Thanksliving

My name is Niki, 

                     and I admit I am a “Black Friday Shopper”.

          My sister and I get up long before the sun.   We trudge through the masses in search of treasures, we laugh at the idiots who fight over Furbie  ( actually saw someone go down once over that one!), and we love it.

         I have listened for days on the protest over shopping and Thanksgiving… and for the life of me I just don’t see it.  I don’t even see why it is a point of discussion.

         I have read the rebuttals about how it takes “thanks” out of Thanksgiving Day.   Personally, I think that is a wonderful concept.  

We take a DAY and say “Thanks God”...  read that again

                 We take a DAY and say  “Thanks  God”

There are over  70 + other verses that talk about a thankful life style.

         What happened to Thanksliving?  What happened to daily acknowledging of what God has provided?  What happens on Saturday or Monday?  Why is that supposed to be different than Thursday?

I want to grab the “nay sayers” and ask them all,   “So, you don’t plan on buying or shopping?”   If you are going to be gluttonous, irresponsible, excessive, or over the top, then why does the day you do it on matter? 
            

          Are those who scream “excess” on Thursday are sitting at the computers on Monday fighting for the Cyberdeals?

Most people I know who preach about the evils of Black Friday shopping, still do it.  They just feel better about it on Dec. 1.

         Now, we do Thanksgiving like everyone else.  We eat and spend the day with family. We are genuinely reflective and thankful for what we have as a family, but that also happens EVERY other time we eat or come together. 

         I used to think that we were missing something because our Thanksgiving dinner was just like every other dinner, then I realized the blessing that is.   Being raised in a family of faith whose PRACTICE it is to recognize God and his goodness daily, did kinda makes Thanksgiving…. just a little bigger meal.

                   I guess, at Thanksgiving we need to remember that the beauty of our country… is in choice.     The choice has never been about what day you are to be Thankful, but just to be thankful.

         I wonder sometimes if the people yelling the loudest  about Thanksgiving are the ones who would miss it altogether…..if it were interrupted on that ONE day.

        

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The Beauty of Imperfection

“Sadly folks, Summer ended at 4 o’clock today.” 

               What a sad thought for this girl.  We sat at a local restaurant right off of the beach I love,  and listened to a waiter usher this depressing blow.  I love everything about the lazy days between May and September.  Always have.  If you know me at all, then you know there is only one place I really want to be when the season comes to an end.

               If my girls have inherited anything from me, it has to be our love of the waves.  Lindsey has grown up in the sand.  She is that child with the bucket, the one hunting shells. She will begin her relentless pursuit of finding treasures.

                Now, understand her quest is not for what you or I would deem worthy.  I have seen her throw back shells that could be sold in the store.  She just smiles and says, “Not that one.”

               I had a few hours to kill, so one afternoon I joined her on her adventure.  I sat by the shore with my daughter, and asked her to tell me about her newest additions.

               She proceeded with the utmost care in unfolding their splendor to me.  Honestly, I tried, but all I could see was a bunch of misshapen, broken, ugly shells. 

Not one would I have chosen as my prize.

               Like a proud parent, she recounted each one’s story.  She spoke of their adventures in the sea.  She told me where they might have come from and some….. how they may have been broken.

She shared with me their journey, evidence of a trial.  Storms, waves, ultimately ending up on the shore ….. in pieces.

 Not at all how they started, but here they are….. Stranded,  waiting for someone to pick them up and point out their beauty.

               As I sat there and listened to the wisdom of this 11 year- old child, it occurred to me that she has vision that the world doesn’t grasp.  

The beauty of imperfection.

This was not the plan,   but it is also not the end.

             We are all touched by it.  Victims of dreams deferred.  Everything from life careening off course,  to unfulfilled desires of family, or love (or both).

“God, what are YOU going to do with this?   Where is the beauty?

….. cause I just don’t see it.”

There was a plan,  but now what?

 

               I have a heart that hangs in my kitchen that was given to me during our first year of marriage.  I was so proud of that heart.  A dear friend gave it to me as a symbol of the work that God was doing in me at that time. 

….then the storms came, life got hard,  and I was at the end ( of everything).

               One day I came home frustrated and in a hurry, I knocked the heart off of the wall and it broke.

