There are some things in life you can just count on. Death, taxes, and the Millraney family arguing on Sunday morning. I hate Sunday mornings for one reason. This “Super Bowl” of the week for my minister husband puts me at home by myself to wrangle the savages. Let me put it this way; we play our girls in a man to man defense every morning. When Gary is gone, my zone defense is somewhat lacking.
Yesterday was no exception. The girls wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t get dressed, and there was this MESS everywhere! The fun of a carefree Saturday was showing.
Now, the rule at our house is simple. You don’t walk out the door unless everything is clean. I have always been a “fire path” kind of girl. But…Gary likes the house clean. I like it clean too. I gladly go along with it because most of the time he is the one doing the cleaning.
Which brings me back to Sunday mornings. It is just a different story. Trying to get everyone up, ready, and clean the house is a recipe for disaster for this party of one. I resolve to improve each week about losing my cool, but failure is my closest friend. I usually end up mad, spanking someone over non- compliance, and everyone ends up crying.
I made a simple request yesterday of our girls. “Just don’t make a bigger mess, clean up what is here and get ready for Monday. I am going on a trip. I am going to be really, really mad if I come home and there is a mess. I am going to work all day. I do not want to work when I get home.
I had heard that GABC was taking a group to Tuscaloosa. It had been a long while since I had gotten my hands dirty, so it was past time. I wanted to go and serve. I like to work. There is something about giving up myself, and my energy that blesses me in a way nothing else does. I saw the chance to go to Tuscaloosa, so I jumped on it.
I was a mixture of excitement and curiosity as we were driving out of the church parking lot. I told myself that I was going to help, but truth is, on some level, I just wanted to see it. The news reports had peaked my interest, so I had to go see it myself.
I enjoyed the drive until about 30 miles outside town. I began to think about what we were about to walk into. I remembered someone saying that the search and rescue teams were still pulling out bodies (children).
I started to feel sick.
We pulled into a neighborhood to receive instructions. I missed the group meeting (shocking). I was just not paying attention (again, shocking). I was overwhelmed by the damage and didn’t hear what was said. The gentleman pointed to a pile of rubble and said, “Put wood here and metal there.” I put on my gloves and began. I started thinking to myself…wonder whose mess this is? They just left their stuff here for us to clean up. I want to go over there. That is a house with a messed up roof. That is a family who needs us. I came to clean up homes, not debris in a field.
That is when I began to overhear fragments of the story…
“He’s in the hospital…They are coming home today…Jewelry, she wants her jewelry.” I listened to pieces of conversations and the story started to reveal itself.
“They were at home when the tornado hit. Three kids were in the home, but the parents could only get to two. The third child was sucked out of the home and thrown across the street. He is in the hospital and they were all being discharged today to come home.” Home?
Reality hit me. I am standing IN their house. This is not a field of debris; this is the lot of what used to be a home. NOTHING is left that even resembled a dwelling. Not a board, not a wall. I moved some dirt and saw the foundation…
I was standing in the laundry room.
I walked over to the man in charge and helplessly said, “What should I do?” He said, “Go through the piles of rubble and find anything a mom would want to keep.” “…Pictures, art work, toys…Go think like a mom.” If there is one thing I can do, he nailed it! For hours I dug through piles and piles of rubble. We would find precious items, and save them. After several hours we had almost enough stuff to fill up two seats in a van.
A van…their entire world would now fit in two seats of a van.
And then it happened. Have you ever had a moment where something takes place and you felt that the moment you were in was one that you were never supposed to be a part of? Well, that happened to me yesterday. The family showed up. I NEVER want to be a part of a moment like that again. We were standing there when they came home for the first time and saw what was left of their house. I walked away, sat on the ground and just sobbed. I turned my back because watching her pain was too much for me to bear.
Relieved that the torture in front of me was over, we loaded back up. I thought that we had done the “hard part” and now we were just dropping off food and water and then going home. It may be the only way to go, but the road we took was even more heart -breaking. We took a route of absolute devastation and destruction. Obliteration is the only word to begin to describe it. I am not talking about things damaged, that were un-repairable. Everything was utterly and completely gone. I looked at Amanda and said,
“So…..THIS is the Finger of God.”
Surreal is the only way to describe my ride home. I think my defense mechanisms kicked in and what I spent the day doing, now seemed almost like a dream. The reality was just too much to take over and over again. I tried to shake the images burned into my mind. But alas, some memories are just burned too deeply.
