Making room

What a beautiful day to celebrate. Though I fail time and again at my attempts to be consistent at mostly everything, it is in the getting up and trying again that I continue to learn and grow. We have tried to implement a few traditions during advent, one of them being the Jesse Tree devotionals . We read the devotions and the kids put a new ornament on the tree each morning at breakfast and then we count down the days using the advent wreath made by Ann Voskamp's son, Caleb. The other tradition we've been slowly getting into is a Christmas book to unwrap each night (takes awhile to collect 25!) We had some help this year at our Christmas book exchange party with friends and one of the books that really spoke to me was called "Room for a little One". Of course it is just a children's book about animals needing somewhere to stay and they find a welcoming spot in a particular barn that eventually welcomes Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. It caused me to pause for a moment and ask how often I don't think there is room in my life for the Savior of the World. How I claim busyness, exhaustion, and my agenda as the excuse for not taking dinner to that family with a baby in the hospital or not calling back the woman I know needs a listening ear. Will I make room? Will I choose to love others more? Not because I want to or feel like it but only because that is what He has asked, that is what He does. In the end it will not matter how many to-do lists are lying in a pile on my desk all checked off but what will matter is how loved showed up. The times I chose not to just keep this light to myself as if lighting a lamp and putting it under a bowl but instead walked faithfully out of my comfortable world with the only thing that has the power to make the darkness recede. Jesus Christ, Oh great Light of the World, we celebrate the day you chose to humbly become one of us. May we always make a little more room for more of you.

End of an Era

I thought I was doing well.
Holding myself together in a sense.
Because if you don't want to look like a blubbering fool this is what you do.
Then he knelt down to hug my daughter and all of that was lost.
This man who has been a part of my life for well over a decade.
Every Christmas, every beach vacation, every Thursday night, and certainly every handy man project.
My husband's brother who became closer than my very own.
Of course there are promises of keeping in touch and thoughts of how easy it will be with all of the new technology but it will never be the same.
There is no replacing the physical presence of someone.
Nor will there be any forgetting of how well he loved us and our children.
It's real and raw this gaping hole but slowly and surely I will unclench my fists and let him go,
choosing to be grateful for the time we were given to walk alongside each other.

The Word

Focus

We are remodeling two houses and trying to sell two others.
That alone would be enough really on top of homeschooling and Damien's business but we are also being sued and pregnant and trying to hang on until our teenager turns eighteen.
God help us.
Where did the simple life go?!
How weak I feel when my happiness and joy becomes circumstantial.
I just can't seem to manage my happy go lucky frame of mind with all this chaos swirling.
I get sucked in and tackled down into an inescapable gloom.
And I wonder after trying to pray for help and reading the scriptures and waiting patiently for this to be lifted what I shall do next?
How will I get back to the light my soul aches for?
Then I remember that I am supposed to give thanks in all things.
When I am afraid,
when I don't have the answers,
when I am tired,
when I am angry,
when I just can't get off the couch,
Give Thanks.
I have failed to obey and it has cost me joy.
Focusing on the minutia and it really is in light of eternity
is self destructive.
I dig around and find my journal of thanks.
I start writing it all down again.
The littlest of things that God blesses me with each moment.
I stop asking for things.
Day by day the light has begun to warm my face.
Whatever we focus on becomes magnified
and has the power to change our reality.

The beach

 who could seriously stop having kids after this darling... which is why we aren't! We are looking forward to baby boy Kenworthy arriving at the end of Feb. Now that I am past the "hugging the toilet stage" I shall attempt to resume actually blogging.

Icon

Dad is cleaning out the attic in his office in Calhoun and so he has been bringing me treasures for weeks now. Letters upon letters between Wade street and Harrison Ave. Camila was the best of pen pals. Old purses with buttons all over them and wicker frogs. I wonder now how cool I must of thought these things were. Then he hands me the last letter that Grandmother Hare wrote to me before she died. She was ever generous with her words. We have books full of them that I hold close to my heart. I read the letter and when my darling came home I told him to read it. I explained that this was who lived across the street from me while I was growing up. This woman with all of her cats and worn out blue head bands molded my life for the good. He read the letter and stood in amazement. He then told me how he'd never gotten a letter like that in his life. It was full of praise and goodness. It oozed with encouragement and confidence that the world would be my oyster. Every time she saw me she would hug me and tell me how much she loved me. Sometimes I hear her words today when doubt creeps in about the validity of what I'm doing or when I fear I have failed to be all that I was meant to be. They say for every single negative thing you say to someone it takes ten positive statements to counteract that one. Let us all offer up praise to God and to one another. It just might change someone's life.

wild goose

  Sometimes the weight of an experience doesn't hit me until it's over and this was the case with the wild goose festival . From the description I knew it would be a place full of people who love Jesus and people who didn't necessarily seem to fit into the mold of the typical church setting. I knew that it would be fine to wear my tye-dyed pants and to bring my hula hoop. That all were welcome and there would be a beer tent and also a 12 step meeting each day for those that needed it. There isn't a whole lot that motivates me to pack up all of our stuff and drive almost seven hours to set up camp in Shakori Hills, NC about 20 minutes from Chapel Hill but I just had a feeling about this.

            The theme of the festival was art, justice, and spirituality and it was very evident from the moment we pulled onto the dirt road of the farm. Everything was alive with color, kids were running around barefoot, and there were recycling centers instead of trash cans... it was great. There were prayer closets set up, peace labyrinths to walk, and stations of prayer for the world to walk through, read about, and pray as you go. We would meet people at the children's tent or while we were in line for some homemade Indian food (which I forced myself to eat even though tears were streaming down my face!). Each person was someone we thought we could be friends with. One night while the kids were eating pizza a man stopped and told us how beautiful our kids were and just started talking about life. We talked for about twenty minutes and then we found out he was one of the speakers, Frank Schaeffer, the son of Francis Schaeffer and Edith Schaeffer whose book I had recently checked out from the library about the art of homemaking. We started talking about homeschooling and then I found out his sister wrote another fantastic book For the Children's Sake based on some of Charlotte Mason's principles. We talked to Frank several times while we were there and were touched by the gentle nature of his spirit and his kindness. We then had the privilege of listening to Dave Andrews, this Jerry Garcia look alike, with an absolute heart of gold.

