Friday's Free Advice - Oops...I Did It Again!

I've had better weeks.  This was definitely not one of them.  

I make mistakes.  In fact, I make a lot of mistakes.  If I were to think too long and hard on all the mistakes I've made this past week alone, I'm afraid I'd end up drowning in defeat.  I've made big ones and little ones.  Some of them I didn't even realize were blunders until, upon further introspection, realized that I messed up bad.

I hate that I make mistakes.  I so desperately want to make the right decisions, think with a sound mind, and operate my home with sweetness and grace.  Sadly, I can't keep up with my good intentions.  No sooner am I infused with a fresh "can do" attitude, then I'm slapped back a few steps with "what were you thinking?  What a mistake!"

Please tell me I'm not the only one who struggles with this!

Since I'm pretty certain that I am not alone when it comes to mistake making, I'm going to share with you how I deal with my mishaps and blunders.  Today's Friday's Free Advice: The common cure for the common mistake - forgiveness.

First, acknowledge that you've made a mistake.  Conviction - not shame - tugs at our hearts when we've acted out of our selfish nature and not the nature of God.  Accepting the conviction and realizing that we've done something wrong is the first step to overcoming.

Second, confess it.  Tell God what's going on.  Get it out.  Be real.  You don't need an M.Div. to tell God what you're feeling or what you're struggling with.  In your own words, tell God what's happening.

Third, ask for forgiveness.  Once you've unburdened your heart with the junk going on inside of you, simply ask God to forgive.  He will.  Immediately.

And finally, let it go.

Psalm 130-11-13

For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.  As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.

I've had to do this a lot this week.  Thankfully, God's grace transcends my humanity.  He knows my heart; he knows the intent is pure, but the vessel is broken.  He forgives and allows me the freedom to get up and try - over and over and over - again.

Happy Friday...make the most of your day...and don't let your mistakes hold you back from walking in the freedom God has for you!

Make 'Em Laugh

The above picture needs no explanation.  I probably don’t need to go into great detail about how I closed my eyes for my sixth grade school photo.  I’m sure you already figured that out.  I won’t even tell you how absolutely horrifying this was for me, or how I wanted to crawl under my desk and pull my woven sisal book bag over my head when my teacher handed me my picture packet.  The photo speaks for itself.

The bumpy, forty-five minute bus ride home was torture.  As the black exhaust from passing vehicles blew into the windows of our bus, I could feel tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.  I wanted to burst into sobs, rip my pictures to pieces, and never show my face at school again.  More than anything, I just wanted to be home.  I wanted to see my mom and fall into her arms.  I needed a good cry.

When my mom saw the image peering through the clear cellophane window of my packet, she didn’t even have to ask me how my day went.  She already knew.  After I cried, and wished I’d never been born, and begged to move to another country, and swore I’d never set foot in my school again, and wallowed in grief, my mom spoke up.  She didn’t pity me.  She didn’t stroke my hair and feed into the "woe-is-me" mood I was feeling.  Instead, she started brainstorming ways to smile about this catastrophe: “Amy, let’s make ‘em laugh.”  Honestly, I didn’t really see anything very funny about my life being ruined by sleepy eyes.  And I certainly wasn’t ready to start cutting out the wallet-size miniature reminders of those sleepy eyes to trade with my friends.  However, after listening to my mom’s pep talk, and her encouragement to stop taking myself so seriously, I slowly began to see the brighter side to the whole scenario.

We came up with some good one-liners for me to dish out the next day at school, too:

“I was feeling a little sleepy on picture day.”

“I like the way I look with my eyes closed.”

“It’s really the smile that counts, right?”

By the next day, I was armed with wit and ready to pass out my picture to all my friends.

Life is messy.  Life is unpredictable.  We start moving in one direction and then, unforeseen circumstances jump in the middle of our path, causing us to switch gears fast.  Before we know it, we are off on a detour and completely unprepared.  Are these circumstances avoidable?  Sometimes.  But not all the time.  Most of the time, life doesn’t care whether or not we’re prepared for unemployment, cancer, a sick child, an emergency root canal, a broken down car.  Life comes at us - the innocent and the not-so innocent alike.  And when life has left its mark, we are left to figure out what to do next.

I am a full supporter of being real with feelings.  When the messiness of life smacks me in the face, I have learned to give myself permission to feel whatever it is that I feel.  When we found out we were pregnant with Jackson (unplanned and unprepared for), I cried.  They were tears of fear.  I worried and fretted.  It took me a couple of days to process my emotions.  After I got all the crying out of my system, I realized, like the turning point with my sixth grade school picture, I was left with a choice.  Would I resent the pregnancy?  Would I spend the next 30 some weeks living in fear and distress rather than joy and elation?

At my first sonogram, six weeks along in the pregnancy, I chose to laugh about it.

Jackson was our surprise gift from God.  It took a conscious decision on my part, and Joel’s, to refocus and reset our plans.  Once we did, each moment in our pregnancy was filled with excitement, anticipation, and wonder.  We laughed about the future because we knew that God was in it.

I realize that an unexpected pregnancy is not nearly as hard to come to grips with as a home foreclosure, an untimely death, or spouse abandonment (all of which have afflicted friends of mine).  I realize that the detour of my life pales in comparison.  Still, God is in everything.  He’s in the winter of our lives, just as he is in the new beginnings of spring.  He grants us space to feel and express our pain, and then he offers us the opportunity to find joy in the detour.  He gives us the song, the smile, and the creativity to find laughter on our new path.

He holds us close and then gently invites us to “make ‘em laugh”.

Dear Dad...

Dear Dad,  

When I reflect upon all the different kinds of dads out there in this huge and busy world, I always end up coming to the same conclusion: I have, hands down, the best dad.  There is no contest.

You took me on our first Daddy/daughter date on my fifth birthday...and I remember it well today.  We sat at a table by a wall at Bishop's Family Buffet, and I wore my green velvet Christmas dress.  I felt like such a little lady.  You asked me questions about my life, my thoughts, my hopes, and my five-year-old dreams.  I knew I was precious to you then.

As I grew older, and drove you insane throughout my teenage years, you were a constant source of wisdom and guidance to me.  You came to every violin recital, cheered (loudly and emphatically) at every one of my basketball games (which I know had to be painful to watch seeing that I do not have one athletic bone in this body of mine), attended plays, choir concerts (that lasted for hours), and counseled me through many ups and downs, and believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.  I remember how sad you would get when summer or Christmas or spring break was over, because you genuinely loved hanging out with me and Jen.

In high school, you took time to take me for coffee, ask me about my life, and listened to my hopes and seventeen-year-old dreams.  I knew I was precious to you then.

