Within Arm's Reach

Her name is Anna.

That is the only other thing I know about her. It is kinda sad really. We literally spent days together.

We laughed, she watched me cry, she saw me pray, she watched me walk out when I just couldn't take it anymore.

She was always …..there.

When alarms would sound or questions arise, she was the voice of calm during a very unnerving time.  Anna had never met my family. She knew nothing of the “Argos.” She had no knowledge of our history or our story. She was simply the nurse assigned to care for my mom.

She was more than a medical professional tending to the needs of the sick, Anna was amazing.

She knew just what to do, and just what to say in those long days sitting, simply waiting. There is no doubt in my mind that one of the most lonely places in the world is in a hospital room.

She would encourage me, teach me, and lead me back again to hope. When fear or doubt would begin to creep in, she knew at that moment how to chase it away.

She taught me how to feed my mom when she couldn't even eat. She would stay right beside me when I told her I was scared .…...because mom would choke on everything.

She would even sit there with mom so we could leave the room. She would say “ I won't leave her, I promise.”

She was entertained by our family stories when she knew we needed to laugh. She would listen as we recounted God's faithfulness because she knew WE needed to hear it again ….outloud.

Oh, and she melted my daddy's heart. She would tolerate his banter, and his sometimes seemingly stubbornness, just to pull me aside and tell me what a rare love we were in the presence of.

I said “other” thing, because I know this one thing about Anna. She is a minister. She exemplified being “ the hands and feet of Jesus.”

                My family was the mission field that week, and she was the missionary.

I guess this is the first time I can remember, in a long time, when the mission field was.... me.

        I have heard it all my life. I have even done it....with gusto! We commission missionaries, we go on mission trips, we plan for projects in the name of the Great Commission.... and I support it.

       But, I think there is more to it.  When I look at the life of Jesus, the daily accounts are when the ministry took place.  It was in the "ordinariness" of his Divinity that HE touched people.  We don't see him going farther than about 40 miles from home, but when HE went, he was on purpose, and changed everything with His presence.

      A life on mission. A different way to view each day with purpose. To wake up and look around at the world God has placed me in and ask myself this question...

" How can I bless another in such a way that they want hear about the Jesus I have found?”

I think they call it "Lifestyle Evangelism."  I just call it real life, with a real Savior, serving real needs in the real world.

    To not get so bogged down in the tasks of the day that I miss my mission field.

            That may mean in the middle of Wal-mart, in the drive thru at McDonalds,  at the church, or even in my own kitchen.....those are my mission fields.

Let's face it...It is easy to be Jesus and proclaim His name to strangers who have never seen you have a bad day.

           It is much more difficult to ask your child's forgiveness when you both know you have royally screwed up.

Honestly, for me, it is easier to go on a mission project half-way around the world than to be Jesus in my own classroom.

                                   The cost is simply greater in the daily.

“Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and then the utmost parts of the earth....” Acts 1:8

I think God purposefully put the instructions in that order because ….well, that is the hard way.

 He knew that we had to get the difficult parts down first.

         The calling of mission is for us all. The ministry lifestyle is corporate. We are all on mission with each choice we make. We wake up everyday with the unbelievable opportunity to “ Go into all the world.....”

Go to your Jerusalem first, wherever that may be.

Remembering that sometimes “the world”  begins within your own arm's reach.

A Long Obedience

A Long Obedience...

            I was cleaning out the garage recently, and I found something.... Gary’s Seminary diploma!

Seminary!  One of the most trying times in the story of Gary and NIki.

             That was the chapter where we had to figure out if the fairy tale would have a happy ending, or would be just chuck it all and move on.

 Honestly, it could have gone either way.

              I was so shocked.  That was a definitive chapter is our life. We can’t deny that it happened, or the cost incurred (and I am not just talking about money) but now 20 years later, it was just a piece of paper.

            It was a worthy endeavor, a treasure of life lessons, a great memory…. but it is a monument.

 

Lately, I have had two images thrown into my face almost every single day. 

Monuments vs. footprints.

A monument represents an event.    A footprint represents the journey. 