Imagine me being smitten with an Australian lad.

It was a beautiful time of sharing and being surrounded by people who just wanted to sit around and talk about all of the things that really matter in life. There were several talks about justice and our stance as Christians in regards to prison reform, immigration laws, and the marginalized within society. There were definitely some far left wing people represented and the issue of homosexuals who love Jesus was one of the topics as well as what our response to them should be.

Jesus isn't a white middle class republican.

I say this to myself.

The idea of Christians openly loving people that are gay, not just tolerating them, but befriending them is a novel idea and something that I don't feel like I have really ever even witnessed firsthand before this festival.

It is a difficult place because in my mind I can't bend the truth to accommodate someone else's choice.

I believe it is wrong.

I believe marriage is something sacred that is ordained by God between a man and a woman.

So equating something that God himself called an abomination to this holy bond is simply ludicrous.

But we are all people, not the sum of our sins.

They have faces and stories and pain.

They also have a God that loves them and has commanded that we do the same.

Self righteousness must be put to the side, not to say that we shall ever call what is wrong right, but that we will not focus on our need to be right because that point isn't creating forward motion.

There is only one way to proceed and it has been the way all along.

Letter for Tess

When I heard the news my heart grasped for it's relentless optimism and clung to hope from the beginning.
That in this day and age with all the medical advancements there must be a way to escape even a body riddled with cancer.
It would be hard but surviving would be possible.
Now the weeks have turned into months and the options have ceased.
We pray.
We long to do something that will make it better.
We know you such sweet soul with the voice of an angel.
My niece, younger than me by two years.
Accepting your absence will be too much to bear.
I see your daughter's face and this ache takes over all of me.
I glimpse a picture of your mom next to you with a cake on mother's day and there are no words.
I hear the pain in the voices of those who hold you dear and I look heavenward for an explanation, only to be met with silence as the mystery of God unfolds.
I long for something tangible, something visible, to shine some sun in the midst of the rain.
Your life and your courage as you carry this cross have taught me more than you know.
I will cherish more and rush less.
I will soak up those moments when I have to tie Cooper's shoe for the 100th time.
I will put down the broom and instead sit on the floor and play blocks with Adelaide.
I will allow Julian to ask me 30 questions about who will win if the battle is between a polar bear and a T-Rex.
I will not waste so much time watching TV or browsing the computer for things I don't need.
I will get outside and marvel at the sunshine each day.
I will hold Damien's hand and play with his hair because it melts him.
I will choose forgiveness.
I will sing and dance and play music while I take the time to cook good healthy meals for my family.
I will make the effort to have people over instead of spending a quiet night reading alone.
I will tell people how much they mean to me more often.
I will thank God each day for my health and the health of my family.
I will live with intention and purpose.
I will put down my distractions and be present in each moment.
By walking with astounding grace and strength you have encouraged the masses.
For your physical weakness has cracked open windows for the beauty of your inner self and God in you to shine all over the rest of us and leave us changed in ways we never imagined.
Thank you.
We love you.

Slumber

So this is now what our bed looks like at 9 am. Some might call it tragic but on rainy mornings like today it is nothing short of fabulous, a gift that will pass too soon. Then I will have to ask my hubs to almost push me off the bed at night and to place his knee right in the center of my back just so I can sleep.

Perception of glory

We don’t just stand outside and analyze the natural world as a beam, but let the beam fall on the eyes of our heart, so that we see the source of the beauty – the original Beauty, God himself. . . . All of God’s creation becomes a beam to be ‘looked along’ or a sound to be ‘heard along’ or a fragrance to be ‘smelled along’ or a flavor to be ‘tasted along’ or a touch to be ‘felt along.’ All our senses become partners with the eyes of the heart in perceiving the glory of God through the physical world” (184-85).-John Piper

India

I was one of those people with tears in my eyes when Oprah said she was going off the air.
I like to watch Oprah and it isn't really because I LOVE Oprah, it is more because Oprah has people on her show and I love people.
I like to learn about them and see what makes them tick. In another life I think it would be great to come back as the white version of Oprah. I like to ask questions and I love to have all of the information. I remember even as a speech pathologist I would love taking a person's history and finding out all the things that had ever been wrong with them. Then I would pour through their chart so that I could write my report with all of the significant moments recorded.
Mrs. O has her own network now which provides plenty of entertainment while I'm trying to pretend like I'm not torturing myself on the ellyptical.
On yesterday's Next Chapter she visited the Hindu Holy city of Vrindavan in Northern India where thousands of widows have been left to fend for themselves after being cast out of their families.

That alone is beyond tragic. But it gets worse.
They spend their days begging for food and being rewarded with one meager meal if they chant prayers six hours a day to their Hindu god that doesn't exist.
They do this hoping that when they are reincarnated they will perhaps come back and die before their next husbands.
So while I stare at my to do list and check off the things I have actually managed to get done today: grocery store, paint rusted freezer, workout, teach Julian, laundry, etc... I get to Bible study and prayer and I check it off because I have spent ten minutes memorizing and ten minutes reading the daily readings and maybe five minutes praying.
That is when I think of the widows.
Six hours a day chanting into thin air.
I wonder if they know there is a God who is real that hears prayers.
Then I wonder if I know.
Do I actually grasp the power of the lifeline gifted to me?
If I really understood the Savior of the world He wouldn't get checked off a to do list after 25 minutes.


