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

The Plan

If you know much about me, you know that I am a girl who REALLY likes a plan.  Now I am willing to adjust the plan if needed, or scrap the original plan and go to plan B, C, or D…. but I function MUCH better with a plan.  And I don’t like a “blind plan”… my sweet (A) is perfectly happy to just set the GPS and do whatever it tells him to do- even when it seems ridiculous or takes you through the not-so-safe parts of a downtown.  It drives me crazy!  Me on the other hand, I am happy to set the GPS, but I immediately switch to the “overview” setting to make sure it isn’t going to send me on some crazy wild goose chase or direct me through an area where common sense says I should avoid.  I like to see that overview to kind of already know in my mind what I’m going to do and where I’m going to go.  And if I don’t like what GPS says I’m more than happy to pull out the good ole fashion map and re-plan our route that way.  I feel so much more confident with a plan.

In the last week, a new Bible study and some “life events” have focused my attention on some precious scripture about God’s plans for our life.  For a girl who loves a plan, it is incredibly reassuring that the God of the universe cares enough about me to have a plan specifically for my life.  But it also causes me to stop and think- to me it really is a “blind plan”… am I willing to let HIM lead me in that plan, or do I treat it like my GPS and think that I know better?

As a mom, it also makes me think so much about how I’m a praying over my children for that plan.  There are so many things I want to plan for these little boys… I hope (a) will always keep those precious dimples that melt me, I hope he will always love to have precious conversations about “how was your day,” pick flowers for his momma, and beg to turn up his favorite songs.  Even as I feel him wiggle and kick inside of me, I hope (b) will have the big personality of his brother, the singing voice of his momma, and tenacity of his daddy.  I want them to be brave, successful, have precious families of their own, careers they love, contribute to their churches and communities, and leave legacies of faith.  I have so many hopes, and dreams, and plans for them.

Psalm 139:16 reminds us of how “Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”  That verse has been a major heart check for me as a new mom and as an expecting mom.  To think that this tiny baby inside me hasn’t even taken his first breath of air yet, but God already has a plan for every one of his days. 

For the first year of (a)’s life, I nursed him.  And I made it a point to take that quiet time together to pray over him.  I prayed over the man he would grow to be, over the friends he would make, over the choices he would be faced with.  I prayed that above all else he would grow to love the Lord with all his heart.  I prayed over his future wife and that wherever she is- she is also being raised to love Jesus and others with all her being. I am ashamed to admit, that after that year of nursing was up, I haven’t always been as disciplined at setting aside the time to specifically pray over him like I did that first year.  But as I sat up with him at 2:30 am on Sunday morning, trying to get him back to sleep… I cried a little as I prayed over him.  I was reflecting on some of last week’s “life” and how it played out in the lives of others, I was reminded how desperately I want him to cling to God’s plan for his life.  I believe God has an AMAZING plan for him (as he does for each of us), but I know that God also gives us the gift of free will- and sometimes we use that free will the way I use my GPS… we decide we know better and we create detours in the plan.  While I am incredibly grateful that God is always able to redeem the plan, I know it would be SO much better to just follow His lead without thinking we know better.  Some of those detours we make can be dangerous and destructive. 

Even though I am heartbroken at the way some of last week’s reminder came to my life, I am thankful for the opportunity to refocus on how I pray for my children.  I want SO many wonderful things for them, but above all… I want them to follow the plan- God’s plan.  And in my own life I pray- God, grant me the wisdom to follow your plan without making my own adjustments.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future… You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29: 11, 13

Hold On, Spring is Coming!

Last night we did something we haven’t done in MONTHS… we played/worked outside until 7:00 pm IN THE DAYLIGHT!!!!  All three of us love to be outside, and getting to enjoy the longer hours of daylight was such a breath of fresh air- both physically and mentally.  Winter is hard for me.  I really do struggle with the large amounts of darkness, being cooped up in the house, and feeling cold all the time.  I often find it messing with my mood and bringing on some wintertime “blues.” I find myself feeling like the dark and cold is never going to be over.   But last night, the extra daylight was such an encouragement, “hold on- spring is coming!” 

