The Best Christmas Present I Ever Received

I love Christmas for many reasons but one in particular is that I love to give gifts. It is a thrill to watch someone’s face light up when you surprise him or her with something wonderful. While giving is great fun I have to admit that receiving them is not too bad either! Because of my love for this part of the holiday I have learned that Christmas presents come in three categories. Some are awesome and are just what you wanted Other gifts are in the “ok” category and are nice but just do not evoke that “WOW” emotion. Then there are those gifts that you receive (and hopefully never give) that…well you wonder what in the world that person was thinking when they purchased that item. However, those kinds of gifts make for great stories and also are the perfect thing for “white elephant” parties. The key here though is to make sure that the person who gave you that present is not at that party!!

The gift I write about today is not one that we would exchange and in fact has to be the BEST Christmas present in the whole world. It was our daughter, Rosemary who is celebrating her 20th birthday on Christmas. Her story is beautiful, amazing, funny, and filled with awe – just as she is. So…here is her story.

You would think that the story would begin on December 25, 1989 on the day she was born but so many things happened before her birth that the whole story requires telling. One of the most amazing sagas of her story happened in late May or early June. I was just about 8 or 9 weeks pregnant and with two small boys in tow, tired and sick most of the time. On one early summer hot afternoon, after a full morning of entertaining two boys age 4 and 2, I was exhausted. After putting the boys down for their nap I decided to take one also. I fell asleep on our bed on my back with my arms stretched over my head (which is something I never do) – right under our ceiling fan in our bedroom. Sleep quickly overcame me. Suddenly I heard one of the boys cry out in a loud voice, “Mom” and I reached forward with my right arm to get up. At that instant, our ceiling fan fell from the ceiling directly on to my stomach. The only thing shielding our baby was my arm and hand that had come across my body as I started to get up. When I disentangled myself from the fan and cleared my head from the shock of having a fan fall from the ceiling, I went to check on the boys. They were both sound asleep in their beds! I stood there dumbfounded because I knew someone had cried out and awakened me just before the fan fell. If that had not happened I would have taken the full blow and weight of that fan on my abdomen. I knew then that God had protected not only me but also our unborn baby from that crazy accident. The only injury I sustained was a bruised arm and hand from the heavy fan. We knew then this child was going to be something special.

Compared to the story of the fan, the rest of the pregnancy was pretty uneventful except the waiting and wondering about whether this was a boy or a girl. We had two boys and secretly I hoped for a girl but I was scared because I only knew how to raise boys. Girl’s hair and ribbons and frilly things scared me. I knew how to play football, basketball, and baseball but knew nothing of dolls and dress-up. I guess the anxiety began to translate into bad dreams. One night when my family had arrived for thanksgiving I got the turkey ready for the oven before I went to bed. I dreamed that night that I gave birth to not a baby but a turkey neck. I guess pulling all of the giblets and neck out of the turkey somehow traumatized me!!

The holidays were upon us and we had no baby yet. None of our children have been born on time or even near my due date. So…two weeks past the due date my mom and dad arrived. I felt like I was under a microscope all of the time. I was allowed to do very little so that made the waiting even longer. Christmas morning arrived and the boys got to open all of the gifts and we had a grand time with them. My mother and dad decided to stay home and get lunch completed while we went to the 10:00 church service. Before we left I began to feel a little weird but nothing I could say was labor. Sitting through church with two toddlers on Christmas morning is a challenge but being nine plus months pregnant adds a whole new element to the service. Just as the opening music started, I began to feel some serious pain. As the service continued, the pains got stronger and closer together. I let my husband know what was going on but I also knew that we have never left a church service early – we wait until the final chord has been played. Waiting would not usually be a big deal because children take a long time to be born. However, our 2nd son has been born in less than three hours from the first pain until the first cry and we had to drive to Little Rock. Finally, I leaned over and told him that unless we wanted to be on TV for delivering a baby in the middle of church perhaps we should leave NOW!! We left early that day! Everyone around us was a little nervous too. Seeing a very pregnant women, a harried husband, and two toddlers leaving in the middle of church must mean that something serious is about to happen.

We arrived home just as my mother was taking the turkey out of the oven. We told them we had to go to the hospital. My father asked if we could at least wait until we had lunch and I told him that even though mom was a nurse I did not think the pecan pie would be worth the wait. So…with my father looking longingly at his Christmas lunch on the table we left for Little Rock. We arrived and got settled into a room and the labor promptly STOPPED! I could not believe it (and neither could my dad). They walked me up and down the halls but nothing seemed to help. Finally, things started up again. After much time and effort the doctor announced that we had a baby GIRL! I could not believe my ears. What a wonderful gift we had received. After the pictures were taken and everyone got to hold her we all realized we were starving. The cafeteria was closed and no restaurants were open. So my poor husband drives all around until he finds a gas station that is open and he brought back cheese balls for our dinner. To this day, my dad tells everyone that his granddaughter caused him to eat stale cheese balls for his Christmas dinner when there was a feast waiting for him that we had plenty of time to savor and enjoy.

Late that evening in our room, holding our precious Christmas gift, I looked down on the hospital grounds at the manger scene bathed in a beautiful glow. I could not help but think of Mary and Joseph and the precious gift they (and all humanity) had been given on that Christmas night. The uniqueness of a Christmas baby was an awe-inspiring treasure. Words can’t really do justice to the wonder that we felt. Our boys overheard someone say something about how terrible it was that our baby was born on Christmas. They promptly turned around and told them that their sister had the best birthday of anyone – she had Jesus’ birthday. Out of the mouths of babes….