Praying for the widows and for all of us that we would hold the magnificence of God close to our heart and value our access to Him as if it is the air we breathe.

Eggs and bacon

    So we have Bible and breakfast most mornings, that being a relative term since sometimes we don't eat until around 11:30.
Food for our body and food for our soul.
Just early enough to say it isn't lunch.
This has been a beautiful thing for me because though I typically squeeze in some quiet time during the day it is random and haphazard and certainly nothing at all like the quiet time I had before children. The luxury of spending hours pouring over His word and praying with worship music in the background. Now that season has past and He is asking me to live these words. Not to just read them and let them soak in and feel good to my soul but churn them out into my real life amidst these countless thankless tasks that only He sees.
       Today we are reading the story about Jesus teaching that when we invite people over we should not just invite our friends but those who are poor or crippled or basically uninvited by the rest of the world. He states plainly that if you do this you will be greatly rewarded in heaven.
 I brush it off as we finish up and start to clear the dishes away but this Word so powerful working along with the Holy Spirit wouldn't let me off the hook that easy.
 It hits me and I ask myself am I going to be one of the ones that really believes that Jesus meant what He said?
 Am I going to stand for truth no matter how inconvenient it is for the rest of society when they long to bend and break the sacredness of marriage between a man and a woman?
 Do I just read these words and contort them into beautiful sentences that make me feel comfortable?

Truth is not relative. 

We read this passage today when yesterday I just started memorizing James Chapeter 2.
 I memorized chapter one by some miracle and I feel like every single word in that chapter was written for me.
 Oh I need a lot of work people.
 But when I got to chapter 2 and the first part was about not showing partiality towards a person if they are poor or rich, I actually thought to myself, maybe I should skip this because I really don't "need" to memorize this as much.
 Seriously.

It was at that moment that God chose to flood my mind with all the times I have not chosen to sit next to someone at a Mom's gathering because as I put it, "she just wasn't my type".
But the glaring ridiculous shallow truth of it was that she was wearing something I would never wear, or she was really fat, or she looked like she didn't brush her teeth.

James Chapter 2:4- Have you not made distinctions among yourselves, becoming judges with evil designs?

verse 5 Did not God choose the poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom?

verse 9 ... if you show partiality, you are committing sin...

I am sick with remorse. I do and think that which I do not long to. This song from Derek Webb comes to mind and I start to sing it softly to a most gracious and forgiving God

I repent, i repent of my pursuit of america's dream
i repent, i repent of living like i deserve anything 
of my house, my fence, my kids, my wife 
in our suburb where we're safe and white 
i am wrong and of these things i repent

i repent, i repent of parading my liberty 
i repent. i repent of paying for what i get for free
and for the way i believe that i am living right 
by trading sins for others that are easier to hide 
i am wrong and of these things i repent

bridge
i repent judging by a law that even i can't keep 
of wearing righteousness like a disguise 
to see through the planks in my own eyes

i repent, i repent of trading truth for false unity 
i repent, i repent of confusing peace and idolatry 
by caring more of what they think than what i know of what we need 
by domesticating you until you look just like me
i am wrong and of these things i repent


And I thought we were just having Bible and Breakfast.... not around here there is way too much work that needs to be done.

Mom

She would wake me up by cheerfully singing, “Rise and Shine” and wasn’t hampered at all when I would moan and pull the covers over my head.

She would drive me around the world and back in a week and never seemed to tire of it.

She birthed me, sustained me, and taught me how to be.

Who could possibly measure the gifts a mother bestows upon her children?
Even the countless stars seem miniscule next to the sacrifice of a mother.

Her love planted flowers of security and confidence in my heart.

Her devotion to God led me to follow Him.

Her carefree laughter has brightened many days.

Her natural capacity to choose joy in spite of every possible circumstance has blessed me and given me the courage on most days to follow suit.

Thank you mom for teaching me what loyalty looks like.

For keeping promises that you could have easily broken.

For possessing a quiet strength that I never knew existed.

For not placing conditions on your love for anyone

For being an unending stream of wisdom, love, and encouragement that constantly flows through each day of my life.

Thank you.

Old Maid

When I was younger I would walk across the street to the top of the hill to play old maid with my great grandmother while we ate peanut butter crackers and sipped coca-cola. I would deal the cards and then of course be devastated if I ended up with the old maid. I would literally splay the cards across my hand with the old maid sticking sky high. My sweet grandmother would humor me and pick that lady out of my hands to be met with hysterical laughter by yours truly. So tonight while the kids and I have some time alone I suggest the game. I tell the boys my old tricks and so they follow suit. It was one burst of hysterical laughter after another and somewhere in the background I'm sure I heard my grandmother joining in.

Old man saves the day

As Julian and I were purusing the aisle at Aldi he spotted us.
You know the type. Sweet and around eighty with snow white hair on more than likely his only outing of the day.
He approaches with a smile and asks Julian if he is out of school today.
I hesitate for a moment knowing the path we have chosen isn't neccessarily accepted by all. I tell him that I teach Julian at home. I failed to mention that I am hanging on by a thread and that I question my decision almost weekly. Since for me selflessness is much more of an aspiration than a reality.
He walks over to me, this perfect angel stranger, and puts his hand on my shoulder and with all the sincerity he can muster he says, "That's the best thing you will ever do for your child. Oh he will be so smart. He sure is fortunate to have a mom who is willing to do it." I stand there for a moment stunned and I ask him how he knew to deliver such a precious jewel of encouragement to my heart at that moment. He just smiles and we chat for a while before going our separate ways.
There are so many things that I love about God and one of them is how intimately he knows his people.
He knows that I have had a thing for old men for as long as I can remember.
All of my favorite patients were these old geezers.
I could waste many a day away listening to their stories of yesteryear with such delight.
I have been in a place of dryness.
A place of reading the Bible out of obligation.
A place of hardly being able to talk to God because I couldn't penetrate the dark bubble I felt like I was trapped inside.
Yet, God never tires in his pursuit of a heart he has called.
For this magnificent, undeserving, unparalleled grace and for sweet little old men-
I humbly give thanks.

