Christmas Paths

I was happy, very content and surrounded by places and people that I loved.  I had an awesome old Tudor home, lived 6 hours from my daughter and within minutes of my sons.  I had grandkids, friends, and neighbors close by.  I went to a great church, and Bible study.  I was involved in a couple of non-profits, and lead a very fulfilling life.  Life was good, very good.

And then in the middle of it all, my husband came home and told me that his entire division at work was being moved overseas and so was his job.  He needed to find a new position within the company--fast.  As he searched for jobs, I prayed.  I did not want to move.  I was happy just where I was.  Everything was perfect.  I keep reminding God of that little fact--everything is just how I want it God,  please don't change anything!  Please!

When the news came that we were going to be moving to Chicago I fell apart.  Not outwardly, but on the inside.  I cried and pleaded with God to change it back.  I wanted Him to intervene.  I can specifically remember one day--I was sitting in my brown leather rocker, down in the basement, fire going, worship music playing, me praying.  I was right in the middle of letting God know just how upset I was when I felt it.  Now this will be a little hard to explain, but I'll give it my best shot...I've always done obedience training with my dogs.  I've taken them to classes and I've always relied on a good choke chain.  Whether you agree with the choke chain method of training or not isn't my point here.  It's what I used while training, and it's what got the message to said dog--you will listen and obey, or get a quick jerk.  It worked most of the time, once the early stages of training were underway.  And that's what happened to me that day.

God jerked that choke chain around my neck and got my attention.  I felt (in my heart) that sharp pull straight up.  And then I heard Him speak to me.  Not gently as He usually does, but a little more sternly this time.  He said--you have no idea what I have in store for you, what path I have for you to walk on, you have no idea.  I have a plan for your life.  Now stop.  Look forward.  I have a plan.
I sat stunned.  He has a plan?  Oh.  And believe it or not, my attitude turned around (or began to anyway) that very day.  I was able to go through the process of selling my beloved home of 11 years. I was able to say goodbye to great friends.  And I was able to hug my children and grandchildren goodbye and with many tears, we packed up and moved.

That was 3 1/2 years ago.  Everything in my life has changed.  Everything.  I live in a neighborhood where I know all of my neighbors.  I attend an awesome church, Bible study, and small group (couples Bible study) and I am involved in lots of ministries.  I love Chicagoland.  I noticed something else too--I am having the time of my life and I am getting to know my husband all over again.  Since we've moved and are basically kidless, we have been acting like newlyweds.  We are a true couple again--laughing, exploring, enjoying life and having fun.

Yes, things are quite different now.  But in a good way, a very good way.  And God had a plan.  Has a plan.  He always does.  I want Him to keep me accountable, obedient, teachable and thankful. Always.  When and if my life changes again, I want to be ready.  Hopefully, I have learned through this process exactly what it means to listen and obey.  To give up my will for His.  Yes, that's it--my will for His will.

I think about all of this sometimes.  On those days.  Those days when I am missing the past.  The days when I am sad, or lonely, or when my heart is breaking from missing my kids so much.  On those days, I ask my Father to hold me close and remind me of His awesome love for me, of how He protects my heart, of how He always has my best interest held deeply in His heart.  You see, I do still, every once in awhile, have those days.  On those days, the hard days, I have to spend an extra long time in prayer.  I have to rely on God so heavily to help me, to remind me, to trust Him--however then, oh and then, I get together with a group of friends and laugh so hard that my face hurts the next day.  I go to church and look across the room and am reminded of how dear these new friends are to me.  I go on a walk in the quiet of the snow through my little neighborhood and marvel at all that God has done in my heart over these past few years.  And I think to myself--it truly is well with my soul.

This year all of our children and grandchildren will be with us.  8 adults, 6 grandkids, 4 bedrooms, lots of food, fun, and presents.  And again I am reminded of just how blessed I am.
Merry Christmas everyone.

His Love Never Fails

I might regret writing this.  I've been told many times over that I share too much.  However, I've also been told that my sharing, my honesty, my exposing my heart has helped others.  So why not tell you what happened this past Sunday?  Why not share from my heart and expose the enemy?  For that is what he is--he is my greatest enemy.

I woke up feeling more discouraged than I had in a very long time.  I can't remember the last time I felt so down, so depressed, so undone--for it is not my nature to have these types of feelings.  Usually, I am up and raring to go--after coffee of course.  Always after coffee.  I am up and ready for what the day may bring--I like to keep busy, I like to have fun and I like to go, go, go.  Except for Sunday.  The last thing I wanted to do was go--to church that is.

It felt as if a blanket of depression was almost smothering me.  I told my husband that I just wasn't in the mood to go to church, and then I proceeded to tell him why.  In a nutshell, it was my attitude.  It stunk.  Really it did.  I wasn't in the mood for traditions and hymns, rituals and Advent, communion and all the other stuff that was going to happen that day in church.  I just was not in the mood.  You see--I am the most non-traditional traditional person I know.  Anything that seems ritualistic bothers me unless it is rituals that I like.  I don't know why.  Maybe we are all that way to some extent.  I've spent a fair amount of time analyzing this weird hang up of mine and have not come to a conclusion.  But can you see the quandary I was in?  In my mind, it was all about what I liked and didn't like.  And these preferences were being used against me that morning.  Satan was whispering in my ear--stay home.  You'll have more fun decorating for Christmas, going out to lunch, shopping.  You need a break anyway.  You are at church way too much.  You are too involved. Take a sabbatical.  Disengage--just a bit.  Yes, he said that and more.  And I listened.