My early adult years were not such a sweet time for me.  I wrestled with transitions, depression, and burn-out.  When I hit bottom, and it was an ugly one, you saw something beautiful in me.  You supported, encouraged, listened, and prayed.  You sacrificed so much because we, your family, were more important than ministry success or achievement.  You truly exemplified what it means to lay down your life for your family.  What a treasure that was...is...to me.  When I was at my lowest, you and mom came and spent time with me, you held me, you cried with me, and you listened to my twenty-three-year-old hopes and dreams.  I knew I was precious to you then.

The older I get, the more I realize that the kind of father I have is a very rare kind of man.  I still call you just to hear to say, "Amy, it's all going to work out."  I still smile when I open up an e-mail from you, knowing that it probably took quite some time to hammer it out with your two index fingers. :)  I still covet your prayers, respect your insights, and appreciate your valuable words of wisdom. 

And that we can go out for coffee, sit and talk for hours about  life, thoughts, hopes, and my thirty-six-year-old dreams, reminds me that I am, and will always be, precious to you.

Thank you, Dad. 

I love you!

Friday's Free Advice

I had a few ideas for my Friday's Free Advice floating around this mushy brain of mine yesterday (the end of the school year has this kind of effect on me).  I thought about tackling the ups and downs of transition (because I am in the middle of transition right now - going from rigid routine to a more relaxed summer schedule).  However, I read something this morning that literally had me cringing.  So disappointing was the website I perused, that I feel compelled to change the direction of my post.  

What, you may ask, could I have possibly read that would have such an effect on me?  In my "vast" experience (please note the sarcasm here) of networking, I have come across quite a variety of bloggers out here in the web-o-sphere.  Intriguing, to say the least, has this journey been for me.  A few weeks ago I read a very well-written post about raising daughters to be homemakers.  The concept sounded sweet and inoffensive at first.  As I continued reading, however, the subtle, and then not-so-subtle, message  - that it is God's command and calling for ALL women to stay at home and raise daughters for the soul purpose of becoming homemakers - became overwhelmingly apparent.  I nearly fell out of my seat.  It pained me, knowing that thousands of women read this particular blog, and look to the writer as a kind of expert and authority.  So disturbed was I that I spoke up and commented.  I felt like a lone voice in the wilderness.  I'm not about bashing those women who feel called by God to stay home and be homemakers.  I am, however, completely in opposition to the idea that the only place for a woman, in God's perfect design, is the home.  I wrote a little bit about some of my thoughts on this particular subject last week.

Out of curiosity, I decided to do a little informal research this morning.  In some of the banter regarding the "homemaker" philosophy (or theology, as these individuals are preaching), the name "Botkin Sisters" had come up.  I had never heard of these people before, but it sounded like they are pretty influential in this movement.  I Googled them, thinking I would find two elderly women with their hair up in tight buns wearing prairie clothing.  What I found were two very beautiful young women - ages 20 and 23.  I thought to myself, "These are the women responsible for this movement?  You've got to be kidding me!"  That they are lovely and attractive I believe woos young women and mothers who, perhaps, have either been raised in homes that were heavily dysfunctional, or are struggling in difficult marriages.  The fact that they are in their early twenties and delving out advice and "preaching" this distorted doctrine, deeply, and I mean deeply, concerns me.

So, here is my Friday's Free Advice for you:

Oh be careful little eyes what you read in a blog!  Just because a person has a blog, writes well and presents their message in an articulate manner, does not make them an expert!  That includes this blog too.  I am human, completely fallible and certainly capable of error.  Much of what I write is the junk I'm either working through, or full disclosure of my personal dysfunction.  There are times I could actually be wrong (perish the thought!).  If something I write doesn't sit well with you, that might be because it wasn't intended for you.  God was using a particular situation in my life to teach me something personal...and I'm just sharing my journey with you.  If you are truly looking for answers to difficult questions in your life, please, please, go to the Word of God first.  Don't let the blogs out there, and some are really beautiful and well-written, be the light unto your path.  Let God's Word be your light.  Let the blog be a source of encouragement from a distant friend along the path...but never the source of light to your path.

Does this make sense?  I'm certainly NOT asking you to not read my blog anymore...that's not my point at all.  :)  What I am "advising" is to be careful what you read.  I take the "you gotta prove it to me" point of view when I read other blogs (written by individuals that I do not know).  I am extremely critical at the onset.  Time will tell if a blogger is being authentic. 

You may, or may not, agree with this post.  That is okay.  You may, or may not, take my advice.  That is okay too.  The advice is free, and the writer is painfully human.  I think, to be completely honest, this advice is mostly for me.  A good reminder that no matter what I read, or where I look, the Bible should always be the first place I go for instruction. 

What say you?  Have you uncovered some messed up doctrine/theology in your web/blog searches?  Have you been brave enough to speak out when it might not be popular to do so?  Have you read something that left you feeling shamed rather than uplifted...did it confuse or distort the person of Jesus to you?  Let me know...I'm pretty sure we've all been there!

God Shines Down

Sydney came bounding into our room.  It was barely six o’clock in the morning, and she had so much to say already.  It was summertime, and the sun had broken through the clouds early (much too early for this mom who was still nursing a baby throughout the night).  Sydney was a brand new four-year-old, and was enjoying her newfound “maturity” and her first few days of vacation.   

On this slow morning as she burst through our bedroom door, there was something of particular interest that she was dying to share with us.  She explained that when she woke up and peeked out of her window, the sky was bright and pink.  “Pink!” she said, “The whole sky was pink…my favorite color!”  She went on, “Mommy, God was shining down on me this morning.  He shined down on me in pink.”

Profound words from such a young thing.  I affirmed to her that God was certainly shining down on her, and how marvelous that he did it in her favorite color.  He is the God of details.

Have you ever walked through a dark season of life?  You know- the kind of season that tests your faith, questions your trust, and breaks your heart?  I’ve been through a few of those.  In fact, I have been trudging through a sort of wilderness season on and off for about six years.  Sometimes the challenges – financial, relational, or spiritual - loom heavy, and so my heart is weighted down to the deep places.  Sometimes it’s simply maneuvering through parenting obstacles where I feel completely inadequate. 

Regardless of what kind of wilderness I’m facing, I find that I come to the end of myself quite frequently.  I need a drink of water or warm sunshine on my face – anything to revive and reignite the spirit to keep pressing on.  I’ll read the Word, put it to memory, pray (or more like wail before God).  There is nothing like a desert experience to remind us of just how much our bodies crave the Living Water.

Sometimes…when I’m tired, drained to the core, and feeling broken, I have asked what many others have asked, too: “God, are you really even there?”

Sometimes…He remains silent.  He doesn’t answer back the way I wish he would.  He withholds communication for a little while.  He doesn’t show up in the sermon on Sunday or the teaching at Bible study.  It appears as if he has turned his back.  And while I want to throw in the towel, surrender to the desert, and build a sand castle, I remember that God is in control. 

I press on. 