No excuses

It just got too crowded living in the land of excuses.
That is why after no sleep and with a sick child you see this picture.
Oh yes that is my beautiful darling sitting on top of the treadmill, next to the memory verses.
Nike are you hiring?
because I'm just doing it.

Sweet belly laughter

These boys keep me laughing.

Choice

I make my way across the sand with my ipod on something to get me started like this because even an elderly man can't keep from tapping his toes to Matchbox 20.
I just don't know if the song will be enough with this soggy beach and the wind trying to send me back home.
So, I have to turn the music off.
To focus.
To pray.
To struggle.
This is when I see the dolphins a few feet from the shore.
I hear the pelicans and seagulls amidst the crashing waves.
And above all this is a quiet whisper that says, "See, you aren't really running against the wind you are running with it. Choose to see my beauty."
No matter what the circumstance, God is ever present in our midst, waiting for us to notice.

the beach

I am always looking for a new place to go on vacation. I can't help myself. I feel defeated in a sense if we go to the same place twice. Like what surprise is in that?! I also love the discovery of travel. I do not get my nails done or color my hair. Most of my clothes come from TJ Maxx or ebay. This is my total and complete justification for dropping some change on travel plans because life is too short to stay still for one thing and for another it is my minute attempt at letting God know I appreciate all of this beautiful planet that He has given us and I hope I get to rest my eyes on most of it.
Our most recent rendezvous was to Cape San Blas, Florida which is on the gulf side not terribly far from Panama City yet a world away. I prefer to have as much of the beach to myself as possible which is why I cannot go somewhere with high rises or an abundance of hotels. This does come with sacrificing multiple chain restaurants at my fingertips but I am down with that because if I could just go any ol' where I wouldn't have ended up here last night.

We drove past the place at first thinking there's no way that is where we are trying to eat. Oh but is was to the chagrin of my darling husband who sighed at all the cars. When I walked in and told the guy we had six people he said, "Honey, help yourself to the beer in the cooler and grab the kids some drinks. Y'all just remember how many you have." I think I might like this place. So we get some drinks and sit a spell on the front porch of sorts and since everyone is just out there together it can't help but turn into a full blown social event. There are people with dead fish stains on their shirts next to women tossing Coach bags over their shoulders. The ocean breeze along with a few brewskies seem to help carry the conversations.

While we were waiting a tubby guy with a white beard and creased face brings out a bucket from the back of his truck, Marlboro hanging from his lips. In these parts when that happens it means come on now people lets gather around for show and tell. This guy has a pygmy rattlesnake which is apparently one of six venomous snakes in Florida.  A rather voluptuous lady stuck in the 80's asked him to open that lid once more so she could take a picture of that thang. Oh my now this is entertainment people. As if that weren't enough a banjo and some spoons were brought out at some point and the jamboree began. All in all the food didn't rock our world and the wait was a bit tiresome but the experience...priceless.

Silence

There are mountains and there are valleys
Rarely does anything remain consistent
I shout out to the heavens and wonder if its getting through
So today when I read again how Moses implored the Lord to change his mind
To have mercy on his people
God listened
So even when if may feel there is no response.
He still hears.
He still loves.
And this I know for sure.

aspiring tree

A guaranteed remedy for grumpy discontent is thanksgiving.
I will forever be grateful to Ann for articulating this lesson.
When I am at my wits end, I force myself to shift perspectives.
I may look at the pencil for minutes but it always comes.
So many blessings begging to be noticed.
To be recorded as the gifts that they are....


my children laughing on the trampoline
the sound of lawnmowers ushering in spring
my daughter chasing a fly
dad with an armful of girl scout cookies
my brother, the chosen chief resident
a husband who thinks that extra ten pounds is sexy

It is this shift that saves me.
God's love is so obvious if we only choose to see it.
So many who are lost and view Him as the hammer coming down...
this is the part they miss
How important it is to get out from under the weight of this world
To behold the miracles
Every time I run in the woods or even glance up at a tree
I see it's in the posture of praising God

The song of creation never ceases yet it offers an open invitation

Get low

There are days when I want to walk out the door and not come back.
Just to be free and alone.
My husband laughs at me when I tell him I will not remarry if he dies.
He doesn't fully comprehend how much I long for space and air that only I am breathing.
A crevice to hide in where the only needs are mine.
Not to mention craving gratification and ego boosts like the flowers beg for the sun.
These aren't readily available in my domesticated life.
Diaper changing and playing mindlessly with Lego's is hardly stimulating.
I recognize it when it comes on.
This attack of discontentment.
Relentless screaming in my ear about greener grass and the insignificance of what I'm doing.
At least once a month I think about calling the Montessori school. I think I will ask them if they have any openings because on that particular day I think I need to ship my kids off.
The truth is so blatantly obvious.
My spirit clashes with humility.
Some days I just don't feel that I have the capacity to just lay it down.
To live in a position of bending low.
Give it up girl.
Put your agenda to the side.
Stop wishing that your kids would leave you alone so that you can do something that is so much less important than they are.
But I can't check them off of a list.
It's shameful.
It is this lacking within that forces my hand.
I come in fragments and pieces but God doesn't focus on my brokenness.
He reminds me that He came as a baby.
He spent his time with people that smelt bad and had nothing to offer him.
He did nothing to get a pat on the back.
He whispers over me that true love is acted out in the thousands of loads of laundry, in all the diapers, and when I choose them before me.
When he said to love others this is part of what he means and this is what he sees.
So I will stop waiting for the sticker to come in the mail.
I will choose for it to be enough that the God of the Universe notices.

