Grandaddy's Memorial Service

I was touched to hear the stories shared at Grandaddy's memorial service a few weeks ago. From some of my mother's cousins to the manager of their trailer park to my own sweet family -- each story was a tiny picture of the impact he had on those who crossed his path. 

Brian, the kids and I had come up with quite a list of things he "always" said. Some were funny, some old-fashioned, some were just distinctly "Grandaddy."  After many humorous and personal stories, I was the last to speak and closed with the two or three things he asked us over and over. I hope you are encouraged as you read:

He asked so many times over the years, “Why on earth did you and Brian take me in?”  

I answered him dozens of ways. I figured since he kept asking, he didn’t really get it. At first, I couldn’t honestly say it was because I loved him, because truthfully, I didn’t really know him.  Of course, we’d visited over the years -- he lived in a different state and my birthmother died when I was young, severely weakening that family tie. But we didn't visit terribly often and not long enough to truly know one another. So I might say, “You’d help me if I needed it, wouldn’t you?” And he’d be satisfied for a while. Then, not too many days or weeks later, he’d ask something along the same lines again.  By the end of those 12 years, my answer could honestly be “because I love you.” 

I got to know him and I loved him.  

I learned that even though he barely finished 11th grade, he was very, very smart.  I learned that we both enjoyed Southern cooking and fresh cotton candy.  I learned that he could fix just about anything. That he was comically-frugal when it came to spending money on himself and surprisingly generous when it came to the family.  He told some really wild tales of what his life was like before he met Grandmother. Many can’t be repeated in mixed company. And he told some precious stories that explained his love and devotion to her. I got to know my own mother in a way that I never had before. 

He adored the kids.  One time I needed get something done, but Ava was hungry, so I plopped her in his lap and gave him a bottle. He laughed and cried at the same time when he said he’d never even done that for his own child. I learned that after my mother died, he went through a spell of about six weeks not being able to speak.  Actual laryngitis brought on by his unspeakable heartache. I watched him read to my children when they were little and I watched him patiently listen to them read when they were just learning. When they were learning how to ride bikes with no training wheels, you can hear his voice cheering with the rest of us on the video. I learned that he was always game for an adventure — we went on road trips; we went camping and walking; we roasted hot dogs out back and marshmallows in the fireplace. He even let us set up the Wii game in his room so he could watch the kids play and he even bowled with us a time or two. 

Now, I’m not saying everything was always moonbeams and rainbows.  Anytime, you share a house with someone, there’s bound to be conflict and troubled spots and we had our share. In fact, some things were very, very hard. But if there were times he ever thought he stepped out of bounds or hurt my feelings, he would apologize through tears the next day. These are things you do for people you love. You go through the troubled spots, apologize when you need to and move on to the next adventure together.

So by the end of 12 years, I could genuinely say, "Because we love you. We want you to feel loved and be well cared for and have joy in your final days. That’s why you are here. We love you." And then sometimes, when we’d leave or even just to say goodnight and “I love you,” he’d look up and say, “You do?” Like he didn’t fully believe me. I think maybe losing his parents at such a young age left him longing for constant reassurance of love.

As Brian said mentioned in his remarks, Grandaddy became a Jesus follower in his mid-90s. and along the same lines, over the years, he would ask about the love and forgiveness of Jesus. If he asked us this once, he asked a dozen times, “Does the Bible really say we’re forgiven of ALL our sins?”  

"Yes, Grandaddy. Once and for all. Forever. Forgiven forever.  God loves you that much. Nothing you’ve done can make Him love you less." It was really hard for him to believe.

At the end of Romans, the Apostle Paul asks, "Can anything separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean He no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or are hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or are threatened with death? No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is our through Christ, who loves us."

It's a great reminder that no matter how people might fail us, God's love never will.

Some of the words to the last song Darrell’s going to sing are about being revived again - asking for our hearts to be filled with love.  We ask those things so that we can show love to any and all who are put around us. Even when it’s hard and even when they need a lot of convincing.

Whether we’re 3 or 103, one of the main things we desire in this world is to know that we are loved. To truly believe we are loved. Well, Grandaddy was loved and he always will be. And I hope that where he is, he’ll never doubt it again.

Don't Wait

In the last few years, when I hear that someone has died – anyone -- old, young, tragic or expected – I automatically think, “I wonder if they knew Jesus?” or “I HOPE they knew Jesus!”

That was the case yesterday when I heard that a colleague of Brian’s died in a plane crash. The man was piloting a plane for he and his daughter (a twin) – coming home from a Fall break vacation.  I had three thoughts that went through my mind so fast! 