I shared all this with my husband, and he said that he thought we should go anyway.  Because if Satan was so adamant about keeping me from going to church that morning, there must be a pretty good reason why.  Wow, my husband is so smart.  So I relented and I went and got ready.  I did not put on a bright cheery face though.  I did not smile.  I pouted.  All the way there.  And I made my husband promise to take me to lunch afterward.  I'm a big baby that way, I wanted a prize for going to church that morning.  I am so spoiled--so very immature at times.  OK, all the time.

Funny--it happened just the way I thought it would though--at first anyway.  Yep, we started singing an old hymn I had never ever heard of in my life, not my type of song--at all.  But then, the next song was better, and the next--even better.  And by the time our pastor began to preach the cloud had lifted off my heart and I was able to listen, take notes, learn and enjoy the service.  Afterward, we ended the morning with an awesome song.  I felt God there that morning.  That last song touched my heart.  In fact, it melted my heart.  It turned my discouragement into pure joy.  I realized that I wasn't there for me, but I was there for God.  To worship and praise Him.  To sing to Him.  To be there because He told me that I needed to be there.  It wasn't about me at all--it was all about Him.  Not me.  Not me.

I know that I know that God has brought us to our little church for a reason.  The people are awesome.  We have great friends there.  We love that sweet church with all our hearts.  And guess who doesn't like that one little bit?  Yeah, him.  The one who is my greatest enemy.  And I almost listened to him.  I almost gave in--to the enemy, to my flesh, to my selfishness.  I almost caved.  And it dawned on me--even the most positive, optimistic people fall prey and get attacked.  He's out to get me and you.  He's out to win this battle for our hearts and souls.  However, I have a father who watches over me.  Who protects my heart and guards me.  Who will never leave me or forsake me.  All I have to do is call out to Him and He will hear me.

Thank you, God, for being patient with me.  For listening to me, for letting me "get it all out", for letting me throw a tantrum and still loving me.  Thank you for this life of mine, for being faithful and most of all for loving me even when I am unlovable.   Kindness, mercy, grace, love, patience, understanding--I could go on forever.  My love for my God is endless.  His love never fails.

Thanksgiving Morning

For the past few years I have posted what I refer to as Thanksgiving thankfulness on Facebook.  Each day I post something that I am thankful for, so I shall also post them on my blog--

Day 1--Today I am thankful that I have the privilege of serving an awesome almighty God.

Day 2--Today I am thankful that 42 years ago I fell in love, head over heels, and I haven't stopped falling in all these years.

Day 3--Today I am thankful that I have been blessed with 3 awesome children. They continue to amaze me with their kind and loving hearts.

Day 4--Today I am thankful for my wonderful in-law kids. I prayed over my children from the time they were conceived, that God would find the perfect mate for them, and He did. Now I have 6 kids. 

Day 5--Today I am thankful for my 6 beautiful, intelligent, loving, kind and funny grandchildren. They'd have to be funny with us as grandparents! 

Day 6—Today I am thankful for my parents, who taught me what it means to totally surrender to God, and to make Him first in my life. They have loved me, encouraged me and prayed for me, and I love them dearly. I will honor them all the days of my life.

Day 7—Today I am thankful for my awesome friends--I have been richly blessed beyond words. From city to city, state to state, church to church, and neighborhood to neighborhood—I will have these many friends forever, for life, for eternity. I am so very grateful.

Day 8--Today is a special day. Today I am thankful that 33 years ago, God blessed us with a 10lb, 4oz baby boy. He came into this world with a tender heart, and a generous spirit. I admire him, I am proud of him and I am grateful that He serves God with his whole heart. Happy birthday son. I love you!

Day 9—Today I am thankful for my extended family—aunts and uncles, and especially my crazy cousins—oh the fun we've had! I am so grateful that most of us are still close, and that we get together for our “cousins lunches” whenever possible. I cherish those times.

Day 10—Today I am thankful for my little sister. In some small way I hope that I have been a mentor to her, I hope that I have been an encouragement to her and I hope that she knows how much I love her.

Day 11—Today I am thankful for my sweet little church—you took us in and made us feel like family.

Day 12—Today I am thankful for Chicagoland—all of it, all the time, every season, every suburb. I love it all.

Day 13—Today I am thankful for my beautiful little Sheltie, she truly has my heart. She's loyal, and is very much my little shadow, my companion, my furry friend.

Day 14—Today I am thankful that I have had the opportunity to travel throughout Europe, I love it and hope to return many more times. I have been bitten by the travel bug and I am glad about that.

Day 15—Today I am thankful for my country, my freedom. I love my country. I am an American.

Day 16—Today I am thankful for my education. I am grateful to my parents for sending me to an all girls private college-prep high school. I am thankful for my time at my local community college, for my time at Bible college and for my time at state college. I am thankful that I was finally able to pick a major (psychology) and I also am thankful that I have 3 minors. Much like travel, education opened up the world for me.