Exhausted, I pulled in my driveway around 1:00 am. Walking through the door, I found the house a complete disaster. The evidence that Gary needs me as much as I need him on our tag team was everywhere. Mountains of toys, shoes, and wet swim suits were on the floor. I am not sure that lunch was even cleaned up. I climbed over chairs, shoes, and made a path through the remnants of a great afternoon to reach my sleeping girls.
I just stared at them for a minute. My emotions completely flooded my soul as I looked at their room. What if today was my house? What if my girls were on a cot in a shelter instead of zebra sheets in a hot pink room?
I kissed them, said their prayers, and walked quietly to bed. I had a chance, a moment, looking at the mess, where I could have completely ruined it all. But you see, what was so very important at 9:00 am just didn’t have the same allure 18 hours and so much heartache later. I crawled into bed and reached for Gary’s hand.
He gently squeezed it and said, “I am so glad you are home.” I whispered, half to him and half to myself…“I am just glad to have a home.”
As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t allow the moment to pass without acknowledging my Creator…The Blessed Controller of All Things…The One the wind and waves obey.
My prayer was simple, but from an honest heart.
God bless Tuscaloosa…and God bless my beautiful mess.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
You can't wear flip flops on Easter
…a reflection from someone who attended the first service of Golden Acres Baptist @ “The Fort”
You Can’t Wear Flip Flops on Easter…
I have heard it my entire life. You see, before I was a minister’s wife, I was John and Linda’s daughter. Some of you may know my sweet mother and can attest to this fact… “Miss Manners” has nothing on her. Etiquette and appropriate behavior was pounded into mine and my sister’s head from birth. My mom had but one goal: cultured and refined young ladies (Sorry, mom… you did your best). The phrase “that is just the way things are done” governed most of our life.
In our family we celebrated every holiday with a big family gathering. Easter was no exception. You may not know this but, my family is originally from a little town in West Tennessee. We call it the “country.” In the country where we celebrated, we had one simple rule. You wore new clothes on Easter. This was at the insistence of my grandmother who was even more proper than my mother. Dresses, hats, shoes, even panty hose were bought. The whole family was always decked out. We went to church and sat together as a family.
Now I know that clothes do not make the person, but in my family there was an unspoken rule about church attendance and wearing the best you possibly had. To this day you will see my father in NOTHING but a suit and tie in church. I have explained over and over again that we are in Alabama…IT IS HOT HERE! The preacher doesn’t even wear a suit. My daddy will have no part of it…
So you understand why it was just a little awkward for me today.
Today I wore a t-shirt and flip flops. IT IS EASTER! I kept laughing to myself wondering what my sweet grandmother would have thought about my attire. I know what my mom will say when I call her this afternoon.
Today was a work day for us. We (Golden Acres Baptist Church) started a church in Fort Mitchell, Alabama that met for the very first service today in Mount Olive Elementary School. A very passionate guy (translation: crazy) named Adam Johnson had the audacity to listen to God and then do what He said, hence the beginning of “One Church in Two Locations.” Without going into a lot of details, we are the same church body just 20 miles apart. Our goal: to establish another location for unchurched people to hear about Jesus Christ.
“Mission” is not just about going around the world. Sometimes it is going down the street.
So today we worked. I walked more, sweated more and prayed more today than I have in a while. I told the girls that today wasn’t about them. I didn’t care how hot they were, or how tired they were getting. Today we serve. Today we work. This Easter we are going to give Jesus a present because long ago HE gave us the best present of all.
I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get to participate in “church “ today. My goal was to serve and work and I could have “church” later.
I was wrong…
God had another plan. All day I kept having these moments. Moments where I had to stop take a minute to savor what was happening. My first moment happened standing outside of the children’s service absolutely crying, tears running down my face as I listened to them sing to Jesus. One of the most precious things to me is hearing children praise God.
My second moment was much more personal. A glorious mom moment I will never trade. Now I don’t want Lindsey in full-time vocational ministry if that is not her calling, but I do expect her to serve Jesus somehow. I just never thought I would get to see it today. When I saw Lindsey standing by herself in a school hallway greeting strangers, and pointing them to the Worship Service, I almost couldn’t contain myself. Serving a Risen Savior, on Easter, showing others Christ, as a child, what more could a mother want?
I thought today was about giving God a gift, but He kept giving them back to me!
The place was packed, but I expected it to be. The launch team has worked so diligently to make it a success, and one more thing…WE SERVE A BIG GOD!