Since that day, Rosemary has grown to be a beautiful and amazing young woman. We have celebrated many birthdays – always at 8:00 at night on Christmas day. We are so proud of her – not just for all of her accomplishments but because of who she is. She is a delight and we are so grateful for the gift that she was and is to us. Happy 20th birthday, Rosemary. May God bless you with many more – you are the best Christmas present anyone could have ever received.

Homecoming

I just love “homecomings”! I am not referring to those football or basketball games where folks return to their Alma Maters and see old classmates. Those are good and fun but not nearly as good as what I am about to describe. I have had 3 of my children serving in missions on the other side of the world for the past four months. One was in Freetown, Sierra Leone and the other two were in Santiago, Chile. They left a day apart and returned a day apart. Thus, in the past 36 hours I have had the privilege of celebrating two homecomings! The month of December at the Wright household has NOT been counted in “how many days ‘till Christmas” but rather “how many days until Zach, Ashley, and Erik come home”. So…I have tried to do the things I needed to do in the past week or so but always keeping an eye on the day and time. I continually prayed for their safe travel and for everything to be on time with no weather delays, etc… I started buying the groceries, washing anything that needed freshening up, and doing anything I thought might “get ready” for the big day. Zach and Ashley arrived first at 8:00 a.m. this past Tuesday. That meant driving through rush hour traffic to get to the gate on time. Fortunately for the other drivers on the road that morning, my husband drove. I fear that if I had driven and someone had gotten in my way that “seeing the love of Christ” might not have been the first thing the other driver would have noticed! That sounds terrible to say but I know there are lots of moms out there who certainly understand! We made it on time and all was well except the plane was there but we waited and waited and waited and they still did not come. They have security guards now that keep you from going to the gate, but I confess that if five more minutes had passed I think I could have taken them and made it to the gate before they caught up with me to stop me! Fortunately for everyone involved, we finally saw them coming around the corner. Then the real celebration started! Hugs, tears, laughter, everyone talking at once – chaos at its finest was the accurate description of the scene.

Next day, thirty-six hours later Erik is due to arrive. We had a production rehearsal (final rehearsal before performance - so this is a really big deal) that was scheduled to be over at 8:45 p.m. His plan was due at 8:50 p.m. and the airport was 40 minutes away. We stayed until the last possible moment. Then the Wright gang ended up coming to the airport in three different vehicles leaving at various moments apart as soon as they could be dismissed. We all made it on time – bailing out of vehicles and leaving the driver to fend for himself as to parking and even money to park! And again…we waited and waited and waited. Some crazy “arrival / departure monitor screen” had the nerve to say the plane was not due in until 10:00 p.m. but another one said it had landed. That was a little confusing and once again thoughts of taking on security began to form in my head. However, Erik texted me to say the plane had landed and he would be there soon. Once again, jail time was averted! The scene from the previous day was repeated – joy, excitement, tears, love, laughter, and all around craziness! True celebration if there ever was a celebration!

I want to bed last night with my heart so full of gratitude and love. There was total and complete joy at seeing my children HOME! This morning I was reminded that what I experienced was just a small taste of what our Heavenly Father feels when one of his children comes home. In fact, there is a great story in Luke 15 about this very thing. This particular son did not leave home to go on the mission field but rather wanted to go out and experience all of the things he thought he was missing out on. So he takes his inheritance and goes to a distant country. The scripture tells us that he squandered his wealth on “wild living”. Then there was a famine. (This is a “by the way” but isn’t it interesting that a famine of the soul usually occurs after we decide life on the wild side is worth trying.) The son got so hungry that he did things he never would have thought he would do. But the story does not end there. Luke 15:17-19, “when he came to his senses…he said, I will set out and go back to my father…I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men”. Simply put, he wanted to go home but did not think he could be anything more than a servant. My favorite part of the story comes next. V.20 “But while he (the son) was still a long way off his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” Then they celebrated and threw a big party! While my children were gone for different reasons than the one in the parable, the homecoming was still very similar. Just like me, the father was watching and waiting and counting the moments and started running when only a speck of them became visible. Then the joy and the party and the gratitude and the chaos began and continued for a long time.

Christmas is the best time for homecomings! John tells us “The Word (Jesus) became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” The big “why did He do this” is so that we could go home. Without Jesus, we had no way to make that possible. He gave us the gift in Himself for us to be able to go home. Often the struggle for mankind to accept this simple idea usually takes on one of two issues. The first says, I can get my act together enough and be good enough and do enough good stuff to be able to go home on my own merit.” The other says, “I have done too much bad stuff and therefore I will never be worthy of getting to go home.” Neither of those two ideas is right or true. We can never be good enough to earn it by ourselves nor can we ever be bad enough to be beyond help or hope. So…this Christmas come home! Don’t worry about where you have been and what you have done or if you deserve anything. Just come home. The Father is standing on the front porch looking and watching and waiting and ready to welcome you HOME! He is ready for a BIG party and…He has His running shoes on!

The Perfect Gift

This time of year I sometimes hear folks lamenting the "gift buying chores" and how they hate shopping. The day after Thanksgiving is even called Black Friday. Sounds kind of terrible if you ask me. I don't see it that way at all because this is my most super favorite and exciting time of the year. I LOVE Christmas!! I love the sights, the sounds, the excitement, and definitely the tastes. But...I really love the gifts. That is definitely my "love language" and boy do I "speak" this time of year. I love listening to my family and friends for that little thing they said in passing and then surprising them with it. You know those things they thought was either no big deal or way too bothersome for someone to notice their want or need. Now, don't get me wrong - I love to get gifts but I soooo love giving them. I am just about to explode this time of year because it kills me to keep all of the secrets and I can't wait for the recipient to open them! I have to admit that not every gift is awesome and amazing. Those are rare but boy when they come they are so fun!

