90 Days...

I got a package today.

I have been checking the mailbox like little Ralphie waiting for his Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder... every day.

And it came. Today!

What is it, you ask? Oh, it's very cool.

It's this:
Excuse me while I do the Happy Dance...

Okay. I'm back. So here is how I came to be the very excited owner of this new Bible:

I was catching up on reading the blogs. I get so behind when I'm working during the school year, but there are those I try to read every day or two. Smockity is one of my favorites, as she is full of wisdom and has a great sense of humor too. (Seriously, she has made me choke on my Pepsi from laughing... I do not recommend drinking bubbly or hot liquids while reading her blog!)

I digress. Sorry.
Anyway, I read her post about the Bible in 90 Days program. Woah! I thought. I've been reading the Bible for 9 years, and I am only in Ezekiel! This is something that has frequently bothered me in the last year. This idea fascinated me.

I clicked a few links.

I read all about it.

I wrote a comment reporting that I would participate.

I clicked "Submit Comment."

I said to myself, "Self, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? ARE YOU INSANE? YOU ARE BEHIND IN PAPERWORK, BURIED UNDER UNFOLDED LAUNDRY, AND YOU HARDLY HAVE TIME TO SHOWER EVERY DAY. YOU ARE THE QUEEN OF UNFINISHED PROJECTS. You fail at so many of your endeavors... do you really think you will succeed in committing an hour each day to something you've failed to commit an hour a week to doing? Perhaps you should rethink this before you add one more failed, unfinished project to the colossal pile of failures you've already got going."

I promptly accepted defeat and changed my mind about participating.

And then, a couple of days later, I checked the comments in my latest blog post and saw that Connie from Smockity had left a comment on my blog.

Smockity Frocks said...

You won my Bible in 90 Days giveaway!!!

Oh dear. I quickly realized that I was now truly committed (and perhaps in need of being committed...) I will admit to having a moment of panic. But then, I thought about Divine Intervention. God heard that entire conversation I had with myself. In fact, He's heard a lot of those conversations lately. Some of them have been nice, polite discussions, and in some of them, well, I've just been plain old fashioned mean to myself.

Maybe He intends for me to do this. I've got a few changes to make. I've got a mess or two to clean up. I've got to start learning to love myself. I've got to learn that, although I am a sinner by nature, it's perfectly okay for me to be happy. He knows how long I've struggled. And maybe, just maybe, His word is the key to it all. Since I'm poor at doing things for me, but good at doing things for other people... poor at being accountable to me, but good at being accountable for other people... maybe He's giving me this kick in the backside.

That must be it, because ya'll, I never. win. anything.

I'm not kidding. I could enter a one person race, and I would not win.

I could enter a lottery that sold only one ticket, and I would not win.

But this, I won.

And now?

I'm SO READY TO GO!

January 1st, bring it on! I want to start.

I will do this.

And I'll blog about it. Because I think this is the kind of journey that one really must share.

So, I would like to give a HUGE

THANK YOU!!!!

To Ms. Smockity, and to the folks at Bible in 90 Days.

Imperfect...

This is our Christmas tree.
It is not a perfect tree. It is terribly thin.

It has many bare spots. Gaps left when the spare branches are fanned out to their fullest, but still cannot fill in the spaces.

It's ornaments are hung terribly lopsided. Small fingers, unable to grasp the big picture, focus on each ornament as if it is the only one. There is no regard for overall appearance. Just for each special ornament as it is hung.

Many of the lower branches hold clusters of ornaments. The boughs sag under the weight. Because, really. If one ornament is good on this branch, several must be better.

A light bulb or two has burnt out. Unable to shine with the light of the season, they await a new bulb. They wait to be filled, again, with light.


The garland hangs, uneven. This, the result of a huge, red Tonka truck having crashed into it. Perhaps an accident. Perhaps a wreckless, impulsive moment in a toddler's day. One of the inevitable events of this tree's existence.

I look at this imperfect tree, and I love it. I don't need a big tree with matching garlands & perfectly hung ornaments. This Christmas tree serves as a daily reminder. It reminds of the season, the anticipation, the truth.

Like this tree, I am imperfect. At times, I can be quite thin on character. I, too, have bare spots in my spirit where, despite stretching, I can not fill in all the spaces. I am lopsided and unbalanced. My sins hang in clusters, weighing down my limbs. I, too, have lights that have burnt out. I am filled with the Holy Spirit, but sometimes I am unable to allow the Light of Christ to shine through me. Parts of my spirit hang to the ground, the result of the inevitable events of my existence.

I am His. He looks at this imperfect being, and He loves me. He loves me so much that He gave his only begotten Son to wash away my sins. Jesus was born to fulfill a promise. His promise. That through Him, I can be full on character; I can find balance; my sins can be lifted from my boughs; my lights can shine with His Grace; I can be renewed and repaired after the inevitable events of this life.

And it all began with a birth. A coming. The coming. Of a Savior.

I look at my sad little tree, and I love it. My imperfect Christmas tree reminds me that in this time of advent, we wait. We anticipate the coming of our Savior.

The Old, the Now, the New.

It is early morning. It is dark. The sun has yet to wake from its slumber.

The trees are silent under the weight of the fog, and the cool air softly touches my face.

There is a chill in the air, but it is not cold. So many years it has been frigid in these early morning hours.

This is my favorite part.

How many years have I walked this path?