This is faith in action.

Yet…sometimes…God brings a little relief in the desert.  He leads us to springs where we can drink up peace and refreshment.  He answers a simple prayer or brings a comforting word at just the right moment.  He leans in a little closer and warms those places in our hearts that have, perhaps, grown cold.

Sometimes he shines down on us in rays of pink sunlight.

He shines down to remind us that we are not forgotten, he knows where we are, and he is with us.

Today I have felt the warmth of God’s hand on my life in a very powerful way.  Today God is shining down on me.  Today I am grateful for the spring in the desert that waters my soul. 

We wish we could define the desert.  We wish there was a way to outrun the wilderness.  We long to bypass it altogether.  However, God knows the purpose behind these seasons, and he is never far from us.  His love confounds.  His ways an eternal mystery.

And just when we think that the darkness will surely envelop us, he shines his light into our souls.  He lifts us up.  He satisfies our thirst.  He proves his faithfulness.

And we know we’ve been seen.  We know God is here.   

Psalm 145:13-19

The Lord is faithful to all His promises and loving toward all He has made.  The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.  The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time.  You open up your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.  The Lord is righteous in all His ways and loving toward all He has made.  The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.  He fulfills the desires of those who fear Him; He hears their cry and saves them.

Sun-Induced

It has been raining for days weeks months out here in the Northwest. It's almost been more than this poor African girl can handle. Unmotivated to do anything but sit around the house looking like a "shlumpadinka", I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see the sun again.  And then, gloriously, vitamin D has been pouring down on us like warm, yellow waves of sunshine for the past two days.  I. am. in. heaven. Yesterday afternoon, our three wild things were working some of their wiggles out on our patio with sidewalk chalk.  Sydney had the bright idea that we should all go to the pool.  Perhaps it was the euphoria we were feeling from the endless stream of sun rays on our pasty white faces that compelled our tired mouths to say yes to embarking on such an ambitious Sunday afternoon family outing.  Never-the-less, thirty minutes later all five of us were suited up and headed to the pool.

I am relieved to report that our kids represented us well.  There were no displays of ugly behavior, leaving me very optimistic that we might actually be able to do this again sometime.

Until we got home.

They saved all the ugly up- held every whine, every fight, every high pitched expression of displeasure for the last few hours of our day. Jackson, who did not get his regular afternoon nap (not even a thirty minute power nap), was about as contentious as a caged beast.  He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know what he wanted.  He was delirious with fatigue.  Rather than lay down and give in to sleep, he amped up and ran through the house like a wild animal.  There were so many "Uh oh's" and bedroom times that I started to lose count.  The mantra repeatedly playing in my head was, "Just get him through dinner, and then you can put him to bed."

Bedtime finally came (early).  We had completed our regular bedtime rituals and I was heading to my room when I heard a little voice behind me.  It was Jackson.  He was following me saying, "Mommy, I need to tuck you in."  I could seriously have eaten him up right there, he was so sweet.  I looked up at Joel, whose face was as endeared and touched as mine.  Jackson walked me to my room and helped me get my bed turned down.  It was precious, until I accidentally knocked him in the head with my lethal elbow.  (Yep...I sure know how to kill a moment!)  He let out a yelp, but quickly forgave me (I think he was too tired to have a full blown melt down).

Lots of kisses, hugs, "I love you's"  and one "bless my heart" from Jackson later, he was successfully in bed.

Whew...day over.

And another one has just begun.

Good Thoughts

Before the invention of the electric washing machine, it would take a woman six hours to do one load of laundry.  Six hours.  One load.  (Air-dry time, pressing, and folding not included.)  

This little factoid just reminded me of a load of towels I washed yesterday.  They are still in the machine.  I will have to run them again, and hopefully, remember to transfer them to the dryer this time.  From start to finish, this could take an hour-and-a-half.  And I want to whine about it.  I want to pout and throw up my hands in surrender because there is so much laundry to do.  All of the time.  Piles and piles of it.

When I was younger, I was certain that I had been born in the wrong era.  I should have been a prairie girl, or a 1920's flapper, right out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel, or part of the Greatest Generation (for sure).  Now that I am older and maybe just a teeny bit wiser, I am convinced that "Laura Ingles Wilder" I am not.  I love my electric washing machine (I love electricity in general).  I love my cell phone and high-speed internet.  I love going to movies, online banking, blue jeans, and my grind & brew coffee maker (hallelujah for my coffee maker!).  I am so appreciative of the modern conveniences I get to enjoy (and fully embrace) on a daily basis.  God made no mistake when he brought this life into the world in 1973.

Sometimes I get restless and critical, worried and depressed when I look at the world I live in.  I can easily get caught up in all the "bad" out there.  Yet, I kind of get the impression that God is still present in all this chaos.  He's still moving, working, blessing, and redeeming.  He even had the forethought and grace to make sure that the electric washing machine was a standard home appliance for a gal like me.

That the sun so graciously decided to poke its head out of the clouds for a brief moment this morning could quite possibly be the inspiration for this random stream of thought.  Or maybe I just needed to pull myself up out of negativity and remind myself that it could always be worse.  I could have been born in a time when bathrooms were outhouses and mornings were spent milking cows, baking bread, and feeding the chickens. 

Wherever the inspiration came from...I'm just plain thankful today.  And that's all I've got to say.

Emotional Writing

One of the things I have had to learn in my blogging venture is that it is never wise to write a post in an emotional state.  Whether it be hormones, a bad hair day, or just plain old irritation, writing under such duress is never a good idea.  I would call it "emotional writing".  For some, pulling out a pint of Ben & Jerry's or spending money they don't have might bring a fleeting sense of satisfaction.  For me...it is writing out "how I really feel" that calms my emotions.  Unfortunately, what ends up happening is I look back at what I've written and cringe.  Only once have I actually posted one of my emotional writing rants, and ended up pulling it an hour later realizing that, as justified as I may have been in my feelings, sharing them with the world was not a wise choice. Today, however, I am making an exception to that rule.  Today I am going to let my unedited emotions break loose and share from the depths of my heart what I believe to be God's desire and calling for women (men, too, to some degree).  And also, what I believe to be God's calling on my life.

Isaiah 61:1-3

"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.  He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of despair.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

(I could have easily highlighted the entire paragraph - it's so good!)  Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary on the Bible describes this passage as a picture of the coming Messiah, his character and his office.  When I read these words, I am instantly drawn to the message and proclamation of freedom.  Freedom from the past, freedom from the constraints of sin in our lives, freedom from sorrow, despair, and oppression.  Jesus came so that we could have life, and live it to the fullest.  His plan for each one of us is as unique as the person we are.  Not one individual on this planet is like any other.  We are all fearfully and wonderfully made.  Therefore, our futures, God's plans for us and the way he chooses to work in our lives is going to be tailor made...and absolutely wonderful.

