"Give thanks to HIM.." Psalm 100:4

#thankful30 has been a theme on facebook for the month of November.  It has been so nice to have gratitude fill up my news feed and offset the other junk that often shows up uninvited.  Instead, gratitude was invited into our hearts and encouraged us to focus on those things that tug at our hearts as we recognize their value and share with others.  While I wish this could be a year round thing, its still refreshing to enjoy a month set aside to remember the many blessings in our lives; most of which I overlook or subconsciously feel entitled to.

This year, I chose to keep a running list in my Notes app so that today, I could look back over November and reap the harvest of gratitude all at once.  How quickly I can forget; even in a month's time.  My brain seems to have a long term memory for grudges and a short term memory for gratitude.   Quite the opposite of God's design.

GRATITUDE  November 2015
1--thankful for house full of kids, blaring TobyMac, glow-in-the-dark toys, and a campfire.
2--thankful for giant leaf piles and friends and a 5 year old that belts out country songs with the perfect amount of twang
3--thankful for cuddles with my diva while she waited for medicine to relieve her headache
4--thankful for Awanas that gives Mama 1.5 hrs of free time (and pours Jesus into my girls)
5--thankful for meltdowns with Chick-Fil-A milkshakes
6--thankful for a Father/son band and football date
7--thankful for a 6 mile run with family on bikes and a Daddy/daughter dinner/movie date
8--thankful the girls were able to enjoy Monkey Joes with their Dad
9--thankful for Jillian's love and talent in dance
10--thankful for a counselor who trusts in the Lord and is willing to carry my hope when it's too heavy
11--thankful for Braeden's love and talent in band
12--grateful for a Mama who sends cards of love and hope that let me know she believes in me
13--grateful for the opportunities to write and blog
14--grateful for a clean house compliments of the whole family
15--thankful for a really good hair day
16--thankful for old friends who share their careers for free and for a much needed tax refund
17--grateful to spend the morning with Jillian in her middle school world
18--grateful for Awanas that gives Mama an hour and a half of quiet (yes, I have this twice!)
19--grateful to celebrate Jillian at a special STAR breakfast for outstanding students
20--thankful for the prospect of a God-given employment opportunity for Mama
21--thankful for the Sugar Plum Dance that allows Willie to make huge deposits into Jillian's love-bank
22--grateful for a incredible sermon by Pastor Dan on Thanksgiving from Psalm 100
23--grateful for the Holy Spirit who puts a guard over my mouth
24--thankful to have the funds, ideas, and time to almost have my Christmas shopping DONE!
25--grateful for unexpected employment opportunities for Willie
26--thankful for a hubby making our stuffing while I get to blog, family that includes too little girls, and extended family that is FuN and faithful.

Last Sunday, Pastor Dan delivered an incredible sermon on Thanksgiving from Psalm 100.  I was challenged to "be thankful to The Person; not to His blessings".  That statement was a game changer for me!  I am guilty of tying my thanksgiving to my blessings; not to The Giver of those blessings.  I am materialistic to the core.  I live expecting God to make my life comfortable and enjoyable.  Only THEN do I return thanksgiving.

As I look back over my gratitude for November, I can see material blessings, but I can also see gratitude for The Source of every good thing.  The people, the moments, the opportunities; they are all gifts given by the Lord.  Nothing on my list landed there by any effort of my own.  Everything that passes into my life first passes through the hand of God.  Therefore, my gratitude MUST be rooted in The Person of God whose heart desired to give those gifts.  To be grateful for the blessings without gratitude for the Giver, takes the glory away from God and places it on my sinful flesh.

This is where Psalm 100 provides an incredible pattern for the "how's" and "why's" of thanksgiving.

How do I return thanks to the God of All?  Psalm 100 verses 1, 2, and 4:  loudly, with action, with music, in public, from the heart, and proclaiming His character.  When my whole being praises God for Who He is, it will be all encompassing.  It will become a natural response to His greatness.  But I have to be intentional in my thanksgiving, because my sin nature prevents this from being my first response.

Why do I return thanks to the God of All?  Psalm 100 verses 3 and 5:  because God is God, because God made me, because I belong to God, because God is good, because God is merciful, and because God's truth endures.  Why wouldn't I give thanks to the God who designed me, who cares intimately for me, who extends grace and mercy, and who so deeply desires to spend eternity with me that He sent Jesus to redeem me?

It's not the blessings that I must honor and give thanks for, it is God the Person Whom my gratitude must be lifted up to.   The blessings He so generously gives stems from His heart, on which I am written.  So from my heart, I give thanks to God for Who He is.  

"God redeemed this messy Jesus-Girl."

Exponential Glory

How often do we share the glory after something has either happened or it has been guaranteed?  What would it look like to share the glory before you even know the how, what, if, and when?  It's risky, but it's real.

It's so easy to invite others to celebrate your victories or accomplishments.  What's harder is to invite others into your uncertainties where all may see the end result, but also, all will be present for the unknowns on your journey.  It makes you vulnerable and transparent.

Willie and I are inviting you to pray along with us during this season of blind obedience.  We know God is up to something big for His Glory, but instead of waiting for you to join us for the celebration (of which, details are unknown), we want to invite you alongside of us for our faith journey through many unknowns.