Day 17—Today I am thankful for my house. I have running water, and flush toilets. I have an oven, and refrigeration. I have soft beds, and heat. Yes, I am so very thankful for all that God has blessed me with.

Day 18—Today I am thankful for winter. I love snow. I love cold weather. I love coats, boots, scarves, gloves and knee socks. I love fireplaces, and afghans to snuggle in. I love the quiet stillness that comes with winter. I love that it makes me more contemplative.

Day 19—Today I am thankful for my optimism. I am glad that I do not ever see the glass half empty. I don't even really see it half full. My glass runs over, spilling right into the arms of my God, who makes all things great in my life. I am a happy, joyful, grateful person.

Day 20—Today I am thankful for technology. While some might point out the pitfalls and danger, I see the good that it brings to my life. I can talk to my family and friends who live hundreds of miles away and I can send text messages and photos in a split second. I am grateful that while we are separated by distance, we are connected via Apple everything.

Day 21—Today I am thankful that while natural disasters might take away our material possessions, nothing can take away our faith and trust in God, who is our provider.

Day 22—Today I am thankful for simple things—like the river behind my house, my fireplace, my rocking chai, my coffee maker, my small 1 butt kitchen, it's the simple joys in life that can make me smile.

Day 23—Today I am thankful for my nice camera equipment. I guess you could say I am much better behind the camera than in front of it, for I am an introvert. And I'm ok with that.

Day 24--Today I am thankful for one of my best friends. She is the one responsible for getting me addicted to facebook, so it is all her fault. You can blame her for my many updates and silliness. In fact if I were you--I'd blame her for a lot of things. Of all my friends, she's the one I'd most likely get in trouble with, my mom probably doesn't want me to hang out with her, she's a bad influence!

Day 25--Today I am thankful for my blog. I started out writing on a whim but then it turned into something akin to therapy.

Day 26—Today I am thankful that all my children and grandchildren will be coming home for Christmas. I can hardly wait for the fun to begin!

Day 27—Today I am thankful that I will never ever run out of things to be thankful for. My heart and my life are full.

Day 28—Thanksgiving morning—today I am thankful for God's grace, it is enough for me.  

His Coat

When I was a kid I used to love watching westerns on TV.  I know, it's not very girly girl, but I'm just being honest here.  Yes, I loved westerns and still do.  I love horses, I love the "white hat" concept, and I love wide open spaces.  I can remember riding through the foothills of northern California on my beautiful chestnut gelding feeling like the queen of the world.  I would ride through tall grasses just singing and praying away.  All alone, just me and my horse riding through the wonderful countryside thinking about God and thanking Him for anything and everything.  It was a wonderful time in my life--my horse life. 

I believe that is is why the concept of my heavenly father owning the cattle on a thousand hills is not a hard one for me to grasp. I would ride through wave upon wave of golden hills and I could imagine 1000's of hills just full of God's cattle.  In fact I once had the privilege of going on a short cattle drive.  It was and still is one of the highlights of my life.  So I guess you could say that I know horses, cattle and foothills pretty well.  At least I like to think so.  

Right now in my Bible study and my small group (couples Bible study) we are studying the books of Nehemiah and Proverbs.  Thinking about the discussions we've been having has my brain swirling.  We've been talking about generosity and giving, which is really appropriate considering the time of year it is.  This is kind of where my thoughts have been going these past few days--

I'm wondering now if I ever truly realized just how poor we were at times when I was a little girl.  All those trials we went through as a family, all those times when God miraculously met our needs, all those times of answered prayers--and I'm wondering, is that why God has given me such a tender heart?  I've been told so many times throughout my life that I have a bleeding heart--and they didn't mean it as a compliment.  Usually it was during political discussions, of now which I try hard to avoid if at all possible.  I am a slow learner though, and every once in a while I just have to say something!  

You see, I learned through being poor, well, what it truly means to feel rich.  What?   Yes, when I was oh so poor, I was really oh so rich at the very exact same time.  I learned through being poor what it meant to identify with others. I also learned why giving is so important.  Because if it is truly my father who is so very rich and if I am so very poor then why am I so stingy with His money?  It isn't mine after all.  It is His, and it always will be.  I am His, all I have is His, and if He wants me to give--give I will.

When my husband first met me, I'm pretty sure he thought that this was a nice cute little attribute for me to have.  And then we got married.  And things changed.  We had a budget to follow, and things to spend money on, and bills to pay.  And there I was wanting to give it all away, because I just knew that God would meet our every need.  It was a hard concept for my husband to grasp, this giving nature of mine.  It took years for him to understand that in the middle of our just getting by, it was still important for me to give.  It was especially important during the holidays.  How could I even begin to justify buying presents for my children when I knew there were kids out there that would be waking up to absolutely nothing on Christmas morning?  The thought was an overwhelming one for me.  Why?  Because many times I used to be one of them!    
I could identify with them.  Thankfully my husband would indulge me and our little family would play some small part in helping out others less fortunate.  