As (a) played and (A) and I worked in the yard I was very excited to find that I have spring flowers popping up ALL over the yard.  This being our first spring season in this home, I know I am going to be surprised to discover what and where things start blooming.  The former owners planted all kinds of foliage all over the property, and during the late summer and fall I enjoyed many flower surprises because I wasn’t yet familiar with what all had been planted.  This spring will be no different.  These buds were another precious reminder, “hold on- spring is coming!”

I shared with you last week that I often still find myself struggling to balance the heartache of missing so many things we left behind, and embracing all the new things in our life now.  As I have focused these last few months on JOY, last night’s flower buds were also a precious reminder to “hold on- spring is coming” in my heart too.  The hard, cold, dark winter is a season in our year… but it is only a season, it doesn’t last forever.  And when it is over, spring comes with all its beauty and fresh life.  It was a precious reminder to my heart that though there are going to be hard, dark, cold seasons in life- they are only that- a season, they don’t last forever.  What is coming is fresh, and new, and full of joy and hope and promise.  Hold on heart, spring is coming!!

As I collected sticks and the dried up remnants of ornamental grass, (A) began a small, low fire to burn off an area of dead leaves so fresh growth could come through that section of the yard.  I added my things to his fire and began to discover that underneath this large patch of dead leaves he was burning, there were several areas where more of my beloved flowers were poking through to the surface.  At first I started to protest, because I’m so excited about these plants (which I THINK are going to be daffodils) but as I watched I was amazed.  The fire came right up to the fresh, green plant.  It went around it, it went over top of it… but then it moved on.  It did NOT consume it.  All around the old dead leaves burned up and left ash, but the new fresh plant was only slightly singed, it was still going to be ok.  As I watched this happen, I couldn’t help but think about my life, and the lives of others I know.

Sometimes we find ourselves standing in the midst of fire.  We look around and see all the things we were surrounded by turned to nothing but ash… but WE do not have to be consumed.  If our hearts will hold on to the new, lush green that God can give us… we may be slightly singed, but we will still be standing, maybe even thriving, even when everything else around us is gone. 

If you are in a place where things around you seem dark, and cold, and hard- be encouraged to “hold on- in Jesus, spring is coming!”  And while you’re at it, enjoy that extra hour of evening daylight.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell in the past.  See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:18-19

Heart in Two Worlds

Since moving last summer, I often find myself facing this inner struggle of having my heart in two worlds.  I want very much to be “present”, both physically and emotionally, in our “new life.”  I want to put down roots here, I love making new friends, I want to pursue new ministry opportunities.  I enjoy having new adventures, and I’m so thankful for the chance to do all those things.   I KNOW without a doubt, that God has called us to this community and to this ministry.  But, so frequently, I still find my heart pulled back to the life we left.  I want to see news of what is happening at the church camp, I desperately miss my friends, I love hearing about what their kiddos are up to and my heart aches to watch them grow up on social media instead of in each other’s living rooms.  Social media has kept me up to date on former students’ school activities and I long to congratulate them in person instead of through my keyboard.  I miss my colleagues and I love receiving updates about what is happening around my former school.  The cowboy wants to “stay at da farm forever” but instead I have to remind him that our “Illinois house” is (in his words) “MUCH far away.”   

Sometimes this struggle leaves me feeling incredibly guilty.  I don’t want to give less of myself to our new life, I don’t want to constantly dwell in what we HAD instead of what we HAVE, I don’t want to wish away new opportunities.  But as we discussed the struggle a few nights ago, my wise husband reminded me- that was our life for thirty-? years… we can’t just erase it from our minds and hearts.  Of course it makes sense that big pieces of our hearts are still connected there, many things and people that we love are still there.  It is ok to have pieces of my heart in two places as long as I am willing to do so with a healthy balance.

As I have been praying about finding that balance for my heart, I was reminded of a hymn I grew up loving.  “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passin’ through, my treasurers are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue…”  And as I thought about that song I realized, this struggle I am feeling really shouldn’t surprise me.  Afterall, it should feel familiar in a way.  While I am here on this Earth, God has important callings on my life, things He wants to be and accomplish for His glory- but really, my heart is made for heaven.  As long as my feet are in this world, I will strive to shine for Him as a wife, mom, teacher, writer, leader… whatever roles he calls me to.  But at the same time, I should not be surprised when my heart aches for the “tough stuff” going on around me.  My heart should hurt to see so many of the things that go on in this world, because my heart was not made for this world, my heart was made for heaven.  My heart was made to want more of Jesus. 