Freedom.  How I love that word.  I love the liberation I feel when I know in my heart that I am right in the center of God's will...his perfect plan for me.  No one can take that away.  There will be those out there that will try.  They will believe with all their hearts that God has somehow revealed to them some hidden secret to knowing God's plan for every person, or that somehow there is one specific path that God expects all of us to walk.  (Before I go any further I feel that I should point out that I am not talking about the fundamental truths of salvation.  There is only one way to God, there is only one way to salvation.  Not many will follow because the cross of Christ will be too much to bear.  Yet, doesn't the Word say, "my yoke is easy and my burden is light"?)

Back to the emotional writing...

Paul says in Galatians 5:1 "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery."

So here is what I believe to be God's desire for women, and the role we play in this life:  First and foremost, love God, seek God, study his word, know him, draw close to him, trust in him and obey.  Give him your life, your cares, your worries, your fears, your failures, your insecurities and your struggles.  When you draw close to God, when you are in his word, you will then know his voice.  As a woman, wife and mother I am of no use if I am off willy nilly doing my own thing, flittering about making choices and decisions without being rooted in the Word of God.  When I know the voice of God, and then obey his directives, then I am at peace and I am a blessing in every role I play.

Second, a friend of mine was sharing with me that she had been praying about a major decision that would effect her family.  It finally came down to choosing between what was good, and what was best.  Funny thing, though, God's best for her and her family is not God's best for me and my family.  When it comes down to making decisions (like being a stay-at-home mom, or working outside the home; homeschooling or sending your child to school; family values; husband and wife roles within the home (not referring to headship here); the way in which you choose to raise your children and how) God directs and leads each woman and family in the way that is best for them.  We are all called to be disciples of Christ and spread the good news, but how we do that is not going to be the same.  What God reveals to be his best for you, will not be what is his best for me.  I respect, love and and admire those who simply do what God has called them to do.  It is a beautiful thing to me to see women living out God's purpose for their lives.  It may looking nothing like mine, or we may have lots of similarities...either way, I find an obedient heart irresistible.

Joel and I made the decision that I would be a stay-at-home mom when we had children.  There was absolutely no twisting my arm on that one (anyone who knows me well would shout out "AMEN" to that).  I love being home with my little ones.  I take pleasure in it, and I am grateful that I am able to do this (not all moms can, and there should NO shame on a woman who, for financial or personal reasons, works outside the home).  At the same time, I am not simply a stay-at-home mom, I have other dreams, hopes and desires - all God-given - that I have yet to see unfold completely.  As my children are getting older, and becoming less and less dependent upon me, I am finding that opportunities to be involved in ministry outside my home have been opening up.  As I prayerfully consider each one, I do so realizing that my first priority is my family.  Not every opportunity is the right opportunity.  Still, I am excited to see how God is going to use my life, my gifts, my abilities and passions as time goes on.

As far as my children are concerned, I am raising all three (two girls and a boy) to first and foremost know God, love God and know his voice.  That is top priority.  Their salvation is more important to me than knowing how to bake muffins or having the top grade in their class.  What they choose to do with their lives is between them and God.  If Sydney wants to run for president, well, I'll campaign for her!  If both girls want to be homemakers, then I'll stand by their sides and mentor and love and encourage that.  If my son chooses to be a teacher, lawyer, missionary, pastor, doctor...whatever...I will support him.  Only God can reveal his perfect plan for their lives.  My job is to teach, train, discipline and guide them to become responsible, well-adjusted, independent adults who will love God with all their hearts, minds, souls and strength.

This is a long one, and I could keep writing on this topic.  Above all else, is it not the fruit of the Spirit that should be evident in each one of us?  You can do everything "right" in the eyes of man, or according to a Christian standard, but if the fruit of the Spirit is void in your life, then what's the point?  If you have felt that there is a standard that you haven't been able to reach or attain, is it possible you have been reaching for something God never intended for you to have?  If you have been bogged down in shame because your life hasn't turned out the way it was "supposed to", is it possible that you've been looking at someone else's "best" not realizing that God has a "best" just for you?  Too often I see women weighted down with so much guilt because they are trying to be something or someone God never intended for them to be.  Can I just say that God sent his son, Jesus, so you could be free to be you?  He didn't create you with all your idiosyncrasies and quirks, gifts and abilities, so that you would fulfill someone else's call.  He came to set the captives free (not just the sinners, but those bound up with insecurities, fear and condemnation).  Jesus came to set you free.  If you are struggling then he invites you to come and sit with him, talk to him and allow him to reveal his "best" for you.  When you know the truth, you will be set free.  Free to be you.

Galatians 5:22-23

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Against such things there is no law."

The "Face"

I have a love/hate relationship with make-up.  I love it because it covers up all most of my facial flaws, and adds color so I don't look nearly as tired as I actually feel.  I hate it because it is such a hassle to apply and remove.  If I could simply leave my house "as is" I would be perfectly happy.  However, "as is" is scary.  I know this for a fact because my children, who have no motivation for lying, have told me flat out, "Mommy, you look scary."  So, you see, make-up, while somewhat of a chore, is a necessity.  

I have a friend who very rarely wears make-up, and looks beautiful.  She has that even-tone-silky-smooth-I-want-to-hate-you-but-I-love-you-because-you-are-my-friend kind of skin.  She has truly been blessed.  Me...not so much.  Therefore, I leave my make-up free days for the weekend and my family.

I remember my mom referring to her make-up as her "face".  She couldn't go anywhere without putting her "face" on.  As a little girl I thought that sounded crazy.  I totally get it now.  The "face" is the identity that the world out there has come to recognize, know, and feel comfortable with.  If I were to show up to church on a Sunday morning without my face, there would probably be some concern.  Or maybe perhaps a few horrified individuals.  Like I said, I look scary.

There's another "face" I wear.  This "face" is the person everyone out there sees every single day.  The person who says "hi" in the church foyer, or forgets to say "hi" because she's running late to pick up one of her kids from Sunday school.  This is the "face", or persona, that everyone around me has come to know, to some degree, and feel comfortable with (or at least, come to grips with).  To be honest, there are mornings when I wake up and I don't particularly feel like putting my "face" on.  I'm tired.  I'm stressed.  I've spent most of the night worrying about my family, the future (not a very spiritual thing to do, I know...but I confess, it happens).  I get overwhelmed.  I feel lonely.  And yet, I know that if I were to walk out my door without putting on my "face" I might make a lot of people feel very uncomfortable...I might scare them.