It didn't take too many years for my husband to come around to my way of thinking.  Well actually he had his own way of thinking.  It was a lot like mine only different.  I learned that all along he had the same heart, he just showed it in different ways.  And as the years passed we eventually came to place in our marriage where these hearts for God merged.  We came to an understanding of what was important to one, was just as important to the other, we just had our own ways of expressing our hearts for God.  I now see my husband as one of the most giving people I've ever met.  He's always been that way, it's just that now I can see it, I can look back over the years and see where his generosity impacted the lives of others and also of me and our family.  

He did something last year that I am going to share here in my blog.  He'll be embarrassed when he reads it, but oh well, it's my blog.  A few months ago we were driving home one cold rainy day.  We had stopped at a red light.  When we started up again I noticed my husband looking back in the rear view mirror, he kept looking and looking, and then he finally pulled over, he said--I'll be right back.  He jumped out of the car, and gave the coat right off his back to an older man holding a sign.  He was working--holding up an advertisement, making minimum wage, in the freezing rain, with no coat.  It broke my husband's heart.  He got back into the car, wet, no coat, too emotional to talk--we rode home in silence.  

Right there in that moment my heart was overwhelmed.  I was so very thankful for the man that God had brought into my life.  This caring, thoughtful, tenderhearted man who gave the coat off his back to someone in need--it's no wonder I love him so much.  

Yes, we might be different in our ways of giving--but we truly have the same heart.  Because there is no doubt in our minds who owns the cattle on a thousand hills.  What we think of as ours, is really Gods, we gave it all to Him the day we accepted Him into our hearts.  

Winter's Coming

I like winter, no, I love winter.  It's my second favorite season.  Autumn being my first.  It's over now though--autumn.  It really is, even though according to our calendar winter does not officially start for another few weeks--it's snowing.  Oh yes, it is.  So in my own little world, that means winter is coming.

My husband has a theory as to why I love winter so much.  He thinks it's because I like to cocoon.  That's what he calls it--cocooning.  I don't think that's a real word, but that's never stopped me before--I kind of like my made up words.  I also like cocooning.

Yes, I believe that I do make a cocoon of sorts.  I love sitting with my books, laptop, and iPad, I love reading by the fire, writing, and thinking.  I love sitting with my dog, praying and worshiping.  It seems to me that there is more time for that--in the winter.

The winters here are usually bright and sunny, very few days are dreary.  With that sunshine, comes hope and with that hope a gratefulness pours from my heart.  I look outside and see the snow glistening, and I feel happy and safe.  And it's not as though I don't venture out, because I do.  I put on my heavy winter paraphernalia and head out.  Bundled up--coat, gloves, boots and scarves, out I go, into the sunshine, into the brisk cold, into the world that God made.

However, right now, as I sit with my legs curled beneath me, laptop balanced precariously on my thighs, there is a quietness to the outdoors, a softness that isn't there when the snow melts.  The only sounds I can hear right now are the noises that my house makes--just the humming of my refrigerator really.  Everything else is so quiet.  I am able to think this way, me and my laptop, fire going, dog sleeping, and I know that all is well within my small world.

Think about it for just a moment, if it were spring or summer I would want to be walking outside, doing something other than writing.  I would not be in this contemplative state of mind.  I would be looking at flowers and wildlife.  And while there is nothing wrong with that--I do know that I wouldn't be writing.  And writing has become a very important part of my life.  It's a time where I can be real, I can be me, I can talk without fear of being judged.  I guess I think that if you don't like what I write, you won't read it.  Believe me, that thought frees me up to write about any little thing that pops into my brain.

What I have noticed about myself over the past few years is that in the winter months I am inclined to write more, ponder more, and reflect more on life--more specifically my life.  As the year comes to an end, I become more in tune with my circumstances.  In fact what I notice is that I take the time.  That's it.  I'm not distracted by warm sunny weather and all that it holds.  I tend to settle in for a few short months and once again become a very deep thinker.  And then, as each thought surfaces, I share them, kind of like small pieces of candy.

Yes, winter's coming, and I am glad.  I will settle in.  I will write more.  I will appreciate all that is around me, because winter's coming.

Dinner Party

We did something the other night that we had not done in a very long time.  We went to a dinner party.  A real live dinner party!  With 10 guests and a beautifully decorated dining room table--a formal, yet casual atmosphere, with an elegance that unknowingly to me--I had been missing.

I hadn't been to one in years, at least it seems that way to me.  Oh I've been over to friend's houses for dinner, I don't mean that.  I just mean that I haven't been to a grown up, sophisticated dinner party in a very long time.  You know the type--the kind of party that one sees depicted on television or in the movies.  The kind where there is soft music playing in the background, mood lighting, and wonderful smells coming from the heart of the home.  You know--grown up time.

Perhaps I stayed in the kid zone far too long--I don't know.  It just seems to me that during the past 3 or more decades it's been all about my children and then all about their children.  And I love that, don't get me wrong.  However, somewhere along the line I have gotten out of the habit of dinner parties.  I don't think that I had given them much thought.  You see, they are a lot of work.  What with all the cleaning and planning, the serving and entertaining, the timing and the guest list--it just seemed so much easier to say--hey, you wanna go get something to eat?  