A monument; a testimony to the past.   In the Bible God would tell people to remember. He instructed people to set up a monument to look back to on those days when they couldn’t go any further.  A remembrance, a record of what once was.

            These images have really started me thinking.

What IS more important?  That it once happened, or that you are doing something with it?

 

I had a wedding. vs. Marry me everyday.

I gave birth to a child. vs. I am a mother.

God told me something then. Vs.  I heard Him today.

Even something as important as Salvation….. if it stays where you found it and you never do anything with it….Did it change you?

 

I see people everyday who are living the present on what happened in the past.   

Every single decision is colored by something that was once, but is no more.  

Blessings, tragedy, heart-break or ordinary, the life we live today, dictated by life then. Let’s get real here; I have been guilty of making today’s decisions based on monuments from experiences in my past. For whatever reason, the once was….. overshadowed the what is.

But,

 God called the Christian life: a race, a path, a forward motion.  He never once told us to set up camp.  There is nowhere I can find where we are told to “Stop.”  

                        A footprint represents the journey.

Why would God tell us to set up markers, but keep going? I have struggled with these two images until God finally cleared it all up for me at such an odd place:

Children’s Camp.

            I actually went to a few this summer.  While I was there, I found myself reading a book about Footprints or Monuments.  I didn’t want to read it.   There was no shaking it. There was something inside the cover that I needed. It was just one of those times when I just had to take it with me.   

The title: A Long Obedience in the Right Direction.

            At camp, I sat in the back.  I saw them raise their hands in worship.  They were soaking it all in: the adventure, the fellowship, the fun.  I got to see them worship The Creator in the middle of HIS Creation.I watched them set up monuments in their memories; places to return to from time to time to try to recapture…. a feeling.

God began to show me that this journey is a long obedience…. A lifetime of steps …….in a single direction.   Some steps are slow, some are painful, but the nature of the steps is that they are continual.

 Sadly, I have seen so many stop walking when the monument is out of sight.  It gets hard to do the daily, to continue the journey when the way gets hard or (let’s just get real here)  when you don’t want to anymore.

 We are living life on what happened then. We articulate God from the past.  We say– 20 years ago I did this, or I saw God do this.

 We can testify to  a monument, but no record of a current journey.

              Monuments are just moments. They have a purpose, but can't be the focus.  Important to the story, but not the whole picture.  

When I look back on the events that I feel define me. I can’t help but see how if I had just stayed at any one of those places, I would just be a stone. 

            God has called us to a LONG Obedience.   A journey that ends at the Heart of God.

Dan is the Man!

          Anyone who knows the Millraney family knows we support Chic- Fil- A whole heartedly.  In all honesty, in our home, my girls think it is a food group.

           I have joked on more than one occasion that we should have our own wing at the Phenix City store ( j/k). We dearly love our friends, Todd and Lindsey ( the owners). 

   I have witnessed BOTH of my girls call each person behind the counter by their first name. I can’t tell you how many times some brave soul (JOE) has had to go rescue of them from the top of the play place.  I have even seen them go behind the counter and get something they needed. (don’t tell Todd!)

So, I guess what I am saying is this place is like “CHEERS” for my kids.

           With something so recognizable to them, I have to take this opportunity to talk to them about what has happened. It is so rare to get such an in-your- face object lesson.  A tangible reference point that they understand, to use to teach them the things of God.

The conversation was simple.  I told the girls, “He was asked a question, and he told what God said about it..... and people got mad.”

Seems pretty elementary to me.  My girls got it.  So I got to thinking, “Why doesn’t everybody?”
I found my answer. The reason that people are up in arms over all of this is because:

                   He didn’t tell the truth......... (let me explain)

Look at the definition:

Noun:

The quality or state of being true: "the truth of her accusation". That which is true or in accordance with fact or reality: "tell me the truth".

 Now, read that statement again:

                   That which is true or in accordance with reality.....

Now, calm down…. I believe the Bible is the Word of God.  I believe that Jesus is the Way, the TRUTH, and the life.  I will shout it from the mountains.