I don't think I'm the only woman on the planet that feels like this, even though sometimes it would appear that way.  I would imagine we all have a deep desire to be known and accepted without our make-up on.  To know that more than just our families will accept the scary two-toned skin that lies beneath the Clinique foundation.  And if we were all perfectly honest, while we so desperately want to be make-up free with each other, we, too, find it difficult to allow others to be make-up free with us.  I say this not to point a finger, but really because as God has been working in my life in the area of grace, this has been a key issue he has brought to light.  As God lavishes me with undeserved grace and mercy, I find him challenging me to do the same for others.  I haven't always hit the nail on the head, but thankfully, God forgives and gives me a second chance.

God's grace is sufficient for me...and it is also sufficient for you.  God's grace poured out for, and in, me, is the grace he desires for me to pour out on others.

One powerful thing I am learning on this grace journey is that as I accept this unconditional gift and apply it to my life, the need to wear my inner "face" begins to fade away.  I don't have anything to be ashamed of, fearful of, or embarrassed about.  I am fully known by God, and feel the freedom to be fully known by others.  It may look rough, and it may lack polish, but it's the real thing.  It is the face without the "face".  The face that God loves, accepts and has chosen.  And more importantly, the part of me that will ultimately reflect Jesus to others...which is truly my heart's desire...above all else.

2 Corinthians 3:18

"And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

My hope...my prayer...for my face to reflect the true face of God....one day at a time...one step of grace at a time...

Friday's Free Advice

I have issues.  This should come as no surprise to those of you who read my blog regularly.  I wrestle with waiting on God, I struggle with insecurity, I have to cling to God's grace on a daily basis, and work harder on this whole marriage and parenting thing than I have worked on anything else in my life.  

And that's not all. 

I worry. 

I worry a lot.  

Fear is a battle for me.  

When I am in a "good" place emotionally, spiritually and physically I can quickly recognize my fear triggers, and rise above them.  However, when I am tired, stressed, dealing with a difficult child, at odds with Joel, and doggy paddling my way through the waves of unpredictability, I am not so quick to resist worry.  My mind blows things out of proportion.  

And I end up exhausted.

Realizing this about myself, I have learned a few things about how to regain control of my emotions, and pull myself up out of this pit.  There are four little steps I take to move from living overwhelmed to overcoming living.  This is today's Friday's Free Advice:

• Spiritual dimension:  Read the Word of God!

Matthew 6:25-27, 33-34"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more important than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?  Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?  But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own." (NIV)

God's word takes away the confusion and distorted messages my mind conjures up.  It brings me back to the truth, and truth trumps fear every. single. time.

• Physical dimension: Get some rest! 

Go to bed early.  Take a day, or morning, to flop around the house.  Schedule it into your week, if need be.  I know life gets really busy (I know this because we are busy quite frequently).  I also know that when I have gone too long without rest I burn out.  In fact, this morning as I write this, I am sitting here in my jammies with a cup of coffee on my desk.  I am resting.

• Relational dimension:  Deal with it!

This is probably the most difficult step for me, and I can't say that I do well in this dimension consistently.  However, I am learning and growing (remember...I am clinging to grace on a daily basis!). 

Just last night Joel and I had a long heart-to-heart.  It was a much needed talk, and as I anticipated bringing things up to him I was a wreck internally.  Yet, it proved to be a powerful moment in our relationship.  Instead of avoiding and pushing issues aside, we confronted, listened to each other, talked them out (until 12am), and drew closer as husband and wife. 

• Soul dimension:  Pray!

 The famous philosopher of the 90's, M.C. Hammer, once rapped, "You've got to pray just to make it today...Come on, let's pray."  Okay...a little cheesy, but he was totally right.  I really do need to pray just to make it today!   

When I've saturated my mind in the truth of God's word, addressed any physical or relational issues, I then wrap them up in prayer.  By this time, fear has vanished and my heart, mind and soul are back on track.  Life will constantly try to throw curve balls, but keeping the focus the One who will carry us through them all is the greatest comfort of all.

As we drifted off to sleep last night, Joel prayed over us.  It was the sweetest night's rest I've had in a long time. 

Isaiah 26:3  "Thou will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee." (KJV)

Something To Be Thankful For...

I spent an unmentionable amount of time staring blankly at my computer screen yesterday afternoon.  I was trying to write up a post for today, but my mind was drawing a blank.  I pulled up a post-in-process and tinkered around with it for a while, but it still isn't ready.  I perused facebook and twitter to kill time (perhaps hoping for divine inspiration of some sort).  Before I knew it, Jackson was up from his nap, and all the quiet uninterrupted time I had reserved for writing was gone, and I had nothing to show for it.   

I thought maybe I could jump back on the computer once Jackson and Brooklyn found their play groove, but not so much.  Brooklyn asked me to help her make a thank you note for a friend...and I did.  Jackson pulled on my arm and asked me to play with him...and I did.  The afternoon belonged to my kids, and my post went unwritten.

In my mind, the day had been a waste.  I didn't get anything accomplished that I had hoped.  I was even behind on getting the laundry done.  By dinner time I was feeling out of sorts.  Then, as we went around the table before dinner, and shared what we were thankful for that day, my heart was deeply touched by what my family had to say.

Jackson was thankful for the usual - Mom, Dad, Brooklyn, Sydney and Jackson (yes, he is always thankful for himself - we view this as a positive sense of self) - and then he added another item to his thankful list.  Jackson said he was thankful for me, because I played with him.

Sydney was next.  With her arms flailing for dramatic effect, she declared that she was thankful for having a great...GREAT...day.  This, too, touched my heart because she had been on my mind a lot throughout the day, and each time I would whisper a little prayer for her. 

Then came Brooklyn.  Brooklyn was thankful that I helped her write a thank you note.  She is such a sweetheart.  I didn't really put a lot thought into how much my time would mean to her, but evidently, it meant enough that she remembered and was thankful.

It was Joel's turn next.  He paused then simply expressed that he was thankful for "Mommy". 

Right then and there I was reminded that, although on paper I may not have much to show for my day, it was not a waste.  I did the most important job in the world.  I was the mommy God created me to be for these four amazing people in my life.  For each person it may look a little different, and as we are faithful to be who we were intended to be, we can make a huge impact on our world.

I had asked God yesterday morning to reveal himself to me in a personal way.  Through my family God spoke something sweet to my soul.  As much as they are thankful for me...I am so very thankful for them. 

And once again I was reminded of how much I have to rejoice and be glad in!

Friday's Free Advice

We have a lot of leaders in our home.  Inevitably, there is a constant battle to be the line leader (it doesn’t matter if we’re just walking to a different room…everyone wants to be first).  My children will literally tackle each other in order to claim this coveted position.  This morning a genius moment of mommy creativity flashed in my mind.  As Jackson was bringing up the rear heading downstairs for breakfast, I could tell he was on the brink of a meltdown.  Then it dawned on me…Jackson wasn’t last…Jackson was…THE CABOOSE!  I told him, with excitement brimming from my voice, “Jackson!  You get to be THE CABOOSE!”  He looked questioningly at me, and I repeated, “Jackson…YOU get to be THE CABOOSE!”  His whole face lighted up.  He marched boldly down the stairs and proclaimed to his sisters, dad, and all of creation, “I’m the CADOOSE!  Look at me!”   

