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Currier and Ives

1990 showed up again this week. Let me see if I can explain....

I always wanted a “pretty” Christmas tree growing up. One that matched. One that had ribbons and bows. I remember going out to Opryland and secretly coveting those trees. I know it is silly, but I longed for a tree like that as a child.

You see, Our tree was ugly. Nothing matched, just a hodgepodge of stuff that we made or collected. I even made fun of our tree on more than one occasion to my mother. She would just shake her head at me and protest. Our tree was beautiful to her.

When Gary and I married I decided that I would have the perfect tree in MY home, the perfect holiday, the perfect everything....and so the madness began.

I had to have everything just so.... the tree, the lights, the “ Southern Living” Magazine version of what I thought it should be. I would spend hours working on making it “ just right”. One year I even hand tied elaborate bows on each and every gift, just to take them off and transport them to TN. I wanted them pretty under the tree before we left.

We started a tradition years ago cutting down our tree. We all trample off through the woods in search of our “ Hallelujah” moment. Finding the perfect tree has nearly caused death or divorce on few occasions.

The photo session alone is enough to make my kids cry.

On our way home last weekend we stopped to get our tree. For some unknown reason I was just in a different mood. No matching outifts. No hoopla. One family photo. And the girls even helped pick out the tree. Not at all a normal outing, but I was beginning to sense that this year I was going to be different.

A few days passed and the girls wanted to put up our tree. I said, “No.” It takes three days to put up MY tree. I have to wrap every strand with lights . That alone takes one whole night. I told them when I was ready I would let them add a few ornaments, but

......I put up the tree.

Then Thursday night came around . They caught me at a weak moment, and I conceded to letting them do the tree themselves. Gary looked at me like I had lost my mind. I figured with Lindz being 10 that this could be her last year for fantasy and I couldn't take any part of it away.

I just secretly vowed to re do it when they went to bed.

Watching them decorate and hang the ornaments with pride was truly a “Mom Moment.” We talked about the origin of the figures. How they all represent some part of our life. It was a family history lesson that they actually wanted to take part in. I was able to share with them “Our Story” and how God has seen us through so much.

It was my Christmas gift.

As I sat there that night and looked at our finished tree, it hit me. That tree is not perfect, there are things I would change, parts I would do differently. Trinkets I would move that might fit somewhere better. It is similar to our story. The Millraney saga. The tree is not perfect, but neither are we. That hodgepodge of decorations represents the hodgepodge of members and memories  God has put on this journey.

As much as I want perfection, it just not us.

The Millraneys have never really been Currier and Ives.

Isn't that what Christmas represents? A need to perfect the imperfect. 

Could it be that it is  our responsibility to take what we have, and what we have made, to create a masterpiece of our own. Imperfections and all laid at the Savior's feet as a gift to HIM because of HIS gift for us.

Normal, everyday people who get an indescribable present even though they don't measure up.

I looked at “Our tree” and remembered my poem from 1990 “ the Ugly Tree”. I gave it to my mom the Christmas I began to understand the meaning.

  I found it, and looked at it again. I sat there reading it and realized something: my 16 year old heart had found truths that this 37 year old one had lost.

The Ugly Tree 1990

It's Christmas time and once again,

We are surrounded by family and friends.

Each one commenting on our

Ugly tree.

Ornaments created by tender hands

that no one else could see.

The lights are twinkling like all the rest

but the decorations are what make it best.

Upon this ugly Christmas tree

is a collection of a family.

The joys and triumphs, sorrow and tears

passed down to us through all the years.

The tree is decorated with memories,

on every branch, a story to see.

So, if at our house you may be..

Feel welcome to view our ugly tree.

For our tree is not decorated with silver or gold,

but with wonderful art work of stories untold.

Really

I was holding it together pretty well through it all until we pulled into the driveway. Somewhere between late night and early morning, the girls and I arrived home. We had just spent the week in Tennessee burying Gary's sister. All we could think about was finally getting home. We walked into the house and realized our dog, Moe, was missing.

It was cold, late, and I was exhausted. Knowing I could do nothing until the sun came up, I went to unpack the car. That is when I saw him. Laying to the side, dead in the corner of the driveway. Moe had been hit by a car.