But that is the problem.  The world doesn’t.

In the Bible, it says that we are to be in the world, not of it.  God’s way will not be accepted. We live in a fallen world polluted by sin.

           A world where every view is skewed with someone’s reality.

Perception is reality…and that changes based on who you talk to. The reality of our world is that everyone has their own version of it.

And none of it is real. 

Where is absolute truth anymore anyway?  What happened to: God said it so we are supposed to follow it…..the End?

Better question…When did we get a voice in that conversation anyway?

Don't people realize that they are arguing with the Creator of the Universe....not the creator of the Chicken Sandwich?

We, as a nation, have gotten so far away from the things of God that we cannot even recognize them anymore.  We live in “Shades of Gray.” We fight for things we AGREE with.  Things that we FEEL are right. 

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” (Jer.17:9 KJV).

We take God and HIS word completely out of most equations. (or we twist it to make it say what we need.)

The fact is that the things of God and this world have always been…separated.

                       That is why Jesus sacrifice was needed.

God loved us so much that He wanted us with HIM. He sent the answer in Jesus.   That was the all inclusive part of the deal.  That is where God loved us all.....everyone. 

Yes, God tells us to love one another, not accept one another.

 The older I get the more I see that my generation has taken that to mean …accept everything.

                         Some things are just not acceptable.

In my opinion, Dan is the Man!

   What Mr. Cathy said wasn't unloving or arrogant. He answered a question based on what the Bible said, and he got the response that the Bible said he would get.

  He did love, and was criticized for it being offensive.

 Sometimes love is offensive.  The Bible itself is offensive......

.....but, so was the cross.

Tirade of a Mad Momma....

 Yesterday, I was sitting in the den with my little girl and we were taking a break from our Saturday chores.  We were watching an episode of a show that we have seen literally every day. My mouth dropped as a commercial came on about a new TV drama, and it showed two teenage girls making out.   

Please keep in mind that this was a Saturday afternoon at 3:00.

Completely sideswiped by that one, I realize very quickly that I just didn't know what to say.  I half-way hoped she missed it.  She waited a few seconds and I thought maybe we were safe when the inevitable happened. Confused, she looked at me and said,

"Mom, I didn't want to see that."

Now, I am not going to get into the debate about society, the state of our culture, or my pie-in-the-sky ideals on maintaining my child's innocence.

 But...

She is a blank slate on which to write, and frankly I did not want this to be the first sentence….on this subject.

 She is 7!  Boys are still icky, kissing is taboo, and she has already found her prince. She calls him daddy.

So, now this image is in her head along with questions that I wasn't prepared to answer at the age of 7.

 There are unspoken rules about what is acceptable in a public setting, and what is just too far.  Why, in the middle of a kid’s show did someone decide to put that in front of her eyes?

                                           I know why. 

    We are a culture in the process of excusing everything. 

De-sensitizing our children so that when they are older that they see no more absolutes about right or wrong. We are creating an anything goes society.    We tell everyone to be whatever and whoever they want to be.  We are told to accept even when the act is unacceptable by God’s standards.

It used to be this subject was about the inappropriateness of a male- female relationship and how it is portrayed on TV in ways that would make a grown woman blush.

 Now, we have gone one step farther.   It is that one step that is making the vulgarity of the former “not that bad.”

 I fondly remember when there was no need for ratings, or explanations about content.  You could enjoy a show without being “on guard.”  I remember even when TV commercials didn’t need ratings. 

Lets face it ...some of that stuff is just as bad as the shows themselves. 

Now it is getting to the point that I would just as soon not even have it on.

I know what you are saying, and I guess you are right. 

 I am a prude.

 But, I just can't promote the TV idea on relationships, dating, etc. as "a try- on- and- see –if- you- like- it- plan."   After years in youth ministry I can tell you without doubt: that is a recipe for disaster.

I have come to the conclusion that I am engaged in a full-on pursuit for my child’s heart. I want to protect the beauty and mystery of God’s design, while the world is doing everything possible to do just the opposite.

                                         So, now I am just mad!