Please join us in prayer and anticipation of God's all-sufficient provision as Willie seeks new employment.  It's been a strenuous month adjusting to God's unexpected redirection while believing His plan is best and yet to be revealed.  Blind obedience can often get gritty with fear.

Not only is prayer the greatest resource and hope, but it gives us the privilege to invite others alongside this journey for even greater Glory to God when He writes the next chapter.

With much faith and prayer, we seek God's Will for our family.  By each of you joining us, God will gain exponential Glory from each heart turned toward Him, watching and waiting to see what Divine provision He puts into motion.

"If you can't be real, no one will see your Jesus."

Missing the Main Ingredient

All plans of leaving prepared and on time were shot down the night before.  A curve ball thwarted my efforts and so I moved on to Plan B.  Leave early with the supplies needed to prepare on the go.  Not ideal, but doable.

This morning arrived and I was able to get ready and out the door early (did you know that hats are a very fashionable accessory? especially when it's raining!).  Score 1 for Mama!  A quick stop at the grocery store and I was on my way.  Another point for Mama!  I sat in my van in a vacant parking lot preparing fruit for our CBS fellowship breakfast (don't judge, this was Plan B remember).  Did I mention it was pouring down rain?

I had packed a strainer, water bottle, mini cutting board, and paring knife for the task.  Blueberries washed.  Check.  Strawberries washed and capped.  Check.  Granola.  Check.  Mama scores again!  (I may have looked suspicious to vehicles driving by, but hey, I was on a mission to arrive at CBS by 9:15am, bringing yogurt parfaits).  Plan B was moving along nicely!

I-81 traffic was friendly for a raining workday, and so I drove to CBS processing last night's curve ball and soaking in the song the Lord had on the radio just for me.  I shot up an "arrow" prayer of gratitude for His compassionate touch on my soul and parked the van at CBS.  9:08am!  Score!

Grabbing my purse, bag, and parfaits basket, I opened my leopard umbrella and headed in to Bible Study.  I pulled off Plan B and had yogurt parfaits in hand and ready to go on time.  Wait.  Yogurt parfaits.  I didn't buy any yogurt at the grocery store this morning.  In an instant, victory turned into an epic fail.  Game Over:  I was forced to forfeit.

You can't have yogurt parfaits without yogurt;  it's the main ingredient.  What you have is fruit and granola.  So I added my blueberries and strawberries (freshly washed and capped, mind you) to our breakfast table and discretely hid my basket with granola and parfait cups under my chair.  Fruit would have to do today.

Fellowship and Bible study were amazing this morning!  What a blessing studying God's Word with sisters-in-Christ is!  As I toted my belongings back to the van afterwards, I chided myself on forgetting the main ingredient.  How could I have forgotten the yogurt?!  It was then that I thought, how often do I forget the main ingredient of prayer in my day?

I gather my worship songs, my devotions, my ministry blog emails, my Bible, and my lessons, but I rush through my day forgetting prayer.  I toss up "arrow" prayers (those quick, to the point thoughts and concerns) because I'm too busy doing to take time to sit and be still in prayer.  Plan B ends up being praying-on-the-go.

I forget the main ingredient to my day:  prayer.  Real, quiet, surrender-to-His-Will-for-the-day prayer.  Jesus desires so much more for our relationship than what I offer Him.  Not only do I give Him my leftovers, I miss out on the main ingredient.

Love is spelled t-i-m-e.  Time in honest prayer with my Creator, Lord, and Savior.  Jesus simply asks me to come, sit with Him first, and then we'll conquer the day together.  If not, I miss the main ingredient and the rest of my day settles for "this will have to do for today".

Our creative and personable God used yogurt to whisper "I miss you" to me this morning...

Beyond Report Cards

1st Marking Period report cards came home Friday.  Because of technology and ParentVue, there are usually no surprises on our children's report cards.  Yet, Jillian's response to her report card came as a complete surprise to Mama.

For the longest time after school,  Jillian acted as if she didn't want us to see her report card.  When Mama finally had the report card in my hands, I was befuddled as to why her secretive reaction.  Distinguished Honor Roll, proud parent bumper sticker, and a Dominos gift certificate.  Why wouldn't she be over the moon excited and proud of her first middle school report card?

It was time for some sweet girl talk.  We cuddled up on Jillian's bed and began peeling back the layers of her heart.  What did she see on her report card besides a job well done?

"I'm tired of being good."  "The teachers pay me to be good with CougarCash."  "You already knew my report card was going to be good."

Wow.....Mama didn't see this one coming.  By now, you'd think my little diva would no longer catch me off guard.  But probably what's more accurate, is that this child of mine so often speaks her heart; which mirrors my own.

Jillian became vulnerable with Mama, cuddled up on her bed.  And so Mama did the same.  Isn't  it amazing how an eleven year old daughter and a thirty-eight year old Mama can be struggling with the same issues?  I too, get tired of being good.  Tired of being an adult.  So we talked honestly.  I could truly listen and relate while at the same time pouring truth into her searching soul.

This report card was different.  It was a reflection of all Jillian's hard work, diligence, organization, and responsibility as a 6th grader.  Mama has been completely hands off this year as Jillian has used her wings to fly, all on her own.  For that, Jillian could be extremely proud.  She could own it!  Every "A" was the reward for all she had managed and learned as her independence blossomed this year.

