Setting Grace.....

Setting Grace.....

       Many of you know my oldest daughter is named Lindsey Grace. She inherited her name after Dr. Robert Smith, the Godliest man I have ever had the privilege of meeting. He was the preaching professor at Southern while we were at Seminary. I can honestly say that every single time I came in contact with him, he radiated Jesus. That may not make sense to you, but if you have ever met someone who did, you know what I mean.

          It was during our stay at Seminary that we came to need that man in ways I could have never imagined. Few people know this, but Gary almost quit the ministry. It was his first, true, crippling, bout with depression and he shut down. He did nothing that semester and had no way of finishing. Exhausted, defeated, and hopeless, he went in to officially quit after three years. He had to go to Dr. Robert Smith, his advisor, to do this. Dr. Smith heard him out, looked at him and simply said, “No.”

       He wouldn't accept quitting. He made Gary finish. Held his feet to the fire. Loved him, encouraged him and allowed him an extension. Bent the rules, Another chance. Undeserved, unmerited...favor

     I will never forget how truly special Gary's graduation from Seminary was to us. The battle was long and hard, but he finished, with the help of a very special man. Dr. Smith even spent some time with our family that day. I'll never forget Gary's answer when he was asked, “If you could walk out of Seminary taking only one lesson, what would the most important one be? Gary smiled and said “ I learned Grace.”

     Years later when we found out that we would have a girl, Gary contacted Dr. Smith and told him that our daughter would be named Grace.... a constant reminder of the gift we had been given.

     Upon having my precious daughter, I asked God to use her to constantly remind me about the grace we had received from not only Dr. Smith, but also from God.

         There have been times, looking back, maybe I should have worded my prayer a little more carefully....

     Lindsey is an absolute jewel, a gift from the hand of God. I am sure she will rule the world one day. God has incredible plans for this little girl. I can't wait to see who she will become.  She is so incredibly smart, funny, and most of all... strong willed.

     My sister actually said years ago that she was concerned about how difficult it had been raising sweet Lindsey. She said she wanted me at Lindsey's wedding. I needed the chance to see her grow. At the rate we were going, I wouldn't make it.

I told her I would be at her wedding, I would just be in the corner eating glue.

It really hasn't changed much. Lindsey is, and will always be my greatest challenge.

     Last week was no exception. She had been working on a spanking for a few days. Her almost ten year old “I know everything, you know nothing,” attitude had gotten way out of hand. I had just about enough, and told her that she was treading on dangerous ground.

     She kept pushing, and I snapped. I would no longer tolerate her disrespect. I told her to bend over because she was getting a spanking.

Yes, we spank our children. It works for us.

      Well, Lindsey is VERY strong and I couldn't wrangle her. She flipped and flopped. I didn't feel I could safely administer punishment, so I told her “ Fine... wait... Daddy will be home soon.”

     She quickly realized that her options were getting worse. She began begging and pleading for me to go ahead and spank her. Her statement was comical, “She wouldn't have a butt left if daddy got a hold of her.” I entertained her petition, and exhausted, I just said, “No.”

    As the night progressed, Gary and I talked about what she had done. I got to thinking how I didn't want to ever spank her out of anger and hurt. She had broken my heart and I didn't wanted to react to that. I told her to just go to bed.

 I was hoping her close call would get her attention.

      The next morning she started again. From the moment she got up, IT WAS ON! After several warnings her daddy stepped in fulfilled the promise given only the night before. She screamed and cried and put on the best performance of her life.

She was getting her consequences, the ones she deserved.

The car ride to school was painfully silent. I was still fuming over the morning and she was still silently crying. Then, I heard her say it. I wasn't sure I heard her right, so I asked her to repeat it.

“Thank you for setting grace on me last night.”

Intrigued, I asked her explain. She said, “The spanking that I got today, I deserved last night. You gave me grace instead. I didn't realize how much grace you set on me until I got my punishment today. Thank you mommy, I am sorry.”

“Setting Grace.” Her words swirled around me as I drove. I kept thinking about my own life. I replayed some of my epic failures. How many times have I overlooked God's grace? Unmerited favor extended to me. Why do we have to have the consequences to humbly come to the point and say “I should have gotten this all along.”

   She is showing me more of Jesus' s love for His children every day. We are all “setting grace” examples of a loving God who ultimately extended unmerited favor upon people who have the choice to completely reject and ignore His commands.

