its sinfulness, may try to destroy us, but the One who holds the world in His hands is holding us too - steady and ready to breathe new life into our broken souls.

Red Ballpoint Pen Strokes

Ms. Shaffer was notorious for driving poor, unsuspecting seventh grade students to tears with her ruthless grading scale and sharp-witted tongue. She was a legend at Rosslyn Academy, who we truly believed coined the phrases: “empty vessels make the most noise,” “little things amuse little minds,” and – probably my favorite – “open mouth, insert foot…and chew.” She never raised her voice, and pulled these zingers off with a smile on her face and a piece of chalk in her hand, all the while listening to Paul Simon – whom she loved. She was brutal. And I was terrified.  

Our first assignment in Ms. Shaffer’s seventh grade English class was to write an introductory journal entry telling her a little bit about ourselves. I was so relieved, and so excited because I loved to write. (Since I was eight years old, and wrote my first poem, I have loved to write.) I thought to myself, this is my chance to win Ms. Shaffer over…she’s going fall in love with me and I’m going to be her star student! Internally there was a serious party going on in my heart and Julie Andrews was singing, “I have confidence in confidence alone!” I couldn’t wait to get home and tackle my “Introducing Amy” journal entry. My fears were quickly subsiding.

As I sat down at my desk at home and opened up my square paper journal, I began to brainstorm about what to write. I really wanted to impress Ms. Shaffer, so I knew it needed to be good, and it needed to sound smart. Sounding smart was about the most important thing in the world to me when I was in school – that, and boys, of course. To be perfectly honest with you, sounding smart is still something I really strive for. Funny thing is, when you try too hard to do, or be, something because you really, really want to do, or be that particular thing, it usually ends up blowing up in your face. Which in my case, it did…big time.

Back to “thinking smart thoughts”: I remembered this “Family Ties” episode I had watched one time, and Alex – played by Michael J. Fox (dreamy) – used the word intellectual to describe himself. Alex was a very smart boy. Therefore, in my eleven-year-old brain I figured that if I used the word intellectual in my “Introducing Amy” piece Ms. Shaffer would be so impressed with me. Not just because it was a smart word, but it was a big word – and smart people use big words.

Let’s just put it this way, every hope I had in becoming Ms. Shaffer’s little buddy - her class pet, her superstar seventh grader - was dashed the moment she handed my journal back to me. My literary masterpiece was covered – COVERED – in red ink. From start to finish there was hardly any evidence that I had written anything at all because Ms. Shaffer’s red pen of death had completely ripped through the pages of my soul. I was heartbroken. To make matters worse, I didn’t even spell “intellectual” correctly. A smart person would have at least looked it up in the dictionary to verify the spelling, but I’m not too smart. It never even occurred to me to grab my dictionary. Not only that, but I was pretty bummed that I couldn’t even get a decent grade when my assignment was to simply write about myself – the one subject I just happen to know something about. Evidently Ms. Shaffer didn’t think so.

I spent my whole seventh grade English career living in fear and trepidation of Ms. Shaffer’s red ballpoint pen. I worked so hard that year to redeem myself from that hideous first impression. To this day, I honestly don’t know what Ms. Shaffer thought of me (probably something like…emotional). I will say this, however, she (or quite possibly fear) pushed me to work hard – harder than I had ever worked in my life. And then, of all things, English became my favorite subject in school (I’m not sure if Ms. Shaffer is the one to whom the credit is due on this one, but she certainly had a hand in it).

You know, there are times, as I go through my day-to-day activities, when that eleven-year-old girl resurfaces. As I did with Ms. Shaffer, I want to be Jesus’ superstar. I want to present him with an “Introducing Amy” life that will knock His socks off. But I so often mess it all up. I want God to be proud of me. So what do I do? I do what Spiritually smart people do. I get up early and spend time with Him - I pray, I seek, I wait and ask Him to lead and guide my day. I do this, only to get irritated at Brooklyn when she wanders downstairs and interrupts my moment of “Spiritual intellect”. If God had a red ballpoint pen my life would be hopelessly covered with marks and scribbles.