How many times have I traveled this road with him?

This is my favorite part.

We set off, down the now familiar dirt road. The air is damp and the leaves make a quiet shushing sound under our feet. We can hear the coyotes, throwing up their last cry into the darkness. I follow him into the woods. Always, my eyes find his broad shoulders, wrapped in the warmth of his ridiculously bright orange parka.

He cradles his rifle in his arm as he walks. Confident, quiet steps. And I follow him. Like a duckling I follow my dad. My Titan. My superhero. Wherever he walks, I will follow. I know this forest; he knows it better. This is my job. Only to follow.

This is my favorite part.

He will deposit me into my spot, the spot he gave me, and then continue to his own. I will not be able to see him, but he will not be far. He does not go far from me.
But this year it hurts.

Again? I think. The thing that got broken was broken so long ago. Like bubbles from a shipwreck, the pain rises up from the watery depths again and again. Why? All these years later. Someone very wise told me this is the lasting legacy of divorce. The husband and the wife walk away with hardly a scratch. But the children are wounded forever.

The moment the important thing got broken became a hash mark in my life. A slash across time. There is what we had before,. And what came after. For all these years I have kept them separated. I wrapped up what came before. Protected it, preserved it. Left it sealed up and untouched.

But this year is different. Last weekend, the first of the season, I alone followed.

I have struggled with this. My heart has been breaking in anticipation of this walk.

This is the moment. The new collides with the old.

Before there were two. Now there are three. There is a new one.

I want to cry out that she doesn't belong in this place. I want to stomp and cry and ask if nothing is sacred.

And then a light dawns. And I see it. Did I do that? Did I really...?

Did I build an altar? In my heart, did I construct a place to worship something that should not be worshiped? Did I come to treasure the thing that got broken so much that it became too important?

I think that maybe I did. I know that God loves my parents. I know that he loved their marriage. I know that He loved, maybe still loves, the thing that got broken. That was their choice, not His.

But this. This is His choice. Perhaps He put her here. God knows what we need.

Perhaps my superhero needed to experience what he missed the first time. He was absent the first time. He was young then. He didn't know what he missed.

Perhaps the new one needs a superhero. Yes. She definitely needs one. She hasn't got one of her own.

Perhaps God saw all of this. Perhaps He put his perfect plan into place.

He knew this would be difficult for me. He knew it would hurt. That my heart would break again.

I have been praying to Him for weeks. Please help me see. Please heal my broken heart. I have done the best I can these last weeks, but still... I have not behaved well. I have struggled to exercise the fruits of the Spirit, so bruised has been my heart. But so far... nothing. Just the hurt.

My God is big.

He has heard me. He came before me to light the way.

As the sun comes up, I can see. The wind moves over the hills, and I think this must be what it is like when the Holy Spirit moves over the Earth. It is like the very breath of God moving around and through the trees.

And in that moment, I stop. I stop crying. I stop raging. I stop fighting. I stop resisting.

I let Him do what it is I asked Him to do. What I know He wanted to do from the start. I let Him heal my broken heart. I embrace His most perfect plan. I accept the gift He has given me. I accept that He has given a gift to them.

I still follow when we walk on that dirt road. But now I do not follow blindly. I have a purpose.

The Titan leads. The new one follows. I follow her. But I am no longer a duckling. Now I am a watcher. I know this forest. The new one doesn't know it yet. So I watch out for her. I point my light in front of her feet. I know where the puddles are without looking. She needs the light to see them. I am here in case she falls behind. I already know where she is going. She doesn't know the way yet.

Things have changed. But not everything. I know this now.

Because in a quiet moment, my Titan told me something important. He told me how much he enjoyed the time when only we came here to this place where I set down my roots. He told me that he remembers, too, how it was before the thing got broken. He told me that this is not just a place for the old. It is a place for the old and the now and the new. And he told me that he loves me.

And I know that we can love the old. And we can love the new. And that loving the new doesn't diminish the love we have for the old. And I believe him. Because he is, and will always be, my superhero.

Gratituesday

As Thanksgiving quickly approaches, we've been talking a lot about being thankful.

Tyson has indicated that he is thankful for many things. Among them are:

• Mommy, Daddy, Tyson & Riley (he refers to himself in the 3rd person during evening prayers)
• the deer Daddy got last weekend
• school
• our dogs
• Spot, the pet lizard
• cupcakes

Not a bad list for an almost-7-year-old. His Dad & I are blessed that this little guy has always been quite content with what he has, and has never, ever had a case of the "gimme's."

My list is similar to his this week:

• My husband, children, family. I am blessed to have a large family who loves much.
• Our home. I really love our house. It is small, mostly undecorated and has a serious problem with dog hair, but I love it. And in this economy, I am especially thankful that God has provided us with a warm, comfortable home full of love and laughter.
• My marriage. I am the only person in my family, except for one set of grandparents, in 3 generations to not get (or wish I could get) divorced. My husband & I are more in love than the day we were married. That is truly a rare & blessed condition.
• My job. I am thankful to have a job that pays well & allows me to have summers of with my sons. More than that, I am so thankful to have a job that I love doing. I get to stretch my creativity, use my talents, and serve my Lord by serving his most precious children.
  
• My continuously growing relationship with God. Every day I feel myself drawing nearer to Him. Every day I see His hand on my life and my family. Every day I grow just a bit more comfortable in my new found faith. Every day I am able to see His blessings - both the obvious ones, and the more hidden ones.
  