One of my favorite authors, Holley Gerth, in her book You’re Already Amazing says, “The discontent within you is a homing beacon, reminding you of Eden and redirecting you toward Heaven.” What a precious reminder that I don’t have to feel guilty about having my heart “in two worlds.”  I am called to be here now, doing the best I can, living all I can for the Glory of God- but my heart can still be tied to my “Home” in Heaven.  And I will hold on to that reminder when my heart longs to be “home” again in Indiana- that I am called to be HERE now, doing the best I can, living all I can for the Glory of God, but it is ok when I need to pick up that phone and touch base with some of the people my heart is tied to at “home.”

“But our citizenship is in Heaven.  And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” Philippians 3:20

The "Super" Life

The cowboy in our house has an alter-ego as “Super (a)”.  It began several months ago when my mom got him a new “hoodie towel” for her house.  It is complete with a mask and cape and embroidered lightning bolt.  He loves to run through the house wearing that thing and pretending to be a super hero.  This past fall, the theme of our church children’s programing for Sunday evenings was “Super Heroes” which was exciting for him every week.  He liked the songs and lessons, but was especially fond of the crafts where he made a super cape, mask, shield, and several other things.  The ultimate excitement came in December, when a visit back to our church in Indiana happened to fall on a Sunday where they were having a lesson on super heroes and he got his own EPIC cape and mask.  He wears those things allll the time.  Some nights he even insists on wearing the mask to bed.  He is not afraid to wear them in public.  He will gladly wear them with any other outfit as well… cowboy boots, pajamas… it doesn’t matter to him.

I think the thing I find most hilarious about “Super (a)” is how he changes just a little when he puts that outfit on.  He drops his voice when he talks to you wearing his “super” outfit, his typically strut has just a little more purpose to it, and he makes more hand motions that usual (which I’ll admit… even his typical is a lot of “hand talking” for a 3 year old… he gets it from his Momma).  He will tell you that as a “super” he can run fast, jump high, and fly far.  It really is pretty entertaining!

When I think about how super I feel most days, I will tell you I am super TIRED, and some days I’m super stressed.  I get super worried, super overwhelmed, super frustrated, and did I mention super tired?  But as I watch that little super hero at my house, I think about all the other super things I should feel… super blessed by this little family of ours, super thankful for wonderful reports about healthy and growing baby (b), super loved by our support system when the cowboy is sick. 

I could find a lot of things to feel super bad about, but when I look around there are so many super wonderful things in my life.  And that should change me just a little when I take on all those super blessings in my life.  I should have a more positive outlook, a more grateful heart, and a more purpose driven attitude.  I should be more willing to help others, more encouraging, and more grateful.

One of the most precious aspects of “Super (a)” is that he remembers where his super hero outfit came from, and talks about it frequently.  As he is putting it on, or even sometimes randomly while he is flying, he will stop and tell you “And I got dis cape and mask from my Ogilville Church!”  **Side note here… I have said a thousand times that we will never be able to say “thank you” enough for what that body of believers did for our family.  They put our hearts for ministry back together and held us up through our darkest days, but as a Momma, it is a HUGE blessing that still… MONTHS after leaving there, (a) frequently brings up “our Ogilville Church” because they even made a huge impact on his little heart.  God is doing amazing things there!**

When I hear “Super (a)” talk about where his super outfit came from, it reminds me to look to the source of the super blessings in my life.  God’s faithfulness to my life and my family is overwhelming.  His answers to our prayers never cease to amaze me, and I know the only way I can ever experience anything super wonderful is because of, and through Him.  And I realize that, like “Super (a),” I should acknowledge that source more even more often.  Thank you, God, for the super great things in my life (even if I am super exhausted while experiencing them!)

“Surely you have granted him unending blessings and made him glad with the joy of your presence.  For the king trusts in the Lord; through the unfailing love of the Most High he will not be shaken.” Psalm 21:6-7

Lessons Caught

There are a lot of things that we try very specifically to teach our children.  In our home we have worked really hard on manners over the last three years, prompting “please” and “thank you” and “excuse me” at appropriate times.  We have specifically worked on how to eat with utensils, how to put his boots on the right feet, how to put dirty clothes in the hamper, and how to buckle his belt.  I even can finally say we have successfully survived potty training!!  There are so many things we want him to know and be able to do that we have repeated the skills over and over, practiced with him, and prompted on cue. 