 Mad at someone stealing something that I am trying so hard to protect.

 Mad about things that I can't control.

 Mad about society’s justification about changing times.

 

 

Mad about my daughter's innocence interrupted.

 Mad about the fact that no matter what I do or say....

                          I can’t get that moment back.

.

I want to be a Billionaire

I want to be a Billionaire…

This summer has not been stellar for me.   It seems that lately my appetite for more is in one word
…. insatiable.

     In the last month I have wanted, needed, and pitched fits for:  a new house, a Land Rover, an Armada, a Pathfinder, new clothes, another beach trip, a pool, and new furniture.
Ridiculous!  So much so that Gary actually asked me one night lately, “What is wrong with you?” 

       To my discredit, the only answer I could come up with was, “I don’t know, maybe my early mid- life crisis?”  Not a very good option in my opinion, but it is the only one I have!

        We compare what we have with what others have, and find ourselves lacking.  It is on every channel, and in every store.  We live in the most affluent country on the planet , and yet no one seems to know how to  define...enough.

Especially this girl….

This was pointed out to me at the strangest place this week...  A yard sale.

      Just like everybody else in America, I love a good yard sale!  I enjoy sifting through someone else’s treasures.  It is actually fun to have one on your own, but it is so much more fun to do it for a worthy cause. Saturday we had a yard sale for Missions.  We were working to raise money for the Rwandan Mission team and the teaching and training of pastors there.

It was an epic failure!

 Let me clarify…..the yard sale was a success, the failure was all mine.

      In preparation, I sifted through mounds of stuff.  I went to others and asked them for their stuff.  I even hit up my girls.  I gave both of them a bag and told them to fill it up.   Their instructions were clear; Go find things that they no longer wanted and give it “to help others.”

Such a noble cause.

  Like all yard sales, Saturday began  very early.  We priced things to move!  Practically giving away items just to raise a buck, but mostly to get rid of the stuff.

       At one point when things were going well, I told Gary I had a brilliant idea.  “Let’s take some pictures so that the people in Rwanda can see how hard everyone has to work just to get to go over there.”

  It sounded good in my head, but once it came out….not so much.Gary said simply, “Think about that one. How is that going to work?” (Yes, it is extremely difficult being married to Dr. Phil!)

 I looked around and realized something; we were selling all of the excess things that we no longer wanted  to aid them in acquiring...... water, and shoes, and maybe an extra clean shirt.”

Would those precious people that I needed to impress with my picture  even understand excess?   

More importantly why do I get to?

      It was finally beginning to sink in when Jean, our friend and pastor, from Rwanda came outside. He was present at the yard sale witnessing a true taste of Americana.

I approached him.  I just had to know what he thought of this scene.  Knowing he was intrigued on a previous visit to America about simple things like ice, I just had to know what this event looked like to him.

His answer stopped me cold. I was speechless.  He looked around at all of our unwanteds.  The excess someone was going to throw away, the things that no one valued anymore, and said

                     “If I had all of this, I would be a billionaire.”

Convicted, I had no response.  I had to just walk away. I have been so blessed, but rarely ackowledge it.

 Why did the man from Africa have to point out my wealth to me?   

Why is enough  just not enough anymore? We have so many things that we (the Millraneys) can’t even manage it all.  We spend our days cleaning up all of the extras. I fall over the toys that are sprawled out all over the floor, the ones that no one seems to value enough to pick up. 

         Most people like me are overtaken by the mountain of clothes needing to be washed, yet we need more.

 Let’s just get real here…..I need more.

What I needed was perspective.   

     I am reading a book about a lady who made decisions about removing wasteful spending from the family.  She picked out 7 areas and began to make changes. 

     Now, unlike the book, I am not going to give away all of our possessions.  but something has to change in our home. 

     I fuss about my girls showing appreciation, but is anyone teaching them?  If you are given your every whim (which they are for the most part) how do you learn to value anything?  When I tell you to pick up your room and you come out with a trash bag and say, “Just give it all away Mommy. I can’t pick it all up and put it away” (Yes, that happened!)