 I picked up the pieces, and I cried. 

               I called the heart giver.  I asked her to give me another heart.  In her wisdom, she said that she wouldn’t give me a new one, but we could still use mine.

               We put the pieces back together and she said,   “Sometimes, the beauty can be found in the scars”.  

                I still look at that heart every day.  A constant reminder that broken …doesn’t mean worthless.   That imperfection can still have purpose.

There is redemption to be found among the broken.

               My heart, Lindsey’s  shells......

  Beauty is not found in what is missing, but what remains.

I wonder if  God sometimes looks on His creation and His heart breaks a little.  We see all that we aren't, all that we missed, and  all the broken pieces that we use to define us.

and HE sees the beauty in what we are.

The world may not see it, but we are HIS prize.

 Redeemed, ready to be picked up and put on display....broken pieces, scars and all.

I Hate Burpees!

I HATE Burpees…

      It's true.  They may very well be the death of me.  I also hate those stupid  double under thingys. I REALLY can't stand toes to bar.

 

BUT I am loving Crossfit.

      I have learned some new terminology this summer.  …Things like W.O.D. (Workout Of the Day) and “sweat angels.” (…like snow angels just made out of sweat). These things, once foreign to me, are now a part of my everyday life.

 Gary and I have promised each other to get healthier this summer.  He started this craziness and then looked at me and said "Now…You too!"

 So we Crossfit.

      I must admit that it is the hardest thing I have EVER done.  You see, I am the girl on the couch WATCHING the exercise video with a Dr. Pepper and a Krispy Kreme Hot Fresh Glazed Doughnut.  I can yell "Looking good, doing fine!” with the best of them.

But for me to get involved, well...

   I am not going to lie to you, it is hardcore.  It is like none other I have tried.  The instruction is top of the line.  The people are great.  They are in it solely to help me and everyone else. 

                               …and probably most important...nobody cares if I cry. 

     My excuses don't work.  My sad little stories don't cut it.  NO, is not a viable option.  Just suck it up and do it.  …Quit whining, complaining, and slacking.  If you want results, you must do the work.  No one can do it for you.

But, when you succeed, no one will get the reward but YOU.

Did I mention it is hard?

     It is not an uncommon sight to witness bodies sprawled out on the ground everywhere after a workout.  The room looks more like a battlefield than a workout facility.  As I was lying on the floor gasping for air after a recent workout, the strangest thought occurred to me. 

 “This is my life?”  

                              …or more importantly ...What if This WAS my life?

 

       I guess the reason I haven't blogged in a while is that I had nothing really to write.  The pen(computer) won't go where the heart hasn't been. 

                                             And my heart has been lazy.

      What IF my spiritual workout everyday left me gasping for breath at the presence of the HOLY God in front of me?  What if I was laid flat on the floor by HIS Word? 

 There was a moment a few weeks ago where things started to come together for me.  I was attempting to lift weight for the first time…

 …and it well, hurt.

 I looked at my coach (Jimmy, who is also the owner) and said, "Uhm, I think I might need to stop.  This hurts."  He looked at me and smiled and said.  "It is supposed to." 

Then he just walked off...the nerve!

 

I, then  heard a conversation between another coach and a participant. "You’re not really serious yet.  You didn't even come in here dressed to give it your all." She was talking physical, all I heard was Spiritual.

      How many times have I just gone through motions, when I can hear..."Niki, you know what to do, YOU have so much more inside you.  Face it kid, you are not even trying.”

      But, I think the most profound moment in the gym happend on my dreaded nemesis...the pull-up bar.  

 I was getting some one-on-one training (i.e. Special Ed. Crossfit) doing pull-ups. There I was, dangling in the air, being told to pull myself up.  HA!  Like that could EVER happen!

I actually laughed in her face(the owner’s wife) and said "Uhm…No!"

She told me a few things to help me and made it seemed doable.  I was doing ok, but frustrated because I could never really get it.  I had decided I was finished.  I had done a little work and thought I would quit before things got too intense.

When I had no strength left…She said. "Do one more."

 I thought she was crazy!  I had struggled, but never came close to getting my chin to the bar, now exhausted from the struggle; she thinks I can do it?