Yesterday morning at church, before we partook in communion, the song “Amazing Love” filled the sanctuary…and I was suddenly overwhelmed – kind of like that feeling when you’ve had the wind knocked out of you. My hands trembled as I held the communion emblems in my fingers.

Amazing love – how can it be? That you my King would die for me? Amazing love – I know it’s true. And it’s my joy to honor you, In all I do, I honor you.

In a strange sort of way, God did have a red ballpoint pen. Although, He didn’t use it to scratch up the pages of my life and leave me covered in permanent ink. God sent Jesus - crucified on a cross…for me. Jesus – whipped, broken, covered in red strokes - poured out His love for me. He nailed my “mean mommy” moment towards Brooklyn to the cross along with His hands and feet - and countless other mistakes I’ve made in my life, the ones I’ve made just today, and the one I will more than likely make in the next hour or so - many, many years ago. He allows me to redeem my less-than-stellar moments, not with red ballpoint pen strokes, but by grace, forgiveness and a second chance. It’s not an excuse to be lazy. I still have a high responsibility in the various roles I play, but God knows I can’t do it alone. He knows I’ll forget to pull the dictionary out and end up misspelling a word or two. So, He allowed Christ to be the one to take the tough grade in my place. Every time I look at myself in the mirror I am reminded of the price that was paid so that I could be forgiven and uncovered with red ballpoint pen strokes. And at the end of the day, I actually get to be God’s superstar student!

I'm "Wearing" Children

I love a good outfit. I enjoy coordinating and pulling pieces of clothes together to come up with a cute ensemble. A pretty blouse and a great pair shoes - combined with good hair - are all I need to make for a spectacular day.  

I’m not really a true expert on fashion. I just take a lot of notes – mental notes – while observing other women and their great sense of style. I don’t own fashion magazines, but occasionally I’ll Google something I might be struggling with (like “rain boots” after I received a really funky pair from my sister for Christmas, but was completely unaware of the proper way cool people are wearing their rain boots these days). In one of my Google searches - way back when I was pregnant with Brooklyn - I learned that “it’s all about the accessories.” Chunky necklaces, vintage bracelets or a snazzy little clutch can turn a “Plain Jane” jeans and t-shirt combo into “One Hot Mama”. I didn’t realize accessories are all it takes!

I do love a good chunky necklace, and have a few in my jewelry drawer. These days, however, I’m accessorizing with children. They hang from my neck and shoulders, and wrap around my waist and legs. It’s a style I’ve been working with for about six years now, and I’m not sure I’m wearing it very well. These accessories have been known to pull on both arms at the same time while I’m trying to do something really important like play on Facebook. They’ve clung to my thigh while I’ve tried walking across the church foyer to say hello to someone. They’ve pulled on my shirt to the point of indecent exposure (I’m NOT kidding – thank you Jackson), they’ve squeezed my neck while I was reading a book and I wasn’t giving eye contact while saying “No, it’s not snack time yet.” They sit on my lap while I’m typing, tug at my clothes while I’m making dinner and play with my toes when I’m trying to sit and relax. The list goes on and on and on.

I’m “wearing” children. It’s my new style. I would much rather be wearing GAP or Banana Republic, but alas, I am wearing three hot little bodies, every day. Style is fun. Fashion is great. Accessories - whether bracelets or children - are truly a gift from God. However, I wonder to myself, if I didn’t have the outfits or the enviable shoes or the child swinging from my right arm, would I still feel like “One Hot Mama”?

Colossians 3:12&14 says: “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them together in perfect unity.”

My brand new pair of Nikes might make my “mommy uniform” really pop when I go to playgroup on Thursday, but that shouldn’t be the one thing that makes me hot. My hair might turn out great this coming Sunday for church, but is that all I want people to notice or remember me for? Man’s accessories are cute and fun, but not eternal. Before I get dressed in the morning, before I choose which pair of shoes to put on that will pull the outfit together, before I hoist my two-year-old onto my hip and enter the public world, I realize I need to clothe myself with God’s accessories: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Most importantly, though, I desperately need love. I need God’s love, His guidance and His grace to wear these accessories when I don’t necessarily feel that pretty on the outside. Love takes all those beautiful attributes, those Spiritual fruits, binds them together to produce a sweet and fragrant fruit salad. That’s the kind of life I want – accessorized with love, reflecting God, and representing Him well.