And as for "being paid to be good", we just needed a different perspective for my girl.  CougarCash is the way teachers encourage and thank students for the awesome job they see being done.  Good students get harder to find in middle school, and so teachers want to spur on those rocking it as students!  All the while, hoping more students join in.

It IS hard being good, pushing yourself to do your best, and standing out in school among your peers.   To see all that effort compiled onto one piece of paper can leave some personalities disappointed.  The truth is that Jesus asks us to press on in this manner.  Not striving for the praise of man, but for the prize of being His good and faithful servant; representing Him well.

Mama not only needed to speak these words into her daughter, but soak them up for herself too.  Being an adult isn't all it's puffed up to be.  It gets discouraging making the right choices everyone expects all the time.  It gets harder and harder to feel proud about choosing well when it has become part of your character.  Yet, we work as unto the Lord.  His praise is all we should seek.  Its our  human nature that leaves us wanting more.

What a delight it is to share a moment with your daughter and have the Lord meet you right there.  Cuddled up in hot pink sheets and a zebra blanket; seeking truth and perspective.  When we strive to be good, expecting a big pay off, we're left disappointed.  But when we strive to do our best and rock who we are in Jesus, we fulfill His expectations of who He created us to be.  If we can bring glory to God by just being ourselves, that's far better than any report card!

The Sanctuary of Suffering

Two definitions of sanctuary are:  1)  a sacred place, a place of refuge and 2)  the condition of being protected and comforted.  Neither would I use to describe or affiliate with suffering.  Yet that is exactly what God spoke into my heart.

It was around this time last year that life seemed to take on a weight I had not anticipated.  After all, if you are in God's Will, it shouldn't feel like suffering, right?

The behaviors of our 2 foster children and their parents began to deteriorate.  By November our home was a war zone and by Christmas we were forced to surrender for the sake of our own health and children.  Winter settled in over the sky and over my heart.

I struggled to accept my love was not enough to help the 2 children God asked me to care for and love.  I struggled with the new normal and the new quiet of our home and routine.  My ministry position and my own children kept me busy and serving; yet looking back it was more motion than presence.  Again, being in God's will should not feel lonely, right?

I struggled in my marriage.  We had come together and jersey-ed up for the same team to play for the foster children.  But when that "game" was over and the jerseys removed, the messiness of our marriage that we had put on hold resurfaced.  Baggage does not disappear.  It simply waits and collects dust until you decide to unpack it.

And so the darkness of winter was survived via routine.  Spring burst forth and I was expecting my soul to follow suit.  When it didn't, we decided to reenter the foster care calling by opening up our home for respite care.  Test the waters so to speak.  God used that obedience to provide some much needed healing.  The trauma of our previous placement was not the "normal".  We were able to care for children that needed us without risking harm to ourselves.  God was restoring.

May arrived and I began to feel the fog lift.  Just maybe this season of suffering was coming to a close.  Willie took a new job that would provide incredible benefits while relieving the self- employment headaches of owning your own business.  We provided respite care for 2 very special little girls on Memorial Day weekend that God immediately tethered to our hearts.  Life was feeling less heavy.

But suffering quickly returned (or maybe it had never really left) and did so with a vengeance.  Pieces of mail began getting my attention.  Like pieces of a puzzle without the big picture on the box.  Over the course of a month or so, it became clear that our finances and marriage needed front-and-center attention.  God was asking me to step out of ministry and step into my home full-time.  A choice that should have been easy, but was nothing of the sort.  I was now grieving.  And grieving takes suffering to a whole new level.

Our summer was spent in the mercy and grace of our family, friends,  and counselors stepping in to love us and direct us.  All the while, bonding deeper and deeper with the two little girls from respite care in May.  God was calling them to be part of our family.  But why?  Why would God call our messy home to be what these little girls needed?  Because He's God and we are not.  He knows what the picture looks like on the outside of the puzzle box.  And it's beautiful!

But we have not gotten to beautiful yet.  We are still suffering through finances, job loss, marital baggage, depression, and the great mystery of just what is God's Will for us right now?  There are days I just want to quit.  There are days I can't see the next right step to take.  There are days I have peace knowing God is leading; even if its scary.  There are days I know I am exactly where He wants me.   There are days I want to be anywhere but exactly where God wants me.  Suffering rides the emotional roller coaster.  Daily.

So when God whispered "the Sanctuary of Suffering" on my heart, I could not fathom why He would put the two together.  Sanctuary reflects peace, safety, holiness, reverence, and an invitation to stay.  Suffering reflects agitation, fear, messiness, condemnation, and a plea to be rescued.  Life feels more like an incubator than a sanctuary.  I wish I could find a sanctuary FROM suffering.

 Sanctuary:   1)  a sacred place, a place of refuge and 2)  the condition of being protected and comforted.  When I'm suffering I do not feel like I am in a sacred place; instead I feel like I need to seek refuge.  But God is showing me that this suffering is Holy ground because God is at work.  He is up to something radical.  Whether character refinement, or a blessing up ahead around the bend, or in preparation for the future.  God is using my suffering to accomplish His Perfect and Holy Will.  In His Will is where I am to seek refuge.

When I am suffering, God gently brings me into Himself in ways I am not willing to seek Him otherwise.  I too often rely on myself or my resources, instead of the One Who is really in control all along.  Here, in that sacred refuge of suffering, I enter into an even deeper sanctuary of God's protection and comfort.  He is loving me fully and asking me to stay a while with Him.  Cling to Him.  Trust Him.  Worship Him.

