Joyful Exhaustion

I sit writing by the light of the tree “the morning after.”  Gifts unwrapped, new toys scattered all over my living room, the lingering smell of barbecued brisket in the air, my belly still too full from dinner the night before… and still totally exhausted. 

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege to visit with a sweet friend who is expecting their first little miracle this coming spring.  She mentioned that she is a little nervous because everyone keeps telling her how she better sleep now, because once the baby arrives she will be exhausted for the rest of her life.  I told her that in my opinion, yes, parenting is exhausting, BUT it is like the kind of exhaustion you feel on Christmas night- your body is totally wiped out from all the excitement, preparation, and running around, but your heart is FULL.  And I can say, after another Christmas Day, I still feel the same way.  I would also add in the exhaustion of the unmet expectations as well. 

I was so excited yesterday morning that I could hardly stand it.  Santa had arrived and left some things I couldn’t wait for (a) to discover.  I was thankful that Santa had a helper who was willing to share some “pre-loved” toys, and because of that there were a couple big items waiting that I just knew he was going to LOVE and go crazy for.  I was tired from staying up late on Christmas Eve preparing, but I was excited and got up early in anticipation of what the day was going to bring.  However, when (a) started to stir and I ran to get him up, I discovered it was one of those mornings where he had wet the bed and we were going to have to start the day with a bath.  A grumpy bath none the less.  After the grumpy bath (A) put him in his Christmas jammies as I asked (ok, begged) so he would look super cute for pictures.  I thought we would start over fresh, got out the video camera and asked if he would like to come to the living room to see what Santa brought, to which he told me “NO!!”  Ouch… momma crushed.  He grumped around for nearly half an hour before he was willing to leave his room and come to see what was under the tree.  Thankfully when he arrived he was just as excited as I had hoped when he found his gifts.  We played for a couple hours and I decided it was time to run through the shower to get ready before some family arrived for more festivities.  As I got ready to jump in the shower I discovered my husband never even found or recognized a small, but romantic and thoughtful gift I had put together for him… again, a little crushed.  I got out of the shower only to realize I had no clean clothes that I felt suited the day AND (a) was yelling at (A) from his bedroom… never a good sign.  He had one of those (thankfully rare) explosive diapers… in his Christmas jammies… and I hadn’t even gotten any pictures yet.  Momma crushed a little more.  I was also a little panicked because the morning delay had me a little behind on the timeline of my food preparation.  By the time my parents arrived, I was still in my bathrobe (because I had started my laundry) crying because I felt like none of the day was living up to these high idealistic expectations I had of what Christmas Day with a toddler was going to be like. My mom gently reminded me of a “historic moment” in my childhood which was caught on camera where I did not live up to the excitement expectations, and she told me she had been there, it would get better. 

And she was right.  After two loads of laundry and a good solid nap for (a), I was dressed in something I wanted to wear, he was dressed in something I deemed fun for pictures, all the guests had arrived, his nap had allowed me time for food prep, mom’s help sped along the process, and we were able to enjoy the day I had “planned.” 

When the evening ended and everyone left, I collapsed on the couch and my guys took to the recliner.  I was exhausted physically, but my heart was filled with joy.  We’d had a day filled with love, and laughter, and family. I’d eaten far more food that I should have, I’d watched my son cackle with joy, ohh and ahh in discovery, love on the people who are part of “his village,” try to pull some typical ornery stunts, and most importantly tell us that he knows who Baby Jesus is and that he was born “in barn, with cows!” (“With cows” is an important detail to my little cow-man-in-training haha, he always makes sure to add that part.) 

It’s true.  Parenting is like reliving Christmas every day.  Joyful exhaustion, a body tired, but a heart full, a twinge of heartache over the unmet expectations, but the reality that it is all going to be alright. 

I sincerely hope your family had a blessed Christmas!  And now we get to do it over again 2 more times with out-of-state siblings… maybe I still will manage to sneak in the “Christmas Day family photo of the three of us” that slipped through the grasp of my expectations… 😉

Christmas Through the Eyes of...

Over the years I have collected several different Christmas decorations, but one of my favorites by far is a piece I added last year… our “Little People” Nativity set.  It has been a fun way to see Christmas through the eyes of a child.  I love watching (a) play with all the different nativity characters.  He will hug baby Jesus (he has also tried to eat him on occasion), he will show you all the animals one by one, and he LOVES the fact that the stable plays “Away in a Manger.”  There is an angel who is supposed to stand on top of the stable and be the “singer” of the song.  But for some reason (a) is obsessed with changing out who is standing on top of the stable, I have laughed and commented to (A) so many times about how frequently it changes that I started documenting it with some pictures last week.  Often there is a Magi holding his gift as he stands atop the stable, other times it is one of the donkeys or the cow (who also resembles a deer), sometimes it is the sheep, I have seen Mary up there, and once even Baby Jesus himself was the stable topper.  I have not figured out if (a) has a reasoning behind changing the characters out, or if it is just the fun of the playtime.  Either way, I love watching it and always get a giggle out of who is one top when I walk by. 

It does make me think though, the perspective of the Christmas story really changes based on whose eyes you are looking through.  Based on the picture from the box, the angel is who is supposed to stand on the top of the stable, the angels where the messengers who got to share the “good news, of great joy.”  I can’t even imagine that excitement! I remember how we felt the day (a) was born when we were able to share the much-anticipated news that he had arrived.  There was so much joy it was nearly overwhelming, and while I know all his grandparents felt like they had waited thousands of years for a baby, it was really only a 9 year wait.  But Jesus…. Literally THOUSANDS of years mankind had waited for the birth of the Messiah.  Getting to share the much-anticipated news that he had arrived must have been incredible. 

And then there were the shepherds.  I’m sure being a shepherd wasn’t the most noble of professions in those days.  They lived in the fields keeping watch over the sheep, probably smelling somewhat like the sheep, and were probably some of the least likely people to receive the news first.  But through their eyes, I can’t even imagine the love, awe, and wonder they must have felt.  Over the years as our friends have had children, I have always counted it as such a precious honor to get a call or text sharing the news of the new baby before it is “Facebook official” or public common knowledge.  I don’t know why, but it always makes me feel extra loved to “make the cut” of those who receive a personal announcement from the happy family.  Knowing how I feel, I can only guess what it must have been like to receive the personal announcement that the Savior had been born.  Not only the personal announcement, but the personal invitation to come visit the newborn king, and the invitation to a personal relationship “for unto YOU is born this day, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)  What love! What joy! Not only were they the first to know, but to know even as lowly as they were, his birth was FOR them. 

Even the animals… the Bible doesn’t tell us that any animals were witness to His arrival, but since Mary and Joseph were staying in a stable with some connection to the inn it is very reasonable to believe that there were animals of some kind present on that special night.  From my years of working with livestock I know they can be pretty perceptive, and I can’t help but wonder if even those animals could feel the awe and wonder of what had just transpired- the King of Heaven had just come down to earth.    