The interesting thing about gifts is that they don't have to be expensive to be amazing. One of my most favorite gifts that I have received was a cassette tape. My precious husband had put together a collection of all of "our songs" and recorded it onto this tape. I literally wore that thing out. I still have it - even though it no longer works. The only expense involved was some time and the cassette tape itself. However, that gift was priceless because of what it represented - a way to show love to me.

God knows all about that kind of gift. He gave the greatest love gift - His Son. Only this gift was very costly - not in the way the world measures cost but in the way that really matters. John 3:16 says, "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him would not perish but have everlasting life." Just saying that is more than my mind can wrap around. I love giving gifts but I have to be honest, I don't know that I love anyone that much. Fortunately for all of us, God does love that much. He knew exactly what we needed and was willing to spare no expense.

So this Christmas as you are out shopping - ask for God's perspective. Rather than being irritated or stressed by all of it - ask for God's guidance and aid as you shop. Ask Him to give you insight into the "real needs" of each recipient so that they are "blessed" incredibly. You may even be surprised to find that you can stay easily within your Christmas budget this year. And...like God, you meet needs in a special and unique way that will never be forgotten.
Merry Christmas and Happy Gift Giving.

Thanksgiving is a favorite!

I love holidays! I love everything about them. I love the foods, the decorations, the smells associated with them. I especially love Thanksgiving. Fall is one of my favorite times of year. I really love beautiful fall-colored trees. My children get so weary of me saying "Oh look at that tree! Isn't that beautiful!" Their answers usually range from the "yes mom, that was the same tree on the way that you said that about" or just making fun of me in general. I am also a purist when it comes to holidays. I firmly believe that you don't decorate for the next one until the current one is over. I would NEVER even think of putting up a Christmas tree before Thanksgiving! I love my pumpkins and scarecrows and oranges and reds and golds way too much to skip over them. I think the thing I like best about Thanksgiving is that it is what it is. It has not been commercialized because how can you really do that to "thankfulness" anyway. It is just there or it is not. I know those who are just thankful people all of the time. It is just part of their personality. However, I find that I need a specific day to cause me to really reflect on all of the blessings that I have been given. So...even though this was posted a couple of days after Thanksgiving, I pray that each of you pause to reflect on those amazing and wonderful blessings that it is so easy to overlook and ignore.

Camel Rides and Sycamore Trees

I recently returned from an AMAZING trip to the Holy Land. The entire time I was there I was constantly in awe of where I was and what I was seeing. Words constantly fail me when I try to describe the impact this trip had on me emotionally and spiritually. I am glad that I remembered to close my mouth when someone was taking pictures because most of the time it was wide open in delight and I had that "oh my" expression in my very big eyes. I honestly felt like a little kid again - laughing and crying and asking a million questions and literally jumping up and down over what I was doing or about to get to do! I would not be entirely honest if I did not say that I probably embarrassed my husband and several others on the tour on many occasions. The funny thing is that most of the time I am rarely like that. I am an emotional person but my actions tend to be very responsible and very "low risk". (Just ask my children - I have been known to squelch their fun because I deemed the "fun" too risky.) But there are occasions when something comes over me and all of that goes right out of the window. Disney World did that to me to an extent because I did not get to go until I was in my late 30's. This trip however was like Disney on major steroids!

Thus the attached pictures and title. I threw caution to the wind and got to experience some really cool things that normally I would never do. For example, I went on a camel ride. I have seen camels in the zoo, on TV, and in the movie Aladdin. Just for the record, they don't look that tall on TV! However, when we stopped at a Bedouin camp and they offered camel rides I did not even hesitate. As a matter of fact, when I stepped off of the bus, a little boy wrapped a turban around my head and literally pulled me to the camel. The funny thing about this is that I have a real issue over wearing "head things" that other people have worn or even sharing a hair brush. I also have a fear of heights and large animals. So before I could blink, I was properly "turbaned" and saddled on a camel. I found myself laughing hysterically - a mixture of awe and fear has that effect on me. I also get really loud too! Pictures were taken and eventually the knees stopped knocking and the heartbeat returned to normal - but what a great adventure it was.

One of the other things I did that you see pictured was climb a sycamore tree. This was the second day of our tour and we were on our way to a museum to see the "Jesus Boat". Our guide said, "Look there is a sycamore tree just like Zacchaeus climbed up in to see Jesus". The next thing I knew, myself and two other middle-age women were up in a tree. Others on the tour were laughing hysterically and taking pictures like crazy! Just for the record, I have not climbed a tree in about 35 - 40 years! I just knew that I had sung the song about Zacchaeus being a "wee little man and a wee little man was he" for as long as I could remember. and if he thought it was a good idea to get a better view - I thought it was worth at least investigating for myself!

That was only a couple of the many adventures that I got to experience. There are many more that I will share in days to come but the point of this story is that I felt incredibly "alive" during this trip. So much so that my children were beginning to wonder if some foreign creature had invaded their mother's body. As long as they have known me they have never seen my on a camel and certainly not in a tree! However, I must admit it was so very freeing to feel so "child-like". And...don't you just love that about children - you can read that sense of wonder all over them when they see or hear or experience something truly amazing. I think this is a picture of that "abundant life" idea that Jesus spoke about. I know that everyday is not filled with "camel rides" but I am learning that each day can hold "awe" if I let it. Sometimes I just am so busy that I don't notice the "awe" moment. It can be found even in the midst of hardship and heartbreak. The unexpected and amazing can occur when you least expect it. The good news is that when it does, it really is ok to act like a kid now and then. So...go ahead - jump, or laugh, or get excited, or cry if you need to. Not only is it ok but usually much needed! Just as we celebrate and enjoy our children and what delights them - so does our Heavenly Father.