 Will He give me all the answers tied up in a pretty pink bow?  No.  Will He end the suffering?  In His Time.  But rather than grant a quick rescue that may not accomplish His Perfect Will, He wants me to linger in this chapter of my story with Him; all for His glory.  I'm ready for a new chapter.  But God is writing the story and He has more beauty to accomplish in the suffering.

And He promises me that through the power of Jesus, I am strong enough.......

God-Given Strength

This weekend I had the privilege of slipping out of my Mama role and into the role of a Jesus-Girl being refreshed in the Word of God.  I attended the Women's RENEW conference where the keynote speaker was Lysa TerKeurst.  My favorite Jesus-Girl!

I stepped out of my comfort zone and joined in with a church I didn't know, joined sisters in Christ I had never met, traveled by tour bus with another church I had never met, and simply asked the Lord to meet me this weekend.

What a refreshing time it was!  I felt loved and beautiful from the beginning to the end of our time together.  Every glowing face I met for the first time felt like a sister I hadn't seen in a long time.  They embraced me, they were sincerely interested in my story, they wanted to know my heart for God, and they extended love to me as if having never met didn't matter.  We so often put God in a box and then He accepts the challenge by blowing our minds wide open with His abundance of lavish love.

The Worship time this weekend was like no other I had experienced before.  Uninhibited, with complete abandon, soul-spilling, God-glorifying, a beautiful aroma being lifted to Christ on the Throne.  His Presence was felt so very deeply in my soul and I responded as if it was just He and I.

The Teaching time with Lysa was also such a gift from God's heart to mine.  Being wise women while on assignment for God.  Three very different sessions with Lysa, yet a ribbon tying them all together so that we left renewed, refreshed, and reconnected.  God met me there and filled this Jesus-Girl up.

As Lysa spoke out of 1 Samuel 25, I quickly remembered the story of David, Nabal, and Abigail which I have studied before.  Lysa broke Abigial's story into Blessings, Busyness, and Burdens; of which I could relate to each one!  But when Lysa taught on the Burdens portion of Abigail's story, God stopped me in my heart and in my thoughts with one phrase.  "Place the blame on me [Abigail] because I am the one strong enough to handle it".

I'm in a season of being tired of needing to be strong.  I'd love to just fall apart and know someone else is on duty and will deal with the mess.  Often, I throw myself a pity party and wonder why the guest list is so small.  I'm polishing up my whining skills.

Abigail had a million other things going on at the time David and his men decided to call out her husband, Nabal,  for his mistreatment of them.  Yet Abigail rose to the occasion by providing David with more than what he had asked Nabal for, AND she took the blame for her husband Nabal.  To prevent catastrophe, Abigail humbled herself into a position of great strength, because she was the one strong enough to handle it.

Being strong enough.  Instead of viewing a woman needing to be strong as an injustice and something to be saved from, God was whispering to me that He calls women to be strong because He is their source of strength.  God gives women strength when He needs them to accomplish His Will.

What freedom God gave me with this fresh perspective.  God-given strength is given to those strong enough to handle the assignment God has given.  If you are in a season that God is requiring you to be strong, know that your strength comes from God and He believes you are strong enough to handle whatever He is allowing to press in on you.  Needing to be strong isn't a burden; it is a blessing given to those God calls to accomplish the hard things.  Press into Him sisters!  Be strong in the Lord!

Diary of a Messy Mama: I Hugged an Angel Today

Diary of a Messy Mama: I Hugged an Angel Today: Today, Mama went postal.  As hard as those words are to write, living them was one of the scariest Mama moments I have ever survived.  Even ...

Fighting the Force of Self-Propelled

My hubby was away for a week with our son at a Youth conference through our church.  Days before his return, I realized the lawn was past due for mowing.  I have mowed our lawn before.........once or twice.  I'm sure it's like riding a bike; the how-to will all come back to me.

I pulled the push mower out of the shed, turned the key, moved the gears to the start position, and pulled the cord.  The mower was running.  I engaged the blades and began mowing.  What I couldn't figure out was why it was so hard to push!  This was a self-propelled mower that makes easy work by offering speed adjustment so that you practically just steer it.  But it wasn't working for me.  I moved every gear and gadget and knob and handle that I saw, but to no avail.  The mower felt like a lead weight that took all my effort to push across the yard for one single swath of cut grass.

I had 2 choices.  Quit.  Or keep going.  Our awesome neighbor wasn't home to ask for help, rain was moving in the next day, so I kept mowing.  Sweat was running off of me and my hands ached from the force needed to push the metal handlebar.  I knew there was a way to access the helpful self-propelled feature on this mower, but I couldn't figure out how.  So I just kept mowing.  An hour and a half later, the lawn was mowed and I knew my hubby would be grateful.  My hands and lower back were a different story.

As I reflect back over the past couple of months, I see quite the parallel between this battle with the mower and the battle inside myself with the Lord's leading.  I have felt the pull to be more present in my home and family's lives and less present outside of the home.  I couldn't put my finger on the nudge, so I just kept going and pushing against the weight of it.  I had no idea what this force was or where it was coming from.  But it was weighing me down and exhausting me.

Just as I was wrestling with the mower and not able to tap into the power it contained, I too was wrestling with God's call on my life.  He wasn't telling me the how's or what's, but He was asking  me to be obedient and trust His plan without the details.  This type-A gal likes to see the whole plan laid out before me and God doesn't work that way.  