So, what are you thankful for this season?

The rifles lean against the wall in the living room.

The orange hats and coats have awakened from their summer hibernation and emerged.

It smells like old woodfire smoke and Hoppe's gun oil in my house.

I am a young girl, and I know that this means deer season is coming. They will go. Some years many others go with them, some years not. But every year, it seems to me, they go. They go together. They seem happy when they go. They seem happy when they come back.

"When can I go?" I ask.

I look up at him, his strong hands, his big shoulders. He can do anything. He is a Titan, a superhero. He is my superhero.

"When you're older," he says.

"How much older?" I say, impatient. I want to go too.

"I don't know. When you're thirteen, fourteen, maybe. We'll see."

That seems like a lifetime to me. But I can wait. It's only a few more seasons, and then I'll go with them. I'll see the happy for myself. They will share it with me. I know they will. Because he said they would.

So I wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But things are different when I am thirteen.

The happy is over. They don't go there together anymore. What they had between them has broken.
It is on the ground, in pieces. They don't want it anymore. They are angry, hurt, bitter. They walk away from it. They don't want it.

My sisters don't want it. They are so little. They know it was, and now it isn't. They are sad, confused. But they don't understand it enough to want it.
I see it, I want it. It hurts me to see it broken. It feels like I am broken. It is where my roots were. Now my roots can't grow there. They don't grow anywhere. It's all broken up. Nothing can grow there now. It is a pitiful, unwanted thing.

But still, I want it. I'm the only one who wants it. Because it is where I came from. I was born out of it. I pick up the few pieces I can and try not to think of the promises, the dreams. The things I waited for that will never happen now. I try not to think of the things I cannot have.

Still, a part of me waits. And hopes. And remembers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time passes. I grow and move and breathe, and life helps me move along. I am a grown up now. I am newly married. I am learning to lay down new roots. I am learning to trust this new place where my new roots will grow. I hope this one doesn't break, I hope with all my heart.

I still carry my old roots. They are withered, dried. But still, I carry them. I can't put them down. There is no place to put them down. The old place is gone, but I can't find a new place to put down the old roots. I can't find a place that connects me to the thing that got broken. There is no place that feels right. And so I have carried them all these years.

Time passes. They both move on, too. New families. New homes. New. There is little thought of the old. The old has to share with the new. Things must be moved, space must be made. Some of the old things now live in the new, but not that thing. She doesn't go there anymore. He goes without her. He goes alone.

And still, I remember. I wait.

And then one day, he says to me, "You should come with me." And I smile. And my heart rejoices. He invites me and my husband. And we go. And I don't know it until I get there, but he has given me a wonderful thing.
It is a gift. He does not know it's a gift. He does not know how precious it is. He cannot imagine how meaningful it is. He does not realize the importance of it.

Because this is where they used to go. And although she is a hundred miles away, I feel connected to them both. At the same time. In this place. This place that is mostly untouched by others. I told her I was coming, and she was happy. When we come now here it is only us. This was their place. He shared it with her then. Now, he shares it with me. They share it with me.

When I am here, I can reach back across time. In this place, I stand with one foot in the now, and one foot in the then. And I feel peace. I feel calm. I can hear the echos of them. Still here, ringing out across the years.

He tells me stories of her. Of them. He shows me her hunting spot. He tells me of how she got her first deer. He shows me his hunting spot. He tells me of all the deer he has gotten there. In a few years, he gives me his spot.

In my life, there have been things I wanted him to share with me. And this is the thing he chose. This simple thing that is so much more than a simple thing. This thing he gave me is not just hunting. It is not just a season. Not just an experience. He gave me them. He gave me a few more pieces of the thing that got broken. A few of the pieces I could not pick up before.

In this place, I walk where they walked when they loved each other. I breathe where they breathed when it was whole. I laugh where they laughed when they were happy together. And this is the only place left on the earth like this. Because the home we had before it was broken is gone.
And in this place, I discover a place where I can set down my old roots. This is a place of the old. It has not been touched by the hurt. The broken has not come here. Everything that has come since has stayed away. This is where I can plant my old roots. And I can come back every year and see how they've grown. Every year, they grow a little. They grow into something new. But also something old. They are fertilized by the the pieces of the thing that got broken.

It is where the memories live. The memories of them and me and us before it all fell down. It feels like going back to my home.

A Quiet Place to Pray

A while back I asked a friend if she has a place in her home to pray. She (wisely) answered that she prays every place. I like her answer, and for me, it seems the same is true. As I travel along this journey of faith, I find myself offering up prayers with almost every breath. Prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of love, sometimes prayers for intercession.

What I should have asked was, "Do you have a quiet, comforting place in your home where you commune with God?" Because, yes, prayer should happen often, at many times and in many places, but I'm learning that it is important to set aside time every day to just...

be with God.

A few months ago I began getting up (or trying to get up) around 5:30 so that I can begin my day with scripture and prayer. My family are all still sleeping, and my house is truly quiet for a few minutes. I had been sitting in my favorite chair in our living room, but I was often so distracted. There was a full laundry basket near the coffee table. There were a few toys left on the floor from last night. There were a few dishes in the sink. There was that permission slip to be signed...