Yes, somewhere along the line, the art of entertaining (outside of my family) has lost it's way.  However, after that dinner party I am finding myself wanting to somehow get on that track again.  I want to once again resume the art of entertaining friends.  With friends and neighbors, with candles and good food, with music and wonderful conversation--I want that.  I want grown up time.  Time to discuss current events, rather than nap time, politics rather than teenagers and yes, even religion, the one topic I'm told we should stay away from.  Can you imagine me--staying away from the topic of religion?  I don't think so.  However, in the interest of keeping things elegant and sophisticated, we would all be polite and dignified--that is if you were to ever come to one of my dinner parties.  Oh I'll have one, oh yes I will.

I've been inspired--thanks to that beautiful dinner on a cool fall evening, sitting with neighbors and friends, yes, I was inspired.  I shall begin phase one--planning.  And then, we will discuss phase two--who to invite.  Hopefully it will be the first of many to come.  I want to bring it back into our lives.  I want a dinner party.  I sure do hope that my husband and I are on the same page.  But, what have I to fear--we usually are.

Now, what shall we eat?

Low Carb Pumpkin Bread

After a few tries, I finally came up with my own version of a low carb pumpkin bread.  With pumpkin everything hitting the coffee shops, fast food joints and grocery stores--well, let's just say I wasn't a very happy camper.  In fact, I felt deprived, very deprived.  And left out--that too!  So, I tried a few recipes, was completely disappointed and came up with one of my own.  I hope that you enjoy it.  May it satisfy your sweet tooth as much as it does mine.


Low Carb Pumpkin Bread

6 eggs
1/4 cup coconut oil
1/2 cup sugar free syrup (I use Log Cabin)
1/2 cup canned pumpkin
1 T vanilla
Mix the above in food processor, than add the rest of the ingredients--pulse a few times to mix well.
1/2 cup Splenda
1/2 cup coconut flour
1/2 t salt
1/4 t baking soda
1 T pumpkin pie spice
1/2 cup sugar free mini chocolate chips (optional)

Pour into greased loaf pan, bake for 1 hour @ 350 degrees.

Seaside Memories

I was completely taken aback, in fact, I was shocked as I found myself blinking quickly, trying hard not to cry, but I just couldn't seem to stop the trickle of tears.  I turned and headed out the door, with my husband following me, most likely wondering what had happened.

I wrote earlier that we had gone out to California for my 40th high school reunion and as is our usual practice, we tacked on a boondoggle.  I'm using that word because I love saying it.  It's so much fun to say out-loud.  Boondoggle.  I'm using the word incorrectly though, we didn't actually go on a boondoggle, nonetheless, I just want to use that word.  For even though what we did was not a waste of time or money--it wasn't exactly a necessary excursion either.  Well, I guess that's a matter of opinion.  My husband and I thought it was important.  And that's all the reason we needed.

We flew in a couple of days early and booked a room over near the coast.  It was awesome--driving along Highway 1, listening to our favorite music, singing loudly, and stopping for lunch.  We had a blast.   We decided to drive into Sonoma Dunes where we used to take our 3 children camping.  I should have stopped the reminiscing then.  I should have listened to that little voice in my head that said--whoa danger, stop now!  But, I didn't.  We kept on.  Driving by all the little restaurants and shops, all of our old haunts, all of our memories stretching out there before me.  Only this time, we were all alone.  Our kids weren't with us.  They were no longer 8 or 10 or 12 years old.  Nope, now they're old married people with little ones of their own.  Now they're making their own memories.  Without us.

I was actually doing pretty well--just waxing a little nostalgic here and there--and then we did something that I wish we hadn't, but you know what they say about hindsight.  We parked in front of this beat up little shack of a store and went inside.  I had no intension of buying anything, but I just wanted to go in and see what they now carried as far as souvenirs.  And that's when it happened--I began to feel tears spring to my eyes, I gulped a big gulp of air, tried to clear my throat and then realized that I needed to get out of that store as quickly as possible.

So this is what truly happened and yes, I already know that I am going to sound weird, but seriously, it felt so real at the time.  As I was walking through that little store, it felt as though I had gone back in time with my kids--shopping for seashells, and rocks, and plastic toys.  I could hear them asking for things--mom, can I have this?  Mom, I need a new hoodie, oh look mom, how cute, can I have it?  Each aisle I went down I could hear them.  Their little voices so very long ago echoed through that room.  Mom, mom, mom.  

I had to leave.  I had to get out of there fast.  I sat in our car, looking for a napkin to wipe my eyes only to find an empty glovebox--as we were in a rental car.  My husband jumped in beside me and wondered what had happened--had the lady been rude?  Was I feeling OK?  And how was I supposed to answer his questions?  No, I'm not OK, I miss my kids, I miss our vacations, I miss them being little, I miss buying the seashells and t-shirts, and I wish I had bought them more!  Is that what I was supposed to say?  Well, whether I should have said it or not, I did say that.  All of it.  And I think he understood, because he just sat there and listened to me and he let me cry.

A few minutes later he started up the car, and we just drove along the coast.  I told him that I didn't ever want to do that again--go into the little shops where we used to take our kids.  I told him that we were going to have to make some new memories--new places to visit, shop and eat.  Talk about an emotional day.  I'll have to be more careful next time.  I've learned a very valuable lesson and also something important concerning my own personality.