Quieted Like a Baby

The other day I had a series of trying events and frustrating situations - all on the heels of each other. You know those days - you have had it and you can't take it any more. I was grumpy and the only other possible emotion was to be even grumpier. To make matters worse it was only 8:00 a.m. I know that I can't be the only person in the world who has day(s) like this. So whoever is reading this surely can relate. Finally, after trying several thing to make me feel better or to "see the bright side" I decided to try reading God's Word. I flipped my Bible open and this is where it just "happened" to fall open. Zephaniah 3:17 "The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing."

Immediately this incredible peace and quiet came over me. The feeling was unexplainable - nothing had changed. Yet, something was definitely different. I can only describe my feelings by relating it to a baby who is just "out of sorts". Nothing in particular is wrong and yet they are restless and unsettled and fretful. When our children were small and they were like this I would pick them up, hold them gently to me, rock and perhaps sing. I could feel when they just relaxed and then suddenly things were right with them again.

God was being my Heavenly Father at that moment. I was his child and I was the one who was "out of sorts". He "quieted" me with His love from His Word. It was a precious gift to a very fretful child. The funny thing is that I can't really remember ever reading out of Zephaniah but that passage was marked by a highlighter. So...He must have used that passage before and just like my children responded each time to the same things that calmed them - I did the same.

Handing the Baton to the Next Generation

Today my feet literally touched Holy Ground. I am in Israel! The first words our guide said to us were, "Welcome Home". It did not take me long to really get was he was saying - it is our spiritual home. He said that many of us had been taught our spiritual heritage and history way before even our American History. I never looked at it quite like that. He also said that all of the stories that we had heard since we were toddlers were about to come alive. Little did I realize then how amazingly true that would become. I was overcome by emotion on many occasions as I saw places and heard the lectures. When he made the statement again about our spiritual heritage and those who taught us God’s Word I became very emotional. I was incredibly grateful for the gift I had received as a child. It was not until my family moved to the coast when I was 4 years old that I ever went to church. There was a tiny lady there who went by the name of “Shorty Sullivan”. I don’t know that I ever knew her real name. She was very tiny, very old and wrinkled, and had the appearance of a little gnome. She and her husband, Leroy were very poor. Her husband was illiterate and trapped muskrat and "shrimped" for a living. Yet, this tiny little lady began to teach me the scriptures and made the Word come alive for me. It was her that began a hunger in me to know all of the stories and all of the details, and the questions that I asked surely drove her crazy. So…as I stood here yesterday – on Holy Ground – and saw story after story come alive before my eyes I found myself ever so thankful for Shorty Sullivan’s ministry. She was someone that the world would not remember but I certainly did. Thank you God for placing her in my life. I don’t know how I would have learned about who God was and is without her.

Thinking about this has reminded of the incredible responsibility that we parents are given. We are to teach and train our children in God's Word and ways. We must teach the next generation and "pass the baton" to them. Deut. 5 - 7 says "Love the Lord your God with all of your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments I give to you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk with them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up." Each day there are hundreds of teachable moments to share with our children about God. We just have to be intentional and look for them. It is easy to think we don't know enough or they won't understand or sometimes we are just too busy. However, those reasons (or excuses) do not remove the mission we have been given by God. He was pretty plain in those verses in Deuteronomy.

Rich Mullins had a song with a verse that spoke to the importance of reading the Bible to children. The verse said, "Stories like that make a man grow bold, stories like that make a man walk straight." Even when our children were very young I can remember reading Bible stories to them. It is one of my most precious memories. They had to take turns choosing the story and we often read the same stories over and over again. Funny how their personalities come out in their choices. Our oldest son always chose Samson and our youngest son always chose David and Goliath. We were not master theolgians and often could not pronounce correctly the names. However, the good news is that God promises that "His Word will not return void". I know that I am clinging to that verse and pray the same for you.

The Other Side of the Fence

Our youngest son was a very easy and compliant child - most of the time. However, there were a few things that he just seemed to test the limits. One such example had to do with the rule at our house that under no circumstances were you EVER to go into the street without an adult. If your ball rolled into the street - you went and got Mom or Dad but you were never to chase it. Because we lived near the High School our street was sometimes used as a short cut - generally by teenagers. So...the end result of going into the street was a spanking. It was that serious! We lived in a house that had a long driveway that was concrete and the street was asphalt. Thus, there was a very obvious line where the drive met the street. For reasons I can't begin to explain, Zach would walk directly to the crack where the street met the drive and put his big toe on it and then look at me. Technically, he was not really in the street but in his mind he was. He knew the boundary. He knew he had the entire front and back yard to play in with tons of toys. He knew the consequences. Yet...he pushed on the boundary to see if it was still the same that day. So...he would get a swat and be told to stay out of the street. Then he would run off and play - satisfied that the lines had not moved and nothing had changed. I have no idea why he needed to know that on more than one occasion!

This morning I was reading in the Psalms and I came across a verse that reminded me that I often do the very same thing as my toddler. Psalm 16: 5 - 6 says, "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." The commentary said these lines were used to describe God's blessing and that He can be trusted - in every circumstance. In other words, I can rest in the fact that God has me where He wants me and that He has a plan for my life. Just like Zach, I have "boundary lines" that are for my good and I also have wonderful things inside of those boundaries.