Sometimes it’s as simple as changing our perspective. 

There are nights when I will lay my head down on my pillow and feel like I botched every single item on my list of responsibilities.  I can beat myself to a pulp for something I said, or didn’t say; for not spending enough quality time with each of my children, or allowing myself to feel overwhelmed because I don’t think who I am is enough. 

In these quiet moments I am learning to pause and ask God to help me look on my life with a fresh perspective.  I ask him to help me see clearly those areas where I need to humble myself and make adjustments, and then release those things that are out of my control.  I ask him to help me accept the fact that I can’t do everything, and teach me to walk boldly in his perfection, because I am never going to be perfect.  I ask him to give me a fresh perspective, a fresh grasp of his grace and a fresh appreciation for others.

And he always does.  I find that I am asking God for a healthy dose of new perspective a lot these days.  I can’t be a wife, mother, daughter, friend and leader without him.  Where I am weak, he is my superwoman strength, enabling me to leap tall heaps of laundry and dirty dishes in a single bound.  And when my perspective is off, he is faithful to come to my rescue every. single. time.

Friday’s Free Advice:  If you are feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders and it is crushing you, maybe it’s time to stop and ask God to give you a change of perspective in your situation.  I was talking to a friend recently, and for her it was as simple as a good night’s rest.  It is amazing what a little change in perspective can do for a soul!

Sweet Spot

“When life’s biggest disappointments cause a bitterness that you just can’t seem to shake, know that the Lord wants to step in and reveal the miracle of his restoring power in your heart.  He can take your biggest struggle and heartache – the one that causes your chest to ache with frustration – and turn it into the sweet spot on which your spiritual outlook hinges.”    - Priscilla Shirer from her Bible Study, “One In A Million”.

This statement has lingered with me for several days now.  Our current heartache, whatever that might be, is the very thing in which God can, and will, transform into a sweet spot. 

A sweet spot.

When I think of sweet, I think of honey, homemade chocolate chip cookies, kisses from my kiddos, the night Joel proposed to me, the first time I saw my babies on a sonogram, and walking on the beach with sand between my toes.  Those are all marvelous things to me.  The word sweet does not conjure up thoughts of heartache, struggle, and pain.  When I think sweet, I don’t think about a wilderness journey.  Yet, just maybe my perception of sweet is off.  Perhaps the very thing in my life that frustrates and overwhelms me is the very thing that God is using to draw me close to him – causing me to cling to him with all my might.

Life is so multi-dimensional.  There may be clouds hovering over one area while sunlight shines down on another.  Sometimes there are more clouds than sun, and finding a sweet spot is like looking for sugar in a saltshaker.

When we moved into our current home, we had a baby and a two-year-old.  We didn’t need a lot of space, and really couldn’t afford much more than our tiny townhome at the time.  We dreamed big.  We anticipated living in this house for a couple years and then moving on up to something bigger to meet the needs of our growing family.  Then two things happened all around the same time: I found out I was pregnant with Jackson, and the housing market plummeted.  Needless to say, five years later, we are still living in our two-bedroom townhome with no yard.  Believe me, there have been days when I have felt the frustration of this situation so strong and wondered how long will we have to live like this. 

Last fall, as we were settling back into the routine of school, ballet, Bible study, etc, something very powerful occurred to me.  I was putting up what few fall decorations I have and began reflecting on all of the autumn seasons we’ve spent in our home, how each year has been a little different from the last, and just how much life and memories we have lived here: Brooklyn learned to crawl and walk, Jackson was brought home from the hospital to this very house – the only home he’s ever known - miracles witnessed in our kitchen and living room, Christmases, Easter egg hunts, birthday parties, and countless Friday Family Movie Nights.  This little townhome, that sometimes feels like it’s closing in on me, is our home…a very sweet place.  And to my children, it is not a piece of real estate that has depreciated in market value.  It is their home – their sweet spot.  

God has taught me so many things here too.  He’s taught me to think creatively, outside the box, stretching me to find ways to maximize our living space.  He has also taught me to be content, no matter what situation I am in.  I realize that this issue of mine may seem petty and small in comparison to all of the real heartache and sorrow out there in our world.  However, this is one cloud, a piece of the bigger puzzle, revealing that as much as I would love to have a picture-perfect life, not everything will always be picture-perfect.  This little ‘ole house is not something that I simply have to put up with, but it has truly become a sweet spot for me.  I am so grateful that our plans to move on up fell apart, because it has been here, in this townhome, that the most precious moments of my life have been lived…and I really don’t want to move away from that any time soon.

 

Allowing God to turn our biggest disappointments into a sweet spot is not always an easy thing to do, but once we release them into his hands, there can truly be none sweeter.

Psalm 19:9-10

The ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous.  They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.

"Do Over" Day

Have you ever wished you could stop, rewind and re-do a moment in time?  I have...pretty much on a regular basis.  This past weekend, especially, I needed a "do over" day. On Saturday morning Sydney managed to wedge her bedroom door shut while she and Jackson were inside.  I couldn't get it open - not even a single budge.  They were trapped.  I body slammed it so many times that I now have a lovely bruise on my left shoulder.  I could hear wailing and screaming coming from the other side of the door.  This is why we have an "open door" policy in our home.  Doors remain open at all times, unless the parents have designated otherwise.  Too many near-loss-of-fingers incidents.  We had to put the open door policy into effect.  On this day in particular, Sydney was getting wild, decided to shut Brooklyn out of the bedroom, and pretty much closed herself in for a thirty minute time-out.

Was I frustrated?  Yes.  I was.  Did I manage this situation in a calm and peaceful manner?  Hmmm....I could have done better.

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Some friends had invited us over to their home for lunch after church yesterday.  We enjoy this family so much, and their girls are the same ages as our girls.  The afternoon was going well until their youngest daughter came running inside from the backyard and announced that Brooklyn had told Jackson to throw dirt on her.  And he did.  My children were on the fast track to cranky-ville, and it was becoming clear that they were suffering from a severe case of nap-deficiency.  Not an excuse for bad behavior, but certainly a contributing factor.

As I was sitting in my friends' living room, holding Jackson and Brooklyn on my lap (both in full blown melt-down mode), singing "Little Mister Roo" all I could think about was, "Can I have a 'do over'?".

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Jackson was up at 3:30 this morning.  His, "Mommy! Mommy!" cries pulled me out of a deep coma.  He needed help going potty.  I couldn't get back to sleep after that.  I laid in my bed thinking about all the things I need to do today, all the things coming up this week, all the things I am running behind in, and how much I wish I could escape to a nice, warm beach somewhere.  Needless to say, when my alarm went off at 5:30 am, I turned it off, rolled over and closed my eyes.