The first took my breath away – thinking of the wife and other twin son that are left behind to figure out how to live life without their other halves.  In an instant, our lives can be upended. We think we have a routine or some idea of how today or tomorrow might go and then BAM!!!! A new normal. Nothing’s EVER the same. Pray for those terribly heartbroken souls! Pray hard.

My second thought was like I suggested: I wonder if they knew Jesus? Because, the reality is this: if they did, they are dancing in His presence as I write this. And I believe the Bible when it says – there is no more sorrow, no more pain, no more tears and they won’t even need the sun because Jesus will shine more brightly than we can imagine!  What a sight.

Here’s my third thought that threw me in a tailspin:  when am I going to move that eternity-changing question to the front of my conversations with people?

“Hi! My name is Kristin. Do you know my friend, Jesus? If you don’t, would you let me tell you about Him?”

Now, by this time, I’ve lost ¾ of you. I’m afraid some Christians (and probably me many times) have given Jesus a bad name. I lose my cool. I judge. I compare. I even swear sometimes. (Please don’t tell my mother.) I gossip. I jump to conclusions. I’m so selfish, it’s a wonder there’s room to breathe in my house sometimes.  But see, my friend Jesus, is NONE of those things!  I screw up a lot!!! But Jesus does not.

He loved me so much (even in my most dirtbag moments) that he gave everything SO THAT I could live with him forever. If you’re waiting for the God of the Bible to judge you, to punish you, to shake his finger at you – then you’ve gotten a skewed version of His story. And I’m so , so sorry if I was part of that bad retelling.

I’ve got to tell you. I have two sons whom I adore as much as a human could adore another thing. And I WOULD NEVER LET YOU HAVE THEM!!!  But, this Jesus…he willingly obeyed his Daddy to save me. To save them. To save you. SO THAT – we could live with Him forever. All of us. Forever.

I know there are a LOT of religions in the world. And I respect so much those who are trying to find their way. But how many of them have a God who gave their only son to take our many, many failings and redeem them into a beautiful life of sacrifice and service and LOVE – above all, love?

Christianity actually repulses some. And I really get it. I heard some stories from some Jesus-followers that make me want to turn another way. But I believe they had the wrong story teller. Jesus is a God of compassion and grace and forgiveness and love – above all, love. If you’ve never heard THAT part of the story…

Hi. My name is Kristin. Can I take a few minutes and tell you about my friend, Jesus?

I Wanted to Scream: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAAND!!!!

I'm kind of a stickler about seat belts. Ask my friends and they'll tell you I don't bend the rules much when it comes to who sits in the front, which kid is in which forward-facing, lap-belted or latched booster or highback seat with or without headrest.  It matters. It's important. It can save my babies if we're in a terrible accident.

My kiddos and I have spent many, many hours in the car in their young lives between traveling to visit out-of-town family, to and from Granddaddy's doctor appointments and our many fun outings too.  They know the seatbelt drill so well that I sometimes laugh when Brian hops in to drive and asks, "Is everybody buckled?"  Of course they're buckled....they've been buckling since they were born.

So when a lady saw Ava out of her seat belt in our Excursion this morning, she rolled down her window to flail her hands and yell at me "to get those kids in seatbelts!!!!!"  I kind of came unglued.  We were on the highway by then, so I couldn't yell back my side of the story. I find that some of my most anxious, angry or heartbroken times in my life are when I feel like I'm doing the absolute best that I can and it's still not good enough for...fill-in-the-blank....Brian, my kids, myself or the lady in the van behind me.

If I had time to flail my hands and scream back, I would've said something like this:

Thank you for showing concern, but you don't know the rest of the story.  You see, we have a recently adopted son who occasionally gets aggressive while he's in his car seat and will lash out at whoever sits next to him.  After he repeatedly smacked, hit and pulled the ponytail of my 7-year old daughter, I finally told her (while we were at a full stop at a red light,) to climb to the safety of a back row seat. 

That's what the lady saw. But there's so much more to life than what we see. People, sometimes you just need to say, "I'm sure they're doing the best they can." Or, if you must intercede, could you please start with, "Can you tell me the rest of your story?"

So that lady did teach me a lesson today. It just had nothing to do with seat belt safety.

More listening. Less screaming parenting advice from the window at 35 MPH.  Point taken.

He's Not Home Yet

I've realized by some of the comments coming in that we haven't been clear on our next steps. Little Man is not home yet.