     She explained to me. "Sometimes it's not the first 9, it is number 10 that you will be able to do." Those 9 attempts are getting you ready for the challenge.  Your muscles will remember what to do when your strength is gone."

Whoa!

What if that were true in my “other” life?  The day to day battle we are all in.

What if the next time something comes at me, I was ready?  I had done the “work” and I was prepared.   

                                   What would that “life” look like?

 So many times I see in Scripture that this life is a race.  Something for which we must train.  We are warned that it is going to be a battle, but the abundant life is out there.  Peace through any storm is out there.

 

                             But we have to put forth the effort to know HIM.

  “The Prize” is ours for the taking.

 

Oh---did I tell you…I REALLY hate Burpees!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I Agree with...

“Why I Raise my Kids without God.”

Dear Mother of Two,

As I read your blog the other night, I found myself agreeing with you more than expected. You see, I am a pastor's wife and  on so many points, all I could respond with was, “I can see how I could somewhat agree with her."

Please indulge me as I explain...

1. God is a bad parent and role model.

I can see how you would feel that way. In our society, God is a bad parent. We are living in a generation where “good parenting” is permissive parenting. We encourage kids to “find themselves” in a self-absorbed quest for “ME”. We tell them that the world is their stage and they are the show. God says “ No!” He demands discipline, respect, honor, and holiness.

As far as a role model, a model must have the propensity to be replicated. Check those credentials, It can't be done.

2. God is not logical.

You are so right. Logical people make sense. There is an order and predictability to their actions, It would be ridiculous to think that the Creator would choose to redeem HIS creation with HIS own child.... just because.

 3. God is not fair.

Again, you are correct. What is fair anyway? It means in accordance with the rules. The Maker of the rules did not change the rules just to placate us. Fair would be allowing our eternal separation. Fair would be allowing HIS creation to get what we deserve. Fair would be an existence with no hope, or help, or Savior.

4. God does not protect the innocent.

True again. HE does not protect the innocent ...because we are all guilty. Born a sinner in need of a Savior. What HE does protect is His promise to never leave us or forsake us if we trust HIM.

5. God is not present.

If you look up the definition of present it says “in the moment”. God is not present. He is not merely “in the moment.” He is the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, first and last. Time begins and ends at his command. You may call HIM what you will, but please don't regulate my God to simply being... present.

6. God Does Not Teach Children to Be Good

He teaches them to be godly. Good is subjective, based on perspective. Our standard has never been good , because you can never be good enough.

Now, what you said about religion, I'll take it one step further....I do want it to go away. Far away. So far away that I want my kids to understand it is opposite of what I want for them. I want them to have a relationship. Not a set of rules to follow or tasks to do. I long for my girls to know HIM and to be known by HIM.

Dear friend, You are right. Most of what we believe about God is inconsistent and illogical, but so are things like love, forgiveness, faith, dreams, or even the concept of home. If you are going to throw out God, then you must throw all of those things to which we cling.

The one point where we must part ways is your last. You say that you understand why other people “need” God, you just don't have that need. I just don't see how anyone can survive without HIM. My friend, the mere fact that you have put so much effort and time into your rebuke about the things of God shows me how close you are to figuring this whole thing out.

I don't judge you because honestly, I don't know you. I have never spent one minute with you. I have never sat at your feet and poured my soul out to you. You have not been with me on my darkest nights or held me until the light broke through. You were not there at my first breath and you will not be there at my last. My future is not in your hands. I don't know you.

But I do know HIM.

I can 't explain HIM. I won't even try. Just like I can't explain love, forgiveness, motherhood, or what it feels like when you can't take one more step- and then you do. I don't know how to put into words the ONE who authored history. I can't make you hear the call of the ONE who created sound. I can't teach your heart to see things your eyes cannot.

But I can introduce you to HIM, because I know HIM.

~ if you ever want to meet HIM, I can introduce you. He even knows my name.

Niki

If You Are Missing Jesus

 If you are missing Jesus.....

Last weekend I had a moment.  An absolute fit about the Holidays.  The same fit we all have this time of year about the mixing of secular and sacred. The battle against the commercialism  has put me in a humbug sort of mood.  You see, in my futile attempt to have more Nativity sets than Santas in our home, I think I am part of this whole problem.

  For me, It began with a simple statement about Jesus' birth.