Why then does the "other side of the fence" look so appealing at times? If where I am is what is best for me, why do I put my big toe on the line? I think that one of satan's greatest tactics is getting us to first, look over the fence trying to make us dissatisfied with our side. Then, when we feel like we are missing out on something, we start leaning on the boundary and putting our toes on it. Next thing you know we are running into the street. Funny though, you don't often get hit on the first venture across the line. However, the day will eventually come and the results will be disastrous. As a result of this great reminder today I think I am going to be thankful for what I have and keep my eyes and toes where they belong. I will rest in the fact that my Heavenly Father does love me and He only wants the best for His little girl!

Through the Eyes of a Child

I saw a family walking around my block this weekend. Dad, Mom, Grandma & Grandpa, and children were spread out for a little less than half of the length of the street. It reminded me of days gone by. Taking 4 children for a walk meant that some would be "hares" and others would be more of the "tortoise" kind. A walk could take anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour. It also meant that someone or multiples of someones would beg to be carried somewhere on the journey. At times I found myself impatient that a simple walk could take so long. From my point of view, the purpose of a walk was to go around the block to tire out the children so they would take a nap or to entertain them for a short while. Yet, a child's purpose is completely different. They see a walk as a great adventure - the treasure hunt was limitless. A caterpillar crossing over a stick on the sidewalk was great excitement. Seeing a "rolly-polly" curl and uncurl was even more amazing. Then, if sunset was upon us, to catch a firefly and watch it light up in your hand was nothing short of miraculous. Clouds also had their own fascination. Seeing the various shapes, sizes, and colors made for great games and imagination. Puddles were the absolute highlight though. Children do not walk around them or play neatly in them. They jump in with both feet - screaming with delight the entire time!

Oh, to be a child again! Sometimes I think being an adult is a real disadvantage. I can't remember the last time it took me an hour to walk around the block and the only puddle I stepped in brought screams - but not ones of delight! To have the eyes that see and appreciate all of the miracles of God (no matter how big or small) would be a much needed "vision correction". I don't know when or how it happens, but it seems like most adults become so very busy and dare I say it "cynical". We forget to slow down and enjoy the simple pleasures God has just waiting for us. Jesus told us in Matthew 18 that we needed to become like little children. I think He wants us to do that for lots of reasons. One of them is so we get to experience life in the delightful way of a child. So...maybe tomorrow night run outside and see if the sun paints some brilliant colors on the landscape. Gaze on it, and laugh, and clap - if you are brave enough. See life through the eyes of a child...and it just might open up a whole new world!

Out of the Mouths of Babes...Part 1

This blog title is Part 1 because there are many more "parts" to come. When it comes to the things children say that are just plain "black and white" in their truthfulness NOTHING is off limits. Having worked with children all of my adult life plus having four children of my own I could write a book with those comments that make your face go bright red with embarrassment. So...here is the first installment.

As I was pondering my weekend, a story came to mind from many years ago. I put off the chore as long as I could but the dreaded "haircut day" finally arrived. I don't know who dreaded it more - me or my three children. Toddlers are particularly challenging when it come to getting their hair trimmed so less in number is always better. However, this particular day I had our two boys ages 6 & 8 and our daughter who was 4. Since the place that we could afford did not take appointments I was uncertain of the wait but was hopeful we would arrive at a less crowded time. My worst fears were realized when we walked into the lobby. The place was packed which meant that haircuts were to be given and received one at a time -- not two or three at a time for which I was praying. So...thinking it reasonable to start with the one with the least attention span we went in order of youngest to oldest. All went well with the first haircut and we were off to the second. However, that now meant I had to entertain the toddler and keep her from getting into things or bothering other customers. She had quite a vocabulary even as a very young child and I saw her looking intently at a man minding his own business and reading a magazine. (I might also mention at this point he was smoking too.) Before I had time to think, blink, or react she walked right up to him and said "Do you know that smoking cigarettes can kill you?" The entire lobby froze - myself included! He simply looked at her and said, "Yes". A thousand things ran through my head at once and getting out of the building as quickly as possible was on the top of the list. Though I am mortified beyond belief I can not leave because even though the second son has finished his haircut, the oldest son just got the first snip cut from his hair. So...we are committed to staying. At this point, I must have looked like a "tap-dancing bear" trying to keep two children entertained but I had to do something to keep them away from this poor man. I watched to see that the final haircut was about to be completed thinking we were going to escape without further incident. Success was almost within reach when without further discussion or prior warning my daughter looks at the man again and in a voice loud enough for folks in Little Rock to hear asked, "So why are you still doing it?" If the lobby had been quiet with the first question, the silence was now deafening. I grabbed all 3 my children and threw down my money on the counter and ran. I really can't remember knowing how much it was and it may well have been all of my grocery money for the week but it was worth it just to escape!

Even as I type and remember I am laughing (very hard and loud). That was almost 17 years ago and it is very funny now. And...it is certainly great material for a really good story. My daughter spoke truth into that man's life even though it was uninvited. Out of the mouths of babes...Funny how it comes around though. I told you earlier that I was pondering my weekend. It seems that I ate a lot of stuff that I really like but was not very nutritionally sound and I never really got around to exercising. Without warning, I heard her little voice enter my thoughts saying, "Don't you know that will kill you?" That too was uninvited but still true. Paul tells us in Romans that we are to "offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God". If I am to be as useful as possible to God I have to take good care of my body. It is the only one that I will get! Now make note, I am not saying that I am NEVER to enjoy treats. However, I just can't make candy corn and peanuts my dinner!! Out of the mouths of babes!

The Waltz

I found something this morning that I had written late last Spring. It reminded me that I have a choice of "living an extraordinary" life or an "unintentional & ordinary" one. Hope you enjoy it.