And then there is Mary.  Luke 2:19 tells us after the shepherds left to share the news, “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”  I will admit, the song “Mary Did You Know?” has always one that I really felt pretty neutral about when it comes to Christmas songs.  I never loved it, but I wouldn’t switch the station when it came on either.  Due to out of the ordinary circumstances on Sunday, (a) was sitting on my lap during church instead of doing his normal nursery routine.  I was doing whatever it took to keep him quiet so he did not disrupt the service, and “whatever it took” involved me eating the stale puffs he was insistent on feeding me as he sat astraddle my lap.  He would shove one in my mouth, grin his huge silly smile as I gave in to his antics, and then quickly stick another one up to my lips.  As he was up to this game it turned time for communion and the piano player began to play “Mary Did You Know?” and as I thought about the words to the song I had to fight back tears.  Here on my lap sat the little boy who is our world, smiling his cheesy smile, and I thought- “I truly have no idea what your life will hold.”  I pray it is full of love, and joy, and hope, laughter, and service to God and others, family, and friends, and faithfulness.  His little mind wants to figure so many things out- it makes his Boilermaker momma hope he might consider engineering at my Alma Mater someday.  His love to play ball makes (A) hope someday he will have the chance to coach him.  His love for livestock and farming makes his Aunt “Kayda” hope he wants to be raised in the barn.  All of us who love this little boy have hopes and dreams for who he will be, how wonderful his life will be, and what he will make of himself.  None of us want to see him hurting, or let down, ridiculed, or taken advantage of, disappointed or betrayed.  Yet, I know, in my heart of hearts, that since we live in this world, I will also watch some of those things happen to my son. 

The Bible does not tell us how much Mary was privy to when it came to “knowing” what was ahead for her tiny infant son.  She knew and understood that he was the Messiah- God made that part clear.  But I can’t help but wonder what all she was pondering in her heart.  Would she have ever dreamed she would watch her son perform miracles, teach the multitudes, or love the “unloveable”? Would she have ever dreamed she would watch her son be betrayed, beaten, and crucified?  As I listening to the song play and held my son tightly, I couldn’t help but think of what went through her heart as a mom, as the Christmas story unfolded through her eyes, and I couldn’t help but wonder what goes through the heart of God the father as he watches how the “Christmas story” unfolds through my eyes.  He knows how much he loved that Son he sent for me, and he sees whether or not I am grateful daily for that gift.  Mary probably didn’t know, but He knew that the Christmas story would turn out to be so much more than just that night in the stable, He knew the entire story, because He was the author of it, and my response to that story is my response to His love for me. 

I have loved experiencing Christmas through the eyes of my child this year, but I also have a greater appreciation of God’s love for me as I experience Christmas through the eyes of a parent who loves her son.  I pray I never take for granted just how much God loves me, in that He gave his son to be my savior.  What excitement!  What joy! What love! His birth was FOR me.  Through those eyes, all I can say is Glory to God in the Highest!

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours! 

Fighting Shepherds, Giggling Girls- The Off-Script Moments

Over the years, one of my most FAVORITE Christmas traditions has always been the children’s Christmas program at church.  And one of my favorite children’s Christmas novels has long been The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, because I can TOTALLY relate to the story of putting together the unforgettable yearly program with all the “off script” moments it can bring. 

As an elementary student I LOVED the hours spent preparing for the yearly event.  I can still sing some of the songs from various years, and I can still tell you who played what parts in which programs.  I also still remember the year Victoria, Jessica, and I got the giggles and couldn’t get our lines out for several minutes when we were the “three tree women” who owned a Christmas tree lot.  As an adult, that is what I love the most about the children’s program- that fact that something ALWAYS goes wrong.  I will admit, the many years I was the director of the program I was TERRIFIED of what was going to go wrong, but the humor in the mistakes is what is always most memorable.  Our last ministry began in early December of 2007 and we still did not know many of the families very well by the time the first children’s Christmas program rolled around our 2^nd or 3^rd week there.  However, a couple of the children quickly became well-known to us when Joseph and the Shepherd got in a fist fight on stage right in the middle of the program (it had something to do with one stole the other’s chair- they were both preschool/kindergarten age and are now respectful high school students haha).  Their moms were horrified, we thought it was hilarious (we weren’t parents yet)!  I remember one year my mom directed the program and had an entire company of heavenly hosts who were more interested in rolling around on the floor and playing than performing their angelic roles.  Then there was the year I was directing and a little angel in the front row stood in the middle of the program and announced she had to go to the bathroom.  This year’s performance was no exception as a young shepherd on the front row showed off some entertaining dance moves of his own original choreography complete with fancy footwork, cheesy show choir faces, and antics with his shepherd’s crook. 

The pig and the cow... that's exactly what I'm talking about!

While I feel the director’s pain of wanting the program to come off perfectly, what I love about the program is the precious imperfection- the humor in the hiccups, the memories in the mistakes.  For me, it is the perfect reminder of what that first Christmas was really about.  The joy of God’s perfect son, coming to imperfect people.  I’m sure his stable birth was probably not exactly how Mary thought his entrance would play out.  The shepherds were not the most likely “birthing center” guests for the King of Kings.  But those things are what makes the story most impactful- God didn’t send his Son in any of the ways the Jews anticipated the Messiah would arrive.  God’s plan seemed a little “off script” by human expectations, but it was the perfect way to show how much He loved us- that the Savior of the World would come to Earth in the most humble of beginnings.

Some days I look at my life and feel like things are a little “off script” from what I had planned… after all, at 17 I hoped to be on Capitol Hill by 25.  At 30, I had accomplished none of the goals I had set for my 30^th , and now, a few years beyond that, I look around and we have thrown the “script” out the window completely and we are just daily living in what God gives us.  But day by day, I am finding that is the beauty in the story… that just like the first Christmas, God’s plan (while it may seem “off script” from ours) is going to play out perfectly.  We may not know exactly what it is going to look like (as children’s Christmas program directors often find out) but we know whatever it is, it is good.  After all, He loves us enough that he sent the ultimate gift- tiny baby Jesus, Savior of the World, King of Kings. 

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6

Home

Every now and then I hear someone use the phrase “Were you born in a barn!?”  And I have to giggle, because when I hear it I always think, no, but I was raised in one.  From the time I can remember I loved to tag along with my dad to the barn.  I loved to help do chores and as I grew I got myself to the barn to do chores or rinse show heifers early on summer mornings before anyone else was even up.  Some of those barns I was raised in were on my own farm, but I also did a lot of “growing up” in the cattle barn of the Boone Co Fairgrounds and Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The barn at the Orange County Fairgrounds had a corner that was “home” to the three of us girls for nearly 20 years.  And while the stay was short, a lot of “raising” happened in barns in Denver, CO, Milwaukee, WI, Tulsa, OK, Des Moines, IA, Louisville, KY, Kansas City, and many other local fairgrounds along the way.   For this girl, being in the barn felt like home.