The process is such that we travel two times to Ethiopia. The first to appear before a judge attesting to the fact that we met the child, accept the child and pledge our commitment to raise this child as our own. That's what we did last week. It allows our names to be put on a birth certificate, which then allows for a U.S. passport to be prepared. THEN, we are invited to travel the second time.

We don't get to bring him home until that next visit -- what we all call "the Embassy trip." Yes, I said, "embassy," -- as in,

"19 US posts to remain closed this week as lawmakers say terror threat 'specific' and 'serious.'"

Those embassies are in the Middle East and North Africa.  I never realized how close Ethiopia is to the Middle East until we began to make flight arrangements a couple of weeks ago.  One of our layovers was in Dubai -- where the U.S. Embassy is now closed for the week.

(As an aside, we also received a rejection when we returned for some U.S. government forms that weren't filled out properly, so that will be a further unexpected delay.)

I'd be flat out lying if I said these things didn't give me cause for concern. Of all the places in the world for there to be trouble. Of all the times in history for threats to spike. I'm sure the militants have their reasons, but I know they haven't a clue that the fate of a roomful of precious babies is in their hands.

No, wait. I know that's not true.  There are a lot of things I don't know. Things I'm not sure of -- so I HAVE to cling to what I know to be true. Otherwise, I'd lose what's left of my little mind.

Here's what I know, that know: God is faithful to complete what He starts.

I don't believe it was coincidence that when I learned of the terrorist threats I was studying the life of Abraham -- specifically, the beginning of his journey when God called him to come out of Ur. God didn't lay out all the steps, the hills and valleys that he'd travel, but we have the privilege of seeing the complete unfolding of his story. The entire point of that day's lesson was this: when God takes the initiative, He brings to completion all that is on His heart. God is not only the beginning (the Alpha,) but also the ending (Omega.)

I learned an old Gospel song a long time ago that has a line like this:

I know not what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future.

That's what I'll cling to in these coming weeks. I don't know the end of this story, but God does.

"For I am sure of this very thing, that the one who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

He's just got to.

It's Never "Just" a Meal

With Brian in Singapore all week, I had a sweet friend offer to bring us a meal.  It turned out to be a blessing beyond what I would've thought to ask for and I'm sure beyond what she thought she was offering.  Here's part of the thank you note:

"There's no way that saying "thank you" is enough.  I know about meal making...it's a gift, a blessing.  Sometimes it's easy to double the batch.  Sometimes it's a real stretch to get it together for your family AND someone else's.  Sometimes you can't tell if it's filled a real need or if it's simply taken as a kind gesture.

Tonight, when I would've been preparing a meal for five, I was able to fix my Grandad and me something to drink and sit with him for a while.  We started watching Bonanza and during the first commercial break he said, 'Well, I'm glad you've got a spare few minutes and I'm glad you've decided to spend them with me.' The kids came in and the five of us curled up in his room to watch the guys with the white hats win again.  When we got up to go to the kitchen for your yummy chili he reached out and took my hand.  He smiled real big and shook his head...sometimes when he gets emotional he can't get the words out.  He said, ' I don't get lonely often, but I do sometimes and I'm glad you've been here this evenin'.'"

So, thank you.  For thinking of us, for the chili and for letting me have a few unexpected and special minutes with my Grandad."

You'll never know what a blessing you give when you offer to serve someone else.  Thanks to my friend for the reminder.

Yes, Other People Get to Name Your Fruit

A sweet friend gave us a clever Christmas gift: a dinner plate tastefully painted with fruit on it. Attached to it, a small envelope with this on the outside:  

Set this plate at the table for a family member who has exhibited the Fruit of the Spirit. Challenge everyone to show these characteristics and to look for them in one another. Parents AND children can reward one another with this plate when they see the Fruit of the Spirit lived out.

Inside the envelope are nine place cards, each with a specific fruit and examples of it lived out all based on the Galatians passage: "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control."

Enter Samantha.  The creative, crafty, observant one.  When asked to set the table, she often creates place settings with flowers, cut out pictures, etc.  A few weeks ago, she got out the fruit of the Spirit place cards and gave each of us one.  Here's how it played out:

• Chase: Gentleness -- showing tenderness to others; being thoughtful and careful with little children; being able to respond with calm words.
  
• Ava: Faithfulness -- being a true and loyal friend or family member; sticking up for others; keeping your promises.
  
• Samantha: Goodness -- doing the things that are right and good, even when no one is watching; making good choices.
  
• Daddy: Patience -- being able to wait calmly for something that is expected, even when you are so excited on the inside that you could explode.
  
• Mommy: Self-control -- choosing not to give in to the powerful urge to speak or act in ways you know you shouldn't; or overcoming a bad habit or tendency.