    Once again I have had my prayer answered. Once again that precious little girl is a living example of God's love and God “ setting His grace on me.”

Legacy

I  have always dreamed of working at a school where my girls attended. It is a privilege I have never been granted, until this year. I am always the mom crying in the corner because I missed something. I simply hated the fact that the school asked my husband to go to events and field trips because I could never go. I have longed to be the mom that gets to attend Awards and eat lunch. I have always wanted to do all the “ Mom things.”

I finally got my wish this year. I truly love being with them. I get to see them throughout the day and smile as their little heads peep in my classroom window. They don't distract. They just need to see my smile as much as I need to see theirs. It is medicine for my soul on the sometimes long and hard days in the land of 6^th grade.

 I remember not too long ago, it was  Anna Kate's helper week. She was the hall monitor.... and from what people tell me… She was very good at it.

Four different teachers came up to me and recounted her rise to power. I didn't get to see it myself, and in some ways I am glad. But I can picture it. There she was, hand on her hip, snapping fingers, and pointing at some poor kid. “ You were talking! … Don’t even try to say you weren’t talking. I saw you. You need to stop!”

Every one of the teachers came up to me and said, “She is YOU!”

I thought about this a long time on the way home. It was humorous, especially if you know my baby. But,  I came to a very humbling conclusion, she gets the power, she gets the role…

but she doesn’t get the WHY?

I laughed at the thought of her standing there. She thinks it is about  prestige. She misses the part about protecting an environment for learning. She isn't concerned with safety or submission to authority. She is completely enamored with the position or posture of teacher.

She knows the motions. She can copy them, but she doesn’t know my reasons.

That is extremely scary to me. They are watching me….. intently. They copy my every move….without ever knowing the why.

My absolute favorite picture of my daughter Lindsey is one of her in worship. She has her eyes closed and her arms lifted up as she sings. When I asked her why she did it, she simply said.... “ You do it.”

I guess I could be self- serving here and just let it end with that but,...

Tonight, in fact, my Anna Kate told me that I had to be on the Naughty list because I was listening to a song on the radio about “ slapping your Grandma” , and that I yell a lot lately.

Recently, we had to have the whole “ cussing” discussion, and I am pretty sure that I know where that behavior was learned.

Now , I know that I am about as far from perfect as you can get, but I do want to leave a Legacy of faith for my girls.

And this is not it.

 At church, we studied about Abraham and Isaac and the almost sacrifice. The child was old enough to ask intelligent questions, so I am guessing he was old enough to put up a fight once he realized what was happening. This part really bugged me!

I guess I walked away from church ashamed. I kept thinking about how Abraham must have lived his life out in front of his son so that when he told him the plan, there was no record of a struggle.

He must have been used to hearing the “why” about obedience from his dad. Abraham must have done a good job of the whole, “ When you walk down the road, when you sit and when you lie down” part.

As a result, his son had learned to accept God's commands.

I sometimes forget to take the time to share the “Why.”

Last week I had a heart to heart with Lindsey about obedience.When she asked me why I cared so much about her obedience, I had the opportunity to tell her that until she falls under my authority, she will never fall under God's.

Outside of God's hands....that is just not a place I want my daughter to be.

She and I talked about moving here, and how I was completely and unequivocally  against it. I came because I knew God said to do it. I did not want to. God brought me here with all my reservations....but it was out of that obedience that we have been so incredibly blessed.

It hit me lying there in bed with her... “Why have I not told her this story before?” How did I get so busy being mommy that I overlooked this?

A private faith, I am learning is not one that my girls can follow.

  If don't explain and take the time to show them, they will spend their whole lives going through the motions, but never engaging their heart.

   I want them to ask why. They need to hear it from me.

I was reading in Deuteronomy 11 about the Children of Israel and Moses getting the 10 Commandments. Twice it is told to the people. Remember.... your children didn't see God do this or that. Remember to tell them. Explain why we are here and what you have personally seen God do.

After 15 years in youth ministry, I can attest to that fact all too well. So many kids grew up with parents who would take them to church, make sure they were taught, but it ended right there in the parking lot.

Parking lot faith will not be there on the days that I am not.

I watched my girls deal with death for the first time this week as Gary's sister died.  They were constantly on my radar.  I was super psycho mom this week trying to sense every possible question and mood.  To shield, to answer, to protect. 