           “Everything is different, but nothing has changed.”

Think about that for a minute.  In all of the advances of the current age, the human condition has not improved. The year is 2012 and we are still as lost as those searching for their own idea of a king.

 We know what we think we are looking for, and just like that story, we are met with less hoopla and grandeur that anticipated.

We argue of Christmas, Santa, and the like ….. but  how are we still missing it?


I got to thinking about our own celebrating and I started questioning even myself.   Was Christmas ever really supposed to be just about Jesus birth?

 How did it become a cosmic birthday party?  Wasn't  the focus supposed to be about an indescribable gift?

Is that the reason for all of the frustration of the season?  Could it be that in our celebration of the story,  we missed the present?

  Here's a question for you....Is a gift still a gift if you don't take it?

Imagine what would happen if someone bought you a present, and set it on the shelf with instructions to open it.

........... if you want it.

You know it is there,  but it is still not yours because you didn't take it.

 I don't know about you, and maybe I am weird, but I don't normally attend birthday parties for people I don't know.  Isn't that what we are expecting others to do?

We have shifted our focus from a Jolly Ole St. Nick to the stable in hopes that we capture the wonder again.

But, I am beginning to realize something about Christmas.

 In the middle of celebrating HIS birth...... We are still missing HIM.

  We draw close to the scene. We gaze into the barn, listen for angels to sing. We watch as Mary gives birth to Jesus.  We sing songs about Silent Night,  but then we look away.

 I think that the meaning of Christmas is lost because the focus is on the manger. We celebrate the past,  but we do not acknowledge its place in the present.  We make Christmas about an event that happened, instead of something that is happening.

Do we even invite Jesus to His own party?  We talk about who HE was and what HE did...  instead of who HE is and what HE is doing.

  The gift of Christmas is not in the birth, but what HIS birth allows...

Isaiah  7:14

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign:

The virgin will  conceive and give birth to a son,

  and will call him Emmanuel.

Not Jesus born among us........

Not Savior who died and rose for us...... But God with US.


We are not just missing baby Jesus this Holiday Season.

We are not missing the meaning of Christmas...... We are missing Christ.

What is wrong with the whole world today?

  The same thing that is wrong with Christmas.

                             ......We left Jesus in the stable.

Not everything is for sale...

She was just a little girl maybe 7 or 8 years old. She had gone on an adventure with her Poppy to visit the local gun store. In that small country town, most times it was the only adventure around.

She walked in and everyone could see that she saw it.

There, hanging on the wall was a life-size rug with a picture of John Wayne.

Her eyes lit up and so did the owner of the store's face. In his amazement, he stood there watching her. It was so hard to believe in this day and age that a little girl still even had heroes

... much less John Wayne.

She wanted it so badly. Her heart was set and her Poppy did what only a Poppy would do.....anything to make a little girl smile.

Poppy's solution, "Just name your price."

The shop owner shook his head and simply said, "Sorry, it wasn't for sale."

Heartbroken, the little girl lowered her head. He looked at her sympathetically and then he told her, "I will not sell it to you, but I will give it to you. When I sell this place, it is yours."

In the years that past, several came in and made offers to buy it. It was even once stolen right off the wall. It was returned after the sheriff explained again..... that rug already had an owner.

Well, days turned to years, and health began to fail. Decisions were made that officially began the end of an era in that little town. Blow's Gun Shop would be sold. The store, the business, the contents, everything was to be included in the sale except one item....the rug on the wall.

It was not for sale.

Papers were signed and the day came for the shop to change hands. All the details were complete and seemingly final, but the man still had one thing left to do.

Just a few days before Thanksgiving you could see him walking up the driveway. His gait a little slower, but his mission was as evident as the smile on his face. He knew the little girl would be coming for the holidays and he had one last thing to do.

His task......to deliver a promise.


He pulled the rug out from under his arm and said,

"This.... belongs to Lindsey."


This year I am thankful for heroes, ones who keep promises made to little girls. I am thankful that she still believes that a man is as good as his word because that is the world that she knows.


That sweet gun shop owner is a living example that no matter the price....

some things are just not for sale.

What an incredible gift Mr. Harold Blow gave my daughter that day.....

Oh, and he gave her the rug too. ;)

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.