I've recently read and heard about where others go (in their homes) for their daily quiet time with God. I thought this sounded like a great idea, so I made one in my home. And I'm so glad I did. It's not perfect yet. I still have a lot to do. And it's not without it's distractions, but these are distractions I can ignore pretty easily at 5:30 am.

Two years ago we began finishing our basement in preparation for our new baby. My office had to be moved out of his room, and as long as we were building that, we might as well build a little seating area too. The baby is now 19 months old. The basement is far from finished. But I have my office, and now I have my quiet place too.
Okay, it's a bit of a mess. The bucket acts as my end table right now, to hold my morning Ovaltine and sometimes my feet. The shop vac is hardly conducive to relaxation... but I do have this:
A lovely fireplace. Okay, the fireplace itself is a little dusty from drywall work. And there are boxes of building supplies nearby. But the flame is lovely and warm. And it calms my heart and racing mind.

And that helps me take strength, wisdom & comfort from this:
That's my Bible. It's open to the book of Jeremiah, which is as far as I've gotten so far. Also, my "Our Daily Bread" is peeking out. Every morning I pray, read ODB, read a section of Jeremiah (as much as my time will allow) and pray (again) before greeting the day and heading out to work.

Although it was a bit of a challenge to train myself to do this, now that I have, I find that on those rare mornings when I skip it (bad, Kelly. Baaaad.) I really, really miss it. I feel all day as though I have forgotten something really important... like putting on pants. And let's be honest people, it is uncomfortable to walk around the world without your pants on.

So, do you spend time with God daily? Where do you go? What do you do? I'd love for you to share.

Blessings Come in Unexpected Forms (Part 3)

So the very next day, I started getting up early to pray & read my Bible. I started listening to the BOTT radio network again. I began to recite Galatians 5:21. Often. I asked myself "Is this faithful instruction?" before correcting or directing my children.

And I began to feel better. And I began to function better. And after three days of this, I felt compelled to open the laptop that sits next to my chair and read one of those blogs. And the post that she wrote spoke directly to my heart.

And I realized that blessings come in unexpected forms.

Because the selfish "me time" that I no longer felt I had time for was really "us time" that I must make time for. God put these women in my life for a reason. They have much to share. God compelled me to start this second blog for a reason. I am here, in the beginning of my journey of faith, and even in my humble beginnings, I have much to share.

These blogs, this community of typed words and pictures, of bold fonts and italics, of prayers and scripture and lessons taught and learned... it's all a new kind of fellowship. It is Titus 2. It is the kind of gathering and sharing and teaching that the women who went before us had to go down to the well to experience.

And it's not a plague from man. It's a blessing from God. I asked God to teach me; He gave me a whole community of women from whom to learn.

So I am pledging to get back to reading the blogs, and to sharing my thoughts & experiences on my blog(s). I'm sure I'll never be able to read all 188 that I've missed, but I'll definitely go through & catch up a few at a time. Also, I'm pretty sure only one or two people read this blog, but I will still share anyway. God is doing wonderful things in my heart and my life, and I want to be praising Him and glorifying Him.

Wow. Blessings do sometimes come in the most unexpected forms. Isn't God amazing?

Blessings Come in Unexpected Forms (part 2)

Over the summer I discovered some really great blogs. They are authored by Christian moms. If you follow my blog, you already know this. And you also already know that in reading these blogs, I began to learn about what it really means to be a gracious woman, a daughter of God, a wife and mother who walks with Christ. There are many that I have discovered, and each one brings her own personality, experience and wisdom to this whole new world I am still discovering.

So at the end of August, school started again. And I went back to work again. And the transition has been hard.

really. hard.

And the first thing to go was internet time. I no longer posted on either of my blogs. I no longer read any of their blogs. I stopped sharing and I stopped receiving. It was "me time," and I didn't have time for it.


188 unread posts. It has been weeks. During those weeks, I was trapped in a downward spiral. I became tired, cranky, overwhelmed and generally unpleasant. I lost my joy, and I could feel my love and faith following close behind.

And then I had the worst week ever. That week I slept in instead of getting up early to spend time with the Lord every day. I don't think I prayed the whole week. Depression & anxiety were not only knocking at the door, they were pretty close to huffing & puffing and blowing my house down. Oh, and my house! It looked like a tornado had gone through it. My house tends to be a mirror of what I'm feeling inside. Clearly, I was feeling chaos. Overwhelmed, insane chaos. I was failing big time and needed to get myself together.

Except that I can't really get myself together. Because it was when I tried to do it myself that the wheels came off my wagon.

...and you'll have to come back tomorrow for the conclusion of this post!

Blessings Come in Unexpected Forms (Part 1)

This is the type of thing that I think of when I ponder technology:
Despite being married to a computer jock who loves gadgets & technology, I tend to be quite suspicious of technology. My husband works in computers. Even more than that, he is one of the "technovators" in his company... his job is to dream up new and profitable ways to use technology in the credit union. He's really good at what he does because he absolutely loves technology, gadgetry and toys.

I, on the other hand, tend to approach technology as though it's a dog that could bite at any second. While I often see the advantages (I can email my mom in AZ in a split second; I can check the live radar from my phone; I can look anything up at any time without having to make room in my house for the entire Encyclopedia Britannica), I also see the dangers (internet predators, the lack of social accountability that comes with anonymity, the distraction that comes with all that information being right there at your fingertips, the big hole that was left in our budget when I discovered Ebay that one winter...).