After spending the last few weekends at “da farm” for various reasons, (a) thinks he is a master tractor operator.  By asking questions and talking with his Poppa Loran over and over he will proudly tell you that to make the tractor go faster you “push rabbit” and to slow down you “push turtle.”  He will also tell you that you use the tractor to “feed hay to da cows and when we give da cows da hay, we haf to cut off da wrapper so da cows don’t choke!!”  Those are all things he has specifically been taught or has learned by asking lots of questions. 

What amazes me most in parenting though, are not the things (a) has learned by being taught, but the many things he has learned by lessons CAUGHT.  There are so many things he has simply observed and then tried to emulate.  On Friday, he and I were on the road together and the weather was pretty nasty.  It was cold and spitting snow/ice balls at us for mile after mile.  I stopped for gas, thankful for a station with a large overhead shelter, and (a) announced from the back seat “Momma! It is too cold for you to pump da gas!! I will do it for you!  I have my cowboy vest on to stay warm!  You can’t pump da gas because it is too cold for you! I will get it!”  I about melted.  I promise no one has ever even suggested that he should pump gas for me when it is cold and nasty.  BUT, he has watched his daddy do it any time we are in the car together.  And he has heard his daddy mention doing things for me when it is cold or nasty.  He has never been TAUGHT to do kind things to take care of his momma, but he has CAUGHT the lesson that it is a kind thing to do.  (No, while I thanked him profusely for the super sweet gesture, I did not let our 3 year old pump the gas that afternoon. 😉)

The cowboy teaching Daddy the RIGHT way to play with PlayDoh 😂 

That exchange made me think so much about what else he has CAUGHT… he asks daily “How was your day at school/work/da farm?” (changing it up depending on who he is talking to).  We have never specifically taught him to ask others about their day, but it is one of the first things we say to him when we pick him up or when someone arrives home.  He has caught some hilarious phrases and mannerisms from watching rodeo or favorite movies.  And unfortunately, he has caught some things that make me feel incredibly guilty because I don’t like how they sound, but they have come out of my mouth (“dat stupid dog”). 

I realize that as parents, mentors, role models, examples, Christ followers… that often what is CAUGHT is just as powerful- probably more powerful- than what is specifically taught.  People might listen to what we say, but they are also watching what we DO.  And what we do matters.  How we treat people matters, the example we set matters.  It makes me ask myself… is my example worth catching?  Do I treat people the way Jesus would?  Do I speak the truth in love?  Do I lead by example?  Do I have the right attitude?  Does my life share joy? 

As a mom, a teacher, a leader… I know there are eyes watching me.  I pray that everyday I would mindful of my words and actions, and I’m so thankful for God’s grace when I mess up, because good or bad, those lesson are being caught.

“Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity.” 1 Timothy 4:12

Community

I was raised in a small town.  It’s the kind of town where everyone within a three mile radius considers themselves your neighbor.  The kind of town where people look out for each other, care about each other, go to church together, celebrate together, mourn together, and help each other.  It really was a COMMUNITY. 

As I prepared to head back to that small town last weekend for my grandma’s funeral services, I will admit, I was REALLY looking forward to being back there and having a chance to see so many of those friends and neighbors.  I knew that people would have lovingly brought food to the house so mom wouldn’t have to cook for all of us, that people would stand and wait in line to hug us at visitation, that there would be flowers and cards from those friends and neighbors, and that we would feel very loved and supported.  And you know what… that community did not let us down!!  There was more than enough food to feed all the mouths, there were SOOO many wonderful hugs, and we felt incredibly loved and supported as we said our good-byes to Grandma. 

Not only was a raised in a small town community, but I was raised in a “circle” that is a community.  Many of our family’s dearest friends are farm families and cattle friends who don’t live geographically close- but that doesn’t stop the sense of community when there is a need.  Some of them drove multiple hours to stand in that line and show their support, others who couldn’t make it sent texts or called, sent flowers or cards, and that sense of community means the world.