Home… there’s just something about the very word that makes you feel all mushy inside.  The thought of going home makes you feel safe, and loved, and at peace.  Over the years I have learned something about the word home… it doesn’t have to be the place where I lay my head at night, HOME is a place that holds a piece of my heart.

Last weekend I spent some time going “home” to two of my favorite places, and it felt so great to release that sigh from deep within… home…  On Saturday, (a) and I had the chance to spend a few hours at the State Fairgrounds for a large cattle show that my family has been involved with for 20 years.  Walking in to that barn the feeling hit me… home.  SO many memories have been made for me in that barn- tears of joy and defeat have been shed there, laughter and sweat have been poured out, my sisters became my friends and my friends became like siblings.  That barn has seen me in some of my greatest moments of victory, and most embarrassing moments of humility, and I have seen it completely empty and quiet, and I have seen it packed to the gills with people and cattle and equipment.  But no matter what, after all these years and numerous events, it feels like home.  Walking in after what had been a hectic week, I felt my shoulders release some stress, my heart did a little pitter-patter, and that comfortable deep breath feeling of HOME filled my body. 

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings (A) and I had the privilege to attend the Christmas fundraising dinners at Hilltop Christian Camp.  Hilltop has been our camp home for the last 10 years.  We have made friends there who will be life-long ministry partners, and we have worked side by side with people who meant the world to us.  Camp is the place where (A) and I have spent countless hours working as a ministry TEAM at our best, and we have learned how to be a better team together when we were NOT our best there.  We have poured our hearts for Jesus into more children/teens there than we will ever remember.  We have watched many of those campers grow into amazing Christian adults, and we have watched some of them disappoint us.  We have laughed there, and cried there, made hilarious memories and heart-warming ones, sweated our lights out in stifling heat, and chattered our teeth in bitter cold.   We have watched God move in powerful ways in the lives of others and in our own.  We have showed up there on moments of nothing but faith (especially the year we came in to set up a week of camp on faith that running water would be restored after a weekend without due to storms- and within hours of arrival that is exactly what happened!), and other times we have felt so prepared we were just giddy with excitement.  If I tried to tell you every good memory we have of camp I would spend days, and if I told you every way we saw God work in our lives there I would take years.  No matter what event we pull in that driveway for- I get that feeling…. my shoulders relax, I take a deep breath, my heart pitter-patters… I’m HOME. 

Going, home to those places has been a little harder for me lately though, because due to the uncertain nature of our family’s future plans, I don’t know how much longer geography will allow me to frequent those “homes” in my life (or even the house my family has made our home).  Pulling away from camp all three nights brought tears to my eyes as I thought, how often will I get to come “home.”  Leaving the fairgrounds (even after a flat tire incident) I wondered, how long will this place be just an hour or two drive away?  I have no answers to those questions, but God reminded me of this- home is not just a physical place, it is the people you share it with, and the way HE moves in your life there. 

God also reminded me “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.” Hebrews 13:14 (NLT).  It was a reminder that uncertainty here is temporary, because my true “homing beacon” is set on Heaven.  The way I use my home on Earth to minister to others matters, because it is preparing me for the home yet to come.  And if the day comes as we move forward, that I feel scared or unsure because I don’t feel at home- that is only temporary too- because none of these “homes” here on Earth will last me forever.   While I am here, I will make new homes as I share them with people I love and watch Him move in our lives- and I will store up my treasures for a permanent home He is preparing for me someday.  Wow- what a feeling that will be! Shoulders relax, deep breath of Heaven sigh, pitter patter in my heart… HOME. 

Fearless

On Sunday afternoon we went to the zoo.  My sister had given us tickets last year as part of (a)’s Christmas gift (seriously SO awesome! I love experiences as opposed to things), and we had been trying to find a chance to go before they expired… I know, nothing like waiting til the last minute.  The weather was perfect, and because it was a Sunday there was NO CROWD (I probably shouldn’t share this secret as I told (A) all future zoo trips would happen on Sunday afternoons).  It was the PERFECT chance to get a great up-close look at the animals without having to jockey for space at the prime window locations.  We had a blast watching (a) point out the elephants’ hay, pet every single goat in the petting zoo, and cheer when the baby gorilla- who is about his size- came right over to the window near him.  When we got to the tiger enclosure I was curious as to what he would think.  As we came up to the glass the tiger was coming our direction.  I found his size to be impressive and couldn’t help but think how beautiful but scary powerful he looked as he came our way.  I was a little concerned as he got closer to us on the other side of the glass, because I thought (a) might be intimidated and scared by him.  But I was completely wrong- (a) got SO excited he cheered and walked up to the glass and roared at the tiger!!  The kid is fearless… when faced with the situation where many would be frightened or back down, he stepped up and roared in the face of the “fear.”  (A) and I looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh… and the tiger turned around and peed on the glass haha!! 

It was pretty funny, and he kept talking about the tiger for a while, but it also got me thinking… when does that fear factor change? At his size the tiger was so much bigger, and should probably have been terrifying at such close range, but he wasn’t afraid.  When do we start to look at things and lose our fearlessness? When they look hard? When someone hurts our feelings?  When we don’t know what to do?  As I think about my life, I realize there are so many things I am afraid of.  I am afraid of the dark, I am afraid of racoons, I am afraid of making mistakes, I fear the unknown, I fear new beginnings, I fear losing who and what I love, I fear standing up for myself, I fear taking risks, some weeks I even fear hitting “publish” because I’m afraid of what you might think of me after reading this.  I look at that big personality in that little boy and I wish I could have some of his fearlessness- I also wish I could keep him fearless like that forever.  Because I know there will come a day, as he grows, that he will start to fear some of the things I am afraid of, and that breaks my heart for him already. 

Back in July I had the privilege to go to Dallas for a few days to attend a conference for my small business.  It was a great week of learning and fun with girlfriends, but even more powerful and important than the training I received, was something God placed on my heart during the last general session of the week.  One unit of women was crossing stage to be honored for having a $1 million year as a collective group, and as they crossed and introduced themselves, they each carried a sign with a single “power word” that they had used as a personal mantra for the year.  They said things like grow, believe, courageous, help, lead.  And as they continued to come God whispered deep into my heart.  I will admit there have been VERY few times when I have felt like I heard God so clearly as I did that morning, but there was no denying it.  I knew none of the women on stage at the time, so I’m sure it looked ridiculous as I sat in my seat moved to the point of tears, but I could not ignore that God very plainly told me to take on 4 words to hold on to- BRAVE, CONFIDENT, POSITIVE, GRATEFUL.   I knew those were areas in my life that He wanted to work, and quite frankly that alone was scary.  See those are areas where I feel pretty weak.  I would never consider myself brave, I struggle to be confident, I TRY to be positive but it takes a constant effort, and I have to continually remind myself to be grateful.  Still, as I said earlier, it was one of the rarest times I have heard God so clearly, so I wrote the words down in a few places and started repeating them to myself daily.  I had no idea why these words were so important, but I made it my mission to start living in such a way that I focused on being brave, confident, positive, and grateful.