I asked her why she chose each one, expecting her to give some exemplary behavior we'd exhibited.  Instead, she said, "I gave each person the thing they need to work on."

OUCH!

She said I need to work on not raising my voice at her when I get frustrated.  

Earlier in Matthew, Jesus is clear when he says, "By their fruit you will know them."  No one knows us better than those with whom we share a roof.  So, a little self-control with my tone of voice is what I'll be working on in the coming months.

What place card would your family give you?

It's Not You, It's Me

That's what I said to Facebook when I deactivated my account a few months ago.

It really was doing nothing but highlighting my worst faults.  I don't condemn or judge anyone who uses Facebook for the fun socializing tool it can be.  I just couldn't handle it. I'll confess the details only in hopes that my kids won't make the same mistake, not that it does my heart good to put it in writing.

There were several factors converging at once to give Facebook the power it had over me for a time.  The biggest is that I was lonely.  Plenty busy at home, mind you, but not a lot of one-on-one grown up interaction. It started out as a way to get out without getting out.

It was also feeding my pride: what can I say this time that will generate even more comments? And then, I'd check my computer every (you don't want to know how often) to see if anyone commented. Brian used the term "addicted" in all seriousness.  And, he doesn't use such finger-pointing words very often. That's when I really started thinking about it.  It did feed my spirit (I hate to write "ego" even though that's probably more accurate) to get comments, to leave comments and get more comments back.  Seemed like lots of interaction.

Then envy kicked in.  There's irony all over this part, because I LOVE MY LIFE!  Before FB, I couldn't have named three things I wanted to change about my ENTIRE life.  But I found myself giving a good "hmf" when I saw an old high school buddy was going to spend the day lounging beside her in-ground pool while her kids were at school. A twinge when girls I knew would talk about how they had such a good time last night or lunch the day before and clearly no one called me. A little heart ache to see moms talk about their kids' birthday parties that my kids weren't invited to. 

All of those examples are so real and so silly!  I wouldn't trade home schooling for a YEAR by any pool. I've never really needed a lot of girl time and it's not like we let OUR kids have big birthday parties! And yet there they were...seeds of discontent.

This is the kicker:  I realized that one of my good friends talks the same way to all her other friends as she does to me.  You see, before FB, I didn't have access to such interactions. I was actually a little hurt that I have a friend who is just as nice, sweet, loving, welcoming and caring to her other friends as she is to me. Is that not the MOST ridiculous thing you've EVER heard?

Without sounding too pitiful, I started to take stock in the phone calls that came in or knocks on the door.  Would you sing for this event? Would you teach this class? Would you happen to have this I can borrow? Would you keep my kids a while? Not a lot of "let's go out" or "tell me how you are."

Then I heard a teacher suggest that parents who give their kids cell phones with texting might be giving themselves the illusion of control.  And immediately the thought came to my mind that Facebook was giving me the illusion of relationship.  I don't want to live under any illusions...reality is hard enough, so I deactivated it.  And, not surprisingly, my email inbox was sparse from then on.

It was kind of a hard time, because it's not like this is the kind of thing you can talk to your friends about without sounding -- heaven forbid -- needy.  I am NOT the needy friend. Because of that, I could feel an even bigger lesson coming.

What I ultimately realized is that I don't have a need to be needed.  I've got plenty of people of who need me and (most of the time) I'm happy to serve and help people any way I can.  (So, I'll probably always watch your kids, teach the preschoolers and let you borrow anything I have.) What I realized is that I want to be wanted.  You know, just for me.  For who I am, not what I can do.

No hurt comes senselessly, so it wasn't long before I was off the computer long enough to remember that that's what God wants from us: to love Him for who He is.  He's done plenty to be deserving of our love, that's for sure.  Blessings, near misses, abundant grace despite our many screw ups. But to realize that He just loves us because of who we are, certainly not because of what we've done.  

Makes me think of that Casting Crowns song:

Not because of who I am,

But because of what you've done.

Not because of what I've done,

But because of who you are.

I am a flower quickly fading,

Here today and gone tomorrow,

A wave tossed in the ocean,

A vapor in the wind.

Still you hear me when I'm calling,

Lord, you catch me when I'm falling,

And you've told me who I am.

I am yours. 

Funny, it took the FB experience to help me see that it's enough for me to know that God hears when I call and I am His.

So, you see Facebook, you are fun and cool and hip and a great way to share photos and connect perfectly normal, sweet friends.  I, on the other hand, am prone to envy and arrogance and I don't need anything else to plant false seeds of discontent. 