Yes, it was an unsettling day.  Hearing their voices, remembering the things we bought, seeing where we used to camp, the beaches we used to play on, the walks we used to take.  It was hard.  And I'm not sure I liked it at all.  It's something though that I'll have to process.  Others might bury it, but I'm not like that. One day I will lay all those emotions out on the table and look over them and examine them one by one.  I have to make sure that the timing is just right though.  Not too soon, not too late--just right.  I'll lay them out and pray over them and I'll know that as I look, God will heal my heart.

                                                             California Coastline

                                                                     Near Jenner

                                                                     Bodega Bay

                                                           Remnants of an old boat

                                                             We walked by it all the time

                                                            Mr Seagull at the Tides

                                                                Jawbone at the Tides

                                                              We loved eating here

                                                            Every trip to Bodega

My 40th High School Reunion

Last week my husband and I flew to California.  I feel comfortable there.  It's home.  We stayed at a hotel pretty close to where I grew up.  Everything was familiar, I knew the neighborhood, could point out the houses where my old friends had lived, and even where certain businesses used to be--old coffee shops, theaters, and grocery stores that no longer existed, except in my memories.

I woke up that morning feeling giddy, yes giddy.  My first thought was that today was the day.  The day of my 40th high school reunion.  True, I had seen a lot of the girls just a mere 16 months ago, but this was different.  This was the real deal.  40 years!  I laid there in my hotel bed completely amazed.  Yes, I thought, I am that old.  Old enough to have a 40th high school reunion.

There is no way, that way back then as a senior in high school I could have even imagined what my future self would look like.  Oh, I figured I'd be about the same height, but what I couldn't envision was my face, or skin, or shape.  It's probably a good thing though, I would have collapsed in sheer terror had I known!

So the morning of my reunion, as I looked into the mirror I found that I was not happy with the person who looked back at me.  There she stood--fat, middle aged and frumpy looking--yep I felt frumpy, lumpy, ugly and not one bit 17.  I looked over at my husband and said--I feel puffy.  To which he replied--you look kind of puffy.  I then sat down on the end of the bed to see if I'd pass out from the tightness of the waistband on my pants.  Almost.  Not comfy, that's for sure.  But man, these new pants of mine sure were cute, kind of Aztec looking.  I wanted to wear them so badly but knew that I'd feel like a sausage, so I decided to just (once again) be myself.  Jeans, a cotton shirt, and flip flops--the real me.  Who cares!

I wonder now if I had worn the sausage pants--would I have fooled anyone?  I don't think so.  We all know each other too well.  Which is kind of comforting if I think about it.  They didn't care what I wore, any more than I cared about what they wore.  I just wanted them there--at our reunion.  I, in fact, felt that I needed to be there.  I needed to reconnect with my old friends whom I had spent my high school years with.  I needed to see them, hear their laughter, and know that they were OK.

We had a great turnout.  Not as many as I would have liked (which means every single person) but enough so that we all and I do mean all had a wonderful time.  Once again though, I hid behind my camera.  It's my way of connecting.  I'll smile and take a picture of you, you smile back and I'll feel accepted.  That's just how I am.  It's a safe place for me to be--behind the camera.  I know myself.  I'm just that way.

However, I did ask one favor of my husband.  I asked him to come back later in the afternoon, take my camera and get a few shots of me--for I was there too you know!  So he did.  He came, took some pictures, and also helped with the party teardown.  He's good at that.  He's a helper through and through.

It's taken me a week to come to terms with what exactly I experienced during those few short hours with my old high school buddies.  I think I've come to a conclusion.  I think I'm now able to put into words what I've been processing.  I feel kind of sad--writing about it.  And yet, I also feel that I should share it.  Oh, these deep thoughts of mine.  The thoughts, feelings, and emotions of one who feels that somehow, way back then, all those many years ago--I missed it.  I failed them.  Yes, I know that I was just a teenager, wrapped up in my own little life.  However, I still hold myself accountable.  And I am now wondering--why, didn't I know?

I know I am sounding vague.  A little crazier than usual, and yes, this will be very hard for me to explain, but it's truly what is rattling around in this atrophied brain of mine.  This is my question--why didn't I know way back then that some of my friends lived in very unacceptable and dire circumstances?  Dysfunctional homes, divorce situations, sexual abuse--the list goes on and on.  Oh, I was clued into some of it.  Certainly though not most of it.  I was too selfish.  Or maybe they just hid it too well.  I did.  I hid it.  No one truly knew what type of childhood I lived.  And what I wanted hidden--I hid well.  I was good at that.  Hiding.  I still am.

There we were that afternoon in little clusters--gabbing away, we were excited to see one another, we asked the appropriate questions--where are you living now, any children?  But never the deep questions--the how are you really?  But then--something happened.  Someone spoke up, someone shared the truth, someone came out of hiding, and as she and I sat talking outside in that beautiful backyard with all our high school friends talking around us, she shared her heart with me.  She shared the secrets of her childhood, and I was stunned, I didn't know.  How would I have ever known?  And that is what made me sad.  Sad that 40 years ago I was a typical teenager caught up in myself, trying hard to make sure my secrets were hidden and not even thinking about trying to help them with theirs.  I found myself looking out over that sea of women thinking, what else don't I know?  And then, is there any way I can help?  And that my friends are why I went into psychology.  That is why I have always been involved in crisis counseling.  We need each other.  We are told to bear one another's burdens.  But do we?  Do I?  