 I will also admit that “brave” was the word that confused me the most at first.  I understand that being confident in who I am as a child of the King is important, and that my heart’s overflow of gratefulness and positive attitude is imperative, but brave?? Why brave, God? I had NO IDEA what the next few months of our life were going to hold, and how perfectly God had planned for me to start living those words.  I am still working daily on them, and many days it is a real struggle, but I see now why God told me those were the areas He wanted to focus on.  I was going to have to be brave to trust Him as we leapt in to the unknown and I started having to face huge fears on a daily basis.   I want to learn to be fearless again like a child, and I am finding that the only way to do that is to put my unknowns into the hands of the God I do know. 

We are told time and time again in the Bible to fear not, or do not be afraid.  It sounds so simple, but yet is so hard.  As I think about my son and how fearless he is I also realize this- he knows that the bigger people with him love him, and are going to protect him, and wouldn’t put him in a situation where he could get seriously hurt, and so it is easier for him to be fearless because he trusts that with us around he does not have anything to fear.  When I look at my life, and how I want to become brave and fearless again, I just have to remember, the bigger ONE who is with me loves me, He is going to protect me, and He will hold me up in any situation where I feel hurt.  I want to be brave, I want to look at my “tiger” and roar in its face because I am fiercely loved by a God who is bigger than all my fears.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  Isaiah 41:10

Beauty Changes

I don’t know why, but a memory from a Sunday evening this past June is burned in my brain.  It had been one of those extremely HOT days, unusually hot for June, so we had decided not to do our run until around 8:00 that evening.  Due to the stroller/safety/amount of traffic on our little county road we chose to go back to town to run at the park.  On the way home about 9:30 it has JUST gotten dark as we topped a hill on the county road and came down into a valley where there was a PERFECT stand of beautiful dark green corn (yes, the farm girl in me still notices those important details about the neighbor’s corn crop) about waist high and just above the corn were more lightning bugs than I had seen in a long time.  There were THOUSANDS of them.  And in the light that was just fading, the sight was so breathtaking I stopped the car, turned off the headlights, and just admired the beauty.  It was the perfect scene, we had just finished a great run, the three of us were all together, it was a summer Sunday night so I didn’t have the stress of work the next day, it was just such a beautiful sight and feeling that I just couldn’t stop breathing it in. I wanted that beauty to last forever.  We couldn’t linger for more than a few minutes (after all, I was sitting in the road with my headlights off) but I held on to the visual memory and the feeling even after we drove on home.

Last night, on the way home, I took that same road and for some reason when I topped the hill to come down into the valley it just hit me… how much can change in a few months’ time.  The corn is now harvested, nothing is left in the field but the brown/gray stalks on the ground, it was about 4 hours earlier, but the daylight was almost gone, the plentiful lightning bugs of summer were replaced by several deer standing in the field hoping to find some grain the combine missed, and the feelings in my heart are much different.  HOWEVER, despite the twinge of pain I felt as I thought about all the change, I couldn’t help but notice there was still so much beauty in the place.  The colors of the fading sunset were spectacular, there are still a few leaves on the trees beside the field that were reminders of the beauty of the fall, the deer were peaceful, and the way the whole valley looked in that dusk color scheme reminded me that beauty is still there, it just changes.

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday.  Now let me just say, I hope her genes for “looks” run strong in me because the woman somehow manages to look YOUNGER every year!! But, I think about how her beauty has changed to me.  As a little girl I thought my mom was beautiful because if her big 80’s permed fluffy hair, large clip on earrings, and dress clothes that she wore to teach in.  As a teenager, I thought my mom was beautiful because she tried to stay on trend with her clothing, she got RID of the fluffy 80’s perm, and she managed to maintain beautifully painted (real!) fingernails.  As an adult, I look at my mom and still see SO MUCH outer beauty, but what makes her most beautiful to me now is the look on her face when she plays with my son, the love in her voice when I’m crying in her arms, the willingness to come at a moment’s notice if I need her, the concern she takes to fix family meals around my hubby’s diet for health issues, the fact that she prays over us unceasingly… THOSE are the beauty marks I see the most now.  There is SO much beauty to her, but how I view it changes. 

In this season of Thankfulness, I will admit, I have really struggled some days to find beauty in the broken.  There has been a lot of change in our lives that has been hard.  But I am learning this… beauty changes.  Some things that once seemed commonplace, are now cherished treasures, and things that I thought were beautiful treasures are now faded and tarnished through the eyes of my heart.  I am so very grateful that GOD does NOT change and what we have through Him will last forever.  There is always still SO MUCH beauty in the many things in life He is given us, we just have to see that as the seasons of our life change, our perspective on beauty, changes.

“One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.”   Psalm 27:4

Have a blessed Thanksgiving!! I am so thankfully for YOU, my blog readers and followers.  Your encouragement to my heart means more that I can tell you.  

The Guilt Game

I don’t like to play games I can’t win… and trust me- I have found plenty of them!  I have always been a rather unathletic, uncoordinated girl.  From the time I was in elementary school I dreaded PE days.  No matter what, I felt like I couldn’t win.  If it was individual activities, such as the evil jump rope, I would end up covered in welts and other painful injuries because I was not coordinated enough to win even against myself.  When it was a team activity, I was almost always one of the last kids chosen, because it was no secret that I was not a fast runner, or a home run hitter, or a play maker… I was just a warm body, and SOMEONE had to pick me because the teachers wouldn’t let anyone sit out- so I couldn’t even “win” at avoidance. 

As a woman, there is a game I find myself in more often than I care to think about… The Guilt Game… and how matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to win.  I have always heard that comparison is the thief of joy, but I will also say that I believe guilt is a thief of joy as well.  I don’t know if men battle it or not, but as a woman that sneaky guilt piece seems to follow me wherever I go.  If I am at work, I feel guilty that I am not with (a), if I am playing with (a) I feel guilty about all the things I’m not getting done around the house.   If I am working around the house, I feel guilty that I am not spending time with my guys.  If I am eating chocolate, there is the guilt that I shouldn’t be doing that if I didn’t run that night.  When I am reading a good book, I feel guilty for not getting some rest, but then many nights I lay awake from rest feeling guilty about not doing something to stimulate my brain.  There is so much we can have guilt about.  I know other women who battle my same feelings of guilt, but from their own perspectives- stay at home moms who feel guilty for not contributing financially or feel guilty for their child’s lack of social interaction with peers, talented women who feel guilty about not having time to share talent, but those sharing talent who feel guilty for taking the time to do so... the list goes on and on.