What I failed to realize, was that the power of the Holy Spirit was working inside of me and I kept stubbornly fighting against Him.  Just like I realized the self-propelled feature on the mower was right at my fingertips, but I failed to engage it.  On both accounts, I had the power greater than myself  available to me, but I wrestled with doing things the hard way on my own.  

So today, I mowed our lawn as a surprise for my hubby, but this time I activated the self-propelled power with the slide of a small orange lever.  It was there all along, waiting for me to have the wisdom to use it.  In the same manner, today I am following the Holy Spirit's leading, which was there all along; just waiting for me to engage wisdom and surrender self.  I'm serving in my home full-time and excited to see where this new journey is going to take me!  No more fighting a force that is designed to help and guide, but instead, embracing the power of the Holy Spirit who leads and strengthens my faith for each next step.  Well, at least for today........everyone knows I naturally have a stubborn bent......  

The Land In-Between Fifth Grade

The first day of 5th grade; the last year in elementary school.  180 days of school between here and middle school.  And so this journey began.......

180 school days later.  The last day of 5th grade; elementary school years completed.  This journey has ended.  Middle school here she comes.....

The land in-between these two pictures was not what we expected, nor what we were prepared for. 180 days of school, 13 days of absences, 2 foster care nightmares, 1 ENT doctor, 1 Ophthalmologist, 1 Pediatric Neurologist, $1140 in Christian Counseling, $540 in Chiropractic treatments, and $100 in Probiotic supplements.  The land in-between was financially and emotionally costly to our little girl and to our family.

By early November of last year, we knew it was time to be proactive.  Jillian was suffering from daily headaches and stomachaches.  We had her eyes checked, we had her ears/nose/throat checked.  We had a Pediatric Neurologist thoroughly check her out.  Everything seemed fine medically.  

But Mama wasn't done praying for answers.  I did my research and found a phenomenal Christian counselor to bring on board and dig around for the root of these headaches and bellyaches.  It didn't take her long to make a diagnosis. STRESS.  Jillian was being depleted and her body was fighting back.

Between counseling and the Christmas break, Jillian began to feel improvement as 2014 rolled into 2015.  Our foster children were gone and life was beginning to return to normal.  But by February, Jillian was back to daily pain and tears and tantrums every morning before school.  At one of my own routine Chiropractic appts, I shared Jillian's symptoms with him and asked if he recommended anything holistic to try.  He told me to switch Jillian to almond milk and give her a Probiotic daily for one month and then he wanted to see her.  The improvement was immediate; and he hadn't even examined Jillian!  It was totally a God-thing!

As spring unfolded, Jillian was working through stress strategies with her counselor and the Chiropractor was adjusting her spine, where her body was processing the stress and causing headaches.  The almond milk and Probiotics were helping to ease her stress-induced discomfort too.  

This Mama was breathing a sigh of relief knowing we had finally found ways to help Jillian get through the remainder of 5th grade.   Praising God for His provisions!

But while my head was relieved that medically we were on the right track, my heart still hurt for the damage being done to Jillian's character and esteem.  I battled with guilt that the Magnet program was too rigorous for Jillian; we had pushed her too hard.  I struggled with fear of what our foster care assignment has truly cost our little girl.  We had been praying for the Lord to lead us in each and every aspect, so why was Jillian still not able to pull herself out of bed and face another school day?

The Lord impressed two things on my heart:  

1) we were not going to win this battle.

2) He was asking us to press into Him for the duration.  

The Magnet program was not the problem--Jillian was earning straights A's in high level learning.  Yes, the foster care children had scarred Jillian, but those wounds were healing over time.  They also were used to chisel away pieces of inward focus.  The stress problem was not either of those roots as I had fretted over.  

The stress problem was the method of teaching Jillian was experiencing daily.  Being challenged was accompanied by criticism.  Problem solving was left to be figured out on your own.  Missing the mark was publicly used as an example to the other classmates.  Shame was used as a tool to study harder.  Sarcasm was not clever; it's disrespectful.  Expectations were beyond elementary level.  The teacher's temper ran short.  Jillian's tears ran abundantly.   Everyday Jillian felt measured and fell short of the implied standard.  And yet, we had to roll her out of bed each morning to do it all over again.

We fought the big battles enough to realize we were not going to win.  Over time, our attempts were simply ignored.  We struggled through looking at different education options, but the Lord led us to His answer of prayer and perseverance.  We can't always rescue our children from the hard spots.  We can't always remove the problem from their lives.  But God always uses trials to mold and shape us more like His image.

So instead, we continued to press into Him and allowed His strength to be enough for every day.  The days never became easy.  The stress never totally absent.  So Jillian used this counseling tool to manage the tough days:

When Jillian was stung by the teacher, she was counseled to remember this picture---her interpretation of how silly the reality looked.  Silly doesn't sting the way intimidation does.

5th grade "graduation" at Byron Park was a bitter experience.  Parents, cameras, certificates, applause, excitement, and laughter.  For Jillian, "graduation" was an end to a very long and hard battle fought.  Not one she wants to remember or celebrate.  The land in-between day 1 of 5th grade and day 180 of 5th grade represents a journey inside of herself to overcome and survive.