I have tried all weekend to wrap my mind around Easter and sacrifice. To not let it be just a fun holiday about bunnies, candy, and eggs…but to really explain the true meaning of Easter to our girls. To help them see that the new clothes aren’t as important as a new heart and a changed life. It is not wearing your best, but giving your best for His glory…so others can hear.
I must say, this has been my favorite Easter weekend to date. I am so thankful we serve a God who loved us enough to give up everything to be with us.
I know in Heaven… God smiled today as the first convert accepted Christ as her Savior. I am also pretty sure that my grandmother was watching, and smiling as she quietly overlooked my rhinestone flip flops.
You Can’t Wear Flip Flops on Easter…
I have heard it my entire life. You see, before I was a minister’s wife, I was John and Linda’s daughter. Some of you may know my sweet mother and can attest to this fact… “Miss Manners” has nothing on her. Etiquette and appropriate behavior was pounded into mine and my sister’s head from birth. My mom had but one goal: cultured and refined young ladies (Sorry, mom… you did your best). The phrase “that is just the way things are done” governed most of our life.
In our family we celebrated every holiday with a big family gathering. Easter was no exception. You may not know this but, my family is originally from a little town in West Tennessee. We call it the “country.” In the country where we celebrated, we had one simple rule. You wore new clothes on Easter. This was at the insistence of my grandmother who was even more proper than my mother. Dresses, hats, shoes, even panty hose were bought. The whole family was always decked out. We went to church and sat together as a family.
Now I know that clothes do not make the person, but in my family there was an unspoken rule about church attendance and wearing the best you possibly had. To this day you will see my father in NOTHING but a suit and tie in church. I have explained over and over again that we are in Alabama…IT IS HOT HERE! The preacher doesn’t even wear a suit. My daddy will have no part of it…
So you understand why it was just a little awkward for me today.
Today I wore a t-shirt and flip flops. IT IS EASTER! I kept laughing to myself wondering what my sweet grandmother would have thought about my attire. I know what my mom will say when I call her this afternoon.
Today was a work day for us. We (Golden Acres Baptist Church) started a church in Fort Mitchell, Alabama that met for the very first service today in Mount Olive Elementary School. A very passionate guy (translation: crazy) named Adam Johnson had the audacity to listen to God and then do what He said, hence the beginning of “One Church in Two Locations.” Without going into a lot of details, we are the same church body just 20 miles apart. Our goal: to establish another location for unchurched people to hear about Jesus Christ.
“Mission” is not just about going around the world. Sometimes it is going down the street.
So today we worked. I walked more, sweated more and prayed more today than I have in a while. I told the girls that today wasn’t about them. I didn’t care how hot they were, or how tired they were getting. Today we serve. Today we work. This Easter we are going to give Jesus a present because long ago HE gave us the best present of all.
I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get to participate in “church “ today. My goal was to serve and work and I could have “church” later.
I was wrong…
God had another plan. All day I kept having these moments. Moments where I had to stop take a minute to savor what was happening. My first moment happened standing outside of the children’s service absolutely crying, tears running down my face as I listened to them sing to Jesus. One of the most precious things to me is hearing children praise God.
My second moment was much more personal. A glorious mom moment I will never trade. Now I don’t want Lindsey in full-time vocational ministry if that is not her calling, but I do expect her to serve Jesus somehow. I just never thought I would get to see it today. When I saw Lindsey standing by herself in a school hallway greeting strangers, and pointing them to the Worship Service, I almost couldn’t contain myself. Serving a Risen Savior, on Easter, showing others Christ, as a child, what more could a mother want?
I thought today was about giving God a gift, but He kept giving them back to me!
The place was packed, but I expected it to be. The launch team has worked so diligently to make it a success, and one more thing…WE SERVE A BIG GOD!
I have tried all weekend to wrap my mind around Easter and sacrifice. To not let it be just a fun holiday about bunnies, candy, and eggs…but to really explain the true meaning of Easter to our girls. To help them see that the new clothes aren’t as important as a new heart and a changed life. It is not wearing your best, but giving your best for His glory…so others can hear.
I must say, this has been my favorite Easter weekend to date. I am so thankful we serve a God who loved us enough to give up everything to be with us.
I know in Heaven… God smiled today as the first convert accepted Christ as her Savior. I am also pretty sure that my grandmother was watching, and smiling as she quietly overlooked my rhinestone flip flops.