Now, I will admit, there is a time and a place for guilt.  If you have truly done something wrong, sin, then we certainly should feel guilty! But the guilt I’m talking about is the kind that Satan whispers to us.  This kind of guilt lies and tells us we are not enough.  It says you aren’t doing enough, you can’t be enough, and what you have in you isn’t good enough.  The reality is, this simply isn’t true.  God tells us that we are His, we are loved, and we were made in his image to do good works. 

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10

This weekend I had two precious reminders about releasing that lying kind of guilt from two mentors that I truly admire.  I had the opportunity to attend a conference for my small business.  And I will admit, while I went to learn, I went even more for some much needed “girl time.”  Cue the first reason for guilt… “I SHOULD be here to learn something to advance my business.”  Soon upon arrival I ran into a mentor whom I love and respect immensely.  She is a major leader in our company, but has the most beautiful shining spirit for Jesus that radiates out of her and over the last few years we have bonded over both being minister’s wives and moms of young children.  We gave hugs and discussed how excited we were for the conference to begin.  She asked my friend standing next to me if she was looking forward to the class for those advancing into leadership, and my friend said yes, she was excited about it.  Then my gorgeous mentor turned to me and asked the same question… and in my heart, the whisper of guilt began, see I have not opted for that path currently, due to our life circumstances.  I took a deep breath and then briefly filled her in on our current ministry transition and finished by telling her that due to that I haven’t chosen to join the advancing group.  I waited for her to tell me that I was wrong, and I should be pushing through, and looking for advancement to be the perfect answer to our situation, but instead she gave me the most wonderful gift.  She took my hand and said, “I understand, I have been there, it is ok to do what you have to do sometimes, and I do not want you to have ANY GUILT about that.”  The hugest wave of relief flooded my body, it was probably even evident on my face! To hear someone I admire and respect so much tell me (and remind me again as we walked away from the conversation a few minutes later) that I did not need to feel any guilt about simply doing the best I could for me, made me feel as if the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders.  And truthfully, it opened my heart up to hear things that God had waiting for me during the conference that I would not have heard if I had been listening to that liar, guilt. 

Later in the conference, another mentor and I were discussing the guilt that comes with juggling the many hats I wear.  She was in my shoes once, but it was many years ago, she has moved to a different stage of life now and can offer wonderful advice looking back at those extremely busy years.  She told me that life is often like a filing cabinet.  We have many different drawers to our lives.  Right now, I have the drawers as Christian, wife, mom, teacher, consultant, ministry roles, friend, daughter, sister, and so many more things.  She reminded me that you have to be careful with a filing cabinet- if you have too many drawers open at once the whole thing comes crashing over on top of you.  She suggested that the best way to fight the lying kind of guilt is to try not to have too many drawers open at once.  Some drawers are going to stay open all the time, like Christian.  But when my teacher drawer is open, I can’t worry about the consultant drawer, and when the mom drawer is open I can’t worry about the teacher drawer.  If I can learn to close some drawers some of the time, all the sudden that guilt game starts to look like something I might be able to win. 

When the lying kind of guilt creeps it, it steals our joy and holds us back from being everything that God created us to be.  It is a distraction that keeps us from from doing the good work God has planned for us.  I’m grateful for the “freeing” reminders I received this past weekend, and the reality that I serve a God who has called me to find who I am in HIM, created to do HIS works, and when I hold on to that truth… the guilt game is one I CAN win.  

Photo credit: YouVersion Bible App stock photo

When to Hold On & When to Let Go

The first year I was in “regular” 4-H (the kind where I was no longer in Mini and could take ‘real’ projects) I had high aspirations.  I was going to be a barrel racer!  During my years of Mini 4-H Horse & Pony (when I was only allowed to be in walk/trot classes) I had watched the older girls barrel race, and I thought it was SO awesome!! I couldn’t wait for the day that I would get to compete against them.  There were just a few problems with this plan… I was not exactly an incredible horseman, just sort of a solid ok.  And my horse was trained to work cattle- he knew how to focus in on one thing and react QUICKLY to the object of his focus. We didn’t have any kind of horse arena for me to practice in, and my dad was a very busy farmer who didn’t have a lot of extra time to devote to helping his 10-year-old first year 4-Her practice her barrel racing.  This wasn’t exactly a great combination of scenarios for the beginning of my barrel racing career.  The week before the fair we were having one of my rare practice sessions out on the hard fescue sod of the cattle pasture when I turned my horse around the last barrel and told him to “head home.”  As I mentioned earlier, he was pretty quick- far too quick for a girl who was only a solid ok on horseback and when he focused on something there was no distracting him from that.  This particular evening, he was very ready to run when I pointed his focus to the last barrel, and he quite frankly ran right out from underneath me.  I remember a slight bounce in the saddle made me lose my footing in the stirrups and I was quickly sliding off the side of my horse as he ran across the pasture at his top speed.  Though more than 20 years have passed, I distinctly remember them moment I had to make the choice to hold on or let go.  I had always been told to be tough and hang on no matter what, but I also realized that it could be dangerous to keep hanging on now that I no longer had any control and I was really more on the side of the horse instead of his back.  I knew letting go was going to HURT, but I had to make a quick decision- was it safer to let go or to hold on for dear life?

This decision is something I have thought a lot about lately.  When is it best to hang on for dear life, and when (though it will HURT) is it best to let go?  There are so many things I hold on to… my favorite skinny clothes from college, programs and tickets from special events and concerts, art projects from students who have long since moved on, dried flowers from the rare occasions my hubby did something romantic, notes and cards sent by special friends, the hope I one day will fit back in those favorite skinny clothes… and sometimes, no matter how much I want to hang on to them, these things really start to pile up and weigh me down.  When I was expecting (a) I had to have a massive purge of many of these items to make room for his nursery.  And I found something out… while many of these things brought back great memories or fond thoughts- I was able to part with much more than I thought was possible at the time I had stored it away in the spare closet.  There were a few items that I still could not let go of, but for the most part, though there was a twinge of pain, I let go to make the room for something so much better… sweet little baby things and new memories to be made.

Other things however, are worth holding on to for dear life.  Last week, while we were at Trunk or Treat, we snapped a family photo with (a) dressed up in his outfit between us.  I posted the photo to social media and smiled at how it captured his spunk, but a very dear friend pointed out something else the picture captured… the fact that (a) had both of us “in his clutches.”  I giggled at how true it was- he had quite a grip on my necklace in one hand and his daddy’s shirt collar in the other, but I also swallowed a lump in my throat as I realized how much that represented.  In the past couple months, the three of us have clung to each other for dear life- some days literally, and others figuratively- but either way, when things that we had placed security in were gone, we clung to one of the few things that was going to get us through- each other.  We have learned that jobs come and go, some friends will back away, financial security is not guaranteed, comfort zones can collapse, but the love and support of your family is worth hanging on to for dear life. 