Really. It's not you, it's me.

A Day Split in Thirds

I'm several days into an extended break from work. Because these sorts of breaks are few and far between for me, I'm not always the best with time management.

Some may say, "It's vacation...you don't need to manage time!!!" I can understand this sentiment, but I'm realizing that structure helps me -- my mood, morale and attentiveness. That's why I'm experimenting with splitting my free days into thirds: a third for home projects or errands, a third for family time and a third for free or miscellaneous time.

Now, I'm not sure how exact I've been with the thirds so far, but the general concept seems to be working well. Does anyone else have a useful time-management guideline?

My Man

So, Brian had his 20th high school reunion this past summer and I'd intended to write all about it. Then we celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary in September and I intended to write all about that. And, on Tuesday Brian turned 39 and I wanted to write about that, too.

To spare you the volumes for every celebration, I'll give a brief snippet about each.

Brian's Mom and step-dad came down to celebrate his birthday on Sunday and brought a beautiful sheet cake. Since Brian, Grandaddy and Manley were all piled in Grandaddy's room watching football and the kids were chomping at the bit for cake, we lit the candles and headed in there to sing "Happy Birthday!"  I sat on the bed next to him and leaned over to give him a kiss.  That's when the cardboard the cake was on slipped off the fancy plastic serving tray and the cake flipped upside down onto the floor.  Sorry, baby.

Oh wait.  A business trip landed him in The Russian Tea Room in New York City on his actual birthday.  So, I take it back. No pity for him.  None.

On our anniversary, we pulled out the ol' wedding video.  We don't torture ourselves annually, but we thought it would ok once every ten years. Halfway through, Sammie said, "This is soooo long."  (And, it was.)  About every ten minutes I would look over at Brian and he'd be shaking his head saying, "We were so naive."  (And, we were.) 

I've told him before I want to get married again.  I want him to ask me again, so I can say yes again.  When we said "I do" the first time, I dare say we had no idea what on earth we were saying "I do" to.  It hasn't always been moonbeams and rainbows and some times it's been downright miserable, but now that we're on the other side of that (for the moment, anyway), I can see that we have been well-matched.  I know I can count on him, no matter what. Through childbirth and grandparents. Overwhelming anxiety and the pit of depression. Even biopsies and several thousand diapers. It's easy to see that we're so much better together than apart. (Am I sounding a little sappy with him out of town?)

As for the reunion, I spent more than a few hours watching his classmates, listening to their stories, meeting their families.  And there, it happened again -- that thing that sometimes happens when I look around a crowded room. I realized I was the luckiest girl in the world to be able to leave on his arm.

That's my man.  Happy reunion/annivesary/birthday, darlin'!

CareFest 2009

CareFest is one way that our church, Sherwood Oaks Christian Church (SOCC),  tries to live out James' call for a faith in action (James 2:14-17). It's a one day event where hundreds of SOCC volunteers do projects for Bloomington schools, social service agencies and city government with no strings attached. 

The informational brochure touched on one of the by-products of the event for our kids: "This is a great opportunity for families to serve together and teach children the value of serving others."

Last November, Sammie and I served together at Backstreet Missions and the Crisis Pregnancy Center/Hannah House. We went back to CPC/Hannah House this year. We were fortunate enough to have Chaser join us this year!  I power washed outside, worked in the yard and painted. Chase split his time between helping me and working with Sammie and few others to make a "diaper cake" and crafts for upcoming baby showers. 

At prayer time that night the kids said one of their favorite parts of the day was "helping the babies." They also loved the pizza that was served afterwards! I'm looking forward to seeing God's plan for Sam, Chase and Ava unfold before our eyes. I'm hopeful that acts of service will be a big part of each of those plans.

P.S. Brad Pontius came around to take pictures when Chase was outside and you were still upstairs, Sammie. Also, Mom, yes...I know that I'm getting a bald spot on the top of my head. I've had it for 5 years, if not more! 

Gooder 'N Snuff

Living with another person can be hard. And, if you're selfish and controlling and particular, like me, it can be really hard. I've come to laugh about this now, but I can tell you it took a while.

I've written before about how Grandaddy takes care of his own needs for the most part. He'll eat my cooking only occasionally so we dance around each other in the kitchen at meal time.  Admittedly, he tries very hard to "get outta y'alls way" if he thinks he's in it.  For instance, if it's Wednesday night, he waits until we're finished eating because he knows we're headed out to church.  Same on Sundays.