Monday, April 18, 2011
PedaL
Pedal
One of my epic failures in motherhood has been to successfully teach Anna Kate to ride her bike. I guess I should clarify. The concept has been grasped, it is the execution she finds daunting. She gets the whole idea of pedaling; it is just controlling the bike that is an issue. Whenever she gets out of control, going too fast, or just a little scared she jumps off. She will totally ditch her bike.
Despite countless warnings, skinned knees and dangerous crashes, she won’t stay on. I have gently explained that you cannot control the bike if you are not on it. If you want to regain control you have to stay on the bike. She absolutely refuses. Several failed attempts where one or both of us ends in tears, has caused her to give up completely. There is no childhood joy for her and that bike.
In an attempt to salvage this rite of passage, we took her to Callaway Gardens. Our goal here was simple; see other people riding and having fun and maybe she would too.
Now, Gary and I are fairly intelligent people, but we completely missed this one. Training wheels won’t go on trails. In our attempt to have a big, fun, family adventure, we overlooked the obvious.
We had started off well, everyone was happy. Then we rounded the corner and realized that the terrain was changing. Anna Kate was doing fine on what she called “the smooth” ( concrete). It was the mulch and the dirt that got her. I sent Gary and Lindsey on, and I stayed behind with her. My only goal was to encourage her, and to try not to let her see my laughing as her wheels just spun in the landscape. She would pedal and do nothing but spin her wheels. As the dirt was flying and she was getting frustrated, I decided I had better push her.
I am certain that other people thought I was killing her as dirt and tears ran down her little face. I’ll admit we were a sight to see, and then it got worse. She quit on me.
Complete and total surrender to the trail. White flag failure. She made every possible excuse, blamed anything and anyone around, and then sat down, took off her helmet, and cried.
Now some of you know me pretty well, and I am sure you can envision this battle of wills in the middle of the forest. She was determined to quit. I offered no reprieve. I picked up her bike, put her on it and said, “Pedal!”
Her big, blue, eyes looked at me in bewilderment. She was tired. She was hot. She was DONE. But… we were in the middle of the journey and there was only one way out. She had to pedal. If we were to get through this, she had to get back on and start again.
I had just about given up on her making it and then I saw her face. She heard something. Lindsey and Gary had gone on before us. From way down the trail, she could hear Lindsey:
“Come on Anna Kate, you can do it. You are a big girl. Get on your bike and ride! I know you are tired, but I just did it. The next part is smooth, it is flat. Ride to me!” Anna Kate, I am waiting for you, come on!”
Her little face lit up, she got on the bike and started to try. Then she heard the booming voice of her daddy coming through the trees. “Let’s go little girl! Keep pedaling. You can do this, I am over here. Ride to me. I am not going to leave you. Get out of the dirt, and get over here.”
She started talking to herself, “keep pedaling, almost there. I can hear them. I can do this. Look Mommy, I am doing this.”
By the time we actually got to them I was in tears. My baby had just had a personal victory, and it was all over her face. It was hard, and dirty and exhausting, and she had done it. I had just witnessed a holy moment.
You see, God drew a parallel for me between our humanness and His Holiness.
Sometimes life is hard, it gets downright dirty. You get stuck. It is easier to quit than to keep going. Your wheels won’t turn and the path isn’t smooth. The day is getting long and your strength is failing.
BUT
There is a Father waiting for you, and a great cloud of witnesses who have gone before cheering your name. ( Hebrews 12:1).
The way may be thick, and you may be getting tired. With dirt on your face, skinned knees and tears, get back on the bike.......................and Pedal!
.
One of my epic failures in motherhood has been to successfully teach Anna Kate to ride her bike. I guess I should clarify. The concept has been grasped, it is the execution she finds daunting. She gets the whole idea of pedaling; it is just controlling the bike that is an issue. Whenever she gets out of control, going too fast, or just a little scared she jumps off. She will totally ditch her bike.
Despite countless warnings, skinned knees and dangerous crashes, she won’t stay on. I have gently explained that you cannot control the bike if you are not on it. If you want to regain control you have to stay on the bike. She absolutely refuses. Several failed attempts where one or both of us ends in tears, has caused her to give up completely. There is no childhood joy for her and that bike.
In an attempt to salvage this rite of passage, we took her to Callaway Gardens. Our goal here was simple; see other people riding and having fun and maybe she would too.
Now, Gary and I are fairly intelligent people, but we completely missed this one. Training wheels won’t go on trails. In our attempt to have a big, fun, family adventure, we overlooked the obvious.