Change of Plans

It all looked like he would go forth.
He would get that job that blurs the lines of integrity.
Alarm goes off, work clothes on, coffee in hand when the phone rings.
No, never mind, just stay home.
The arrangement has been altered.
People disappoint with the loyalty of a midnight hooker.
Circumstances drive us mad.
But our hope is not in these fickle fallacies.
No amount of money can buy peace.
Being in the wrong place is not worth the circles under our eyes.
His ways are so far above
When we can not make a bit of sense out of it
Can't find an ounce of logic in it
There is Rest.
The numbers of hair on our heads have been counted
He chose to die because He couldn't stand the thought of being without us
Mind blowing deeper than the ocean kind of Love
Deserving of all of our trust
Sit back with a smile on your face
glass of lemonade in hand
to witness the unfolding of the Master's plan

JD

We know one another's faults, virtues, catastrophes, mortifications, triumphs, rivalries, desires, and how long we can each hang by our hands to a bar. We have been banded together under pack codes and tribal laws. - Rose Macaulay


I ran with my baby brother today.
When he asks if I was thinking 3 miles and I reply with yes 3 or 4. He instinctively says, lets go 4 and I laugh.
This is how it has always been. A source of constant encouragement for each other in this or that.
We talked about his upcoming wedding day and what we needed to do to solve the insurance crisis and medical dilemmas in the great US of A.
Treasures of pulling him in the wagon and pretending he was my real live doll seem so near.
When I look back on crucial moments among all that I see his face is there.
We shared a bunk together for a year when we lived in the back of the chiropractic office.
His were the arms that I ran to first when Damien and I broke off our engagement for a time.
It was him standing between Dad and I during a knock down drag out when I was proclaiming his innocence.
He is the one who took Julian to catch his first fish.
He will become a husband and a doctor in the same month.
Oh this God given built in friend of mine, it's only just beginning.

To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. - Clara Ortega

Waiting

I listen to the priest read about Abraham and Isaac and I feel like I am eating macaroni and cheese. These stories that I have heard so many times they feel as if they are mine like Abraham and I are old friends.
I glanced over at my children and the tears sprang up out of the depths just imagining the trust it would have taken to be willing to give one of them up. I love them so much my heart can barely contain it which is why I wanted more of them. My husband eats an entire container of Ben and Jerry's ice cream on the weekends... there is no such thing as too much of a good thing around here. I want more of them. All at different stages so that I can enjoy the beauty of each together. I held a baby in my arms last night and I felt myself aching hours afterward. There is fear dwelling in new places. I am haunted by demons that never had a chance to mess with me. This vulnerability feels like a new uncomfortable shoe. Worry has always simply been a waste of time to me but impatience continues to trod along a well worn path.
 When I went to get the boys haircut in a Spanish salon today (Oh yes, we have those in Cleveland my friends) I met a man who didn't even tell me his name but within the first five minutes told me he was an intercessor on behalf of the church and that he had retired to become a spiritual warrior. He said that he had prayed for two solid years for God to show him what he should do in Cleveland. He said it like I would say the weather was nice yesterday. TWO whole years of just piddling around waiting. You know because I have so much I need to do, I mean who has time to sit around and wait on the God of the Universe to act. When with one word He can do more than a million of my lifetimes full of effort put together.
Thank you God for times of waiting.
For not letting me marry the wrong person because I didn't want to wait.
For the time I had to wait for my father to return because our relationship grew tenfold.
That I have to wait until I see my precious friends making the meeting all the more sweet.
The long line at the grocery store that initiates a conversation between strangers
The anticipation of the blooms after a barren winter
These are the growing moments
Patiently longing with bated breath to see your glory burst forth

Prayer

I can study the Bible for hours. 

I can read books for days.

Yet I long to be a woman of prayer. 

Harder, more intimate, real, vulnerable, a position of humility.

Do I believe that it matters?

Do I believe that God really knows better than me and if I do what excuse do I have for not more consistently laying my agenda at His feet?

I told my children on the way to school that it was time for prayers and instantly heard the huffing and saw the eye rolls.

"Do you know that you are praying to the God of the universe? The God who made those trees right there and that amazing blue sky above your heads? You get to talk to Him anywhere anytime. It is an honor!", I declared with a conviction that I wanted my actions to match.

After they went inside I read the daily readings and reflections for the day and this was part of it:

Listen to what John Chrysostom, a 5th century church father, has to say about the power of prayer: “Prayer is an all-efficient panoply [i.e. 'a full suit of armor' or 'splendid array'], a treasure undiminished, a mine never exhausted, a sky unobstructed by clouds, a haven unruffled by storm. It is the root, the fountain, and the mother of a thousand blessings. It exceeds a monarch’s power. ..I speak not of the prayer which is cold and feeble and devoid of zeal. I speak of that which proceeds from a mind outstretched, the child of a contrite spirit, the offspring of a soul converted – this is the prayer which mounts to heaven. ..The power of prayer has subdued the strength of fire, bridled the rage of lions, silenced anarchy, extinguished wars, appeased the elements, expelled demons, burst the chains of death, enlarged the gates of heaven, relieved diseases, averted frauds, rescued cities from destruction, stayed the sun in its course, and arrested the progress of the thunderbolt. In sum prayer has power to destroy whatever is at enmity with the good.”

There is a world full of hurt all around us and we have full welcome access to more power than our minds can fathom.
On my knees tonight because He's Listening.

Wordless Wednesday

A beautiful image of God sheltering us in the shadow of His wings.