As I said, it's a bit of a joke now, but it seemed like I would get everyone fed and dressed in their finest and head to the bathroom to get myself ready.  When I open my bedroom door on Sunday mornings the wave of smoke that hits me is astounding.  He cooks everything on high, so the toast is crispy and the pork is burnt.  I was sitting on my couch last week as he'd just sat down with his breakfast.  The sun helps me tell the story...


Can you see the haze INSIDE my house?  And, that's all the way toward the front door...TWO rooms from the stove.

So, I apologize to my fellow church goers if I smell like burnt sausage on Sundays.  I do get irritated.  I double the perfume or skip it all together some times. I want to take away his cooking privileges on some days.  But it's all worth it when he makes me look him in the eye and says, "Kris, you're gooder 'n snuff and not nigh as dusty."

Bonus points if you remember the comic strip that line is from.  

Apple's Business Model

It's well known that Steve Jobs is a devoted fan of The Beatles. He's referenced them during several keynote speeches and in a 60 Minutes interview. When asked about his business model during the interview, he replied...

"My model for business is The Beatles: They were four guys that kept each other's negative tendencies in check; they balanced each other. And the total was greater than the sum of the parts. Great things in business are not done by one person, they are done by a team of people."

I've referenced this quote during presentations and in several meetings at work. I also intend on talking to the kiddos about the quote when they get older because I believe it sums up nicely several time-tested, universal principles that are as applicable at home as they are in the workplace. 

To be continued...

Only You, In The Entire Universe

My brother shot himself when he was 15 years old.  I was 14.

If you've experienced such a tragedy or read much about it, you know there is a lot of guilt to pass around.  Lots of people, particularly those in the closest circle, wonder, "Should I have known?" "Were there signs and I missed them?"  They wonder, "Is it my fault?"

Probably the one who took it the hardest was my dad.  He was the Sheriff in our town.  A rule-follower from way back.  Follow the rules and you'll get ahead in life. Break the rules and suffer the consequences.  He was fair, but always thorough.  Few crimes went unpunished.  That's the job when you're the Sheriff and the Dad. 

If you remember, there are a lot of rules to be tested when you're 15 and Jody had been testing a lot of them.  How do I know?  Because, being the dutiful baby sister that I am, I told on him. A lot. For instance,  just the week before he killed himself, I came home and he'd been backing the pick up truck in and out of its parking space in our driveway.  I told on him.  He got in trouble.

My sister thinks she remembers him saying not long before, "I should just kill myself" and she never said anything or did anything about it. Though she admits she's not so sure and wonders if the guilt just put that memory there.  

That morning, Jody had a quiz in French class and he was caught cheating.  That sweet teacher did what she was supposed to do and told our folks.  We all knew he was going to get it.  I remember Mrs. M.'s eyes being red and puffy for weeks after.

That evening at Wednesday night church, he'd been behind the building experimenting with stuff he shouldn't have.  He was with someone else and I didn't find out until a couple of months ago who it was.  That guy has never mentioned a word of it and I can't help but wonder if he's felt guilty over the years.  

The premise of "The Shack" is about a father coming to terms with a tragedy that happened to his daughter.  Eventually the father breaks down admitting that he feels like it was his fault. Like he should've been able to save her, to protect her and feels the guilt so heavily.  He feels the turmoil of the final moments of his daughter's life wondering if SHE was saying, "Where is Daddy?" And, he even feels the shame when he's with the rest of his family just knowing that they feel the same way. That he should have protected her.

It seems so simple, but this line the Holy Spirit-figure speaks hit me like a ton of bricks: 

"Only you, in the entire universe, believe that somehow you are to blame."

I always dismissed the guilt that all those in my brother's close circle might have felt, thinking that was so silly to think they should've or could've done something differently, yet the guilt that I felt was so real and painful and smothering.

In reality:

Only my dad, in the entire universe, believed that somehow he was to blame.

Only my sister, in the entire universe, believed that somehow she was to blame.

Only the French teacher, in the entire universe, believed that somehow she was to blame.

And, only I, in the entire universe, believed that somehow I was to blame.

So, where does all that guilt come from?

"A thief is there only to steal and kill and destroy. I came so that they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of."  John 10:10

The enemy has stolen a lot from my family over the years, but I'm learning to recognize it for what it is.  I want that better life Jesus talked about, don't you? Are there any lies you've been believing? 

Turns Out, I'm a Little Miffed

I was reacquainted with a friend a few years ago and she said to me, "You're not as funny as you used to be." Firstly, I don't remember being all that funny. Secondly, I thought to myself (to myself mind you, so I wouldn't smack her), "Life's not as funny as it used to be."