“Really?” I stood in the driveway, and saw my babies faces. I knew.... they knew, and I just lost it.

“ Really God? Are you kidding me? Really? After the week we have had:

You made us watch our family ache over a death far too early. We watched Gary preach his own sister's funeral. My girls stood by a casket and stared death in the face. Isn't that enough, but no... you took the dog too?”

Lindsey looked a me through her tears and said, “Who are you yelling at?” I looked at her, and told her the truth.

“God.”

She walked away silently, but her face said it all. She wanted to be nowhere around someone who stands in the middle of the yard yelling at the Creator of the Universe.

I was heartbroken, I was exhausted.....I was ticked!

Now I know that human life is far more valuable than dogs. It was just the culmination of all of my fragile emotions unleashed at once.

I had just had enough and since He knew my heart anyway.....

Last Saturday, we began our Holiday traditions. We made shoe boxes for kids who need toys halfway around the world. I found myself standing at the cash register, just a little nervous. I wanted to make sure our little fun family activity didn't cost “too much.”

My unspoken somewhat selfish mantra..... “Give til you feel better...... about you.”

I tried to ignore it, I kept walking around looking for “dollar items”.

“Really Niki?” 

I am surprised everyone in Family Dollar didn't hear it because I couldn't miss it(even though I tried) God was very loud in HIS correction to me. “You just spent more money buying a dog collar and leash for your new dog than you did on this child. You are now worried about the dollar amount getting out of control. You might spend too much money..... proclaiming MY name? You might have to take back some of those clothes you bought today.... let's not even talk about what you spent just on you are those girls who have more than they can even pick up and put away.

Really Niki?”

I walked away for a minute while Gary was paying. I knew my thoughts were wrong, I just couldn't get a hold of them. I heard Anna Kate tell the clerk “ Did you know that there are people in the world, kids my age, who don't get toys for Christmas?”

…...And a little child will lead them.

This year I am thankful for a God who can take a fit . Who is not afraid to love me through a “ Really?” moment.

  Sometimes my side and sometimes HIS.

It all came together for me in the little note AK wrote. Her sweet heart on display. 

                              My gift, just to get to be her mom. Her simple words.

I really hope you love these Jesus toys......

Jesus toys. Really? God?

…. Yes, Niki, Really!

Home

“Mrs. Millraney, settle an argument for us please.”

      I love the way a 6^th grader thinks. There is still an innocence of childhood, but they are learning to reason. They question everything they have been taught. In my opinion, that is not always a bad thing.
        Last week they posed this question to me. “Is a house and a home the same thing?”
     I sat down with them and we talked about it. The longer we talked, the deeper it got, and we swirled into the land of questions. That is when they hit me with it:
     “Where is your home?” They always do that...they turn the question and stare directly at me waiting for an answer.
    That is a question I have thought a lot about lately. In the midst of life ... it is a fair question.

         Let's see. I married in Tennessee, graduated college in Indiana, had one child in Kentucky, the other in Georgia and I live in Alabama.
      I used to say home was Nashville, but that was twenty years ago. Can home be a place you don't frequent? In fact, I have now lived away from there as long as I lived there.

        I would say Clay Farm Road , my parents farm in TN. While I love it, it is not mine.
          I could say Alabama, because that is my current address. But one thing I have learned in ministry is that that can change all too quickly.
      Where is home?
      I guess a better question is “What is home?”

Home is where you can dance in the kitchen, you are free to act goofy, you can be yourself , where it is ok to cry. Home is where you are free to be you.....

whoever that might really be.

Home is where you are safe. Home is not alone.

I keep going, replaying it, and I keep coming back to one common denominator.

  The people.

I felt like I was home this past week spent with my family... but, that was never about location.

     My signs from my students after my absence said “Welcome Home!” and I completely agree that with my students I feel an element of home.
   
In the last 20 years, Gary and I have moved several times. NO ONE should ever have as many “ new home” ornaments on the Christmas tree as we do. But I can honestly say that if we ever went back to any of those places, we could be “ home” again.


Even Heaven is described as home, and I have never been there.


    I wish I had a concrete definition. A map to point to and say … here! But the truth is this, I can't answer the questions very well. I can't explain it, I can't illustrate it, or even put it into words....

But one thing I do know... I know when I am there.