The final blow came on the last day of 5th grade.  During a school-wide assembly, Jillian watched 16 of her 20 classmates receive an award for Outstanding Academic Excellence.  Jillian was 1 of 4 not to receive this award.  When I picked her up yesterday, expecting her to be elated to walk out of that classroom one last time, instead, she was deflated.  I had to swallow hard lumps down as she asked me hard questions:  "what did I not do this year that was outstanding?"  "how can I earn straight A's and not earn that award?"  "I worked really hard all year, Mama!"  "he just hates me!"  "I'm never good enough."

I had no answers.  The justice in me hoped and prayed their was an actual criteria used in this award selection, but I still do not have anything that will breath security into Jillian's final wound.  The hard lumps returned as I heard Jillian ask Willie the same hard questions as soon as she saw him.  I watched Willie rise up an affirm Jillian and tell her she did earn a very special award for outstanding excellence.  Outstanding character excellence.

Life beats us up pretty bad sometimes.  While we can't take all the blows for our children, we can nurse their wounds and pray the Holy Spirit into all the gaps of life.  But above all, we can love them with an unconditional love that is modeled for us in Jesus.  Success and worth are not performance based.

We are on our knees teaching them how to pray for their enemies when they want to fight back.  We are showing them how to cling to the Lord when the hills get mighty steep.  We are cheering them on when they want to quit.  We are encouraging them to rise above the circumstances and simply do their best.  Because their best is ALWAYS good enough.

When the land in-between is less than picture-perfect, Mamas' know the behind-the-scenes story and we can praise the Lord for covering the financial and emotional costs of the journey with His grace and redeeming Love.  Because who you are at the end of the journey is far more beautiful when you know in your heart that Jesus carried you there and He delights in you.

The Bravery in Being You

I just finished reading the book "Let's All Be Brave--Living Life with Everything You Have" by Annie F Downs.  I'm guessing I purchased this book knowing I am not brave, and hoping to find a way to become brave.  Really, that sums up most of my book purchases--the titles draw me in by offering me something I want.  :)

Who doesn't want to be brave?  Courage can be envied when we see others doing things we are too fearful to do.  But the thing is, I bet those people are fearful too; they just choose to be brave and take a risk.  I have always joked that my youngest brother hogged all the risk-taking genes in my family.  I received NONE at birth.  And none has yet to show up at the age of 38.  If there is risk involved, I turn and walk the other way.

As a Mama, I too, have birthed a risk-phobic child.  Its better to not try than to try and fail.  Her philosophy seems ridiculous to me, yet I operate in much of the same way.  When I push her to keep trying or to even just start trying, I really need to be giving myself the same pep talk and venture out of my comfort zone too.  But our comfort zones are safe.  And girls that aren't brave like to feel safe (or at least convince ourselves we are safe by not taking a risk).

Annie's book had two quotes that really hit home for me.  On page 135:  "be brave enough to love the people around you, even if it looks like sacrifice and feels like loss."  Having just survived a foster care nightmare (my blog--"Get Out of the Boat"), I loved 2 children, sacrificed greatly, and am still grieving the loss of them in my home.  But I do not feel brave.  I felt called, but never brave.  Some days, many days, it was a fight just to survive until bedtime.  I'd collapse in bed with tears, and wake up to do it all over again the next day, by the grace of God.  Brave never crossed my mind.  Crazy, maybe.  But never brave.  I was simply loving these children as my own, because Jesus asked me to.

I never really weighed foster care as a risk, because in my mind, God asked me to do this for these two children.  Period.  Which is probably why I said "Yes" and didn't turn and walk the other way.  Or maybe, God put scales over my eyes so that I could not see all of the risk up front, because He knew this chicken would RUN!  I certainly would not have been brave enough to say "Yes" if I had seen all the chapters ahead and the end of this foster care story.

But bravery was found in love.  Love for the Lord who called me to foster care, and love for the two precious children entrusted to me for a season.  Throughout the journey I may have thought that bravery looked like fighting daily battles for each of these children. But looking back, I see that bravery was loving them in hard places and then letting them go.  The risk was not knowing how long they would stay in my home.  Being brave was loving them anyway.  Bravery is now continuing my story without them.

The second quote was on page 175:  "You want to change the world?  Be brave.  Be you.  Don't try to be someone else or do someone else's brave thing."  This quote really struck a chord with me.  Over the last few years I have watched close friends embrace their passions and rally people around those passions to make enormous impacts.  Sometimes I joined in, but when their passion didn't become soul-deep for me like it was for them, I was left feeling inadequate and dare I say, feeling somewhat judged.  I was desperately trying to be someone else and do their brave thing.  And to a large extent, they were expecting their passion to become my passion.  We all do it; a fire sparks inside of us and we can't imagine that spark NOT being in other people too.  But if we all had the same spark, passion wouldn't create change; it would just become the new norm.

I don't need to try and be someone that I was not created to be or try to accomplish someone else's bravery.  I can change the world by being brave in my own passion.  The passion the Lord has placed in my heart to spark my feet into action for His glory.  Any attempt on my part to follow another's passion, will lead me down a path not created for me.  Bravery is embracing my own passion; without requiring any followers.  And courage comes in doing my own brave thing for God, and with God.  God designed me and God designed my passion.  So the bravery I need will come in just being me.  The risk is not being true to what God is calling me.  I want to be brave and follow the passion He has for my life.