One thing I noticed.  They were watching US.  It didn't matter at all what they had heard us say about God, or death or pain.  They could only digest what was right in front of them.   Good, bad, or whatever.  On display to prove if the God we serve would show up and do what we had told them about. 

We sat and answered questions about songs and scriptures and such.  I was so humbled when my Lindsey said.  " Daddy, I'll do your funeral one day.  I know who your God is and I know just what to tell people. "   

Maybe the most precious words a parent can hear.

 Ultimatley, I want to have a legacy of faith  to leave my girls.    To know that with confidence they can stand one day and tell others about the God that they serve, and why they serve HIM.

I am realizing that for better or worse, I am forming my legacy now

 I have to make it a priority to explain in great detail the " WHY?"  

One day they will know it was

.. not so much what I did, but why I did it.

Not so much what I thought, but why I thought it.

Not who I was, but WHY? .....

Esther Moments

  I have a tradition, I have done it for 11 years.   I don't share it.  It is private.... until now.

The night before school, when the world is finally quiet, I go to my classroom.  Some years I  have had to crawl through a window, but I always got in. I will work until I am ready...  Until everything is finished.  Sometimes it gets very late, but Gary knows...... this is my time and I want to be alone.

When everything is complete,  I turn off the lights.  With just a lamp on, in the middle of my room, I get on my knees.... and I stay there.   


  I pray and wait.

 I just stay until I feel released to go and do what God has called me to do.  TEACH

This year was special.  I finished right about sunset and I bowed before my Creator, in the middle of  “ Raney's.” ( my classroom),  The sun was setting through the window.  I actually remember asking to be like that light to my students this year.   I got the feeling that somehow, this place was going to be different.  That somehow, I would get to do just that.

I left my classroom, and I began to walk out.  That is when I noticed it.  The school was silent, but the doors I past had teachers in there.  They were all doing what I had just done.


  It was a holy moment.   It still gives me chills.
  I knew this place was different!

 I couldn't have asked for a better first week.  So many moments when I was affirmed over and over again that I was right where I was supposed to be.

 The second week  we started talking about stanines, and benchmarks and colored folders and my eyes began to cross.  I know these things are important, but I was getting overwhelmed.  I started to get bogged down and stressed over lesson plans, materials and stuff.

Stuff, my focus became on what I needed, not what I had.  I have a room full of children that need me---- not teacher's editions and books.   I can't let my children just  be red, blue, or green folders...

                I took my eye off the ball.

Then it started happening,  my prayer, prayed at sunset,... answered in ways I could never have dreamed.

It began with one student whose sister was a week away from having a baby.  She came in and told me that the baby died.  She told me about the pain and heartache of the family.  I hugged her and said.  “ I understand.”   She had no way of knowing  that my sister had a little girl named Rylee who died just like that.  Almost to term, and that stupid blood clot issue we have....  took her away.

It was very clear to me in that moment that I had a choice:

 “Here's your answer Niki.
Did you really mean it when you prayed to be MY light to these kids?
 If you did, then get to it.  If not, get out of the way!”

        Then, Saturday night my phone rang. On the other end was a mountain of a man in tears.   He was crying so hard I could barely understand him.  It was the parent of one of my students calling to tell me that the reason for the kid's absence was that they had found a mass on the mother's brain.  He said that he didn't know if I believed in God or not, but if I did, could I pray for them?
 I said I would,  and I just listened.  I needed to get confirmation in my spirit to proceed.

  He said “ I know you have no way of knowing how scared we are,  I wish someone could understand.”  Even as dense as I can be sometimes,

                         How do you miss that one?

I shared my story of the brain aneurysm  and open skull brain surgery that nearly took my life.  The one several of you witnessed and loved me through.  I was able to give the man hope and comfort.  I was able to share who my Jesus is and was to me.

We stayed on the phone for a while. It was such a blessing for me.

As I hung up the phone, I kept hearing the still small voice saying  “How do you know that it wasn't for this hour you were born?  How do you know that it wasn't for this hour that student was placed in your class?  How do you know that is wasn't for this hour you were assigned to Wacoochee?”

 Dear friends,  God continues to show me that we are not here by accident. We were not shoved here, but placed.  The children in our rooms were given to us because God knows in His infinite wisdom that we are the person that they need.