I tend to think of the internet as being a big time-sucking distraction from the things that are - or should be - truly important. How many hours have I spent on Facebook when I could have been doing other things? How many times have my husband & I accidentally passed up real quality time with our children or each other because we lost track of time while checking Twitter & email? I tend to resent the technology and I know... I just know... that God does not want me to have it. It must be the opposite of how He wants me to spend my time (any of it). It is a horrible monster, a plague, really, created by man that will accomplish nothing but distracting us all from God and our families... I could go on...

But then again...

Every now and then...

God throws me a surprise.

And like a person hit in the face with a cream pie, I am surprised.

And then not surprised, because this is God we are talking about.

...and you'll have to tune in again tomorrow for part 2 of this post!

Thankful Thursday

I didn't have time to grab the button this morning. I'll get it before next Thursday. But for more words of thanksgiving, click here.

1. I'm thankful for my family. God has blessed me with a husband and two beautiful sons. My husband is a quiet, peaceful, patient man, and I know that God placed him in my life to draw me back from the precipice many years ago. My sons are unique in their own wonderful ways. Both are kind a sweet natured; one is a dreamer; the other is a firecracker. The greatest joy I have known is watching them grow. We love much. I am fortunate to be able to spend every afternoon & evening with my children, and most of the evenings with my husband. We all spend as much time as the Lord grants us on the weekends. They keep me grounded and calm.
2. I'm thankful for my job. It is one of the most difficult jobs I can think of. It is also one of the most rewarding. This is what God called me to do. When people talk about what they would do if they won a million dollars, I know that I would still do this. I would still go to work every day. I love serving the Lord by serving his most remarkable children.
3. I'm thankful for sleep. Both of my children are really good sleepers, and I am thankful that I am allowed to get at least 7 hours of mostly uninterrupted sleep just about every night.
   
4. I'm thankful for my friends. I don't have many, but the ones I do have are such good people. There is my lifelong friend who has recently reappeared in my life. She knows all of my deepest, darkest secrets - and she loves me anyway. There is the work-friend, who shares a faith that is very similar to my own. I know I can always seek council with her. There is the unexpected friend, who is funny and honest and is the Godmother to my younger son. There is the friend who is also my mother in law. She is an amazing woman, and is exactly who I think of when I read Titus 2. She is always happy to impart her wisdom - when I ask, and she accepted me many years ago when most other mothers would have rejected me.
5. I'm thankful for the blue sky. It has been raining for days and days. It's been a while since I've seen the gorgeous blue sky. But I know it's up there, behind all those rain clouds. And as soon as they finish dropping their rain & move on, I will be able to see it again. Eventually.

"...When You Needed Me the Most..."

I'm still here. Although I have been oddly absent from the blogosphere lately.

It hasn't been by choice. This whole "having a career" thing is putting a serious damper on my blogging activities.

Actually it's putting a serious damper on most of my activities.

Two weeks ago, I even failed to spend time with the Lord every morning. For a whole week.

Why is it that when the going gets tough, that's the first thing I walk away from? When I need Him the most, I stop praying, stop reading, forget what it is that I'm trying to learn to do.

I know the poem says that when we need Him the most is when He carries us... but I'm thinking maybe we (or I, at least) completely interfere with that by stubbornly standing my ground, digging in my heels and repeating one of my older son's favorite pre-school phrases:

"No. I do myself." (Only it sounded more like, "No. Ah doo Mahsewfff.")

Why is it that at the first sign of things getting hectic or stressful, I not only refuse to give Him any of my new burdens, but... in addition... I take back all the ones I successfully handed over for Him to carry for me?

Will I ever learn to get this right? Have any of you learned to get this part right?

Rejoice!

This is the day the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.
~Psalm 118:24

Whenever he feels a breeze on his face, my youngest son (who is 18 months old) throws up his hands, closes his eyes & says, "oooohhhh." It touches my heart every time because it really looks like he is rejoicing and praising the Lord in his own, private baby way. He takes such joy from something as simple as a breeze... this is something I have learned from him.

For more words of inspiration click here

WFW

But the fruit of the Spirit is
Love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, goodness, faithfulness,
gentleness and self control.
~Galatians 5:22

If only practicing these every day was as easy as picking an apple from a tree...

For more goodness, click here!

Newly Saved?

I think... that it is possible... that I only recently... became saved.

Those were strange words to type just then.

Because I thought that I was already saved. Although I could not point to a moment and say, "That's when I became saved," I was pretty sure it had happened.

But then something really did happen. Over this summer, as I began to read more & more of what I call "ChristianMomBlogs," I started to notice some real changes in my home, my life, my heart.

It began casually enough. I read a post on priorities & schedules. Then I read about training and disciplining children. And then I read about peace from a mother's perspective.

And sort of rapidly... something inside me changed. It was as if Someone lit a fire under me. I couldn't pray enough, couldn't read my Bible enough, couldn't find enough Biblical guidelines for how I should be living my life.

I was thirsty, but not for water. I was hungry, but not for bread.

I still am.

And then, last week, I was listening to the "Church Channel" on the radio (the BOTT Radio Network). I can't remember if it was Adrian Rogers or Chuck Swindal (I like them both). But he was talking about the Commandments. He said that we don't follow the Commandments in order to be saved. We follow the Commandments because we are saved. He stated that when the Holy Spirit fills us, we are filled with a desire to keep God's Law. We are compelled to follow the Law and to walk each day with the Lord and to seek Him in all things. And then he said, "...and if you think you're saved, but you don't feel that, then there aught to be a big question mark about that." And I had to stop and say, "Woah."