I'm doing a short study on the life of David.  The teacher last night said we had to move past our devastation with God in order to move on.  Huh?  I had to think on that.

If any of you have ever heard me talk about my Dad, you know that I can get teary pretty fast. When Brian and I were having some trouble in our first few years of marriage, I blamed him (Brian) for EVERYTHING.  I sought out a counselor who determined I had some unresolved grief issues, the bulk of which is a story for another day.  Daddy died of colon cancer the first year of our marriage (no wonder I was in counseling.) Anyway, I dealt with those things in that process. 

Or, I thought I did.

A few weeks ago I heard a woman tell the story of her own physical healing, followed by another story of a friend with cancer.  She said they prayed earnestly for her healing, but she died.  And when her youngest child crawled in her Daddy's lap, she said, "I don't understand, Daddy, we asked God to make her better." He answered her by saying that God made her better in a different way.

A dam was let loose in my heart and it all flowed out my sad, brown eyes.  I hate crying.  You know, the ugly cry...in front of people.  Yes, it's my pride all over again, but I still hate it. I thought I DEALT with it! What's with all the tears?  I discovered I'm still a little more than miffed with God about that.  

My Dad -- he was one of the good guys.  Wanted to do what was right by everybody.  He wanted us kids to do the right thing.  He was a genuinely nice person and made everyone feel not only loved, but liked.  (Except for my boyfriends.  He did a nice job of intimidating them.) He was even kind to the prisoners he took to jail -- said everyone deserves respect no matter what they've done. I know my opinion is biased and I can't sum it up in just a few sentences.  

I guess we're never ready to let someone go, but this was not fair!  He was too young.  I was too young.  I miss him.  I miss him spoiling my kids and playing the "hoopdedoo" game with them.  (You have to see it in person to get it.)  I think he would come by on Saturday mornings and have coffee with me.  I think he'd help Brian clear the woods.  I think he'd tell me my Sammie looks just like me and my Ava acts just like me when I was their age.  I think he'd puff up like a bull frog about Chase's name and probably call him "Charles" just to make a point.  I think he'd lavish on Chase all the boy stuff he didn't get to finish out with Jody.

So back to David.  God loved him -- man after His own heart and all.  David decided to bring the ark of the covenant back to Jerusalem, so the presence of God would be at the center of everything, but during the journey and celebration, someone mishandled the ark and he died on the spot.

The Bible says David was angry because the Lord's wrath had broken out against Uzzah. And, in the next verse that David was afraid of the Lord that day.

Aha...that's me. Angry and afraid. Has God done anything in your life you're mad about?  Are you just waiting for him to hand down the next hard thing?

Why didn't he save your marriage?

You raised your children in the church.  Why are they so far from him?

Why did he leave you in there high on coke when you really wanted out?

Why is your grandmother suffering still with alzheimers, as confused as a child?

Why did that boy choose that over me?

Why did my best friend alienate me? 

Those things are enough to make a person angry.  If you're wondering why the next GREAT thing hasn't happened in your life, maybe you've got to move past your devastation with God.

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to the second part of the lesson, so I don't have good answers on how to move past it yet, but that's where I am today.

Think about it.

Inner Voice – Friend or Foe?

In my mind, the most important purpose of this blog is to collect stories, inspiration, memorable moments and wisdom for Sam, Chase and Ava. Some posts will be more significant than others. To me, in terms of wisdom that I can impart to the kiddos, this is my most important post yet.

A friend of mine told me about a habit he developed years ago as a high school golfer. He called it being "your own biggest fan." I don't remember his wording exactly, but essentially his method was to tell himself that he was going to succeed, what happened moments ago was a thing of the past, what others think doesn't matter, with more and more practice he could get better and better, etc. He always tried to accentuate the positive, so his inner voice was/is his friend, not a foe.

It's clear to me now that my inner voice – for reasons I can write about in other posts – is a skillful foe, not a friend. For example, I've realized that I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about my mistakes and very little time thinking about my successes. It's as if I feel more comfortable being a critic than a fan.

The happy ending to this post is I've come to see it's not too late for me to change my mindset. And, because of my own personal struggles and the progress I'm finally making, I hope I'm in a better position to teach the kids the value of a positive inner voice. 

Some Things I'd Rather Forget

So the very reason I didn't join Facebook is the very one everyone used to convince me of its greatness: it's a great way to connect with people from your past.  YIKES!

Here's what I thought:  If I connect with people from my past, they'll be reminded of old times. Old times were not so good for me.  I was a schmuck really, in a lot of ways.  And those are the times I remember.  As more people ask to be friends on FB, I realize I have forgotten many things and many people.  I honestly don't even recognize their names and then when their faces don't ring a bell, I wonder if I was in a memory--erasing accident or something.