Mom and Dad are "in the clutches" of this little cowboy.

Recently I have been praying a lot about knowing when to hold on and when, though it hurts, it is best to let go.  I have been reminded of the story from the book of Genesis about when Lot and his family fled Sodom and Gomorrah.  The angels who swept his family out of the city made it very clear that they were to flee quickly and NOT LOOK BACK, but Lot’s wife couldn’t help herself- she chose to look back at the city and God turned her in to a pillar of salt.  As a child in Sunday School I remember thinking, what a dingbat! God made his directions very clear, but she still chose to disobey- why would she do such a crazy thing!? But as an adult I also now realize she had friends in that city, memories in that city, she left worldly possessions, her home, maybe even extended family members in that city- it would have been INCREDIBLY hard to not look back at those things.  But despite all those things, God’s plan for her was better and she had to be willing to let go and follow that plan- something she was just not able to do.  I don’t want to find myself in the position of Lot’s wife… so attached to the things I’m “leaving behind” that I am unwilling to follow his plan for my life. 

So back to the barrel racing decision… the initial fall to the hard ground HURT, but I chose not to risk being dragged or stomped on and I let go.  However, I had a dad who loved me enough not to let that be the end of the story.  He reminded me that no matter what, you have to get back on the horse and remind him that you are in charge.  I did so for a few minutes that night, but I also did it the next week too at our 4-H Horse and Pony show…  when I entered the ring in the barrel racing competition.  I use the term “competition” loosely as I did NOT allow my horse to go any faster than a complete dead WALK haha, but I rebounded from the hurt of letting go and proved to myself that I could get back up again.  And I was rewarded with many cheers from the crowd who knew my story- it didn’t matter that we finished dead last.  I had let go but got back up again- and that made me feel victorious (and was also the prompt end to my barrel racing career). 

I pray that God will help me hang on for dear life to the things that are important- His promises, my faith in Him, the love and support of my family and faithful friends.  But that I will also know when to make the painful choice to LET GO so that He can show me the better plan He has for my life…. though I doubt it will involve any more barrel racing. 

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and He will make your paths straight.”  Proverbs 3:5-6  

Behind the Mask

As an elementary teacher, I spend 180 days with my students each year.  And without fail, I can tell you the 2 craziest days of those 180 will be Halloween and Valentine’s Day.  On Valentine’s Day there is a “love potion” of sugar and giggles and flattering cards exchanged that brings out a crazy side of every child.  On Halloween there is the excitement of the costume, the anticipation of candy, and the chance to- for one night- be the hero or princess you always wanted to be. 

It tends to start in late September… the rumors of who they are going to dress up as for Halloween.  And soon you hear about trips to Stuff*Mart and Party Metropolis to pick up the accessories and costumes necessary for the transformation.  Many little girls want to be a beautiful princess complete with tiara, sparkly eye shadow, and sash that comes untied 947 times throughout the one dress-up day.  Boys want to be a super hero from their favorite comic book or movie and are THRILLED by the thought of making you guess who they really are behind the mask. 

I remember the excitement of putting together my costume each year.  My mom wasn’t one to go and buy costumes for us- we usually created something by digging through the “days gone by” in her closet.  For me that was more thrilling than anything we could have bought.  I loved having the chance to wear a skirt over top of the crinoline slip from her wedding dress- it made me feel like the belle of the ball.  I loved discovering the treasures of her closet when she brought out her high school letter jacket for me to be a cheerleader, or polyester and printed leisure suits from her teenage years in the 70’s.  The creativity of taking these items and turning them into a “costume” was a challenge that I loved to tackle each year.  It let me, for one night, pretend to be something I was not.  And the anticipation for that night was huge- I couldn’t wait for the chance to show up and shine in that identity.  My younger sister went as her hero, Garth Brooks, for at least three years.  See she did not want to grow up to be a country singer, she literally though she could BE Garth Brooks.    There just really was something special about how you felt in that costume.  It gave you just a little more confidence in yourself, a little more spring in your step, and a little escape from your “everyday” life as a kid. 

The Wilson Girls do Halloween, circa 1994

I will admit, since I am an elementary teacher, I do still try to put together a fun costume as a favorite story book character for the annual dress up day at school.  But the older I get, the less exciting it is.  Probably because, if I am really honest, I now put on my “mask” far more often than just one day in October.  If I am stressed or feeling less than confident, I will reach for a lipstick that is a shade darker or bolder- it is something to hide behind.  (Just wait- during spring standardized testing at school you will see me in Powerful Pink every day haha!)  I will fluff my hair just a little bigger than usual and hold my chin up and smile as I give myself a pep talk in the mirror that I CAN tackle what this day is throwing at me even when (no-especially when) I don’t think I have it in me.  There is just something about putting on the “mask.” 

The difference between the child in the costume, and me behind the “mask” is the motivation for the alter identity.  As a child, the costume is a sign of who you want to be and how you potentially see yourself.  As an adult, (for me at least) it is something to hide behind when I’m not secure in who I am.  I need to learn to shift my vision back to what I saw as a little girl- when I aspired to claim an identity, not hide from one.  I need to remember that my identity is found in Christ and who He is making me through Him- and oh how I want to put on that identity daily.  I don’t have to hide behind a mask or a costume to be a child of the King, bought with the highest price, chosen, set apart, called, made in His image, and lavished in His love.  And here is the best part, through Him, I can put on that identity every day- not just once a year.  Thank you, Lord, for letting me wear the identity that you have created for me… and thank you for bright lipstick so I have the confidence to claim that identity when I look in the mirror.  😉

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.  Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known.  But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see him as he is.      

1 John 3: 1-2

The Waiting Place

I have a love/hate relationship with waiting.  I love waiting to start something I don’t really want to do, but I hate waiting for things that I’m excited about.  I know people who look at a job they dread- and they just tackle it head-on.  They like to get it accomplished and get it over with.  I admire them, but I can’t say that I am one of them.  Papers that are easy to grade I jump on first, but the detailed tedious assignments are the last pile I attack for the day.  Laundry that has to be very carefully sorted for “gentle” cycle and certain pieces then pulled for “lay flat to dry” is always the last load done for the weekend.  Those three annoying dishes that require extra scrubbing will sit longer, and the mopping will wait an extra week (or two). I’m REALLY good at waiting to the do the things I DON’T want to do.  But the things I want…. Those are hard to wait for. 

I still love Christmas, though these days it is because I love gift GIVING much more than the receiving.  In 10 years of marriage, I STILL don’t think I have ever waited all the way until Christmas morning to give (A) his gift… I just can’t wait.  If I buy a new outfit for a special occasion I end up “trying it on” around the house 3 evenings in a row before the event because I just can’t wait to wear it and have to pair it with just the right accessory combo.  If I am cooking dinner, I am usually still snacking around as I cook because I just can’t wait to eat.  I’m not very good at waiting. 