Because I have never before felt what I feel now. But if I was truly saved, shouldn't I have felt it? I mean, shouldn't I have felt even a little tickle of it? I was raised in a religious organization that taught untruths about God. (Like, serious untruths that I will surely spend the rest of my life trying to unlearn.) So maybe that lead me to believe that I had been saved, but that I really hadn't. Not really.

Because it never felt like this before.

Things I have learned, and continue to learn have drastically changed the way I interact with my husband, raise my children, keep my home, do my job... the things I do, the things I think, the choices I make, the actions I take. None of these is done without consideration of my Lord and his Word. (Okay, some are still done according to my own will. Hey, I'm only human!)

I guess it doesn't really matter if I was really saved before or not. I am definitely saved today.

I feel so new and shiny, like that new pair of shoes, or that new purse... because today I know that I am saved.

Praise the Lord. I am definitely saved today.

Word Filled Wednesday

Neither he who plants, nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.
~1 Corinthians 3:7

I love this one. It makes me think of raising my children. I water them, but God really makes them grow. He always has His hands on everything in our lives. I find that to be so comforting.

or more beautiful inspiration, click here

What Do I Say to That?

I have had a quandary on my mind for some time now. It's something that I have pondered for what seems like a long time. Here's the question:

How do I respond when people compliment me on my voice?

It seems like a silly question. What do you say when someone compliments your outfit or your necklace? You say, "Thank you," and give them a smile. But that doesn't seem to work here.

See, I'm a music therapist. I serve children with special needs in a public school setting. Every day, I trek to several different buildings, lugging with me my guitar and a big box of instruments, books & materials. I conduct sessions in conference rooms, therapy rooms, homework rooms, my colleagues' offices and sometimes the hallway. Other staff members, administrators and parent volunteers pass by my sessions all the time, so lots of people hear me sing every day. (This used to freak me out, as I am a seriously shy person...)


Every now & then someone will feel compelled to catch me after my session & say something like, "You have a lovely voice," or "Your singing is so pretty."

Yikes! I don't know how to respond.

Up until now this post may sound like I'm bragging, but I promise I'm not. Here's the part where my humbleness becomes obvious.

I don't feel comfortable saying, "thank you" because I cannot take credit for Someone Else's work. Especially not that Someone.

I have struggled in recent years with the fact that I have two children, and also work outside of my home. I have read the blogs of some great mothers who homeschool their children, and I have thought to myself, "I would be happy to do that." My mother's heart longs to be with my children.

But God has other plans for me, and I've known this for a long time. Looking back across the years of my life, I can see those moments where He said, "Go this way. You'll be closer to where I want you to be." I can see in myself the qualities that He put there from the start... those qualities that He knew I would need to answer His call.

One of those necessary qualities is a pleasing singing voice. I didn't choose or create my voice. God did that. He created it and put it into my body. (Now, I'm not saying that I think I'm a rock star, but I can carry a tune.)

The truth is that I can do nothing without Him. (It says so, right in my Bible!)

I sort of think about an artist. Some great artists make their own brushes. They construct a brush with a specific purpose in mind. Then they alter it here & there to better suit that purpose. They trim the bristles a bit, change the grip a bit, soften or stiffen the bristles a bit. The final form that the brush takes on could be magnificent. It could be the most amazing brush EVER MADE.

But it is nothing until the artist picks it up and uses it. Until the artist plucks that brush up and applies it to His purpose, it is just a piece of wood and hair. Nobody would ever look at the Mona Lisa and say, "Wow! That painting was created by a truly wonderful... brush."

Let me tell you, my job is a complete blessing. I get to serve my Lord by serving His most wonderful children. I get to see the little miracles He works in them every day. And I get to be a part of that. But until He picks me up and uses me, I am nothing. And even then, I am only a tool He uses to work His wonders. The progress my students make is never due to anything that I have done on my own.


All of this goes through my mind each & every time someone says, "You sing so beautifully!" I want to say, "Thank you, but IT'S NOT ME. I AM JUST THE INSTRUMENT GOD USES TO WORK HIS WONDERS AND I CAN TAKE NO PRAISE OR CREDIT FOR THAT."

But I can't say that. I'm not allowed to say that in front of any of the students, and even if there are none in the room, God has been expelled from school. Even here in the Midwest. He is very taboo. Eyebrows are raised if ever His Holy name is mentioned (unless it's by someone who is taking His name in vain. Then, apparently, it's acceptable.)

Even outside of the public school arena, people often get visibly uncomfortable when you start talking about God when they didn't see it coming. They sort of shift their weight from side to side, look at you as if you have antennae growing out of your head, and change the subject as quickly as humanly possible. (Okay, sometimes I do mention Him to a Christian who is not made uncomfortable, and I always feel a sense of relief when they do not give me "the look.")

So I feel like I am stuck between a rock and a Sherman tank. I feel compelled to glorify His name, to praise His works... but I am also compelled to keep my job. (...since I can't serve His children if I'm not allowed into the schools anymore...)

If you've actually made it to the end of this [incredibly long] post, I am asking for your input. I want your thoughts, wisdom, advice. How do you think I could respond when someone compliments my voice?