As far back as I can remember I have wanted to dance. Not just the dance moves of gangly teenagers in a high school gymnasium but rather the polished and nimble-footed floating of a princess. The scenario in my mind was always complete with a gilded ballroom, wearing a beautiful ball gown, and of course dancing with a handsome prince. I suppose I, like every little girl, dreams these same dreams at some time of their young life. Over the course of time, I married my handsome prince but…never learned to dance. Not having the opportunity, money, and time were always my best justifications. Then one day all of the excuses were no longer valid and my prince and I gathered our courage and invested our time and money. We decided to take lessons and finally learn to dance.

I learned quickly that being nimble-footed required hard work and practice. For most of us students in the class, ballroom dance was a skill to be learned. It did not come naturally to many. After several lessons and a few sore toes later, I can say that my prince and I accomplished our goal. When the music begins our movements have the skills present that resemble a dance. However, I have discovered that the more I learn the more I realize I do not know. My heart is actually a little discouraged when I comprehend that it will take years to make the stuff of my dreams become a reality. However, one evening I got a glimpse of something wonderful and beautiful. Words may not do justice to the emotions I felt but I shall attempt it no less for I feel compelled to share this experience.

The waltz music began and I found myself without a partner. The instructor looked around the room to make sure that his students were progressing as they were taught. Then he realized I was standing alone on the side. My heart skipped a beat when he held his hand out to me. I tried gracefully to say that I did not mind waiting until the next dance. He insisted that there “was no waiting this one out” and so I placed my trembling hand into his. Immediately I was whisked away into a series of turns and spins so that I could hardly recognize my surroundings. The room became a blur of people and furnishings. My heart was in caught in my throat, barely allowing me to breathe. I vaguely remember using the basic steps I had learned – but there was so much more to this beautiful mosaic of movement. The feeling of flying or soaring may be a better description because it appeared that my feet scarcely touched the floor. The master was in charge – his leading allowed no room for misunderstanding as to what he asked of me. He was to lead and I was to follow. He was gentle, patient, and kind - but he was most certainly the one in control. Even a missed step on my part did not deter him from his intended direction or movement. He simply helped me to recover and we moved on. As the music began to end I realized a hush had fallen over the room and people has stopped to watch. There was a sense of awe or dare I say a reverence for seeing the master at work. Applause broke out as the dance concluded. I blushed at the attention but also immediately understood it was not my performance that was being applauded. It was the performance of the instructor who so masterfully guided his pupil to make her appear graceful and skilled.

I shakily thanked the teacher for the dance and made my way back to my spot to continue my lesson. My hand and legs took several minutes to stop quaking and my heart took even longer to calm. What had just happened had left me changed and different. There was the physical realm of knowing how a waltz could and should be danced. That alone was the stuff of my dreams. However, there was another dimension that I had not expected. It was a spiritual one – a lesson so unexpected and so astounding that it took many days to put words to it.

Simply put, God has a plan for my life - a beautiful dance. Just as the longings and dreams of a child to dance and float around as if on air, He has put within me the desire to want to live my spiritual life in that same manner. When done correctly God alone is the one who leads. He is the “master teacher” and can see what I cannot and guide me around unseen obstacles and potential hazards. He also takes me out of the “safe and rehearsed” steps and puts me into places that are far outside of my comfort zone. Isaiah 58:14 says “then you will find your joy in the Lord, and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob” and Isaiah 40:31 says “but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow wearing, they will walk and not be faint.” Both of these verses describe a life that is adventurous, exhilarating, and anything but ordinary. It portrays a life that is constantly sensitive to the guidance and direction of the Father. The challenge for me is to follow, to rest and to trust. However, many times I want to be the one in control but the “dance” does not work when I attempt to lead. It is awkward and gangly – a constant battle of direction. This kind of “dance” is one filled with frustration and “sore toes”. So…my dilemma (and yours) is this. A decision has to be made about which kind of life will be lived. I can try to assume control and help “steer” or I can let go and soar and fly. There really is no middle ground or trying to straddle the fence. That said…I think I hear the orchestra warming up. I can’t speak for you but I think I am going to put on my dancing shoes...and strap them on real tight!

Things Children Make Their Mothers Say

I have discovered that the profession of motherhood is unlike any other in the entire universe. In fact, I have decided that mothers may be the most talented of all professionals. The job description requires us to be caregivers, cooks, medics, taxi drivers, sports coaches & enthusiasts, tutors, negotiators, theologians, engineers, peace-keepers, linguists, multi-taskers, and locators of all lost things to name only a few. I only recite a few because the list is really endless since each day brings a host of potential new job descriptions. As I said in an earlier blog entry, I entered motherhood in 1985 with absolutely no idea of the adventure that lay before me. With a brand new bachelors degree in education I quickly learned that no amount of "education" could have readied me for what I was about to undertake. However, children have a way of teaching you things that you never even thought you needed to know. So…like most moms I became a fast learner.
Over the years I have told my children that raising them was worthy of writing a book because some of the things that I have had to say or do were just too good not to share with other moms on this same journey. I always have said that my book would be entitled The Things Children Make Their Mothers Say. This is due to the fact that moms have a unique vocabulary or lingo that is used only in this particular vocation. For example – in what other profession would you have to ask the question, "Why did you flush your shorts down the toilet?" Or… "Why did you stick green peas (or play dough or whatever…) up your nose?" And my personal favorite is “Your brother made you hit him with a bat. So…he took your hand and put a bat in it and swung it so that it hit him?” These are but a few of the hilarious and bizarre things that mothers say. As a result, this leads me to applaud mothers everywhere. Our jobs are not easy, require much from us, and are never-ending. However, I am quite certain when I say that we have the BEST jobs in the whole world! God Bless each of you - never lose faith and keep up the good work. The world needs you!