My husband says I’m very good at making him wait.  For years he has claimed that he has spent half his life waiting on me.  I have always told him that was a HUGE exaggeration… but now that we have been together literally almost half his life my argument isn’t going to hold water much longer, because in all that time I can count on one hand the times I have been ready before him… in the end he usually is waiting on me.  I may have even been ready to go first, but just had to start one more project, or retouch my hair one more time, or change in to one different outfit… It really is a wonder he married me.  When we were dating there were many times I remember I didn’t even come in from the barn to start getting ready for our date until he was already there to pick me up.  He sometimes spent almost an hour sitting in the living room being “entertained” by my youngest sister while I got my act together and got rid of the “barn smell.”  I knew then, the man had the patience of Job and I better hang on to him.

That being said, it is hard for me to hear the directive to “wait” when it comes from God.  I like to know what the plan is, I like to know what is going to happen next, and I like to know how to be prepared for it.  I do NOT like to just wait.  But sometimes, that is what God is asking us to do.  

One of my all-time favorite Dr. Seuss books is Oh the Places You’ll Go (Random House, 1990).  I find it inspiring and motivating and I love reading it to students to make them think about how they can face the future.  But in that book Dr. Seuss describes what he calls “a most useless place… The Waiting Place…”  In the waiting places “everyone is just waiting.”  And as you read the book he cautions the reader not to get stuck there where people are waiting on trivial things without moving forward.  Because my personality type is (in the words of my son) “go, go go,” I have always held kind of a Dr. Seuss attitude toward waiting… it is NOT something I want to get stuck doing.  But sometimes, that is exactly where God needs me to be- in His waiting place. 

Kind of how I picture the waiting place... 

In her book, You’re Already Amazing (Revell, 2012) author Holley Gerth (I seriously LOVE this chic’s books!!) talks about some of the reasons God tells us to wait.  She says sometimes it is because we are weary and need to heal, sometimes it is because He is preparing us for what lies ahead, and sometimes it is simply because He says “it is just not time yet.”  But I love her encouragement when she says this:

              “Whatever the reason, use this time to rest and receive the truth your heart needs for the journey.  You are loved.  God has a purpose for you.  He is working out his plans for your life.”

She also reminds readers that

              “…what it’s like to be in the mysterious middle- of circumstances, of unmet expectations, of the journey from Egypt to Home.  When we’re right in the ‘middle’ of life, we can take comfort in knowing we’re right in the center of God’s hands too.”

Sometimes the Waiting Place is exactly where God needs me to be, I just have to learn to be patient.  I have to learn to listen to why He has me in that place.  Right now, I honestly believe it may be for many reasons.  I know I am weary, I know I need to heal, and I know He has to prepare me for the next leg of the journey- but even knowing that I often need His reminders to be patient through the process.   I know, it my humanity, that waiting is hard, but I cling to His promise:

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”   Ecc. 3:11

And I am exciting to see what that looks like as He makes it beautiful… in fact, I can’t wait! 😉

              

Through the Lens

Last week, my sister was riding in the car with me as we headed to take (a) on a pumpkin patch adventure.  We were visiting and laughing and I couldn’t help but notice as I was driving just how BEAUTIFUL the fall leaves were on this gorgeous sunny day.  When I said something to her about it, she gave me kind of a “huh?” and I responded by telling her how impressed I was with the colors.  The trees were WAY prettier than we had at home, and we don’t live all that far from each other!  She again gave me kind of a quizzical look, and so I slipped off my sunglasses to look back at her.  It was then I realized… the leaves were BARELY starting to turn it all, they only had a very slight tint of yellow to them, it was actually my orange/gold tinted sunglasses lenses that were blending with the very slight yellow to make the leaves look BRILLIANT.  In reality, the colors were not very vibrant at all, and definitely no different than home.  The lens I was looking through was what made the colors appear as I saw them.  We had a good laugh about it (I promise my natural hair color is brown, but I know sometimes my sisters wonder…) but it gave me some food for thought.   The lens we look through has a lot to do with our perspective on life.

Sunglasses on, Pumpkin Patch ready!

 

It’s true for so many things in life, even silly ones.  I am a Purdue University graduate, so I notice cars with Purdue plates more than others.  I own a small business on the side, so I notice when people use the products made by our company.  I love to be girly, so I pay attention to the shoes, jewelry, purses, make-up, and hair of other women. 

The lens of life experience also seems to “tint” my vision.  I have some medical history that led to a time in our lives where (A) and I did not know if we would ever be able to have children.  At the time we were very private about the situation, and did not share this with many people.  However, the constant question of “When are you going to have babies!!??” or the reminders that “You aren’t getting any younger!” or “All your friends are having kids, why won’t you have a baby!?” wore on me heavily.  Because my lens of that question brings back pain, it nearly makes me sick anytime I hear someone ask the same question of another couple.  Through the lens of the person asking the question it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but through my lens perspective I want to SCREAM “Don’t you know that could be the most painful question on the planet that you just asked!!??? Don’t you know they may DESPERATELY want to have babies and they are well aware that they are not getting any younger?!  They may be thinking the same thing… ALLLL our friends are having babies, why won’t OUR bodies let us have a baby.” 

My life experience lens also tends to make me naïve at times.  I was raised in a home with two parents who still love each other 37 years into marriage, who took me to church every Sunday, who expected us to work hard, use our manners, do our best, and never give up.  We sat down to dinner as a family most nights (harvest season was sometimes an exception haha), we talked about what was happening in our lives, and we knew that if we were in trouble at school there would be more trouble at home.  I have parents who love/loved us through any situation we were facing and meant it when they said they would carry us through.  It was an amazing lens to grow up looking through, but it often blindsides me as a teacher.  I can’t comprehend what it is like to be raised in the homes of some of my students when they share devastating stories, when parents walk away, when no work ethic is being instilled at home, when they don’t feel loved unconditionally… my lens was so different I don’t know how to look through theirs.

My little boy has a lens of wonder and amazement at the simple things in life.  While on fall break last week, we spent an hour one afternoon at the playground together.  I LOVE to watch how carefully he examines so many things and how exciting the littlest things can be to him.  He picked up a leaf, kept turning it over and over and then exclaimed “WHOOAAAA!!!” Next, it was a stick that he kept holding up, looking at from different angles, and then announced “Stick!! Wow!” And I think… through his little lens all those things are AMAZING.  Where did my vision or lens change that I don’t see those same things in the same ways?  Is it time to have my “eyes” checked?