Second Chance

I love this organization on so many levels.
Even the title "People of the Second Chance" makes my eyes water.
Sounds like a group Jesus started.
So, when I was choosing what t-shirt to wear today in this weather sent straight from the Virgin Islands, My fingers brushed across the one with those words proclaimed across the front.
I profess to be one of those people but do I really even know what it means?
Harboring a hurt that I claim to have forgiven,
Yet the slightest hint of bitterness hangs in the air.
Have I really given a second shot at anything other than my do not ever call again list?
So I will swallow my pride as I go out on the limb of reconciliation.
Because people are worth it and resentment is not.
Because the words must not just be worn,
they must be lived.

devotion

We sweeten unripe fruit with sugar, and it is useful in correcting the crudity even of that which is good. So devotion is the real spiritual sweetness which takes away all bitterness from mortifications; and prevents consolations from disagreeing with the soul: it cures the poor of (7) sadness, and the rich of presumption; it keeps the oppressed from feeling desolate, and the prosperous from insolence; it averts sadness from the lonely, and dissipation from social life; it is as warmth in winter and refreshing dew in summer; it knows how to abound and how to suffer want; how to profit alike by honour and contempt; it accepts gladness and sadness with an even mind, and fills men's hearts with a wondrous sweetness. - St Francis de Sales

Faithful Friday - Mary

One of the many misconceptions I had about the Catholic church was they were obsessed with Mary.
So during one of my meetings with Ruth I asked her what the deal was and this is an excerpt from our q and a session.

1. Why are all of these statues of Mary and the saints in the church?
Well, do you have pictures of your family in your house? Yes of course. Well, it is the same. These statues and pictures are of our Holy family and they remind us of who we came from.
Fair enough.

2. Why do people pray to Mary and the saints?
Well, do you think people in heaven spend time talking to God? Yes
Do you think that because people have died and left the earth that you can't communicate with them? Well, I haven't really thought about it.
As Catholics we believe that Mary and the Saints are in heaven with Jesus. When we talk to them we are asking them to take this or that to Our Father. Have you ever asked someone to pray for you here on earth? Well, of course. Then why not ask someone who is in heaven dwelling with Him? Interesting

3.  Why would I ever pray the rosary and what is the point?
Sometimes you do not have the words to say in prayer. Your heart may be in a broken or empty position and during those times it is invaluable pray. Mary was the first disciple of Christ. She is a beautiful example of humility and grace and she has only always pointed people toward Christ. She is like the moon that reflects a much greater light. While you recite the rosary what you are reciting are portions of scripture and then you are asking Mary to pray for you. "Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary Mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of or death. Amen" While you are reciting this you are meditating on one of the mystery's of Jesus' life. There are different mysteries depending on the day of the week.


4. What else to Catholics believe about Mary?
She was immaculately conceived. This means that she was born without the stain of original sin as a gift from God but also because in order for a perfect and holy God to come from her she had to be a suitable vessel.
She was a virgin and remained a virgin throughout her life. St Augustine said, "When God vouchsafed to become Man, it was fitting that he should be born in this way. He who was made of her, had made her what she was: a virgin who conceives, a virgin who gives birth; a virgin with child, a virgin delivered of child — a virgin ever virgin." 
She was assumed into heaven when it was time for her to leave the earth.


I honestly do not feel like my beliefs or lack there of regarding Mary shape or define my relationship with Christ. I can see both the protestant and catholic view points. Even to this day I think that some things will just remain a mystery to me. It is so freeing to just accept that we are not meant to figure everything out.  That being said I do think that Mary certainly deserves a significant place of honor and esteem. I am a mother and I am grateful to belong to a church that gives her credit for the part she plays in our salvation history. I also understand that just like anything else people can become misguided and go in the wrong direction which I feel I have glimpsed in parts of Mexico where Mary is perhaps emphasized more than God. This must break her heart as she would want Christ to have all of the glory. Just like some backward backwoods baptist with their snake handlers the truth has gotten twisted along the way. So we exercise patience and major on the majors and not on the minors and for me that is to love God and love others.

My people

It feels like Christmas Eve to me because tomorrow when I wake up I get to see one of "my people".
There is a small group of four women that I cherish.
They are my go to girls.
Anytime. Anywhere.
I trust them completely and laugh with them until my face hurts.
       Camila and I met because of our fifth cousinhood. We were together for all of our childhood Thanksgivings. We were college roommates. We backpacked across Europe together and loved every second. She is brilliant and is almost like google in a human form. She is open minded yet she knows what she thinks and why. We have watched each other grow up and know each other so well and there is quite a comfort that comes with that. She inspires and fascinates me. No matter how late we stay up talking it will continue when we go to bed.
       Valerie and I met in the second grade. She was always the envy of every girl in whatever grade we were in and I got to be her best friend. She actually remembers what I wore to school on the first day of the fourth grade and just so happened to convince the boy I was "going with" that I was going to break up with him after Valentine's day so they ate all the chocolate that he got me! She knows everything. Our history is rich and deep. She is an amazing mother and fantastic artist with impeccable taste. There is never enough time when we are together. When we see each other it is like we have been trapped somewhere and we have finally been freed to talk to another human. I almost pine for our conversations. The gentleness of her spirit is soothing to my soul.
       Jennifer and I met in the seventh grade. She was a firecracker from the start. She is one of the most thoughtful people I have ever met and an amazing gift giver. She is strong and fiesty. She writes like a mad woman and will one day sign a book of hers for me. She will befriend anyone and makes everyone feel like they are special. I have seen her face adversity with courage and grace. She is a fighter and a beautiful mama.You cannot help but feel comfortable when she is around.  I will remember forever her in my kitchen cooking after we miscarried our son and the comfort that seeing her face brought to me.
       Courtney and I met when she came over to see about cleaning the sweet little Ohio Avenue house. We sat across the table talking forever and I knew that day that it was love at first sight. I wasn't sure if she should clean the place because I really just wanted to be her friend! That was almost eight years ago and we haven't looked back since. She is the most amazing perfectionist. I am talking detail oriented down to the napkins facing in a certain direction. God bless her I don't know how she can stand to be friends with me. She has a heart for people that motivates me to do more. She has taught me that relationships are investments and they are everything. She is a faithful friend who goes the extra mile. She is like a much upgraded version of Martha Stewart with a tad bit of hip. Simply sensational.
         There they are in all of their splendor. I could write pages about each of them. They have made my life better by being in it. They are my 3 am phone calls. My girlfriend getaways. Reasons for praise. My refreshment. The laughter of my heart. The very best of friends. My most kindred spirits.

