I Won't Get These Moments Back

One evening last week I was trying to get everyone fed, clothes and “stuff” ready for the next day, and a little tidying up around the house when a little boy asked me, “Momma, can we go outside dance in the dark!?”  I looked up at (A) and giggled a little, then turned back to (a) to clarify, “You want to go outside and dance in the dark?” From his excitement, it was very clear that I had understood him correctly.  I thought for just a minute.  There were so many things I needed to do, and it really was getting close to his bedtime, but I couldn’t help myself.  It was a clear and fairly warm night, so I looked down and said “Sure, let’s go out and dance in the dark!”  After all, I won’t get these moments back.

He has three favorite Children’s Church songs that are basically on repeat in our house all the time.  He sang, and giggled, played guitar with a blue plastic bat, danced, and gave me instruction when I wasn’t doing the motions the way he wanted me too.  He chased the dog a little when she didn’t appear as interested as he wanted her to be, and I couldn’t help but laugh the whole time.  I know there will be a day he will be way too cool to ask his Momma to go out and dance in the dark.  I won’t get these moments back.

 

I couldn't get a picture of him dancing without turning off his music, and I knew better than to do that!! But I did snap this one just so we could remember.

Another evening I lay on the couch recovering from the exhaustion that seems to come with teaching in the last few weeks of school coupled with pregnancy and toddler mom life… and the baby started wildly kicking and moving.  He always seems to do that just as soon as I get a chance to relax- and I love that feeling, the chance to feel that sweet little life before we even meet him.  I needed to get up and fix dinner, I needed to throw some clothes in the laundry, but instead I stayed on the couch a little longer so I could feel him kick (he always seems to calm down and go back to sleep when I am up moving).  I looked over to (A)- who could tell from the hands on my belly why I was still on the couch, and he just smiled at me as I told him I was going to lay there a few minutes longer.  He knows I won’t get these moments back. 

I think of so many things I should do more often- more calls to my grandparents, more visits with old friends, more living room “date nights” with my hubby… I won’t get these moments back.

Time flies, seasons change, little ones grow, opportunities pass… I won’t get these moments back. 

May I learn to never take for granted the time that God has given me to touch the lives of others for His glory.  May my head slow down, so my heart can take in His precious gifts.  May I stop and take notice of His faithfulness in my life… I won’t get these moments back.

“Teach us to number our days carefully so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.” Psalms 90:12

Hope Changes Everything

Hope is a word that changes everything.  The book of 1 Corinthians even tells us “Now these three remain, faith, HOPE, and love…”.  It was a word that was on my mind a lot this weekend, so I was sure it was no coincidence that when we got to church on Sunday morning, HOPE was the word that was discussed as both the communion meditation and as a focal point of (A)’s sermon.  HOPE… somehow it changes everything.

On Saturday evening, I was working in the kitchen prepping food for the Sunday lunch we were hosting while at the same time supervising (a) as he dyed eggs. (Side note… I would NOT recommend multitasking while your 3-year-old is using dye and breakable poultry products-even hard boiled ones… that led to a phone call home to my momma to ask for advice to how to solve two minor disasters…) 

As I cleaned up both messes (his and mine) I thought about how we were approaching the next day with so much anticipation.  I was looking forward to all the work that had been put into preparing Sunday morning services, I was excited to have our friends over for lunch, and reflecting at the same time on how much fun (a) had enjoyed that afternoon at our church egg hunt and festivities.  

And as I thought about my excitement, I couldn’t help but reflect on how incredibly different my feelings were than what it must have felt like 2,000 years ago.  On Saturday, I was full of joy and anticipation for what we would celebrate on Sunday morning.  I was filled with HOPE because we know the reality of a risen Savior.  I can’t begin to imagine what it must have felt like on that Saturday night before the women found the empty tomb.  The brokenness, grief, and defeat that was felt by Jesus’ followers must have been overwhelming.  This was not the way they thought things were going to turn out.  Where would they go now?  What would they do? 