Let me encourage you in the midst of the busy …...to not miss that.    Because ultimately, each day with each kid,  we can all be part of Esther moments:



                      For how do YOU know
 that it wasn't for this very hour you were born?

                        Esther 4:14

Stained Glass

  Stained Glass

It is all I can think about lately. An image that keeps invading my thoughts. It is a picture I just can't shake.

Shattered pieces of clear glass scattered on the ground and a beautiful stained glass window. The most beautiful one I have ever seen.

The glass on the ground is where my mind turns first. Disordered, it was once whole. Clean, pretty, functional, solid. It allowed illumination and warmth to enter while offering protection from the harmful elements.

But something had to have happened, clear glass covering the ground could never just break. Something, somehow, broke the pane.

Broken glass is a dangerous thing. Unless it is cleaned up with great care and attention, broken glass can only do one thing...hurt.

Then, I see the beautiful stained glass panel. I notice that it is made up of broken things. Remnants of what was once whole, fused into a new creation. Hard to believe anything beautiful can come from something...so shattered.

This has so bothered me that I actually studied a little about the process trying to understand my picture, and I found out something interesting.

True stained glass is created when the pieces of glass heated to incredible temperatures allow elements from within to mix with added elements from outside. The colors are a result of searing heat mixed with internal elements, with added minerals being applied. The resulting color represents a lasting picture of the elements that were within the glass itself.

Lastly, I think about the person. The Creator of this masterpiece. Unwavering loyalty to the unveiled, completed product. Having the vision, the Artisan must be very selective in deciding what pieces will stay and what pieces will have another destiny. All of the pieces are valuable, yet ultimately they will not all rest in the same creation.

 How I hate to see things broken. Even more, I hate to see broken people.   Isn't it interesting that the process of refining is the same?  Glass into art.... broken hearts into beautiful stories.

How I wish we as people could fast forward to the beautiful mosaic. The masterpiece that remains when the searing process is complete. The vision of the broken being restored.

A  changed life. A new direction.  A portrait of beauty that can only exists because of the hands of the Artisan.

Peeling the Paint

        “Peel the paint off the wall.”  That is how my Lindsey’s cry was described by everyone who knew her as a baby.  She was the perfect baby in the hospital.  We stayed four days because she was basically ripped out of me during a difficult birth.

 It was Heaven.

       On day 5 she started screaming and to my knowledge, she hasn’t stopped.  In our family, we found out quickly that sleep is so overrated. We have done absolutely everything we could: medicines, every conventional and unconventional thing possible.  Nothing seemed to ease her pain.  Don’t even talk to us about doctors, specialist, and the such…been there, done that.

 We even burned up three vacuum cleaners just to drown her out and quiet her down (that’s a completely different story.)  Most nights we would just sit on our porch in Glasgow and wait until morning.

        Strange to say, but I guess the good thing about all of this is that she really has never felt good.   Poor kid doesn’t know what a good day feels like.  She says that there isn’t a day that she doesn’t hurt.   She deals with it far better than I do. 

       We try to keep things in check with her, it is my obsession.  We work very hard to monitor what she eats and how much.  You see, we know that she has a birth defect in her colon and she doesn’t process food well.   There is a “kink” and waste just won’t pass.  Her body doesn’t accept nutrients like everyone else’s. This is why she is so small. 

       We have had a good summer.  I guess I should emphasize HAD.  It all fell apart a few weeks ago.

       We were on the way to work in my classroom when she told me  to “ STOP THE VAN.”  I did, thinking she would throw up and we would go on.  This is a very normal thing for us.

       We stopped the car on the highway next to Concord Baptist Church.  She jumped out of the car and started running through the church parking lot.  For some reason, in her brain, she thinks that if she runs the pain will go away.   She ran and screamed and cried and prayed.  Right there in the church parking lot she cried : “ Jesus, help me!  Oh! Please God, make it stop!”

 It was one of the hardest moments I have ever witnessed as her mother.  Watching her beg God for help.  Waiting,  knowing there is nothing I could do.

I called Gary and we caught her.  She exhausted herself and collapsed into Daddy’s arms. We got her home, settled and decided that the worst of that day was finally over.

  Wrong!

       Each night I tuck my girls into their beds.  We talk about the events of the day.  We finish any unfinished business and end our time with prayer. I make it a priority to pray with, and pray over each of my girls every night.  I want them to hear me talk to God about them,  and thank God for them.