 I believe that is an unmistakable sign of overindulgence.

              You see, my failure on Saturday was an ungrateful heart.  More disheartening than that is teaching and modeling an ungrateful heart to my girls. I have been sucked into a culture which creates a desire for more.  Even my little girls have been a victim and will protest about hearing  the word "No."  I have given in to the fascade not because it was right, but because it is easier.

 I am refusing to do the hard things because well,

                …  they are hard.

I don’t have a concrete plan yet, but God is leading my heart to change. I am listening and hopefully I will somehow figure all of this out.

Which leads me back to my desire.   I still want to be a billionaire, that didn't change.  Now it is  just a different kind. I am praying for riches that cannot be bought or sold.  I am longing for a satisfied soul that is not the product of material things. 

Oh! and one more thing…. He didn’t mean to do it, but he showed me something.   My friend from Africa and his perspective about my waste has shown me what it means to be “the richest man in town.”

Just Fishing...

          I should have known we were in trouble from the very first day, the very first cast.  You see, I have always loved to fish.  Going fishing with my daddy are some of my favorite childhood memories.  I have passed down this love to exactly one of my girls, Lindsey.   It was  on her cast that I should have taken the hint.

 Our whole crew had descended on my parent’s farm to kick off the summer.  It was time to go fishing. We went outside to see what we could catch in my family’s catfish pond.  We were all set when my niece needed some help.  Lindsey graciously put her pole down and offered some assistance.  That is when it happened.  We looked up, and Lindsey’s bobber disappeared.  We ran to grab her pole, but it was too late. The fish pulled pole and all into the water never to surface again.

Fish One…..GONE!

          Not to be done in by a silly little ole fish, we went and found her another pole determined to try again. This time she cast her line and immediately landed the biggest catfish that I have ever seen.  This would have been her crowning moment and she knew it.   She worked for ten minutes in 95 degree heat on that monster.  It flipped and flopped, but she held on.

Now,  it was as long as my arm and probably a good 7-8 pounds and the poor kid was exhausted.  She almost had victory when it  swam under my daddy’s ducks (decoys) on the pond. 

So now she was fighting Goliath….. and a duck.

           It was at this point she officially gave up, I don’t blame her.  She was sweating and muddy.  She could give it nothing else, but we kept working.  We told her we would get it up to bank and she could pull it in.  Asking  my dad for some help,  the task quickly became a family mission, Daddy pulled the line tight, while I went to the bank to help Lindsey.   We could see the beast, and almost got it out of the water. The line broke just as we were given a good look at it on the bank.

… Just before it swam away.

          I would not accept defeat. She had worked too hard for this to be the one that got away.  The monster had broken free, but the bobber was still skimming across the water.  I pulled the paddle boat out and we jumped in.   Thelma and Louise!   We were in hot pursuit of the fish, or shall I say, the bobber.   Now, this was a great idea until about 10 feet out when the rope became tangled on the propeller.  That is when Lindsey bailed on me.  She jumped out of the boat and splashed back to shore with the statement,  “I am not dying over a fish! Mom, you are going to sink.”

I should have listened to her.

          I chased that bobber/fish in my paddle boat until the rope pulled so tight that I was stranded out in the middle of the pond.  I had no paddle and the added joy of the thirty foot water fountain spraying straight up in the air getting me soaking wet.  I had to wait and float back in ….. Defeated

Fish Two…..GONE

          Then we tried again.   This time it was my turn.  I hooked another HUGE catfish, the kind you only hear about, but never see.  This was the fish!  It truly gave me a run for my money.  It fought and fought, but I thought I had it.  Apparently the fish was smarter than I.   This  crafty catfish dove into the mud and borrowed under a pipe that ran the fountain.  I decided quickly that I needed reinforcements, so I recruited Daddy, Lindsey and Gary to help me. We fought, we pulled, we dug, we did anything we could think of to get it out.

 My resolve was clear, I wouldn’t not be whooped three times in a row by a catfish! 

          There was just no way I was going to let that ever happen. 