We had started off well, everyone was happy. Then we rounded the corner and realized that the terrain was changing. Anna Kate was doing fine on what she called “the smooth” ( concrete). It was the mulch and the dirt that got her. I sent Gary and Lindsey on, and I stayed behind with her. My only goal was to encourage her, and to try not to let her see my laughing as her wheels just spun in the landscape. She would pedal and do nothing but spin her wheels. As the dirt was flying and she was getting frustrated, I decided I had better push her.
I am certain that other people thought I was killing her as dirt and tears ran down her little face. I’ll admit we were a sight to see, and then it got worse. She quit on me.
Complete and total surrender to the trail. White flag failure. She made every possible excuse, blamed anything and anyone around, and then sat down, took off her helmet, and cried.
Now some of you know me pretty well, and I am sure you can envision this battle of wills in the middle of the forest. She was determined to quit. I offered no reprieve. I picked up her bike, put her on it and said, “Pedal!”
Her big, blue, eyes looked at me in bewilderment. She was tired. She was hot. She was DONE. But… we were in the middle of the journey and there was only one way out. She had to pedal. If we were to get through this, she had to get back on and start again.
I had just about given up on her making it and then I saw her face. She heard something. Lindsey and Gary had gone on before us. From way down the trail, she could hear Lindsey:
“Come on Anna Kate, you can do it. You are a big girl. Get on your bike and ride! I know you are tired, but I just did it. The next part is smooth, it is flat. Ride to me!” Anna Kate, I am waiting for you, come on!”
Her little face lit up, she got on the bike and started to try. Then she heard the booming voice of her daddy coming through the trees. “Let’s go little girl! Keep pedaling. You can do this, I am over here. Ride to me. I am not going to leave you. Get out of the dirt, and get over here.”
She started talking to herself, “keep pedaling, almost there. I can hear them. I can do this. Look Mommy, I am doing this.”
By the time we actually got to them I was in tears. My baby had just had a personal victory, and it was all over her face. It was hard, and dirty and exhausting, and she had done it. I had just witnessed a holy moment.
You see, God drew a parallel for me between our humanness and His Holiness.
Sometimes life is hard, it gets downright dirty. You get stuck. It is easier to quit than to keep going. Your wheels won’t turn and the path isn’t smooth. The day is getting long and your strength is failing.
BUT
There is a Father waiting for you, and a great cloud of witnesses who have gone before cheering your name. ( Hebrews 12:1).
The way may be thick, and you may be getting tired. With dirt on your face, skinned knees and tears, get back on the bike.......................and Pedal!
.
God Cares about Baseball?
Children, my life has been devoted to them. Thousands of kids have darkened my door. Every kind, shape and color. In all this time spent with kids I have come to one conclusion. There are only two kinds of kids.
The first kind of kid needs time, love, encouragement, and support sprinkled with a little fun and discipline. Then there is the other kind of kid. They just need MORE. The ones that will test every bit of patience, every ounce of kindness, the ones who will absolutely exhaust you if you let them.
It seems like every year I get a few “ MORE” kids. They seem to be prevelant lately. I have been told that the only way to deal with these kids is pray for an answer.... or exorcism.
This proposition collides with my current philosophy about my students. I had a revelation years ago about my classroom and my kids. I do not pray about my problems with students. I know it sounds weird, but it just wasn’t working for me. "God, help me not to lose my temper when "Willie Bob" interrupts me for the 65th. time!" I would pray for them (whatever our classroom problems was) and then all day long I would focus on what I prayed for, watching for the answers. This will make you crazy. It made me crazy.
I determined that I would pray for God to show me Him in situations and show ME what to do. If I spent my time focused on Him, then their problems would seem so small.
I try very hard not to waiver from this plan. So, I was really shocked last Thursday night. I was in my bed praying and I kept seeing one of my students flash across my mind. I would ignore it and try to focus, but I just couldn’t. I finally asked God “ What’s up with this kid?”
Now the little side note is... he is one of those “ MORE “ kids. I have expended so much energy on this one child that I actually thought that was why he was now invading my prayer life.
God was pretty straight with me though (usually is). He said “You have been pretty rough on him this week. He has done everything you asked. He needs some special attention tomorrow. A treat, a reward, a kind word from you. He needs some affirmation. He needs to HEAR YOU say good job. He has done his part, now step up and do yours.
Well...ok then. Not one to want to argue with God,
I went to bed determined that I would be obedient the next day.