 Before we prayed,   Lindz  stopped me .  She knew what was next and she had a question.

“Why won’t God listen to me when I pray?  I just want to be like everyone else.“

 “ Mommy, why won’t HE help me?”   “I am so tired of hurting.”  “I just want one normal day.”

        I fumbled around a bit.  I stalled, and then I pulled from my file of “church answers.”

1.  Maybe God helped you because you should have been at camp this week. This could have happened without me here.  What would you have done then?

2. Maybe this episode stopped long before it should have.

3.   God provided us a safe place to stay while we figured out what to do.

4. You did get better ….eventually.

 To her, my theology was so completely lacking. Exhausted from my pitiful attempt,   I finally looked into her hurting eyes and said,

           “Lindsey, I don’t know.”    

             

       She questioned why God was being mean to her.  She asked “If God made me, why did HE make me like this? “ As gently as I could, I said: “I don’t know why God created you like this, and I don’t know how to make it stop.” 

Such a humbling place to come to with your child.

        As her mother, I have stormed Heaven’s gates.  I have begged and I have pleaded.   I have sat in hospital rooms and cried until the tears were gone.  I have held her through every possible procedure. We have tried every cocktail of medicine you could fathom.  I have learned all too early what it feels like to be a mom when “a hug can’t heal the hurt.”  I have visited all too often the place of utter helplessness with my little girl in my arms.

              9 years……

       That night I lay in bed thinking about our conversation.   I realized something.  In her little 9 year old way she articulated words that few people are brave enough to say… at least out loud.

       Why won’t God help me when I need HIM so badly?  Where is God when my world is crashing?  Is this really part of a plan, or just a mean joke for some heavenly entertainment? 

       How can a loving God allow such bad things to take place?  Why doesn’t HE intervene in situations that could only bring HIM glory?

       Lindsey’s  issue is small compared to others   Divorce, death, calamity, etc.  But the sentiment and questions prevail.

 Where is God in all this? Where is the healing?  Where is my promise?  Why is there a “thorn” God won’t remove?

       I have played around with the thought for days.  I have tried to come up with a reasonable answer to satisfy her questioning heart.  Even the Sunday night sermon at church last week was about unanswered prayers. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it.  

 I thought about blogging on it. I have typed this several times. I finally let it go, but God just won’t let me….. let it go. 

Today’s lesson at church this morning was even on….. prayer.   I am guessing if HE is dealing with me and my child about this then there are others who may need some answers too.

       While I may not be any closer to a concrete answer for my child to grasp, I have realized something this week.

               I have failed my daughter.

        I have painted her a picture of God that is not real.     A portrait of wish granter.   We talk all the time about answered prayers and prayer requests that God honors.   We speak of a loving God who is more like Santa than Savior.  A heavenly check off list of things we desire.  It is so easy to proclaim our love for God when HE does what we want.

          But how often do you hear someone talk about what happens when God says… NO. When  HE hears from Heaven and answers…“ I can fix it, but I choose not to…. and I am not going to tell you why.” Or    When you get no answer at all…

     I don’t think that I have ever heard anyone out loud thank God for the silence of an unanswered petition.   It is one thing to look back and see how it could have been different.   It is quite another to live in the presence of the answer being withheld.

 I know for certain  that I have never shared my feelings.  I have never talked with Lindsey about my unanswered pleas… times when I have been disappointed with God.

      I have heard that God is like a parent.  As a parent, there are things that my children ask for and I grant.  There are things I deny.  Then there are things that simple get,   “Cause, I am the mom” response.  No explanation except my position of authority. There is a reason; I am just not going to explain it.  It is usually about details they don’t need.  Sometimes the silence is out of necessity and sometimes it is just my preference.  Anyway, it is my prerogative to share or withhold.  It doesn’t change my position of parent though.  My answer doesn’t change the relationship.  I don’t quit being a good mom because I don’t do what they want, when they want it.  That, by definition, would BE bad parenting. To let a child with partial knowledge dictate my reactions.

   I heard a story once about how people disguised irreplaceable paintings by painting another image on top of it.  While the displayed image was pleasing, there was another layer much more beautiful.  The true artifact designed by the creator was present, but to uncover the mystery, someone must expose it.

    I think God is calling me to do that with Lindsey. To reveal to her another layer of the painting. Sharing with her the truth that God works in ways that can’t be explained, or sometimes even justified in our human heart.