Follow the Leader

Children learn best by playing. Over the years we have spent hours pretending, discovering, acting, following directions on board games. It is and was some of our favorite times together. When I think back over the myriad of games played with our children, "Follow the Leader" was usually a big hit. You know the game, one person leads and everyone else follows and imitates the leader. A really good leader had the followers always guessing what came next and laughing hysterically at the antics. The only real issue about that game was the "discussion" that would arise from starting. The arguments almost always had to do with the coveted position of who would be the leader. Everyone would get a turn but it seemed that "who was first" was still the point of contention. So...since all mothers are required to have the diplomacy skills of an ambassador to the Middle East some sort of rotating system would have to be installed so that all was "fair".

I was reminded of the "Follow the Leader" game this morning as I was reading about when Jesus called Peter and Andrew and James and John to become his disciples. He simply said, "Follow Me". No directions, promises, future predictions, or even a time frame. Just a simple command with only two words. The amazing thing to me is that "they went". They had families, obligations, and even were self-employed. Yet, they trusted Jesus so completely that they "followed their leader". In the process they did an amazing job of mimicking Him - so much so that when Peter saw Jesus walking on the water, he bailed out of the boat and did it too (maybe not for long but he did it!!) As a result they impacted the Kingdom incredibly from their day until ours. "Follow Me" led to the Gospel being spread around the world and lives being set free from the chains of sin.

That kind of faith and trust blows me away. I struggle so often with either being a terrible follower because "I want to be the leader" or when I am following I want to have all of the questions answered before I leave. The interesting thing about both of those struggles is that they each involve pride and fear. I am afraid of what is ahead so I have this crazy mindset that if I am the one in control that will fix everything. I am not sure why I think life can be played like the childhood game and that it will be successful when I am in charge. The reality is that I can trust only my Heavenly Father because He sees the "entire picture". He knows how the pieces all fit together - not just my life but how all of our lives connect together. He understands what we each need - even more than we do. As I was thinking about all of the reasons I come up with "not to follow Jesus" I thought about the fruit that kind of life produces. It was not a pretty picture. Following Jesus can be scary but it is a life worth living and one that reaps a great harvest. My prayer is that the words of Casting Crowns' song will encourage you today.

Oh what I would do to have
The kind of faith it takes to climb out of this boat I'm in
Onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone
To the realm of the unknown where Jesus is
And He's holding out his hand

But the waves are calling out my name and they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me
Time and time again. 'Boy, you'll never win!'
"You'll never win"

But the voice of truth tells me a different story
And the voice of truth says "Do not be afraid!"
And the voice of truth says "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth

Monsters Under the Bed and Boogey Men in the Closet

Can anyone relate to this scenario? It is now past the appointed “bedtime” but at last all children are bathed, books read, prayers said, and are tucked in their beds. The day has been filled with lots of things – some fun, some hard, some requiring the patience of Job. My comfy robe, slippers, and favorite chair await me. Just as a start to sit I hear a version of my name being called, “Mo-aw-om”, at decibels that I am sure are illegal. I rush to the child’s room thinking something horrible must have happened only to hear the infamous words, “There is a monster under my bed!” So…together we turn on the lights, examine the underside of the bed, and upon discovery that it was a toy left out, or a shadow, or the wind, get back into bed once again. Only on rare nights did the monster show up only once. Most of the time it took at least two more very analytical surveys of the room for the child to finally be convinced that “all was well” and go to sleep. I would like to say that my voice was always understanding and patient upon those examinations of the room. However, by the third trip that was rarely the case. If it was the Boogey Man that showed up instead of a monster, I probably resembled him by the third trip. While my impatience at the irrationality of monsters or Boogey Men seemed completely justified, the reality is that most of the time fear is irrational. There were some nights that no amount of explanation or examination was going to calm the child. The only answer was to sleep with Mom and Dad. (That of course made it all the harder to discern the next night when the monsters arrived if that was not the motive all along!)

Since my children are mostly grown I don’t hear those voices too often now. But yesterday I got to experience the “monster under the bed” again – only this time he was under my bed. I was meeting with a group of ladies who work with young moms helping them to be the best moms they can. Without thinking, I casually mentioned that I had started writing a blog that had “moms” in mind. They immediately wanted to know the web address. The moment of truth (or panic) had arrived. At first I wanted to take it all back and tell them I made it up. See…until that moment I have been writing but no one knew it so I could write and be safe – kind of like a diary with a really good lock and key. It was fun to think I was a “blogger” but the fun left and the Boogey Man showed up real quick when I had to reveal the address. All kinds of things ran through my head like what if what I write is terrible and helps no one. Or…what if someone does not like what I write and they say something mean to me. Or worse, what if someone likes it and I have to write more and I can’t! It felt like not just one monster but a legion had showed up. After talking with my husband and praying to my Father in Heaven, I am reminded that every time God called someone to do something, He almost always began the job description by first saying “Don’t be afraid!” It seems that God knows we are afraid – even when it does not make sense or is illogical. It is as if He knows that fear will be our first reaction so He wants to get that taken care of first, so we can listen to the rest of what He wants us to do. I think Paul must have understood all about “Boogey Men and Monsters” because he spent a lot of time in his writings giving us weapons to defeat them. Here are a few… Phil. 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phil. 4:19 “And my God will meet all of your needs according this His glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” Eph. 6:10 “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power.” Rom. 8:31 “What shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?” Rom. 8:37 “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us!” With that said, I guess my blog can no longer be just my secret. Join me today in whatever God is calling you to do and let this be our cry “On guard, Boogey Man” and sling the sword of God’s Word to defeat those “monsters” that would have us hiding under our beds! Go forth and “Be not afraid!”