As I worked in the kitchen that evening, the verse from 1 Thessalonians 4 kept running through my head “…. that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.”  My feelings approaching Sunday morning were VASTLY different than those women must have been felt as they collected their spices to be ready for Sunday morning.  They were filled with grief, preparing to visit a broken body.  I was filled with HOPE, preparing to celebrate a resurrected Lord. 

Yesterday was April 22- that marked an anniversary for our family.  One year ago, on April 22^nd, (A) was officially offered and accepted the position as Senior Minister at CSCC.  It was the ending of a very difficult and faith-filled journey to find the right new ministry for our family, and was the beginning of another difficult and faith-filled journey to walk away from everything we knew and loved and start our lives all over in Southern Illinois. 

We snapped this picture April 22, 2018 after our "celebration" lunch.  It was official and we were filled with hope.

But the beginning of that second journey was very different than the first, because of one word… HOPE.  On September 8, 2017 the journey to our new ministry began with heartbreak, grief, questions, frustration, and hopelessness.  On April 22, 2018 the journey to a new life began with hope for the future, hope for what could be accomplished for God’s glory, hope that we would someday feel like “ourselves” again.  While it certainly hasn’t been an easy journey at all, and it has been marked with grief frequently, we did not grieve as those who have no hope, because HOPE was covering this journey. 

Thank you, Lord for your living hope… it changes everything.

“May the God of hope fill you will 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

Racing Prep

Having grown up an hour from Louisville, Kentucky, Derby season is one spring event it was hard to ignore.  Often, stories of horse trainers and farms were news feature stories, the uniqueness of horse names was discussed, and of course the fashion of the season was highlighted.  While I have never been to the Derby or the Oaks, I love the occasional opportunity to enjoy a day of watching the horses race live and in person.  Until you are up close to them, you really don’t realize the size, strength, and stamina of the Thoroughbred.  It really is extremely impressive.

While celebrating my sister over a girls’ weekend, we spent the afternoon at Keeneland in Lexington enjoying the beauty of the spring racing meet.  There, the horses are paraded in a paddock before going to the track so you can see some of the final preparations made before racing.  As we watched them parade and talked about height, muscling, and color patterns (even dressed up, we are still livestock girls at heart)- some things about their racing prep really stuck with me this weekend. 

To increase speed and decrease hindrances, some things are done differently for racing horses (especially compared to cattle horses or draft horses).  The saddle the jockey rides on is incredibly small and lightweight.  The jockeys themselves are quite small in stature, and when the bridle is put on it includes a pair of blinders to keep the horse focused completely on what is straight in front of it.  When these are in place the horse can’t look to the right or left to be distracted, they can only look at the goal (finish line) ahead of them. 

It made me think a lot about how different (and probably more successful) that strategy is than the way I often approach my life.  I think about the baggage I often carry around and how much harder it is to move forward when I carry that heavy load.  When I worry about what happened in the past (that I cannot change), what others might think of me, what anxieties I have for the future, what struggles I am battling- it is impossible to run a successful race of life.  Instead, carrying all that weight is more like just barely struggling to stay upright.  It makes me think how differently I would “race” if I wore blinders that kept me focused on the goal ahead.  The horses are not looking to the left or right to see how they compare to the other horses running along beside them.  Deep down, I know that comparison is the thief of joy, but sometimes in my human nature it is SO hard not to compare myself.  I look at other moms and feel like a total failure, I see wives who plan fabulous adventures and surprise favorite dinners and I think that my husband got the short end of the stick.  I see teachers who have spectacular test scores and are adored by every child and parent who has ever walked through their classroom and I wonder if I am just spinning my wheels.  I follow bloggers who have thousands of weekly readers and doubt whether my words even matter.  The comparison game is dangerous, and SO easy to fall into. 