I spent more than a few moments swallowing back tears.  I found myself more than once making my way back into the restroom where I would compose myself and head out into the crowd again with my camera in tow.  You see, with my years of training, I could easily spot the hurting ones, the ones that said--I still have secrets.  Won't anybody listen?  I stood there, camera ready, but secretly praying over each and every woman there.  I prayed that God would heal their broken hearts, that I would be a good friend, and I prayed that over the next several years--well, maybe we could share with each other our needs, our secrets, our hurts, and our hearts.  We have a history.  We have a past.  And we are friends.  I don't know about you, but I am the type of person that makes a friend for life.  That means you'll never be able to shake me.  I'll always be here for you.  You call, I listen.  You ask--I pray.  I won't judge you.  I am your friend.

As I mentioned earlier, I have secrets too.  I've shared a lot of them in this blog.  Over the last couple of years, I have cried rivers of tears and spent many hours praying over just what to share.  When God shows something to me--when He exposes my heart, I feel the need, no the responsibility to share.  For I also lived in a dysfunctional home, with a bipolar father, and enabling mother, and a heart full of childhood fears.  Yes, I had secrets too.  I think I hid them pretty well though.  For example--when we were all gathering in groups to take pictures of our elementary and jr. high school years--that was hard for me.  I went to 8 elementary schools, 3 junior high schools, and 2 high schools, so which group should I have stood with?  I felt uncomfortable,  to say the least.  I wanted that time to be over quickly. Really, I wanted to crawl under a rock.  It might seem silly, but it brought up issues from my childhood due to my father's illness, that I still deal with to this day.  That old feeling of not truly belonging in one specific group--it's a lonely place to be.  Secrets.  Did you know that about me?  Probably not.  I hid it well.  However, I'm done hiding now.  I want to share my stories so that I can help others share theirs.  Why?  So that we can begin the healing process, the healing of our hearts.  And because that's how God made me.  For me, that's what life is all about, it's about helping others, not judging them, helping them.  Listening, loving, accepting, teaching, and just plain old being a friend.

So that was how my 40th high school reunion went.  It was awesome, it was fantastic, it was fun, and I loved it.  It was also a time when I finally felt that I could just relax and be myself.  I don't care how much money you have, or what kind of car you drive.  I don't care about college degrees or world travels, I don't care.  I just want all of us to be ourselves, women who feel safe, and loved, and accepted--even when they feel puffy.

My Giant

I can't get him off my mind.  Since yesterday morning, he's all I can think about.  When this happens (and yes, it does happen often) I pray.  I sit back and listen to the still voice of God.  And then I ask questions.  Lots of questions.

What is it about him that you want me to notice?  What did he do, and why did he do it?  Yes, I am sitting here in my family room, in my brown leather rocker, praying, typing, and rocking away.   Who am I talking/thinking about?  I'm talking about David. You know, the guy in the Bible.  The David and Goliath David.  I just can't stop thinking about him.

He was just a teenager you know--when he went up against Goliath.  It struck me again this morning--he was just a teenager!  I am wondering--would he have been so quick to volunteer to go up against Goliath had he been older and wiser and more knowledgeable, or maybe better educated, or steeped in tradition.  Had he been 40 or 50, would he have volunteered?  I'm not so sure.  In fact, I don't think he would have.  Why not?  Well, now that's a good question.  And that's what I'm pondering.

I believe the question God is asking me right now, right this very minute is--what are the giants in your life?  Yep, that's what He's saying to me alright.  He wants me to list the giants, the things deep down in my heart that looks too big for me to go up against.  And, I don't want to, I don't want to list them, or say them out loud or even acknowledge them.  Or maybe I should just say it.  I don't want to acknowledge that giant of mine because if I do, it becomes real.  And real giants are scary.  And I'm not David.  And I'm not young.  And I'm afraid of my giant.

My giant happens to be a person too.  Not like Goliath.  Not that type of person.  However, the metaphor is much the same.  I am thinking that if maybe I were younger I'd have a more invincible attitude, I'd be fearless.  But, I'm not younger.  I'm older.  I'm jaded.  And now I'm sad.  Saddened that this jaded heart of mine has given up.  Why am I so afraid to confront my giant?  And just when did that fear creep in?  I didn't even know it was there!  And yet--there it is.  Fear.  I am afraid of my giant.  It's right there in front of me, looking at me and daring me to come and slay it.  Metaphorically of course.

I know that God is with me--however, my educated, mature mind is telling me to back off, to be careful, to not say a wrong word, or do the wrong thing.  I can hear that inner voice--be careful, you just might offend someone, you might make them mad, you might lose them forever.  That's really what I'm afraid of--losing them forever.  When I deeply love someone, the last thing I want to do is lose them forever, right?

So, I'm careful, so very very careful.  I tell myself--don't say the wrong thing, don't dare slip up or take a stand or do anything that might push them away.  Be careful.  Be careful.  Be careful.