Ode to Books...

I just read a post on my son's blog and it reminded me of some very precious moments with my children. Erik is serving in a Third World country teaching children to read. Today he wrote about about how 18 year old boys were willing to read Green Eggs and Ham because that was the only book available. That helped put some things in perspective for me. First, it helped me to see how incredibly "rich" my children are. We have read hundreds of books over their childhood. They practically owned a library by the time they were in elementary school. Reading was as natural to them as breathing. Delightful times of snuggling, laughing, and sharing adventures canvassed their growing up years. If we read everything we owned and yearned for something new, a simple trip to the library would yield hours worth of new fun and excitement. I had favorites as did my children and I also had some that I would groan when that particular book was chosen. If I am honest, the above mentioned title would have made the "groaning" list. However, that leads me to my second thought. Even if the book chosen was not everyone's favorite, it was still a time of great blessing together. My children had books to read, knew how to read, and we had a family with which to share this experience. I never ceased to be amazed at how easy it is for me to take things for granted. Never again, will I grumble about having to pick up a book, magazine, or newspaper that was left "out of it's place" because one of my children read until the last moment before they had to rush out the door to be on time. Instead, I will give thanks to my Father in Heaven for this amazing privilege and leave it where they can easily find it so they can pick up right where they left off.

Motherhood can be painful

I am having a hard time this morning. Perhaps the dreary sky and the falling rain are causing me to feel a little bit of melancholy. Or perhaps it is the silence in my home. The youngest has left for school, the next youngest starts college today, and the other three (one is married so we count his wife as our own now) are on two different continents. I know that that everyone is where God said to go and I am thankful for that. However, I don’t like the tears that keep slipping into my eyes that originate from the pain in my heart. I think I can relate in a small way to how Mary the mother of Jesus must have felt at times. Mary was told at the beginning of her "mom adventure" that pain would be a part of her journey. The scriptures tells us that when they went to the temple to present Jesus, a man named Simeon told her some wonderful things about her Son. They were amazing words of great things to come. However, he ended his conversation with these words, “And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Translation: This journey is going to be really cool but eventually this is gonna hurt! I don’t know about anyone else but that would not be my favorite conversation closure. I am all for the warm, fuzzy, and awesome things about my children. At one time I even had a great memory so I could recall those things instantly. Like Mary, we moms do a great job of “treasuring all of these things and pondering them in our hearts”. That other part – not so much. I think that is what I am feeling today. Obedience to God means just that. Going wherever and doing whatever as instructed. That "mom" pain for me today looks like an empty and quiet home. I realize that in comparison to what Mary endured this is nothing. But pain… on even a small scale still hurts. I also know that mothers throughout the centuries understand and can relate. Our jobs are to teach them, love them, and prepare them to be God’s servants and then turn them loose to be just that. But that is hard because we love them so very much and the world is a very scary place. However, I will not lose hope or despair. Instead I will be encouraged by God's words in Joshua chapter 1. “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” I know those words were for Joshua to build his confidence just like it is for my children. However, I think it was probably for Joshua’s mom too – and me and you.

First Day - Last Day

Today was my baby girl's first day of the 2009 - 2010 school year. The fact that she is a sophomore in high school does not change the nostalgia of the moment. Before we left we took her official "first day of school picture". She is now in the picture all by herself as her siblings are either in college or graduated from college. Then we were off. I got the privilege of driving her to school today. We talked about lots of the usual things - who would be in her class, teachers, school subjects, what she wanted me to pray for her, (she said to pray that she would want to go to school instead of sleep), etc... The trip to school went way to quick. When she leaned over to kiss me good-bye I realized that next year she would be driving herself to school. This was my last "first day" with her. As I drove away I noticed with shock that she had grown up just like all of her siblings had done. I wanted to be offended because the "baby of the family" is not ever supposed to do that. I realized though that in order for her to become the woman that God had planned for her to become that all of this change was necessary. So...like many moms today I came away with tears in my eyes and precious memories in my heart of sloppy kisses rendered while trying to open the car door, gather lunch, books, and charging off into another year of adventure.

Why a blog?

I entered motherhood in 1985 with absolutely no idea of the adventure that lay before me. I had a brand new college degree (graduating magna cum laude) but no amount of "education" could have readied me for what I was about to undertake. In my daddy's words "I had a lot of book smarts but not much real life common sense". However, children have a way of teaching you things that you never even thought you needed to know. So...my journey has been and continues to be filled with lots of "education" and love, laughter, and joy as well as other emotions that moms experience like inadequacy, frustration, and "being scared spitless" on several occasions. Over the years I have told my children that raising them was worthy of writing a book because some of the things that have happened to us along the way were just too good not to share with other moms on similar journeys. I always have said that my book would be entitled "The Things Children Make Their Mothers Say". (That is a blog entry for another day.) Today I finally decided to start writing because both of my sons have blogs. It did not look too hard and I figured I had no more excuses left so it was now or never. Thus, it is my desire that by sharing some of the experiences of raising our children that you will be encouraged as your raise yours. I had no idea of the amazing and awesome journey that I would have the privilege to experience by being a mom. Steven Curtis Chapman did a great job of summing this up for me in a song entitled "The Great Adventure" and the lyrics go like this...

"Saddle up your horses we've got a trail to blaze.
Through the wild blue yonder of God's amazing grace
Let's follow our leader into the glorious unknown
This is a life like no other - this is The Great Adventure."