I woke up late.  Bad start to the day.

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Psalm 103:11&12 "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us."

Romans 4:7&8 "Blessed are they whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.  Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord will never count against him."

In my world of "high expectations" I really blew it a time or two this weekend.  It is Monday morning, and as I look to the past I fear it has set me up for a less than stellar week.  I wonder if I could do the weekend over, somehow I could set everything right again.  Not so.  "Do overs" are great, when you can actually do something over (like one of my kids waking up on the wrong side of the bed - they get to stop, go back to their room, and try again).  When you can't, there is always the assurance that once forgiven by God all is restored.  We don't have to rewind to try again.  We simply get to start fresh.  Start new. Start over.

So, rather than stop.  Rewind.  Try again.  I am going to stop.  Receive forgiveness.  And start anew.  I think I like this way better than a "do over" day.

Friday's Free Advice - When All Else Fails...

I live in the Northwest.  Rain is part of the package.  In fact, it is 99% of the way we do life here.  My daughter, Sydney, who is a native, has made it very clear to me that there is a difference between rain, drizzle, and a slight sprinkle.  It’s pretty much all the same to me.  When wet stuff falls from the sky – hard, soft, fast or slow - I call it rain.  

A couple of days ago, I was waiting to pick Sydney up in the carpool line at her school.  We were parked a good distance from the building.  On a dry day it would make for a nice, refreshing jaunt.  On a day like this one in particular, it could only be defined as something out of a nightmare.  We were getting dumped on.  The real rain was pouring.  After I had given Jackson and Brooklyn their stave-off-the-boredom-while-waiting-for-their-sister-snacks, Jackson started bouncing in his seat saying, “Mommy, I need to go potty.”  (This seems all too familiar to me.)  “How bad?” was my reply (hoping the bouncing was more for dramatic effect).  “Mommy, I need to go potty now!”  “Can you wait until we get to Sydney’s ballet school (which is a good thirty minutes away)?” Futile.  The poor guy needed to go.  What to do?

As I visualized myself wading through the puddles and raindrops with two children and a broken umbrella, I could feel a panic attack coming on (I’ve never had one, but I’m pretty sure that’s what was happening to me).  Not to mention that I was dressed “up” for a class I would be teaching that evening (a parenting class, no less).  I found an old zip-lock baggy, and was struck with instant inspiration.  Maybe he could tinkle in the baggie?  But then what?  There was no trash nearby…nowhere to dispose the evidence.  Jackson was beginning to wriggle and bounce even more intensely.  Then I noticed one of my water bottles.  I brought two with me that afternoon: one for the car, and one for later.  I quickly chugged the remaining water from bottle number one and turned to Jackson.

“Jackson, you are going to go pee-pee in this bottle.”

The look on Jackson’s face was a mixture of confusion, shock. and a little fear.

“Jackson, this is going to be fun.  You are going to put your pee-pee in this water bottle!”

I began unfastening him.  He was warming up to the idea.  We got everything situated…and…”tah-dah!”…mission accomplished.

The first words out of Jackson’s mouth were, “Mommy, this is fun!” 

“Yes, it is.”

Then he added, “Look!  It’s yellow!  My favorite color!”

Oh happy day!

Have no fear.  The contents were emptied out on an unsuspecting bush later after the rain died down.  And as far as I can tell, there has been no emotional damage done.

So, tell me…when all else fails, what do you do?

Friday’s Free Advice:  Share your “When All Else Fails” stories.  I would certainly love to hear them!  Mommy moments are much more fun when shared with other mommies…who have been there a time or two.

Grace For A Budding "Frugalista"

Last week I quickly jotted down a few thoughts on grace.  After three decades plus of serving God, it would appear that my heart has reawakened to the glorious grace he has for me…that he has always had for me.  Where on earth have I been?  Oh, yeah, that’s right…I’ve been over there in the corner, comparing myself to the mom whose five-year-old is learning multiplication while I don’t even understand the directions for Sydney’s first grade math homework.  And wouldn’t you know it, just as I have stepped into the irresistible life of grace, the enemy has been on alert – prepping for that one moment of weakness when he can swoop in and tear me down.   

I spent a weekend get-away with a couple of girlfriends recently.  It was fabulous.  We got out of town, sat around in our sweats (hello…comfy clothes is my love language!), ate scrumptious food, watched HGTV and a good ‘ol chick flick, and - just to be certain this was a full fledged girls’ weekend - there was a whole lot of talking.  While the headache from sleep deprivation nearly took me out the morning after, I had a truly amazing time.  However, there were a few moments of internal struggle for me off and on throughout our conversations.  You see, I have incredible friends.  They do just about everything great.  I think I’ve mentioned this fact before in a previous post.  As we chatted it up about motherhood, our kids, and our hubbies, I almost had to pinch myself because, for a moment, I truly thought I was in the presence of female greatness.  They do it all.  Not that their lives have been perfect because each has had her fair share of personal struggle, but they’ve handled every challenge superbly.  And to top it off…they are serious coupon clippers – down to their portable coupon file-a-folders.  When they broke these babies out, I thought I would fall off my seat.  One gal asked me if I “do” coupons.  Yes, I do “do” coupons, but apparently not like they do.  Listening to them gab on and on about all the free stuff they get with coupons, the $5 Target purses and a lifetime supply of Coke, a little voice in my head started taunting me. 

“You only thought you were a good steward of your money.  Look at these women.  They really know how to manage what God has given to them.  God only blesses those who steward their money well.”

Ugh.  Needless to say, I left that conversation with a huge knot in my stomach.  This kind of thinking, however, is completely distorted.  In the past I would have allowed the untrue message to eat me alive, but not this time!

My thoughts turned to God’s truth (and even with the truth in mind, I had to battle this one out):

“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.  Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness.” – 2 Corinthians 9:8 & 10.

The beautiful thing about grace is redemption.  The beautiful thing about redemption is freedom.  And freedom is exhilarating and irresistible.  I live my life surrounded by spills and dust bunnies big enough to hop right out the door on their own, yet in the midst of it all, God is there, ready and willing to help me clean up the dirt and grime all the while holding me firmly and lovingly in his tender grasp.  And as for coupons, well, I’ll keep doing my best.  If I never win a “frugalista of the year” award, so be it.  God’s grace abounds to me in all things, and at all times.  When I am weak, he is my strength.  When I head out the door for the grocery store and forget my coupons altogether (which happened just the other day), he doesn’t judge or shake his head at me.  Rather, he helps me shop more wisely because he knows how much I depend upon him and his ability to supply and increase my store of seed.

And I’m pretty sure that my amazing girlfriends will still love this budding “Frugalista” in spite of my coupon file-a-folder deficiency! 