Friday morning came, and I was on duty in the gym. I saw him walk across the floor. I swallowed hard and told him to come to me. I actually told him EVERYTHING. I explained that while I was praying, he was on my mind. I told him how God told me to talk to him. I told him that he had done well, and I was so proud of him for his efforts. He would get to choose a reward.
I wish you could have seen his face as I talked to him. I thought he was going to cry. He looked at me and said “ I needed to hear that I had done good (his words). Mrs. Millraney, last night was a bad night. You see, my mom was sick. She didn’t make it to my ballgame. I hit my first homerun this year, and there was no one there to cheer for me.
I stood there amazed. Not so much at his situation, but at my God.
The idea that an 11 year old kid, and his broken heart...touched the heart of God. So much in fact that God told his teacher(me) to cut him some slack, and love on him the next day.
Honestly, it sent chills down my spine.
The Creator of the Universe who holds time in His hands. The author of life and death. GOD! ....And all our tears matter to Him. Not earth shattering tears...nobody died. It was just a game, but it was important to him and so it was important to God.
I have always believed that God cares about the little things in our lives. And now I have some proof!
Just think...God even cares about baseball.
.
The first kind of kid needs time, love, encouragement, and support sprinkled with a little fun and discipline. Then there is the other kind of kid. They just need MORE. The ones that will test every bit of patience, every ounce of kindness, the ones who will absolutely exhaust you if you let them.
It seems like every year I get a few “ MORE” kids. They seem to be prevelant lately. I have been told that the only way to deal with these kids is pray for an answer.... or exorcism.
This proposition collides with my current philosophy about my students. I had a revelation years ago about my classroom and my kids. I do not pray about my problems with students. I know it sounds weird, but it just wasn’t working for me. "God, help me not to lose my temper when "Willie Bob" interrupts me for the 65th. time!" I would pray for them (whatever our classroom problems was) and then all day long I would focus on what I prayed for, watching for the answers. This will make you crazy. It made me crazy.
I determined that I would pray for God to show me Him in situations and show ME what to do. If I spent my time focused on Him, then their problems would seem so small.
I try very hard not to waiver from this plan. So, I was really shocked last Thursday night. I was in my bed praying and I kept seeing one of my students flash across my mind. I would ignore it and try to focus, but I just couldn’t. I finally asked God “ What’s up with this kid?”
Now the little side note is... he is one of those “ MORE “ kids. I have expended so much energy on this one child that I actually thought that was why he was now invading my prayer life.
God was pretty straight with me though (usually is). He said “You have been pretty rough on him this week. He has done everything you asked. He needs some special attention tomorrow. A treat, a reward, a kind word from you. He needs some affirmation. He needs to HEAR YOU say good job. He has done his part, now step up and do yours.
Well...ok then. Not one to want to argue with God,
I went to bed determined that I would be obedient the next day.
Friday morning came, and I was on duty in the gym. I saw him walk across the floor. I swallowed hard and told him to come to me. I actually told him EVERYTHING. I explained that while I was praying, he was on my mind. I told him how God told me to talk to him. I told him that he had done well, and I was so proud of him for his efforts. He would get to choose a reward.
I wish you could have seen his face as I talked to him. I thought he was going to cry. He looked at me and said “ I needed to hear that I had done good (his words). Mrs. Millraney, last night was a bad night. You see, my mom was sick. She didn’t make it to my ballgame. I hit my first homerun this year, and there was no one there to cheer for me.
I stood there amazed. Not so much at his situation, but at my God.
The idea that an 11 year old kid, and his broken heart...touched the heart of God. So much in fact that God told his teacher(me) to cut him some slack, and love on him the next day.
Honestly, it sent chills down my spine.
The Creator of the Universe who holds time in His hands. The author of life and death. GOD! ....And all our tears matter to Him. Not earth shattering tears...nobody died. It was just a game, but it was important to him and so it was important to God.
I have always believed that God cares about the little things in our lives. And now I have some proof!
Just think...God even cares about baseball.
.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Piece of Paper
I was fired from my first teaching job. Seems like a life time ago. Rumors were spread, people didn't know who to trust and I got canned. It was bittersweet. I learned so much about myself and my mission as a teacher that summer. I found the words to a song that became my anthem. I decided last night that no matter what my " paper" said about the fruit basket turn- over and my new assignment in Lee County- I would share this from Carl Cartee
Lost in You
Guilty, for trying to make a name for myself.
Chasing after all this wordly wealth.