      I think for Lindsey it is time to “peel the paint” off of her portrait. To show her that the God she wants may not the God she needs.   It is time for her childlike view to take a new shape;

The true beauty of the masterpiece… a God who can’t be explained.

      I welcome her questions for they are heartfelt and genuine and they are drawing her to a deeper truth,

…an introduction to a Savior that in HIS infinite wisdom gets to dictate the WHY?

  I think it is time to explain to her that God is not “being mean.” She is not being ignored.  She hasn’t done something wrong to cause her pain. And while she desperately wants them, she may never get the answers she seeks.

      I have revisited this over and over in my mind this week and I have come to a conclusion.  Funny, it is the same one I arrived at that night in her room.  It is not terribly profound, actually it really is simple:

     Honestly,   I still don’t know why…

               But, I do know WHO….

                  and knowing that is enough.

                    Jeremiah 29:11

Soul Tending:

                     The verdict is officially in.    I am getting old!  I never thought I would relish quiet and solitude as much as I have recently.  The leisurely days of summer have completely ruined me.  The speed of the school year has given way to a Mayberry pace and I love it!

  I find myself going outside every morning to check on my flower garden.  I get up early, venture outdoors, and drink my coffee before the girls get up. I check on my flowers, pull some weeds, walk around and sit with the dog on the deck.

         My girls are aware of my ritual during the summer. They are used to my quirky routine.  I guess they are watching though, because Lindsey made a grand announcement this year that she too would have a garden!

 Lindsey decided that she wanted to plant a “food garden “.  Her Sunday school teacher brought her some butterbeans and she was hooked (thanks Mr. Ben).

She had to have a garden!

We spent days cultivating the soil.  We worked diligently on making sure that the dirt was ready to receive the seeds, and then we planted our treasures. We planted tomatoes, cabbages, strawberries, butter beans, carrots, watermelon.

 I am not a farmer.  I will not even pretend. She wanted it, and I will do anything for my Lindsey.

We worked all day planting.  We had a great time making signs and planning our little piece of paradise.  We talked about our harvest and what we would cook.  We had such a wonderful experience. No TV, no distractions. Totally focused on our task.  Just me and  my Lindz

That day was a good day.

Then the inevitable happened, it got hot here in the great state of Alabama.  She no longer wanted to work in the garden.  The garden was WAY up at the top of the hill (about 90 feet) and the walk was just not convenient anymore.

I am not going to lie to you and tell you that I saved the little garden.  If truth was to be told, I had the same sentiment.  I really did want the harvest, but I didn’t want to do the work.

Our little garden looks like a wasteland right about now.  The sun has completely fried anything that tried to grow.  There was this one little tiny tomato that was shriveled on the vine.

The little row markers Lindsey made looked like headstones in a cemetery.

 Everything is dead.  Weeds are the only thing that survived.

Weird, you can put so much time and energy into something wonderful, but when conditions change, you neglect it. All that hard work preparing the soil, all that time and energy planting things that if given the right conditions could have grown to produce beautiful harvest.   All that work…. ruined because we lost our focus. We got so caught up in the conditions of the day, that we missed opportunities to cultivate a harvest.

Now I bet you are wondering about my flowers.  Well, I cheat. My flowers are on my deck.  They are no more than 10 feet from my back door.  There is no distance or effort involved in my flowers.  They are constantly in front of me, constantly being checked on or even tripped over.  They are right there in my line or view daily.

The reason my flowers grew and her garden died…. simple:

It just wasn’t important.  It just wasn’t easy or convenient.  We had not tended to it, and the only thing that grew was the weeds.

  They choked out everything else.

         Last week while I was outside,   I was sitting out on the deck, and I began asking God why He seemed so far away.

He took me up to our garden.   His answer was pretty clear  …. “Your heart looks a lot like this garden.  There are things that shouldn’t be there that are choking out anything there that is supposed to be growing.    Yes, I am God , but I will not going to compete for your attention.   You let other things choke out time with me…  even seemingly good and important things.” 

I have found that I can even let the things of God choke out the presence and voice of God. I can get so busy with the activities and events that seem good and noble that I miss it.

 The message……right there in the dust:

If you want the spiritual harvest your soul craves, you are going to have to put in the work.  Just like a garden will not grow without you carefully inspecting it daily, your heart and faith won’t grow without you giving it due attention. 