"Get out of the boat"

"Get out of the boat."  Those were the words the Lord spoke to us out of no where last year.

"Get out of the boat.  Take his hand in one hand and take her hand in the other.  Do not let go, and keep your eyes on Me, not on the choppy water."

We had no idea what God was up to, but with His peace in our hearts, we said "Yes, Lord" and stepped out of the boat of familiarity and predictability; knees knocking, hearts pounding.

Little did we know how much they needed us.  How much they needed this Mama.  How much they needed Willie.  How much they needed our children.  But God did.  He called our family, our friends, our church, and an army of Weavers to love on them and shower them with God's Love.

Life outside of the boat was rough.  Wave after wave hit hard for the next nine months.  Gasping for breath and swallowing water became the new norm.  Before we knew it, we had completely lost sight of the boat and of the horizon.  It was only Jesus and the army of family and friends that were sustaining us.  Yet, we never let go.  We struggled hand in hand; holding on to them tightly and treading new waters while God healed old wounds.  God was faithful.....every.....single......day.

The first storm cloud grew in size and strength until hurricane force winds threatened to destroy the structure of who we were.  We called out to every resource known, but no one seemed to be able to send the help needed or direct our steps where to find it.  God had us anchored, but weathering this storm became dangerous.  The waves finally broke us and the Lord said, "let go of his hand".  I struggled harder and squeezed him tighter, hoping more love was the answer.  But again, God said, "let go of his hand".  Face down, battered, bruised, and stripped of strength; I relinquished his hand into His hand.  Tears became the waves pounding my heart; scars remained where once love filled.  he was gone.  The winds and water receded, revealing the damage left in the storm's wake.

Our children were in shock from the fury they witnessed.  Willie was in "protector" mode.  My Mama heart was broken.  But God's peace surrounded us all until we knew God had only called us to hold his hand for part of the journey.  Wherever he goes, Jesus goes with him.  Our touch on his life was over.

With no time to catch our breath, the second storm cloud hovered over our exhausted, broken bodies and souls.  This storm did not have the potential for destruction as the first storm did, but we had nothing left.  Even our prayers exhausted our souls as we were weary for a boat or the horizon to come into view again.  "Lord, what do you want us to do?"

Whether God faintly whispered or we acted from sheer depletion, we will never fully know.  But we let go of her hand too.  We needed to find solid ground quickly and this seemed best for everyone.  We heaved ourselves over the side of our boat and slept.  And slept and wept.

As we slowly began to regain our family and life inside the boat again, we could still see her from a distance.  We called to her and shared time with her, but the reality was she was drifting further away.  Not drifting forward, but drifting backwards.  The new was fading into the old.

We scrambled and prayed and desperately sought all the resources known to us, to reach out and grab  her hand once again.  To stop her from drifting away from who she was meant to be.  Our attempts failed.  She too is gone from our touch.  We are once again left with an ache, a scar, and a heart that still loves.

In my anger and hurt and depression I called out to God, "why did you ask us to get out of the boat and hold these two precious hands if all that was accomplished was damage?"  "Why Lord, WHY?"

After weeks of silence and pain, God softly spoke into the quiet of my heart.  "Because now she's Mine."  June 26, 2014 she became a Jesus-girl.  "You took her hand and led her to Me."  "Nothing can snatch her out of My eternal hand."  

"But Lord, what about him?  He's so young and carries so much baggage."
"He's Mine too."  "You took his hand and brought him to Me every night to talk."  "I slept with him and he was no longer afraid to sleep every night."  "He knows I am his biggest Super-Hero."

The missing is still messy.  Life out of the boat on the choppy water felt anointed with a passion only from God.  Life inside the boat now seems so very hard without them.  There are days I want to jump ship and just start swimming; hoping to close the gap and catch just a glimpse of their faces.  I still want to hold their hands, pull them to safety, and give them everything they need.  But they have Jesus and He is more.

God said, "let go, they are Mine".
And so I trust and pray and listen for the Lord to say again, "It's time to get out of the boat".........

 

354 Shades of Love

Wanting to support the Christian film by Focus on the Family, we spontaneously decided to see "The Drop Box" film last night as a family.  The trailer looked like something we wanted our children to experience and be able to discuss and process with them.  So we purchased tickets online and planned  on dinner and the movie after school.  God was up to something.  :)

Yesterday afternoon, I was given the opportunity to serve a special needs child for a short period of time.  Jillian accompanied me after school and looking back, I see how God was preparing her heart for the movie later that evening.  Being face to face with a child much different than herself and her friends, moved Jillian out of her comfort zone; and to be honest, myself included.  In the forty-five minutes spent with this precious child, Jillian observed physical limitations she hadn't been exposed to before.  They were not familiar and made her somewhat uncomfortable.  She alternated between interacting with him and retreating to the familiarity of her drawing and artwork.  I, too, struggled with how to relate and love on this child in ways he could feel.  Music and physical touch penetrates all barriers.  Musical toys allowed this child to unwind after school with dancing.  I could not stop smiling at how he had so much more rhythm than I did and he danced away our time together.

Jillian and I headed home to pick up Willie and Braeden for dinner and the movie in Germantown.  Between a stressful day at school and the stretched comfort zone after school, Jillian had a meltdown.  Her "marble jar was empty" and she just wanted to stay home.  Her disinterest in the movie hurt this Mama as I saw her temper tantrum through the lens of selfishness.  After an ugly fifteen minutes, our family was finally on the road.  Jillian cried herself to sleep and slept most of the ride.