So, the next time you see me I might be sporting a headband with a little person dangling from my wrist, but what I am mostly striving for is that when you get a closer look you will not only see me “wearing” children, but you will see me “wearing” love.

Laid Bare...Continuing The Thought (On A More Serious Note)

Writing yesterday’s blog post was fun for me. I smiled as I recalled the awkward airport bathroom moment I shared with my son...and the two women occupying the stalls next to us. (My kids have gifted me with more material for writing than just about any personal experience I have gone through in my life thus far…they are a treasure!) Once completed I uploaded my story, hoping that either it would give someone a good laugh, or perhaps a kindred spirit would read it, relate to it and “feel my pain.” In any case, it was shared, for all intents and purposes, as a good laugh. Then, as I was lying in bed last night I started reflecting on the idea of being “laid bare”. How absolutely horrifying and humiliating those moments can be - and are - when I’m out in public with my children and something happens that is completely out of my control. Suddenly I am…exposed.

“Hypothetical” situation: We’re at church and it’s time to go home. One out of three decides they don’t want to go, so they stomp their foot down – as if stomping their foot will magically fuse their body to the floor of the church lobby, like a majestic oak tree taking root in fertile soil. In my efforts to uproot this mighty oak, I can see out of the corner of my eye the other two-thirds of my crew running willy-nilly through the foyer, nearly knocking down an unsuspecting senior citizen. The tantrums begin, and I want to scream, cry, hide under a rock and just disappear. It’s not so much because my three spunky and energetic offspring are being naughty (kids are naughty a lot), but in that split second moment my failings are revealed for all the world (my church) to see. Flaws, imperfections, inadequacies, insecurities as a mom – you name it – it is all hanging out there and I have no where to hide. I am laid bare…and that is a very vulnerable and painful place to be.

I simply couldn’t let go of this thought last night. Yesterday’s story was entertaining and funny, as most of my embarrassing motherhood stories tend to become after time. It was the concept of being laid bare that kept me up late into the night. How I hate looking and feeling out of control. As much as I mock perfection I find myself consistently reaching for it, but it is an illusion that no one can quite grasp.

No one - that is - except Jesus.

And it was upon this thought that my mind lingered. Jesus - God in the flesh, but perfect and without sin. Jesus – who had nothing gross, ugly and shameful to conceal - took upon Himself all the sin of the world and was laid bare on a cross. Exposed…for me. He did it for those moments when I lose my cool and “Mean Mommy” appears, saying something foolish and stupid, and I have to run to His feet for forgiveness. He did it for those days when I just can’t seem to get a handle on the chaos and clutter, and I run to Him again for wisdom, strength and guidance. I shudder in my laid bare moments because I somehow think I can pull off perfect, or at least I want to. And yet, Jesus, who really IS perfect, humbly laid Himself bare for me.

I was convicted last night. Not because I wrote a funny story (at least I thought it was funny), but mostly because I forgot to include Christ in my weakest moment. In my weakness, He is my strength. He allows me to mess it up so that I won’t forget just how much I need Him. Everyday. (In every bathroom stall across the country.) I don’t ever want to forget the One to laid it bare for me in my many, many laid bare moments.