But when I stop and listen to God’s Word, I realize I need to prepare for my daily life more like those race horses.  I should be setting aside all the weight of the heavy baggage that slows me down.  Jesus tells us to cast our burdens and cares on Him, we do not need to let them hold us back from what He is calling us to.  I need to put on blinders, so I am not looking to the right or left to compare myself to others, but instead listening ONLY to who HE says I am, and what HE wants for my life.  I am slowly learning to realize that my calling or path may be different from those to the right or left- and that is ok- as long as I am following HIS lead.  I should be preparing and training daily through prayer and scripture to race after the calling He has put on my life.  A race that will bring me closer to Him each and every day.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.  For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:1-2

Scars

Unless you lived in a ball of bubble wrap, I’m pretty sure acquiring scars is a normal part of growing up.  I have one on my knee from a bike accident when I was 6, one on my foot from chickenpox when I was 4, one on my finger from the blades on a set of cattle clippers when I was in high school, and one on my chin from a diving board accident in 5^th grade.  (A) has a rather gnarly scar on his knee from a pretty serious chainsaw accident in college.  Last week (a) happened to notice it one evening when his daddy was wearing shorts and asked what it was.  All these years later we kind of laughed about it and told him THAT is the reason Mommy makes Daddy wear his special chaps when he uses his chainsaw. 

Every one of those scars has a story.  If you have a scar, it is pretty unlikely that you simply have no idea where it came from.  In the case of growing up with my sisters, some of the scars we bear are the most told and notable stories of our childhood together.  And now, years later when the wounds have healed and the scars are all that is left, we tell those stories with a little different perspective that when they first happened.  Now they are often the source of laughter or eye rolls.  Some scars we look back on and think about how differently things could have turned out.  (A) has a large scar on his forehead from a car accident on black ice.  We don’t laugh about that one because we are still so grateful that the accident wasn’t more catastrophic.  I don’t look begrudgingly at the large scar on my abdomen, because I look at the dimpled face of a little boy that scar gave me.

Those scars aren’t going anywhere.  They are on our bodies for life, they bear stories for life, they serve as reminders of things we will never forget.  But, the wounds that caused the scars have healed.  There isn’t physical pain associated with them anymore. 

God has been teaching me, that it is also possible for Him to bring healing to the wounds on my heart that have created large scars too.  Those scars also have stories, only most of those stories I don’t look back on and laugh.  Some of those scars still make me cry, some of those scars make me grateful for the positive outcome on the other side of the wound, some of those scars changed me forever.  Some of them from many years ago are well healed, others still bring a little bit of pain when I look at them.  But He is showing me that He can heal even the deepest wounds. 

Recently, we were able to spend the afternoon with some very precious friends from Indiana.  Those few hours together brought a massive flood of emotions to my heart.  There was a time when we were a part of a small group of 4 couples, and we were inseparable.  We did almost everything together, our kids did everything together, our lives were completely intertwined in 1,000 ways. 

However, life circumstances changed our situations and now time together is very rare.  Some of those relationships are still VERY close emotionally, and we still talk very frequently- but it is via text or phone or social media, not face to face 100 times a week like it used to be.  The days of spontaneous Mexican food or trips to the park no longer exist.  The days of watching our kids play together are rare gems, and the absence of what we once had has left a MASSIVE void in my heart.  That afternoon we spent together laughing like old times, catching up on what is going on in our lives, talking candidly, and watching our kids play together like best friends was SUCH a gift from God.  It was SOOO hard to part ways as the afternoon got late, and as we got in the car I looked at (A) and started crying.  My wound had been ripped open all over again for everything that I so desperately miss, but the precious time together had also been like the most beautiful healing, a reminder of what we still share though it now looks different.

 And it hit me as I wiped my eyes, God was giving me gentle reminders that the scars on my heart will never go away, but He will heal the wounds.  I know our friends bear similar scars from the changes life has brought us in the last two years- and I’m grateful to say some of us earned those scars together.  But I’m also incredibly thankful for God’s reminders that the scars will someday just be a part of the story.  He is healing the wounds that brought them, and His work is not finished yet.  