When I was in high school, like a lot of teenagers, I wanted to be liked -- to be in the popular crowd.  When I did hang with the popular group, I felt like I was only there on the coat tails of someone else or because they felt sorry for me because of a family tragedy.  And, I did some dumb things thinking they would make me more popular.  I'm ashamed of the way I let boys treat me back then. When I hung with the not-so-popular crowd, I actually felt more like myself.

In college, I masked my insecurity with loudness and boy-crazy stunts that are really heralded among many "finally free" young adults.  I was a music major and as I look back I realize I only did that to please my Dad.  My heart wasn't in it. I was there to make the grades and get the degree. Looking back, it's a wonder I didn't get myself in so many un-doable messes. Now they're just un-doable memories.  

After grad school, I started making better choices.  I fell in love and got my heart broken.  So THEN all my choices were an effort to keep from getting my heart broken again.  I masked the heartache in fake confidence and very controlling behavior. I'm ashamed at the way I treated men in those days. 

In short, I was selfish for a lot of years.  For so long it was all about me -- what would make me happy, who would give me the most attention, what did I want out of the day or the relationship.  Always looking for that other half that would "complete me".  What nonsense!

Now that I'm married (to my perfect match), I know that no one else can complete me (even him) and the source of greatest contentment for me is  letting other people know they are loved and they are special. Why does it take so long to learn such things?  Or, why did it take ME so long to learn?

So, here I go on Facebook.  I really am excited to see what old friends and acquaintances are up to, but I've already sunk my head in shame a few times and it's only been a couple days of friend requests.  I'm building up thick skin so I'll have the courage to apologize when I need to.  

One of my favorite things about God is that he gives second, third and fourth chances.  If given another chance, I hope I'll be a better friend this time around.

From Ordinary to Extraordinary

I've still got my favorite Christmas card on the fridge and it tells the story of Easter, too.

In an ordinary stable, 

He had an extraordinary birth.

And that ordinary baby

Grew into an extraordinary man.

With ordinary words, 

He shared an extraordinary message.

And on an ordinary cross,

He died an extraordinary death.

But an ordinary, empty tomb

Proved His extraordinary miracle...

So that ordinary people

Can have extraordinary Life.

Tent City

Have you heard anything about the tent cities popping up across the country?  I saw a report about one in Sacramento.  Apparently, people are losing their homes and just pitching tents in empty fields.  There is no water supply, no power source.

Some of the people have been there for months. The journalist interviewed one couple and the wife said they'd been there for over a year.  Did she have family?  Yes, one son.  Does he know you're here?  No.  Why not?  I didn't want him to worry.

WHAT?!?!?!?

Even more surprising to me, is that was a common theme.  Many of these people have family, but don't want to ask for help.

Where is the common sense people!?!?!  We have such gross extremes in our country.  There are 38-year olds still living at home on mom and dad's dime.  There are grandparents raising their grandchildren, because the parents don't want to grow up.  And, now I'm learning there are people who don't want to worry their children, so they live in a tent.

Infuriating and sad all at once.  In many other countries there are cousins, aunts, and grandparents all living under the same, very small, roof.  It's normal.  There's a lot of family and not a lot of space.  Is it pride?  Shame? Guilt?  What keeps someone from standing on their own two feet when they absolutely can or asking for help when it's truly needed?

Wouldn't you WANT to know if your mom was living in a tent?  Of course, I'd be worried.  Of course, I'd want to do something about it.  Of course, I'd want to help and I'd make sacrifices if necessary to help.  Isn't that a good thing?  Isn't that what family is for?  

Please, lady.  Tell your son.  Let him help you.  You gave him a roof over his head when you could.  It's his turn.

Don't Ask Me

Never ask a woman between the hours of midnight and 7 a.m. if she'd like to have more children.

At least, don't ask me.

Ava's Body Art

Grandaddy and Ava were so proud to show me a new pastime they'd discovered together a few weeks ago.  They had taken turns drawing on eachother's hands in ink.  Grandaddy's drawings were some what recognizeable -- can't read his handwriting, but I made out a man in the moon sketch.  

It's hard to scold a 95-year old, but I did try to tell him that probably wasn't a good idea.  He was apologetic and said he'd never done it if he'd known I had a problem with it.  I tried to tell him she was still trying to learn the rules of using pens, pencils, markers, etc.  I found it hard to articulate without sounding like a mean ol' meanie.

I was able to show him the next day why it wasn't a good idea.