Listening closely for applause.
Forgive me, For I confess I have chose the lesser way.
Pawning off these gifts for mortals praise.
Consume me, and burn away the things that cloud my mind.
Bring me to my knees where I can hide.
Let me get closer to You.
Surround me- let a veil of Your greatness cover me.
Hide my in your hands so I will be - fading from view
drifting from this world. So far away.
Lord help me be faithful to this call. Forsaking all
Let me get lost in You. Let all my kingdoms fail.
Let every hope and every dream be wrapped up in Your will.
Lord , You be exalted, and I will step aside,
Let me get lost in You and You be glorified.
Lord- You be exalted- and just give me a place to hide
Let me get lost in You and You be glorified.
Oh and the rest of the story is..... God has an incredble sense of humor. That next year I was hired at a city school where my old principal's daughter attended. I was on a team as her 3rd grade teacher! He came in at the end of the year and told me how much she loved me, how pleased his wife was, and how wrong he was to let me go. Yep--- God's got me - even when it seems like life is dictated by a piece of paper- It is really the Prince of Peace in control.
Lost in You
Guilty, for trying to make a name for myself.
Chasing after all this wordly wealth.
Listening closely for applause.
Forgive me, For I confess I have chose the lesser way.
Pawning off these gifts for mortals praise.
Consume me, and burn away the things that cloud my mind.
Bring me to my knees where I can hide.
Let me get closer to You.
Surround me- let a veil of Your greatness cover me.
Hide my in your hands so I will be - fading from view
drifting from this world. So far away.
Lord help me be faithful to this call. Forsaking all
Let me get lost in You. Let all my kingdoms fail.
Let every hope and every dream be wrapped up in Your will.
Lord , You be exalted, and I will step aside,
Let me get lost in You and You be glorified.
Lord- You be exalted- and just give me a place to hide
Let me get lost in You and You be glorified.
Oh and the rest of the story is..... God has an incredble sense of humor. That next year I was hired at a city school where my old principal's daughter attended. I was on a team as her 3rd grade teacher! He came in at the end of the year and told me how much she loved me, how pleased his wife was, and how wrong he was to let me go. Yep--- God's got me - even when it seems like life is dictated by a piece of paper- It is really the Prince of Peace in control.
I Saw God Today
I heard it playing on the radio as I pulled out of the parking lot. It was the perfect song as I was driving away from morning worship yesterday.
The sermon had something to do with surrender and seeing God in HIS temple. I don’t really remember a lot of details about the sermon ( sorry Ray!) It was the invitation that grasped me.
The invitation time was simple. We were supposed to close our eyes and ask God to show us Who He is.
I followed my instructions. Bowed my head and prayed, and waited.
Half- Expecting to see something supernatural…. HIS train, HIS temple, seraphim, something in my holy imagination to stir my heart.
I felt this nudging in my soul….. You want to see me? You really want to experience who I am? Niki, Open your eyes.
I couldn’t help it. I opened my eyes. I saw all these people at the altar during the invitation. I got the message loud and clear. I AM all around you…. My glory IS HERE.
Now, I have been on the front row of every service for around 18 years . I have a front row seat for watching God move. Sadly- I guess I get used to it.
I stood there amazed that I was privileged to be a spectator to this event.
HE gently pointed out to me:
That is ME—I am healing her hurt. That’s ME. I am their convicting sin. I am restoring homes. I am restoring lives. I am granting salvation. That’s Me. I am changing hearts and lives.
God never ceases to amaze me. I ask, and HE gives, but never in the way I request and always so much more than I deserve.
He answer was so simple: Don’ t ask for ME to show up, because I am here-
Ask ME to show YOU- because I am waiting .
The sermon had something to do with surrender and seeing God in HIS temple. I don’t really remember a lot of details about the sermon ( sorry Ray!) It was the invitation that grasped me.
The invitation time was simple. We were supposed to close our eyes and ask God to show us Who He is.
I followed my instructions. Bowed my head and prayed, and waited.
Half- Expecting to see something supernatural…. HIS train, HIS temple, seraphim, something in my holy imagination to stir my heart.
I felt this nudging in my soul….. You want to see me? You really want to experience who I am? Niki, Open your eyes.
I couldn’t help it. I opened my eyes. I saw all these people at the altar during the invitation. I got the message loud and clear. I AM all around you…. My glory IS HERE.
Now, I have been on the front row of every service for around 18 years . I have a front row seat for watching God move. Sadly- I guess I get used to it.