At dinner, when Willie tried to broach the subject of the movie, Jillian put up her walls.  She told 

Willie she was scared and wouldn't explain why.  She watched the movie trailer on my phone and was quiet yet grumpy through dinner.  When Willie pressed again, she just shrugged her shoulders.   In that instant, the Holy Spirit gave me these words:  "she's not scared about any particular part of the movie, she's scared of not knowing what to expect."  Jillian's eyes lit up and she nodded in agreement that Mama had given words to her emotions.  Willie, living in a "blue" world, looked completely confused, so I jokingly said, "it's a "pink" thing".  :)  More often than not, we find ourselves more scared of the unknowns in life, than the knowns.  Jillian just needed some extra love to be brave.

Arriving at the theater, we stood in line to have our tickets printed out.  Looking around, I noticed there were no signs for "The Drop Box" movie.  No cardboard advertisements.  No framed posters announcing that it was playing.  I glanced up at the box office billboard and noticed "The Drop Box" wasn't even listed as an option for movie goers.  No title, no show times, no nothing.  I began to think we had chosen the wrong theater or that the movie didn't exist.   As I checked in on Facebook, "The Drop Box" movie was not in the list of movie options that I scrolled through to post we would be watching.  Only after physically typing in the title, was I able to access its existence.  In a matter of minutes, our tickets printed out and we were directed to Theater #13.  Still, no signs of this movie anywhere in the theater.  

"The Drop Box" was an INCREDIBLE movie.  Subtitles, precious faces of precious children, love in the eyes and heart of Pastor Lee and his wife, sacrifice of time and health for the weakest, a passion to lay down life for those unable to be cared for by others, and the God behind all of the above.  This was God's ministry, birthed in the heart of one man--who's wife had given birth to their own special needs son.  Pastor Lee was obedient to God's call on his life and considers it a blessing to serve those who need a chance at surviving and need to be loved.  The cost is great, but the Lord has paid it; for His glory.  God placed Pastor Lee's passion in his heart and gave courage to his actions.

As I glanced over at Jillian throughout the movie, she had a smile spread across her face.  Her heart was penetrated with love through the eyes and smiles of the beautiful children God redeemed in "The Drop Box".  The fear of the unknown was replaced with joy---visible in these children who are loved unconditionally.  The experience earlier in the afternoon with the special needs child, took on a whole new meaning.  There is no physical limitation that love does not conquer.  The same is true of Christ; there is nothing His precious blood and Love does not cover.  Nothing.  He redeems imperfect life with Perfect Love.

So as we left Theater #13, and headed for the exit, I still saw no signs for this movie that revealed one man's passion for the helpless lives dependent upon his love.  I saw plenty of signs and marketing for other movies that our culture is promoting right now.  I left so very heartbroken that the 354 babies Pastor Lee saved in his "Drop Box" at the time of filming, paled in comparison to the promotion of "50 Shades of Grey".  Pastor Lee's 354 Shades of Love preserves life.  Christian's 50 Shades of Grey destroys love.  And tragically, only the latter goes down in history as a box office hit in our culture. 

Midnight Mama Hugs

After an incredibly long day, I had crashed into bed and was sound asleep.  The phone startled me awake at 11:15pm.  Braeden didn't feel good and wanted to come home instead of staying at a sleepover.  While I dozed in and out of sleep, Braeden came home and told us that he was really tired more than anything, and just wanted to sleep in his own bed.  Willlie tucked him into bed with a little Pepto for his stomach, as I began to drift back to sleep again, smiling at how my boy has always handled fatique with tears and wanting his own bed.

The next thing I know, Braeden walks back into our bedroom and collapses onto Willie in bed, holding him tight and sobbing.  "I can't stop crying..........you guys love me so much to get up in the middle of the night and take care of me."  Needless to say, my Mama's heart squeezed me to fully awake.  We talked with Braeden in the quiet and dark of the night, assured him that before midnight does not qualify as "in the middle of the night", and reminded our sweet boy that we are always on duty and would do anything anytime for him.  After calming down and starting to feel better, Braeden suggested his belly may hurt from a little hunger, and so he and Willie ventured downstairs for a midnight snack.

As I lay there in bed and replayed the dramatic events, I chuckeld at the thought that this only seemed dramatic because it was our 13 year old baseball-loving Braeden.  This wouldn't have phased us if it had come from our sweet little Drama Queen.   In fact, we would have expected it, and probably rolled our eyes and been less than compassionate.  But for my son, who stands taller than me and is quickly growing stronger than I, the tender heart he braved to expose became a pricless treasure.  He just wanted to be home and loved on.  He felt we were sacrificing ourselves for him and he was touched to tears.  Our love had truly penetrated his heart.

Just that day I had shared with a friend how Braeden had seemed to flip a "teenage" switch on his birthday.  He seemed overly confident, centered a bit too much on self, and time simply talking to Mama was not an option he would choose over video games.  Yet, here, in the vulnerbility of the night, my son was running for home, for Dad, and for Mama.

Thank you Lord, for waking this bone-tired Mama to see the-heart-outside-her-body reaching for his Mama's hand; even when he begins to tower over me and tread the teenage waters.