As I think about that community, and those people, I realize they are so special to me because they helped make me who I am.  They were my Sunday school teachers, and volunteer youth group leaders, they sang beside me on the praise team in my home church, their kids tied cattle beside mine at show after show, they were nearby farmers we knew we could call if dad was gone and we had farm problem.  They taught me what it means to be a mentor, an encourager, a “cheerleader,” and a friend.  So much of who I am today, I owe to that community, that “circle” of people who came alongside my parents to help raise three strong, independent, faith-filled girls. 

And as I think about that, it makes me think a LOT about who will influence my boys.  As it looks right now, it doesn’t appear that it is God’s will that we get to raise them in a small town like I was, but I hope we are building community, and a “circle” that will help encourage them like mine did.  A community where they see adults lead by example, where they know they will be loved and supported, taught values and work ethic, where love for God and others comes before anything else.  That there is someone they can call if needed, or a spare set of parents or two to help “keep them in line” when they aren’t in our line of sight. 

I’ve always heard “it takes a village to raise a child,” and this weekend I was reminded of how INCREDIBLY thankful I am for the village who raised me.  And it makes me pray all the more for God to help us seek out and choose wisely who will be a part of that village, that “circle,” that community for our family.

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another- and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:24-25

We know for sure Aunt Kayda is in his "circle" 😉

Hello, Goodbye Celebration

There is an award winning children’s book titled The Hello, Goodbye Window.  It is a story about a little girl and the adventures she has at her grandparents’ house.  Nearly everything important at their house happens through the window, by the window, or around the window in the kitchen.  It is a sweet story told from the child’s perspective.

I couldn’t help but think of that book title as we drove to Indiana over the weekend.  It was a hello, goodbye weekend.  We were headed “home” to celebrate (a)’s third birthday with family and friends and to reveal the gender of new baby who will be joining our family in July.  It was also a trip home to say goodbye.  Last Thursday morning my Grandma had a massive stroke, and after a thorough MRI the doctors were very honest that she would be going Home to Jesus soon. 

My emotions were in a million places as we headed east (and oh my hormones don’t help that!)  I was so excited to share our news with our family and friends.  I was excited to finally tell (a), as we didn’t want him to know ahead of time and accidentally “spill the beans.”  We were excited since we had also picked a name and were going to get to share it as we shared the gender.  (a) was SO excited about his “farm birfday party” and getting to see all his “friends and fambily!!”  Listening to his joyful chattering the whole trip made me look forward to arriving so I could watch him enjoy the weekend.  After all, he had asked EVERY DAY last week “Is TODAY my farm birfday party??!” 

I was also feeling sad and anxious as I knew that as soon as we arrived, we would need to head to the hospital to say “goodbye” to Grandma.  Those final goodbyes can be so very hard.  I was not devastated, because I know she had a long (93) and full life.  She was even still living in her own home until the day of her stroke, and she had spent her life loving Jesus- there was no doubt is was getting ready to be someplace far more wonderful than here.  But how do you say “thank you” and “good bye” when you know it is the last time?  As we drove, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to make sure I told her.  I thought of all the things I owed her thanks for… making me a writer because she was such a stickler for grammar.  Many weeks I wince at myself as I know I often break some rules for the sake of “voice” and creativity- and I know Grandma’s precious caregiver, Jodie, read her my blog every week.  I always hoped she would forgive my rule-breaking!  For picking us up at school when we were sick… it was hard for Mom to get away from her teaching job, and well I’m not sure Dad even knew where my elementary school was (joking… mostly…).  For being a fabulous cook, and always being there for our programs and events.  She lived there on the farm with us my whole life, so I have very few memories that she was not somehow a part of.  I don’t think it is possible to say “thank you” enough, but I was very grateful for the chance to try, and to tell her one last time that I loved her. 

Love this picture from back in her "Red Hatter" days :-)

As we celebrated on Saturday, I couldn’t help but thank God for that “hello, goodbye” weekend.  That He brings joy at the same time as tears.  That we could celebrate and mourn at the same time.   That as one generation is leaving this life, another one is on the way- one that I pray will carry on a heart for Jesus and the love of family.   That our glimpses of life through the “hello, goodbye window” show us the beauty of God’s love for us that He both gives and takes away. 

On Saturday we celebrated three years with one amazing blessing, and the excitement that another little cowBOY will be blessing our lives this summer.  And this morning, very early, we received news that today Grandma is celebrating her first day in Heaven. 

“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” Job 1:21