I stood there amazed that I was privileged to be a spectator to this event.
HE gently pointed out to me:
That is ME—I am healing her hurt. That’s ME. I am their convicting sin. I am restoring homes. I am restoring lives. I am granting salvation. That’s Me. I am changing hearts and lives.
God never ceases to amaze me. I ask, and HE gives, but never in the way I request and always so much more than I deserve.
He answer was so simple: Don’ t ask for ME to show up, because I am here-
Ask ME to show YOU- because I am waiting .
2011 in just one word
Our family gatherings are usually fun and always loud. Full of lively discussion and even a little debate. This year, at our family meal, my sister posed a question. One that tormented me all night long. She encouraged us to go around the table and tell our goals and dreams for 2011. To try to sum up our year vision with just one word. The room filled with words like wisdom, fun, rest, nest, discipline, etc .
I just couldn’t come up with one.
I have thought about where I am and where I want to be often this close of the year. What needs to change and what needs to stay the same to move me toward where I want to be. But to condense it down to one word….
For someone who doesn't usually have trouble with words.... I was struggling.
At first I picked Mosaic, because I had a collage of things on which I wanted to focus, then decided that wasn’t part of the rule. I chose other words all night long and I couldn’t settle.
In the middle of the pandemonium…. the magic began to fade. Late night + lots of sugar and caffeine, too much together was beginning to cause our precious angels to grow horns as only New Year’s Eve can. Amidst the chaos and Lindz throwing up (because eight cookies should never be eaten as a snack)…. I was given my word.
Around 11:00 I saw something that truly stopped me. Not a holy moment, but one that made me completely wonder. Marveling at the moment I was witnessing. In the middle of the confusion, kids fighting, a Wii blaring, puppy running around… I saw them in the corner.
My mom and my daughter, 11:00 at night, sitting on the couch just talking. They were so caught up in each other, that for the moment all the other was insignificant.
You see, I was reminded that life is a series of moments. Some good, some not so good. Moments of awe and moments of absolute despair or frustration. All moments though. Moments we can’t get back. I saw in that moment just how fragile life is.
I re- played the past, the multitude of close calls our family has experienced, the miracles we have witnessed … And I wondered- How many more holidays will we have complete? A whole unit. No one missing, all happy, healthy and together.
I made a decision. This year I will practice savoring the moment- whatever it will be. Not fretting over the future or regretting past mistakes. The comedy, the reality, the drama, the tender, all the moments that will make 2011. Knowing that life is precious and time is a gift....... I am going to purposefully try to shelter that gift. To recognize it for what it is. A piece of my story I will never get back.
In that moment I finally found my word. CHERISH
I just couldn’t come up with one.
I have thought about where I am and where I want to be often this close of the year. What needs to change and what needs to stay the same to move me toward where I want to be. But to condense it down to one word….
For someone who doesn't usually have trouble with words.... I was struggling.
At first I picked Mosaic, because I had a collage of things on which I wanted to focus, then decided that wasn’t part of the rule. I chose other words all night long and I couldn’t settle.
In the middle of the pandemonium…. the magic began to fade. Late night + lots of sugar and caffeine, too much together was beginning to cause our precious angels to grow horns as only New Year’s Eve can. Amidst the chaos and Lindz throwing up (because eight cookies should never be eaten as a snack)…. I was given my word.
Around 11:00 I saw something that truly stopped me. Not a holy moment, but one that made me completely wonder. Marveling at the moment I was witnessing. In the middle of the confusion, kids fighting, a Wii blaring, puppy running around… I saw them in the corner.
My mom and my daughter, 11:00 at night, sitting on the couch just talking. They were so caught up in each other, that for the moment all the other was insignificant.
You see, I was reminded that life is a series of moments. Some good, some not so good. Moments of awe and moments of absolute despair or frustration. All moments though. Moments we can’t get back. I saw in that moment just how fragile life is.
I re- played the past, the multitude of close calls our family has experienced, the miracles we have witnessed … And I wondered- How many more holidays will we have complete? A whole unit. No one missing, all happy, healthy and together.
I made a decision. This year I will practice savoring the moment- whatever it will be. Not fretting over the future or regretting past mistakes. The comedy, the reality, the drama, the tender, all the moments that will make 2011. Knowing that life is precious and time is a gift....... I am going to purposefully try to shelter that gift. To recognize it for what it is. A piece of my story I will never get back.
In that moment I finally found my word. CHERISH
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