I will admit, there have been a lot of days lately where I honestly have not been ok.  Through the lens of those days even things like ink stains on a shirt, a long drive in the car, or the realization that there is no nursery are enough to send me straight to tears and break my spirit for the rest of the day.  I have to change the lens I look through and find the one that makes gratefulness vibrant, the one that makes the love of my family stand out, the lens that reminds me that God is in control.  And I’ll be real, some days I just can’t do it… I can’t find a lens to make pain less painful, to make a process less difficult to face, to make a dark spot seem more light…

But I do know this, I am loved by the ONE who has perfect vision, and is the only one whose lenses see everything in perfect clarity.  And I know that He has our little family in the palm of his hand.  We just have to trust Him, and look at our life through the lens of His love. 

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal”     2 Corinthians 4:18

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.”    Isaiah 55:8

Choose Joy

Parenting has taught me LOTS of things.  Don’t ever leave the bathroom door open, little people can eat lots of food, take a change of clothes, trust your nose, small=quick, it is possible to love even more than you knew, you will never get it all figured out, joy is not dependent on circumstances, and so much more…. But that little part about joy has been a big lesson to me.

It seems that no matter what is going on, that little boy can find joy in it.  Whether we are eating, riding in the car, playing outside, eating, dancing around the house, reading books, eating, cuddling, playing on his rocking horse, eating, building with blocks, working puzzles, eating, or even sleeping… he finds a way to make it fun and put a smile on his face.  It doesn’t always start out “happy,”  he may fall down and scrape his knee, his shirt may get wet (which he is NOT a fan of), he may run out of food, but even still, he finds a way to enjoy what it going on- and that is INFECTIOUS- no matter what the circumstances.

I have learned that being happy and being joy-filled really are two different things.  Happy is often dependent on how things are going- we all got out the door on time, everyone grabbed breakfast, the outfit I wanted to wear was clean, all my students are present so I’m not going to chase down make-up work, the sun is shining, the temperature is just right, I got in a solid run, I had time to fix dinner, I got to go to bed early… all those things make me happy.  But the reality is they happen less than 1% of the time and the chances of all those things happening on the same day…. well that is too small of a number to calculate!  Instead, I watch my son as a reminder to CHOOSE JOY.  Joy is that hope deep within, that tells me no matter what- the Spirit of God is dwelling inside of me and I will not be crushed.  Joy says even on the hard days I will remind positive, because I know God is in control.  Joy says when things aren’t going right, look around and find pleasure in the little things.  Joy takes inventory of what cannot be taken from me and makes that a reason to thank God even when other things are gone.  After all, joy is a fruit of the spirit- and if we allow the Spirit to guide us, joy is going to shine through no matter what. 

“May the God of hope fill you with all JOY and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”   Romans 15:13

This past Friday I received one of the most precious and humbling pieces of artwork I have ever seen from a student.  She had taken time out of her evening on Thursday to draw this picture of me.  She made sure to point out that she added my “haystack hair” (that alone I find an adorable and hilarious description of my need for big hair) and she gave me quite a “tan.”  But the words were precious to me… “You are so bright the sun itself turns jealous.” 

As I hugged her and thanked her and wiped away a tear all I could think was “Oh baby girl, that’s all Jesus.”  There are so many days I do not feel like I am shining, but I’m so very grateful that his Spirit finds a way to shine through even when I don’t feel “happy.”  And it is always my prayer, that Jesus shining through, is what those 22 kiddos see in my every day.  Even when I am not “happy” with them for leaving trash on the floor, and talking through the entire math lesson, and spilling a water bottle on the floor, and being impatient with their computers- I pray they will still see JOY shining out of me.  The joy of the SON that is so bring the SUN itself is jealous. 

“Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”  Matthew 13:43a

Today, and everyday, I choose JOY.  

Little Things

I will admit, sometimes I am crazy busy and pretty stressed, and when I am I often overlook “the little things.”  On weeks like this one where I am juggling work, appointments, parent teacher conferences, family obligations, heightened stress levels, and hoping to feed my family something slightly more nutritious than frozen pizza- I am just not spectacular at noticing small details or simple gestures.  But the last few days I have been given precious reminders… sometimes those “little things” really are the big things. 

While (A) had some work obligations this past weekend, (a) and I spent a couple days at the farm with my family and my grandparents who were in from out of state.  On my Saturday morning run I let myself literally run, down memory lane.  I have gone up and down that stretch of county road hundreds of thousands of times in my life… and in the early cool of the quiet sunshine on Saturday morning I allowed myself to remember those times. 

When I was a little girl my mom and I would walk down the road to the main part of the farm to check in with dad.  We would stop and smell the honeysuckle, pick milkweed and Queen Anne’s lace, and I remember that it could NOT go in the house because my Momma didn’t want ants…. Sometimes the little things really are the big things.  When I was learning to ride my bike, it was the pinnacle of achievement when I was deemed safe enough to ride from the house to the barns at the main part of the farm.  As I entered jr high, my grandfather was battling full blown Alzheimer’s Disease and my daily trip up the road included stopping that their house to pick up Papaw on the ATV so he could go with me to water cows.  It wasn’t a taxing chore on either of us, but it was precious time together.  Him feeling as if he was still contributing to the farming operation, and me learning how to reverse the roles of care.  It wasn’t a big deal to me… but sometimes the “little things” are the big things.  As a teenager, I hauled all kinds of farm equipment up and down that stretch of road, and I will always remember how much I enjoyed those long hours in the tractor lost in my thoughts and singing loudly to the songs on the radio.  There were even a few times I hit that stretch of road REALLY early in the morning because (A) and I had been to the late movie the night before, and I knew that if I wanted to be allowed to go on another date with that cute guy from the next county over I better prove that I could “roll early” the next morning to be at work even after being out late.  When I went away to college, that stretch of road came to mean even more- because while I loved what I was doing the time I spent at home was all the more precious.  And as I have grown to an adult with a family of my own, the stretch of road always brings me back to safely, security, roots, faith, family, life’s important lessons… all those “little things” that really are the big things.  As I allowed myself all those memories this past weekend I couldn’t help but realize that all those “little things” are what made me who I am.  They make up the biggest parts of me. 

Later that same morning (a) wanted me to go with him to “see baby cow” as he put it and check on “Doc” (my sister’s horse).  As I watched him lead me around the farm and jabber at me like it was the first time I had ever been there and he was the official tour guide- I have to admit, I wiped away a few tears.  Just the “little things” like watching him climb the gate the same way I used to and how excited he was to “see cows” made me realize that those little moments together really are the big things, the things that matter. 

The last few weeks our family has received so many cards, calls, texts, messages, invitations, and words of encouragement.  I know that to the people who extended those things it felt like something small… but sometimes the “little things” really are the big things.  Today one of my dearest friends kept (a) for the day and when she returned him he was also accompanied by a hot dinner prepared for our family because she knew I’m a little overwhelmed right now.  Because I know her heart, I know she thought those were little things, but to me they were big things that meant more than I could even tell her.  And it made me think again… that I need to stop- even in the busy weeks- and pay attention to the “little things.”  Because more times that I realize, the little things really are the big things.

 He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. ³² Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”  Matthew 13:31-32