Please, please, PLEASE leave a comment. If you read this. And at this point I am almost convinced that there is only one person out there who ever reads this blog (Hi, awesome new friend who reads my blog!)... please weigh in & help me with this. I am so new to this journey that I am finding some everyday situations a challenge to figure out.

A New Lesson

School is in full swing, and I finally have some schedules made up. Since I work outside our home, it is difficult to fit in everything I want to, and we have to pair down a lot.

One thing we am not willing to "put on the shelf" until next summer are Ty's Bible lessons. He went to a religious preschool, where they read a Bible story every day and went upstairs to Chapel every week. It was nice to know that he was learning lessons of faith while I was working.

And then, last year he went to public school. Need I say more?

So, we will be continuing our Bible studies throughout the school year. Right now (while the weather is so beautiful) we'll be doing a lesson 3 days a week, though they will likely be daily when winter comes.

We recently finished a pretty long unit on the Ten Commandments. Most of the activities were ones I made up on the fly. I posted the Commandments and some of our worksheets & drawings on our pantry door. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I didn't know all of the commandments. I am happy to say that I now know all ten! (So does Ty.)
That was such a great success (Ty didn't complain about this lesson once), that I decided to create another unit to focus on a verse that I recently learned.

~Galations 5:22~
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.

I was looking through the concordance of my Bible for all the places that the word patience was used, and I tripped & fell face-first into this one. I do struggle with some of those sometimes...

Anyway, I took the Commandment papers off the pantry door and put up a big paper tree:
As you can see from the photo, we've already begun with "love." This will be a 9-week unit, with each "fruit" being studied for a week (i.e. 3 days). I've got three copies of each fruit: 1 will have the virtue printed on it, 1 will have the definition printed on it, and 1 will have ways that we can show that virtue. This tree is going to be full by the time we're done... it will bear 27 fruits all together!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And since I have to mention both my little guys here, I'll share with you our new discovery. Our 17 month old loves coffee (with a little milk & sugar). Matt was drinking a cup over the weekend, and Wild Thing asked for a drink. Matt gave him a taste, thinking that he would make a face & be done...
...so imagine our surprise when Wild Thing smiled, nodded his head "yes," and signed, "more!"
I was especially shocked, since, no matter what I do, I cannot cultivate a taste for the stuff.

Aren't kids awesome?

Word Filled Wednesday

You can see more inspirational words here.

Why Did He Let That Happen?

This is something I ponder often. Usually, I trust that God had some reason for allowing various events to conspire in my life. I don't always get to know the "why," but I can usually trust that there is one.

Sometimes, I look back at things that happened weeks, months or even years ago, and say, "Oh, I get it. I learned ____, or That lead to ______." Other times, I look back across the years, and I am still completely confused. I know He has a "why"... I just don't get it.

While I feel like I've only recently begun a journey to Christ, the truth is that my journey began long, long ago. It seems like a lifetime ago.

When I was little, my family didn't go to church. We didn't talk about God. I don't think this was intentional, I think He just never came up in our conversations. Prayers were said at my grandparents' house on holidays; church was a place we went with them on rare occasions. But "religion," and "faith" were not parts of our lives.

Then, when I was... oh, I don't know... maybe 8 years old (?) my parents found a new "church" to attend. I don't know how they found it, but I think maybe it was through a friend or the friend of a friend. I just vaguely remember this one evening when some people came to our home; they prayed and read the Bible and sang some pretty cool songs (& someone had a guitar!). After that, we joined them & Sunday morning became a day of worship.

The "church" was not really a church. There was no big building to go to. There was no preacher who wore any special outfit. There were no pews, and there was no organ. We went to someone's house every Sunday for "fellowship" (not "church").

This organization was called The Way Ministry (aka The Way International). It was essentially a cult. Don't panic! It wasn't like the ones you see on TV (where the FBI is shooting tear gas into a compound of KoolAid drinkers). Nobody wore denim from head to toe (or Little House on the Prairie dresses); nobody changed their names to sound more Old Testament; there was no polygamy; and it wasn't so creepy as the word "cult" makes it sound.

We remained active with that group well into my teens. Well, my Dad didn't really buy a lot of it; I think it contradicted his childhood training in the UCC. But my mom continued to take us to Fellowship on Sundays (and Children's or Teens' Fellowship on Saturday mornings) long after my parents split up.

I, being in my formative years, bought everything they taught, lock, stock & barrel. It was this group that laid the (very warped) foundation for my journey through faith. I have spent the better part of my twenties and (the few years I've had in) my thirties (ahem) unlearning what I learned there. I'm not sure if I will ever unlearn some pieces.

I feel like a child whose parents took her outside every day, and said, "See that sky? It's green. See that grass? It's blue." Only to grow up and go out into the world, always believing what she was taught when she was little, and have some stranger on the street say, "What the heck are you talking about? Are you color blind? The sky is blue and grass is green." I would imagine that for the rest of that child's life, she would always think of the grass being blue, and would always have to remind herself that, no. The grass is green.

And I wonder. Why did God let that happen? Why did He, in his infinite wisdom, allow someone to paint for me a picture of Him that was so wrong? Why would He allow me to learn all that stuff that would eventually lead me to have to fight for my faith?

Maybe someday He will reveal the answer. Maybe someday I'll get to ask Him (respectfully, humbly, of course) what the heck that was all about.

For now, I think I'll have to be satisfied with the understanding that there is a why... even if He's not telling me what it is today.