A Premature Goodbye

Two years ago today my grandmother passed away. She was 81 years old. Nanny had shared sixty beautiful years with my grandfather, left behind a son, two granddaughters and three great-grandchildren. Her legacy was one of strength, self-sacrifice and trust in God. She had weathered the Great Depression as a child, went to work during World War II, took in my grandfather's siblings when their mother passed away, raised her family while working full time and remained devoted to my grandfather through sickness, health, feast and famine. Still, as I sat through her funeral I couldn't help but feel that Nanny had left us way too soon. I don't think I would ever have been ready to let my grandmother go - there's never a good time to say goodbye. Today I received word that a friend of mine from high school had to say goodbye to his eight month old baby girl two days ago...on Father's Day. I have read his blog to catch up on this saga, and I find myself sharing in this family's grief. Oh God, how could this be? This precious baby girl, who only had eight months to share with her family, is now in the arms of her Heavenly Father. I can not even imagine the sorrow, the questions...the premature goodbye. I know that God is with them - I hear the strength in the words they write. I also know this is only the beginning of a long road through the grief and the pain.

I struggle as I write this, my mind swirling with thoughts of my friend and his family. I look at my own little brood and a flood of emotion washes over me. I want to scoop each one of my children up and squeeze them tight - how grateful I am for their health, their energy, their smiles, their cries, from the hair on their heads to their wiggly little toes...every detail. While I'm dealing with temper tantrums and sibling rivalry, my friend is dealing with the pain of never again hearing the sound of his little girl's cry. The perspective is convicting. We may not have much - our house may be too small, our bank account sadly deficient and holding on to our sanity may be the only thing we accomplish on any given day. However, I am so thankful for all of it. I'm thankful that my home is filled with the sounds of children laughing and crying, jumping and running. This perspective, while convicting, brings me to a fresh awareness of how blessed I am. Not blessed because of any external or material thing, but I am blessed in the little things. And for these blessings, I am truly grateful.

Thinking back to my grandmother, I recall all of the experiences I was able to share with her, the conversations we had, the Christmases, the stories. Even if I think my time with her was too short, saying goodbye was filled with hundreds of memories that I can hold on to for the rest of my life. While I wasn't prepared to say goodbye to Nanny, it was not premature. God knows how many years, days and months we will live on this earth. "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be," Psalm 139:16. Whether we get to live eighty years, or life ends at eight months, God has ordained each one of those days. It is more difficult to understand the purpose of only eight months, but somehow God's plan will unfold in time. In this moment I see this baby's departure as a premature goodbye, but as time goes on I am certain God will prove me wrong. He will reveal a purpose beyond what I, or her family, could possibly comprehend.

My heartfelt prayers go out to my friend, his wife and their families today. I realize nothing I say will ease the pain of their loss. I know that God is with them. He will guide them through the grief, be a listening ear in the wee hours of the night when the pain seems most intense and hold them tightly in His grasp when they feel they are falling apart. Like I said at the beginning, there's never a good time to say goodbye, however I would imagine a premature goodbye would be the most difficult one to say.

In conclusion: I will keep praying for my friend. And as I pray for this family, I will continue thanking God for each moment, day and year that I am so blessed to share with my own family. For God has ordained each one of our days, and I want to cherish each one, no matter how few or how many we get to experience together.

Mood Swings (From MomsConnect March 2009)

I was out and about this morning, taking Brooklyn to ballet class, running a few errands, and I could not believe how many times the weather changed in a few short hours! One minute it was raining, the next minute the sun popped out...then the wind...back to the rain...and then the sky turned blue accompanied by showers. It's like the weather has multiple personality disorder!

Honestly, I think there are days when I can relate to today's weather. One minute I'm crying and feeling blue, the next minute I'm filled with sunshine and happiness...then someone starts throwing a temper tantrum and it feels like a strong wind is blowing through the house...which brings us back to the tears again!

I can't tell you how grateful I am that God is steady and consistent during my mood swings and regardless of which way the wind blows, or whether or not the sun is shining. God is faithful. Days like this are a reminder to me that I cannot rely on my own strength, or even solely on others, to raise my children and be the best wife I can be. I need God to shine the light on my path when the clouds come, hold me steady when the wind blows and cover me with His umbrella of peace when the rain begins to pour. So, if the sun is shining in this moment today, be grateful for it and enjoy it! If you are reading this and the rain is coming down and the sky is gray, remember that blue skies are just around the corner!