And more than the scars on my heart, I am beyond thankful for the scars on His hands.  Because those wounds are what brings healing to my life.    

“But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our sins; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

Simple Gifts

Last week I had a MONDAY kind of Monday… more things to accomplish than time, we were kicking off a week of Book Fair at school (which I was in charge of), I was working hard to get my students through one last week of material and review before state testing begins, there were emails to respond to, meetings to prepare for, and I had a dr’s appointment for a baby check-up at the end of the day.  By the time we left the dr’s office headed home, I was EXHAUSTED and STARVING.  I started telling (A) how hungry I was, but I had no idea what our dinner plan was going to be.  You can image my relief when he told me that was one thing I didn’t need to worry about that evening.  A friend had stopped by his office that day and shared that he had thrown some meat on his smoker that afternoon.  If we would come by the house before heading home, he had a rack of smoked ribs to share with us.  I nearly cried I was so grateful and relieved.  I love to cook, but to an exhausted, pregnant, working mama the simple gift of dinner on a school night was huge.  We thanked them several times, swung by the grocery for some pre-made slaw, I pulled some leftover cooked veggies from the fridge, and we ate like kings without any real effort on my part.  That simple gift made my day. 

Yesterday was Monday again… 14,722 more things on my “to do” list than time in the day.  Wrapping up and packing up last week’s book fair, one last meeting to be ready for state testing to begin today, last minute technology tweaks in my classroom, making sure my room was appropriately up to testing code (visual aids covered), quiet activities created for students who were not in testing sessions, info messaged out to parents… the list felt unending.  Nearly two hours after students had left, I was still in my classroom putting the finishing touches on that “to do” list.  One of the last things I had on the list was to sharpen about 40 high quality pencils (you know, those fancy name brand ones, because I am “that teacher”) so students would have them to do work on scratch paper during their math tests today.  Several months ago a dear friend donated a box of those perfect pencils to my classroom, and I had been holding on to them specifically for “testing weeks.”  I was completely exhausted and just wanting to leave as I pulled that box out of my supply closet thinking “as soon as these are sharpened, I’ll get out of here.”  You can’t imagine my relief when I opened the box to discover these wonderful pencils were pre-sharpened!!! Like last week, I nearly cried (you think the hormones are getting the best of me?)  A box of pre-sharpened pencils was such a simple gift, but the time and energy it saved me meant the world. 

And in turn, because that simple gift had brightened my day and provided such a pick-me-up, I decided to pass it on.  When I picked up (a) from daycare, I told him we needed to make a quick stop at Stuff*Mart for a couple things, and while we were there he could pick out “a drink and a snack” (his favorite simple gift to give or receive) for (A) who was going to be in a meeting all evening.  He thoughtfully and lovingly picked out 2 things he thought his daddy would like and proudly carried them to the car.  He was SO excited to present that gift (along with 3 big hugs) to his daddy as we made a simple five minute stop to see him before his meeting. 

SIMPLE GIFTS, not elaborate, not expensive, not extraordinary, SIMPLE GIFTS- the ones that relieve stress, save time, or simplify a situation… those gifts are powerful.  Those gifts make for meaningful relationships, lift burdens, and make memories.  Simple gifts say “I care enough to notice the little things.”  In a world where we are constantly bombarded by the big, the bold, the loud, the busy, the complicated… caring enough to notice the little things is a precious gift.  Isn’t it amazing how the little things can change our entire outlook on the day, or even the week- how it can alter our mood and our attitude, how it can bless and enrich our lives and the lives of others? 

I pray that in the hustle and hurry of everyday life, that amid my own “to do” list of 14,722 things, I am never to busy to notice or to give SIMPLE GIFTS.

“If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:11