Wordless Wednesday

Sacrifice

When I was a student at UT I remember going to McDonald's on Ash Wednesday. There was a girl in line behind me with ashes on her forehead. So, I politely told her that she may need a napkin because there was something black on her head. Lovely huh? Tomorrow I will be getting those ashes from the palms of the previous Palm Sunday on my forehead and will begin the season of reflection and sacrifice. I am so thankful for the Liturgical year. These spiritual seasons to be intentional about asking how my life is matching up with the purposes of God. I once thought that sacrificing things was totally pointless not to mention completely lacking the fun factor. I couldn't relate to how or why Jesus would ever care about me not eating chocolate but now I know it is much more. It is a physical sacrifice meant to trigger an interior transformation.  I am choosing seven of my favorite daily activities and sacrificing one each day of the week: coffee, chocolate, music, computer, TV, sleep, and dinner. I am also going to try to write letters of encouragement each day during Lent.  I am seeking to allow God to do some weeding out of all of my junk.  To call a spade a spade and perhaps deal with things I would rather sweep under the rug like the fact that I yell at my kids sometimes and make up these stupid phrases that I say under my breath "damn it to hell and back"  or that I think that somehow I am superior to people that succumb to plastic surgery. I have issues. I admit it. I am grateful that I also have a loving and forgiving God that continues to show me in even greater ways how desperately I need him. The prophet Daniel pleaded for God this way: "I turned to the Lord God, pleading in earnest prayer, with fasting, sackcloth and ashes" (Daniel 9:3). I don't have the sackcloth Lord but I'm ready. Let's get to work.

Real Artifact

These walls tell the story of their lives.

I walk along with utter devotion trying not to miss a word.

It is the only token I have to extend to them.

He approaches with sort of a shuffle.

Gray tweed coat, white hair, small wire rimmed glasses, older than dirt.

I am in love at first sight.

He asks if I can read the sign and I tell him I took Spanish instead of German in school. 

So, he tells me that it says to sell nothing to the Jews, explaining that was the beginning.

When I inquire about his birthplace he tells me he is Polish and he lived under Hitler's rule for seven years.

I am walking around this Jewish heritage museum when I come face to face with a living artifact.

A true survivor.

My interest in the tour feigns. I only want to know this man.

This living being who has walked through hell and come out the other side.

How much strength must be disguised in his fragile frame.

He lost his entire family in one minute.

He was young and left in a hot field with no water for days.

He was placed in four different ghettos otherwise known as concentration camps.

His story spills out from him in bits and pieces.

Pointing to the pictures he utters, "This is the truth of it. Photos couldn't lie back then." 

The tears will not stay put.

I rest my hand on his arm and tell him I am so sorry about what he has gone through and so happy that he is still here.

"It wasn't easy", he says as he waddles away.

There is no comprehending the torment this sweet soul has endured but in the sharing of his story I felt as if we had entered into a sacred realm for the briefest of moments.

That somehow the telling of his tale allowed some of the sorrow to be sifted from his bones.

The testament of his mere presence in the midst of images of death permeated the air with a fortitude that inspires me still. 

Faithful Friday

Two of my three darlings are in the midst of a stomach virus so unfortunately this Friday I will miss my faith topic as I am trying to be faithful to these little angels entrusted to me for a while.
Sacrifice is such an integral part of life, this laying down of oneself continues to be hard work for me, but it is in this posture of putting my agenda to the side, that I more clearly see His agenda for me.
That every act of humility is in his eyes an act of love and obedience.
It doesn't make it easy but it does make it worth it.

Silence

It is a hard art to learn,
catching quiet
by palms raised
cupped in 
air shifting location
here and there like
trying to guess the pattern of falling leaves,
and hoping to feel
the soft descent of moments
when silence slips
between sounds.


-Enuma Okoro


When I was growing up I would always have music playing in my room. When my parents would take me places, I would beg for the radio to be turned up. I still love music with every fiber of my being and think it is one of life's greatest joys but oh how silence and I are becoming much better friends.

Wordless Wednesday- Bling

Lavish

Our first date was a group hike to Rattlesnake Falls. We met on the river. He proposed next to the whitewater rushing by us. On occasion we claim they stole the movie title from us "A River runs through it." One of our favorite hikes was near the Nanatahala River and a cute little artsy coffee shop. It was in that shop that I spotted the most beautiful stained glass fairy angel EVER. I inquired about the price of this exquisite art and then slowly turned away before the clerk saw my foolish mouth agape. I casually mentioned that it was simply stunning as we walked out but stated clearly that I, a user of ninety-nine cent shampoo, would never consider buying it.
After dating for a few weeks we decided to go on a backpacking trip to Glacier National Park in Montana. We camped next to a lodge on the eve of my birthday and so we leisurely strolled over for a  luxurious hot breakfast made by someone else. I browsed the gift shop before we sat down and thought it could use a bit of work. We ate our eggs benedict when I noticed the waitresses coming over with a candle in a muffin alongside a wrapped box. I immediately sent up a prayer: "Please God help me to pretend to like whatever hideous gift this sweet soul has purchased for me at the pathetic gift shop. Lord, you know I can't hide my feelings and I rarely like any gift someone else picks out but just this once help me to fake it. Amen."
So, when I opened the box and pulled out THE ANGEL from the little shop in North Carolina, for the first time in my life I was speechless. I think there may have even been some stuttering and a few tears. You see at this point my sweet darling had spent almost everything he had to take this trip. He was working 60 hours/week and trying to survive. I knew what it had taken him, not only to afford to pay for this token of love, but to carry it for 20+ miles in his backpack through the wilderness without breaking it. This man was a keeper from the very beginning.
What he gave me still ranks as my favorite gift of all time but what is even more incredible is what is says about the giver.
He loves lavishly.
He loves with all of his heart.
He has more feeling in his elbow than I have in my entire body.
He defines generosity and sacrifice on so many levels.
This man I get to call my own.
My sweet valentine.