58:08.0

“My only goal today is simple: I just don't want to be the last one!” Those were my words yesterday morning around 6:00am as Gary and I were getting ready for our first 5K race. I still question the sanity of our participation in such a grueling course, especially since we love Couch far more than 5K! To say we are paying for it today would be a gross understatement.

The adrenaline in the air was addictive. I can definitely see how people can get hooked on this. The music. The camaraderie, the excitement was intense. We were completely amused at the different runners. We saw everyone from the super fanatic to.....well, Gary and myself.... who are lucky to keep our shoes tied.

Gary decided that it would be fun if we ran together. Now, honestly he trains and works out a lot compared to me. If he is anything when it comes to me, it is protective. He knows that I am not supposed to “ push it too hard.” Those little metal clips in my head prevent me from over-exerting myself. Avoiding an all out explosion in my head was his goal.

And we were off. The start was exhilarating. All those yellow shirts running down the road. It was truly a sight. Like I said at the beginning, this was a grueling course. It started on a slope and went uphill almost all the way to the halfway point. One of our psycho- runner types who does all this running for fun said it was one of the hardest courses he had run. Sounds pretty typical for Gary and myself, “ No halfway!” At least, we would die raising money for missions.

We ran one mile, two miles and we were doing well. I kept telling him to go on without me, I was fine. He finally conceded and left my side. I was working on a pretty good pace, and I had finished the hardest part when I saw her.

She was over 70, out of breath, and walking up the hill with a huge walking stick. Watching her, I wondered if she would actually make it to the top. My eyes had nowhere to go. I kept running. Struggle was not a good enough word to convey the difficulty she was having. I was coming down the course and she was going up, set totally in my vision with no reprieve in sight.

Through my music blaring in my ears, I heard it. It was simple and so very clear. God told me to go back up the hill with her.

But.....

I was doing well, and those hills were by far the worst part. I passed her, smiled, and asked if she was “Ok?” She said, “Yes, I am fine! Going up the hill, or die trying.”

Proud of my version of reaching out, I kept running. I patted myself on the back for checking on her and then I heard that little voice.

“ Niki, That was cute! Now, go back and do what I told you to do to start with. How can you say you are out here running for missions, being the hands and feet of Jesus, and go right past her? "

Please don't think I am condemning anyone who passed her before me, I don't know what they were told. I just know what I was told to do. I swallowed hard and said to the runner beside me, “ If she can do it once, I can do it twice.”

I caught back up with her, and we somehow got to the top of the hill. She had completed her race. Her goal from the start was to just get to the top. I hugged her, and told her she was my hero.

Then, I started down the hill again.

I had figured out quickly that I HAD to be the last one. Everyone else had long since finished and probably gone home. I resolved that last was just going to have to be OK.

I began to replay the scene of that day and God reminded me of a few things:

First,

In this life it is much easier to “check on” people than to “go up the hill” with them. Checking on people makes us feel better, but sacrificing our desires for someone else' s benefit is what makes the situation better. I have been guilty far too many times of giving lip service instead of actually getting involved.

Second, Your plans and God's plans don't always match. But His is always better. What an incredible blessing I would have missed if I had not stopped. To hear her determination and shear will over a promise made to God was inspiring. To see God honor her heart and allow her to finish. healthy and whole, was amazing.

Lastly, You are not alone. Someone knows where you are, and that you have not finished your race yet.

At the last check point there was Melanie. She is a runner, and she was waiting for me. The race officials knew I had not crossed the finish line, and she was going to make sure I didn't run the last part, when I was tired, all alone.

We took off, and I was completely exhausted. It was quite a scene. There we were, running by Lakewood Baptist with traffic stopped. Three police cars, lights on, following us...... surrounded by motorcycle police.

Then I saw him, My prince, Gary was running back up the hill looking for me. He knew I was still out there, and he was going to make sure I got to the finish line, even if he had to come back and run the race again with me.

So there we were, lights, police and all, running the last part. It was quite a “ Forrest Gump moment.” No one knowing why we were so late, and it never even mattered. I knew, and that was enough.

I thought about my request that morning, that I just didn't want to be last.......

Fifty eight minutes and eight seconds later I was completely sure that last place was exactly where I was supposed to finish.

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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? .....