That’s when I got just a tad too desperate.  I pushed too far.  I worked too hard and took just one step too many…. and fell in the pond.   Completely.

 and, since I was already in the water…

           I did it.  I did say that I would do it one day.  Today was the day! I went hogging (hand fishing).  I took my hands and just submerged them in the muck attempting to force my victory.  I was going to win! I was going to come out with MY fish!

    I came up empty. The only thing I found were the priceless looks on the faces of my daddy, my daughter, and my husband laughing so hard at the muddy vision in front of them that they were crying!

Fish Three…GONE!

          Now, I know it seems crazy, I’ll give you that.  It is absurd, but I do have witnesses to it all.    My mother even ended the night by looking at me the way that only she can and saying,      “ Do not come into my house like that!”

           Sadly, I have no fish to show. Also, I currently do not have any fake toenails or fingernails. I decided in my attempt to get clean, that I would pry them off to make sure the dysentery germs are not still on me somewhere.  Gary also warned me not to put my hands or anything near my mouth…. for a while. 

          It is true; there were no great catches today.  We have no fish to show, but we have some priceless memories.  Honestly, that is what it is all about anyway.   When Lindsey grows up, what tales she will get to tell as part of our crazy crew.  No one will ever believe her (unless you know us well), but she won’t get to say that her childhood was normal.

 I have always believed that normal is so overrated.

           She is learning that life is about loving. It is about occasionally taking chances. Sometimes it is about making a fool of yourself.  It is about laughing and living every moment to its full.

          She is beginning to see that it is all just part of an abundant, crazy, wonderful, life that God has promised HIS children.

                   ... and she thinks we’re just fishing.

Treasures

Treasures…

        The end of the school year can be a harrowing experience.  We never seem to roll gently into the close of the school calendar.  It is more like a hurricane.  There is always a list of so many things to accomplish, tasks that need to be done.  Every day is so incredibly full that you seem to be haunted by that end of the year list.  On that list is one thing I put off as long as possible:

       The dreaded teacher gift.

      I actually hate giving teachers a present.  How can you adequately represent all of the blood, sweat, and tears shed over not just all the kids, but mine?   It can’t just be a trinket, this person has  poured themselves into MY child.  It must be perfect, special,memorable, and let's not forget about it being under "x" amount of dollars now! :) 

       As a teacher I have gotten some pretty cool things over the years.  In fact, I was given two very personal, very perfect, gifts this year that I will always treasure.

       That is what I want, a treasure not a trinket.

       I asked Anna Kate what we should give her teacher this year in appreciation of all of the work that she has done with our “Baby Girl.”  She was so quick to answer:  "A  coffee cup, perfume, and a set of pearl earrings from Kmart."  I agreed, and she filled her bag, but I could never figure out why these things were so important.

       I pressed her(trying to write a cute little card explaining the reason behind each gift) and she wouldn’t answer me other than to say that "this is what I NEED to get."  I conceded for the simple fact that you will never win an argument with Anna Kate.

       Determined to receive clarification,  I then thought I would  “trick her.” If I changed the question would Iget the same response?

      “When you think of your teacher, what do you think about,what does she LOVE?”  Her little face was so sweet.  She was puzzled.  I changed the question on her and she caught me.  She said, ”You asked me what she would LIKE.  I already told you what she would LIKE Mommy.”  She paused and then added... “but, If you want to buy her a present about what she LOVES, then we should get her a cross!

       When I asked why, she said so simply, "Because Ms. Jones  loves Jesus!”

       Out of the mouths of babes.

        I am not sure I have ever been so humbled,  and grateful all at the same time.

       Humbled, because I know that if I asked her the same question about me, that would not be her first response.  Grateful, because she has spent the last 180 days, 1,040 hours with someone who that can be said about.

       7 year olds miss nothing.  There has been no show.  She has not been duped.  Just real life, lived out in front of real kids, for a very real Savior.

      Teachers, please remember, they are watching.  Please remember, MY children are watching.

     As far as I am concerned, I can check this one off my list...

Anna Kate gave the gifts from the Millraneys,but we found the Treasure......

                     in Ms. Micki Jones.