I’m learning to walk in God’s grace at all times, and in all things.

Sisters

Okay, I started off writing this morning's post about my one year blogging anniversary, which is tomorrow (quite a week for anniversaries!).  However, after breaking up a few dozen sibling disputes over the course of an hour, my train of thought has been derailed, and I have found myself thinking about sisters.  My sister, to be exact. 

Her name is Jen, and today is her birthday.  I won't tell you how old she is, even though she would have NO PROBLEM declaring my age for all to hear - she's just that thoughtful and sweet. 

Jen has always been my partner in crime.  We were souly responsible for shaking a bottle of baby powder into the engine of my grandfather's brand new riding lawn mower, which - fortunately for us - we were little and cute, and he didn't kill us.  In the early days of itinerating, we stood side-by-side declaring, "Bwana sifiwe" and sang Amy Grant's "I Have Decided", making our mom so proud.  We taught Sunday school to masses of Kikuyu children on a weekly basis, and played "Kikuyu mamas" when we got home from church, wrapping our baby dolls on our backs with kikois.  We lived out brief but exciting careers as models.  We've been chased, on foot, by a herd of elephant, and we've been reprimanded in the Amsterdam airport because we tried to order Toblerone without nouget and honey.  We've stood up to mean girls, body surfed in the Indian ocean, helped our mother lug ten, fifty pound, carry on bags across the world (which I am convinced they made the "one carry on per person" policy in her honor), and live for pedicures and coffee talk.  We fought over boys, and cried over boys, took boys' names and spit them out in vain, supported and held each other through bigger heartbreaks and sorrows than middle school crushes.  Jen has been my very best friend from the time we could recognize each other, and when I need a good dose of unedited reality, she's the one I call.

Jen, we are as different as day is to night.  You are the wild and outspoken, and I am the steady and true.  I am so grateful that God put us in the same family.  You are a strong and giften woman, someone I truly admire and aspire to be like.  And nobody, and I mean nobody, can pull off  the White Christmas "Sisters" song like you and me, babe (believe me, I've heard others try).  We nail it every time.  

Happy Birthday, Jen!

Sisters.  Sisters.  There were never such devoted sisters!

A Spoon Full Of Sugar

You know that phrase, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade"?  Personally, I would like to add a spoon full of sugar.  The lemons in life are blown out tires, rainy and dreary Easters, cabin fever with three sick children, the economy, earthquakes and tragedy.  If you squeeze all of those you are only left with sour juice.  Personally, I prefer a little sweetness when I sip lemonade.  So, I add some sugar: precious time, including Easter, with my family who lives far away, cuddling on the couch with my little ones while the rain pours down outside, an unexpected extra day with my mom, a gift from a friend.  Suddenly the lemons aren't so tart when you add a spoon full of sugar.

Too Much "Life" Going On Around Here

It was only a few short hours after writing and posting Monday's blog that I received the frantic and fuming phone call from Joel that, "My tire just blew out!  It's in shreds!" He was on his way to pick up my mom and dad (whom we haven't seen in over three years because they're missionaries to South Africa) from the airport.

Joel was not happy.  I was a teeny bit (to put in mildly) sad because this meant a delay in our warm, and much anticipated, family reunion.  We did not hang up the phone on good terms.  And I seemingly remember gritting my teeth and snarling something like, "There's too much 'life' going on around here, God!"

I had to excuse myself from the children to catch my breath.

Then Joel called me back five minutes later (just enough time to inhale, exhale, and count to ten).  We made amends, and then thanked God that Joel had not yet exited onto the interstate, but lost the tire right next to an auto body shop.  They had no useful tools (ours just happened to be in our other car...go figure), but were very willing to help out in any way possible.  We were both relieved.

Mom and Dad sat at the airport Starbucks and enjoyed a few more hours of quality time before being fully submerged into the world of Slater craziness.  I was even able to finish baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies (my dad's all-time favorite), and lovingly place them on a cute spring platter.

As you can see, no one is immune to the bumps in the road: chicken pox, endless dust bunnies and dirty bathrooms, home remodel projects, marital squabbles and blown out tires.  It's all a part of life.   While I can't say that I always take those bumps with a hearty smile on my face, I honest to goodness do try to let God carry me through even the most challenging road trips.  His grace really is sufficient for me yesterday, today and tomorrow...no matter what 'life' decides to throw my way!

A Few Bumps In The Road

Sydney was upset last night.  I don't know if her internal angst was authentic, or if she was grasping at straws to find a way to stay up a little later.  In any case, she was feeling down and needed a moment to process.  In true drama queen fashion, Sydney burst out with, "Why is everything so weird?  Nothing is normal!  Our family is not right!"  Followed by instant tears.  

What she was referring to was Brooklyn's chickenpox, a playroom in disarray as my in-laws are helping us to complete a room remodel, spring break, and wild bursts of  mad house cleaning by yours truly, in preparation for my parents' arrival (which is today, by the way).  All of which have put a halt to our regular routine and structure.  Being a person who craves both of these, I could relate to Sydney's momentary breakdown.  What I said to her is what I have to say to myself on a sometimes regular basis.

There are times when we are going along our merry way and all of a sudden we encounter a little bump in the road.  Occasionally, there are several little bumps all at once that can quickly slow us down or change our direction.  They aren't always bad, but most of the time, they aren't what we were hoping for or expecting. 

Since we can't control when or where those bumps in the road will pop up - like the chickenpox - it is imperative to learn how to maneuver around these inconveniences.  We ( meaning me) are so accustomed to preparing for the big stuff that comes our way.  We believe that God will grant us the faith, strength, and perseverance to get through, and over, the Mount Everests in life.  But what about the bumps in the road? 

I heard a story, recently, about a man who ran across the United States of America.  When he reached the finish line,  a reporter asked him what was the most difficult part in the journey?  Was it the long trek through the desert?  Or the endless days running through fields of wheat and corn?  When the runner was finally able to catch his breath, he shook his head and went on to say that it was none of those things that made the journey difficult.  It was, in fact, the sand in his shoes. 

It's not always the obvious challenges of life, but the sand in our shoes that causes our faith to falter.

The bumps will come and go.  And one day, when we look back, we'll see that the rough patch was never as bad as we thought it was.  We don't know what lies around the corner, and there may be more bumps to encounter, but with God's grace, we'll make it through.  I don't want to allow a few minor inconveniences to upset my faith or cause me to question God's presence in my life.  As noble as it is to trust God to get me over the mountains, I believe it is equally so to trust His hand when I face a few bumps in the road. 

No matter what you are facing, may you know today that God is with you.  His hand is upon you.  He'll be there through the big stuff, and even the little stuff.  And, if your mountains are looking more and more like little speed bumps right now, may your faith in God's presence not shrink right along with them.  May your faith, in fact, be big enough to get you through whatever bumps in the road you face today.