Be Strong And Courageous

One thing I love about the Bible is that it really brings out the "human-ness" of the characters that fill its pages. It is refreshing to know that these men and women that I admire so much were human and struggled with many of the same issues that I struggle with today. How many times does the Bible speak about the issue of fear? More than I can count. God's word is packed with scriptures that encourage us to "fear not", "do not be afraid", "do not worry", "be strong and courageous".

"Be strong and courageous." That simple, yet very powerful, statement is found four times in the first chapter of Joshua. It makes me think that perhaps Joshua might have felt a tad bit overwhelmed as he looked upon his current situation. The fears, doubts and insecurities he must have been dealing with internally were enough for God to encourage him over and over, "be strong and courageous." God also knew the challenges that lay before Joshua, and knew that Joshua needed absolute confirmation of God's presence in his life.

Verse 9 says: "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." God wasn't only giving Joshua an encouraging word, but he was also commanding Joshua to be strong and courageous. Regardless of how big the obstacles ahead may have appeared or impossible the situation, God wanted Joshua's confidence to come from an unwavering faith and assurance that God would be with him wherever he went.

I believe God wants us to walk ahead through our own circumstances, fears and challenges with that same confidence, peace and assurance. "Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged." With God with us we can look at that mountain that seems impossible to conquer, and we can tell that mountain, with absolute confidence, security and power, to MOVE. Whatever your mountain is, know that God is with you WHEREVER YOU GO, and He has commanded us to BE STRONG AND COURAGEOUS! Trust in the Lord. He will never leave you nor forsake you!

God Speaks In The Silence

Recently I had the privilege of speaking to a group of women on “The Woman At the Well”. I had four months to prepare. During those four months I prayed, researched, meditated, fasted and wrote incessantly on the Samaritan Woman – I was completely immersed in all things “Woman At The Well”! Every time I sat down to work on my message I found myself crying as so many points in her story echoed my own life.

With three young children (ages 5, 4 and 2), I have found that the only way for me to have uninterrupted time to pray is by waking up at 5:30am. During the four months of preparation I found myself eager to get up every morning to spend quiet time with the Lord. I couldn’t open my Bible without some passage of scripture jumping out at me, or a new light being shone on one I’ve read dozens of times. It was like I had this private audience with God on a consistent basis. He was speaking to me in everything, and I was soaking it up as much as I possibly could. Amazing.

The day finally came when I was to share my message. I gave it my all. I had come to a point, before I spoke, that regardless of how much or how little feedback I may receive, I knew that God had given me a word to share. I was humbled, truly, by the overwhelmingly positive response I got from women of all ages. I have to say that the words of affirmation touched me deeply. God was faithful that morning.

Then 5:30am the next day rolled around, and the morning after that…and the morning after that…and the morning after that - still meeting with God. However, something was different. There were no bright lights and bursts of enlightenment. Getting up to meet with God was becoming more and more difficult – almost tedious (and I hate to admit that). Why? Simple, because my prayers and meditations seemed to be falling on deaf ears, and I was left with no response. Rather than God speaking to me I found myself sitting in God’s silence. My quiet time was too quiet.

Today I was thinking about this. I threw the question “out there” (“Where are you God – why are you being so quiet? I’m not feeling the love!”) figuring I would get no answer. Then something crossed my mind – a simple thought, “Be still and know that I am God.”

Hmmm…be still and know.

Lamentations 3:25-27 (The Message)
“God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks.
It's a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God.
It's a good thing when you're young to stick it out through the hard times.”

It’s not about feeling. It’s not about the enlightenment and thrill of the experience. It is all about the search, the stillness, the quiet moments, the waiting, the persevering and the hope in God. I love those seasons when God seems to be “heard” not in whispered tones but almost audibly. However, my faith and my ability to truly KNOW God will only grow during these silent seasons. True faith - mature faith - is believing and trusting that God is here with me even when there is darkness all around and His voice is in the shadows. While I wait, I will seek, and while I seek, I will hope. God is still there. He’s still completing the work He began in me. He is still speaking to me however, at this time God is speaking in the silence.

As I am still I will know that He is God, and if I am quiet enough I might just hear Him whisper something new and fresh deep within my soul.