There it was! 

You will have to get dirty, sweat a little, get uncomfortable, wait,  WORK!   If you want the desired end result, it may not be easy, but it will be worth it.  When it is harvest time, you will have more than enough for what you need and then you can share what you have with others.

I guess if we are honest, we could all use a little more soul tending.   I know I need to take the time to slow down.  To let the world go.    I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t fall prey to this. We all need to be careful about the things that distract or invade.   

 I am finding this summer that I need to weed out my heart. I need to work and tend and watch things grow.   I need to monitor and carefully inspect what comes out.  It is not just about me, others might benefit one day from the work I  SHOULD BE doing now.  I have decided that it is time to get started again.  It is time to  take care of my garden, I have to…...

 my girls are watching..

Boomer Ranch Adventure

              There are some things you just hate to admit to people.    Let’s face it though, my reality is others people’s comedy. I say this with all sincerity; our family could star in a reality TV show.  

My sister actually threatened me one time with turning us in to Dr. Phil. When I asked her why she didn’t, her answer was comical.  “You people would scare Dr. Phil.”

  Well, there you go!  

             One of my facts not so easily admitted must be the new rule in our family while the van is in motion.  I have recently had to institute the “No talking while driving/riding” rule for my girls. This was an absolute necessity after I completely ditched van.   I now understand why disciplining and driving is not such a grand idea.  It is very hard to explain to others on the scene of the mishap that you were flailing your arm wildly trying to hit whatever/ whoever popped up closest.  My luck never fails.  Just about the time I took my eyes off the road to ensure I made contact with at least one of the offenders, I jumped the curb and ended up with two wheels in the air.

             This rule has re-established order and decency in the car. It is truly difficult to fight if you are not talking and can’t see each other (I make them sit one in front of the other).

             Well, I have made an exception this week.  Since it is VBS week, I told the girls we could sing in the car.  Big Mistake!  After three days of hearing BBBBBB….BBBBBig Apple Adventure, my nerves were wearing extremely thin. I found myself  saying   “If I hear “bbbbig apple adventure” one more time, I am going to scream.”  Please pick another song…. if you must sing.

 I really should know better.

            They proceeded to sing all the songs from all the years they have done Bible School (which is a lot considering Daddy is a minister).  Now Anna Kate is only  6,  so her repertoire consisted only of the last 3 years.  Lindsey kept pulling up songs from waaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy back.  I was astounded by what they recalled. I head songs about Boomerangs.  I heard songs about Saddle Ridge Ranch, Capers, etc. 

 It was quite a little concert.

            As I was listening to the performance, it quit being a cute little show to pass away the summer day.  I really began to hear the words of the songs.

Saddle Ridge Ranch-  Discoverin' whenever I need wisdom God is the one to ask. ( Yep, been there)

Tumbleweed-Don't be all dried up, fried up, or petrified.  ( Yep, still there some days)

Boomerang Express: It all comes back to Jesus. No matter where you go or what you do the most important thing in life is that you choose to live for Jesus (Took me years to get this one!)

            In my scrapbook, I have a picture of myself on stage, as a 5 year old, singing:

 “God made me special; I am the only one of my kind. He gave me a body and a bright healthy mind. He has a special purpose that He wants me to find. He made me something special I am the only one of my kind.”

 “I am a promise, I am possibility. I am a promise with a capital P.”

             I am 36 years old, but I still remember every word of the songs I sang that night.  While I was a typical child and jumped right off the stage during the performance, the words seem to stick much better than my feet did.  I have had to go back into the recesses of my soul and pull those songs out from time to time to sing back to myself when I felt like I was inferior, or just a little lost.

            As I listened to my girls sings their little hearts out, I heard an astounding truth; they already know all they need to know to make it in this life.  While I am not throwing in the towel at 6 and 9, the foundations that they will build their lives on are forming right in front of me.

             Proverbs:  “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

                 I am so thankful for the ones who have so patiently taught my girls.  Through kindness, hard work, mixed with incredible amounts of fun, you have helped me touch tomorrow.  There will be a day when I won’t be there.  It is hard to think about, but true for us all.  It is so comforting to my heart as a mother  to know that  one day they will too  be able to go back and pull out songs from their childhood.

 I may not be there to tell them, but the truth will stay the same.... No matter if they are 5 or 85.

                                      “It all comes back to Jesus."