brokenness

She shows up in tears.
I send the kids up stairs and decide to make some coffee.
"Oh please," I whisper to know the words to say, to respond as He would, and to be fully present.
She hugs me but not because it's been a while, it comes with a clinging heartbreak attached.
Shattered trust tempts us to walk away.
It is too hard to get down on hands and knees and pick up all the pieces.
The heavier weight to carry is the anxiety and fear of its recurrence.
The burden of giving out grace to an undeserving dirty hand.
But oh where would we be?
"I am a sinner, if it's not one thing, it's another. Caught up in words, tangled in lies.
But you are a savior and you take brokenness aside and make it beautiful."- Sons and Daughters
The reason we can't refuse to offer grace is because it has been rained down on us.
Mere human beings, mistake makers, broken people.
Begging for a heart like His is our only hope.
There is no magic formula, no magic words to make pain dissipate.
There is only God to breathe healing into our wounds and strength into our bones.
Then we will walk down this unexpected path and know that His love ALONE sustains us.

Faithful Friday 3

When I began this journey the only thing I really knew or thought I knew about Catholicism was that the schools made you wear uniforms and were expensive, somehow they had decided that drinking was not a sin, and that they of course worshiped Mary. I was born and bred as a true southern baptist, accustomed to going to church on Sundays to hear the preacher's entertaining sermon and some Grammy award winning worship music. I had no idea that catholics went to "Mass" with a "priest" who "gave" a "homily." Seriously, the first couple of times I felt as if I was in a foreign country looking around thinking what in the world are these people doing? I'm glad I didn't work out first with all the kneeling and standing we are doing. So, I thought it would be fitting to discuss what exactly happens during Mass which was one of the first lessons Ruth taught me.

The purpose of Mass isn't socialization or entertainment of any kind. We go to give ourselves to God and in return receive God. This was very difficult for me because I was used to singing a few songs and then being entertained in a sense with several good stories and a biblical outline to fill in.
When you first enter the church everyone is supposed to be silent. It is meant to be a time of prayer and preparation.

I. The Introductory Rites
This is when everyone stands and we sing a song as the priest and the alter servers process to the front of the church. We greet each other and make the sign of the cross before we pray. What I have learned is that making the sign of the cross is sort of like when protestants pray and say "in Jesus name" at the end. Well, the sign of the cross is similar except there are motions with it and it is done at the beginning and end of a prayer.
We then pray the penitential act together. We acknowledge our sins, what we have done and what we have failed to do and seek forgiveness and grace.
We then praise God for his goodness by singing Gloria.
An opening prayer is prayed and they are often short but profound and typically go along with what season we are in. An example would be, "Father, help us to seek the values that will bring us lasting joy in this changing world. In our desire for what you promise, make us one in mind and heart."

II. The Liturgy of the Word
Scriptures are read from the Old Testament, Psalms, New Testament, and the gospels. Everyone stands during the gospel reading to honor the words that Jesus spoke and we all trace a cross on our mouths, our foreheads, and our hearts, that God's Word would be in what we say, in what we think, and in the depths of our souls. All of the readings are somehow related to each other as well as the readings that were the previous week and the upcoming week.
I love knowing the readings ahead of time so that I can be prepared and familiar with them before Mass. I also love knowing that because Mass is a daily occurrence, every single hour Mass is being celebrated somewhere in the world. The feeling of unity is simply astounding.
Then there is a short homily given by the priest that is similar to the protestant sermon. This is where the priest ties the readings together and teaches life applications.
We then profess our faith which I actually love to reflect on because its just a reminder and cause for gratefulness.
We pray general intercessions for the less fortunate of the world, our leaders, and others.
We take up a collection.

III. Liturgy of the Eucharist
The Offertory is brought forth which consists of bread, wine, and offerings for the church and the poor.
The priest and alter servers prepare the alter and the Eucharistic prayer is prayed. We are invited to lift our hearts up to the Lord. This is a prayer of thanksgiving since Eucharist means "thanksgiving".
The priest recites the narrative of the Last Supper connecting what we experience in Mass with Jesus' institution of the Eucharist. This is when as Catholics we believe consecration occurs meaning the bread and wine become the body and blood of Jesus. This major difference will be discussed in further detail and separately later as it was one of the biggest faith hurdles for me.
We all hold hands and say the Lord's prayer and the offer each other signs of peace which means shaking hands or hugging the person next to you and saying, "peace be with you."
We then participate in Communion, receiving the body and blood of Jesus in the form of bread and wine. Each time I am in line the song that comes to my heart is Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.
We walk back to our seats and kneel for a time of thanksgiving.
The priest blesses us and tells us to go out into the world and glorify God with our lives.
We sing one more song and we are out the door.

I have come to see such beauty in the sacredness and rhythm of Mass. It is a comfort to my soul. It hasn't always been that way though and next week I will discuss some of the many struggles I had to work through in order to appreciate the Mass for what it is.