Why a "Purple Brick Road?"

That is an excellent question. Two reasons:

1) I love "The Wizard of Oz." It is one of my favorite movies. I love everything about it, including the flying monkeys, even though they kind of freak me out. I love the fact that it is presented in both black & white, and color. I love the music. I love the adventures that Dorothy has and the friends she meets along the way. And, although it sometimes frustrates me that Glinda the Good Witch made Dorothy go through all that trouble just to learn a simple lesson about happiness, I know that it was all really necessary. I like that lesson. And I like that there was a yellow brick road, a path for Dorothy to follow. Along the way she met some interesting characters, and had to make some important decisions.

I have always felt like this is a good metaphor for life in general... and mine specifically. We are all on our own brick roads. Along our individual journeys, we are faced with good times, with troubles, with new people (some friendly, some not), obstacles to overcome, and lots of choices. In my mind, though, my path comes with lots of road signs. I think God puts them there. I believe that He put me on this path, and that there is a destination that He has planned for me. Along the way, he places people and situations in my path. Sometimes they are joyous surprises and blessings, and sometimes they are put there to teach me something, to persuade me to make a certain choice, or to help me grow some important skill that I will need later. Only God knows what lies on this path.

Because I do have free will. I can choose to follow the blinking neon signs down the road He wants to lead me, or I can choose to go around the barriers and "road closed" signs to take the path I want to take. Either way, He's always with me, always looking out for me, always giving me new opportunities to make good choices, to learn, to grow, and to touch others with the gifts He has given me.

What's the other reason I think of my brick road as a purple one? That's easy.

2)Purple is my favorite color. That's it. There's no deep thought behind that one. I just really like the color purple.

So what's this blog all about anyway?

I'll touch on that now, and more as the weeks go by. Simply put: It is an honest and open account of my journey to become a Godly woman. I am learning what it means to live intentionally. I am learning to walk with Christ down this path I am on. I am learning to allow His word to be that lamp unto my feet & light unto my path. I am learning to read the Bible and actually allow the scriptures to guide my real, daily behavior. They are not just words. They are words to live by. To actually apply in our every day lives. Believe it or not, this is a whole new idea to me. I am also learning to parent intentionally through Christ. This is the task that lead me to this life-changing revelation.

For years I have tried to bring all the parts of my life - my house, my family, my job, my schedule, all the parts of my life - under control. I have tried and tried with little success to bring my life into order. And I've only recently realized that I cannot bring order to those things. Only God can put my life in order... if I will allow Him to.

So there you have it. I am a thirty-something wife and mother and Christian who is just now beginning to learn what it means to truly have faith in Christ. I am on a mission. I am on a journey. And I want to share my journey with you.

Why a "Purple Brick Road?"

That is an excellent question. Two reasons:

1) I love "The Wizard of Oz." It is one of my favorite movies. I love everything about it, including the flying monkeys, even though they kind of freak me out. I love the fact that it is presented in both black & white, and color. I love the music. I love the adventures that Dorothy has and the friends she meets along the way. And, although it sometimes frustrates me that Glinda the Good Witch made Dorothy go through all that trouble just to learn a simple lesson about happiness, I know that it was all really necessary. I like that lesson. And I like that there was a yellow brick road, a path for Dorothy to follow. Along the way she met some interesting characters, and had to make some important decisions.

I have always felt like this is a good metaphor for life in general... and mine specifically. We are all on our own brick roads. Along our individual journeys, we are faced with good times, with troubles, with new people (some friendly, some not), obstacles to overcome, and lots of choices. In my mind, though, my path comes with lots of road signs. I think God puts them there. I believe that He put me on this path, and that there is a destination that He has planned for me. Along the way, he places people and situations in my path. Sometimes they are joyous surprises and blessings, and sometimes they are put there to teach me something, to persuade me to make a certain choice, or to help me grow some important skill that I will need later. Only God knows what lies on this path.

Because I do have free will. I can choose to follow the blinking neon signs down the road He wants to lead me, or I can choose to go around the barriers and "road closed" signs to take the path I want to take. Either way, He's always with me, always looking out for me, always giving me new opportunities to make good choices, to learn, to grow, and to touch others with the gifts He has given me.

What's the other reason I think of my brick road as a purple one? That's easy.

2)Purple is my favorite color. That's it. There's no deep thought behind that one. I just really like the color purple.

So what's this blog all about anyway?

I'll touch on that now, and more as the weeks go by. Simply put: It is an honest and open account of my journey to become a Godly woman. I am learning what it means to live intentionally. I am learning to walk with Christ down this path I am on. I am learning to allow His word to be that lamp unto my feet & light unto my path. I am learning to read the Bible and actually allow the scriptures to guide my real, daily behavior. They are not just words. They are words to live by. To actually apply in our every day lives. Believe it or not, this is a whole new idea to me. I am also learning to parent intentionally through Christ. This is the task that lead me to this life-changing revelation.

For years I have tried to bring all the parts of my life - my house, my family, my job, my schedule, all the parts of my life - under control. I have tried and tried with little success to bring my life into order. And I've only recently realized that I cannot bring order to those things. Only God can put my life in order... if I will allow Him to.

So there you have it. I am a thirty-something wife and mother and Christian who is just now beginning to learn what it means to truly have faith in Christ. I am on a mission. I am on a journey. And I want to share my journey with you.