And then there's God's voice.  Be bold, be strong, for the Lord your God is with you!

Today, I must be a David.  I must take a stand, I must say and do the hard thing.  That is God's challenge for me.  Am I willing, can I do it?  I hope so.  Because right now, today, I feel stuck.  I read about the Davids of the Bible and I realize that I am no David.  Not by a long shot.  I do not have that feeling of invincibility or faith for that matter--where I can face the giants in my life and trust that God will be with me.

I do not want to be stuck, I do not want to walk a faithless walk.  Remember, I was the one who wanted to live a fearless life.  So what has happened to paralyze me with fear?  I think I know, no, I know I know.  It's just admitting it.  It boils down to saying it out loud, confessing it, asking God to forgive me, changing my attitude and walking in His true calling of my life.  It boils down to obedience.

What if David had said to the Lord--no God, I am afraid, I will not go up against Goliath.  We wouldn't have a story of faith now, would we?  No, we'd have a story of defeat.  And honestly, I can not handle the thought of my life being a story of defeat.  So I will pray, ask for strength, and I will know that God is present (and always will be) with me as I face the giant in my life.  This person, whom I love with all my heart, must be challenged.

Pray for me, as I summon up the courage to face my giant.  I desperately need God's wisdom and His words.  I need His guidance and His love and his timing, for it has to be precise.  Just like David's rock--it must land in the nick of time.  This person, this giant is walking on very shaky ground.  And if this person takes one more step away from God--I fear there will be no going back.  I fear for them, and their children.  Their very souls are in God's hands.  Please God, give me the courage to speak out for you.

Just Kidding

Something kind of unbelievable just happened.  However, first off before I share this little story, please understand that I was just joking around.  I wasn't serious and I know for certain that God didn't take me too seriously either, or did He?

A few days ago I lost part of an earring.  It was a little blue glass bead about half the size of a pea.  These were not expensive earrings, in fact, to be honest, I rarely wore them.  They were pretty and dainty though, and I did really like them.  We had gone to church that morning and had just come home from having lunch with friends.  We were relaxing on the sofa, and as usual, I was playing with my hair--when I noticed the missing earring piece.  I was so sad because I just knew I'd never find it.  I had been at church, in a restaurant, at a large department store, in my car (which is a convertible) and all over my house.  Did I mention that my house has carpet?  No, I had no hope of ever finding that little tiny piece to my earring, ever.  I looked everywhere but could not find it.

The next morning while spending some time praying, I jokingly said--you know God if you found that little earring for me, I'd know that my husband was supposed to go back to Congo.  I laughed--really I did.  I was not serious at all.  Or was I?  Oh, the Congo thing was real enough.  You see, my husband had been praying about returning.  Yes, I just said returning to Congo!

And me?  Well, I was praying too.  Praying that he did not go back--not so soon anyway.  It is very dangerous over there, and he wouldn't be going with the same church group.  This time it was pure water and electrical stuff.  Instead of missional, it would be mechanical.  Instead of having the backing and protection of our church, it would be backed and funded by a different group.  And honestly, it scared me a little (ok, a lot.)  So, he asked me to pray with him--and I did.  I prayed that he wouldn't go.
No, I didn't, I prayed and asked God to give him a clear word of direction--to go or stay.  Secretly though--I didn't want him going back so soon. He had only been home a couple of months.  And hadn't I just wiped the sweat from my brow and hadn't I just swallowed a huge sigh of relief upon his return?  The thought of him going back so soon was a little too much for me.  Hey, I'm just being real here!

Thus, the earring incident.  If you help me find that tiny little earring piece Lord, then I'll know it's your will that he go back.  Clever.  Until I found it.  Yes, I found the stupid little earring, laying at my feet as I was sitting on the sofa watching TV a couple of nights later, hand draped over petting my dog.  I looked down and saw something shiny--as soon as I saw it, I knew what it was.  My heart stopped for a minute.  I reached down to pick it up and yep, it was my earring all righty.  I sat there rather dumbfounded.  Well, Lord, I said--I guess he's going to Congo.  And that's when I heard it.  Deep down in my heart, I heard it--a chuckle.  He spoke so clearly to me right then--you are the one who started this silly game, and I don't play games, remember?  
I knew then that if God wanted my husband back in Congo--He would send him there.  And He would not have to use an earring to convince me.

I am so thankful that God is patient with me.  That He uses silly little things to teach me great big life lessons.  I'm thankful that He has given my husband a heart for the people of Congo.  And yes, I'm thankful that one day, he'll be going back.  Probably a lot sooner that I even realize.  When he does return to Congo, God will have His hand of protection on him, God will always be able to find him--even amongst the restaurants, the convertibles, and the carpeting--because He sees everything.  He knows exactly, at all times, just where everything and everybody are located.  If He can find a little earring, He can find my husband.  He can and will protect him.

And guess what?  I don't think I was just kidding at all.  I think that somewhere deep down there was some truth to my joking.  God saw through my fears though.  He met me right where I was and He used my little lost earring as a lesson.  He's always been like that with me.  Teaching me, loving me, and protecting my heart.  And I'm not kidding about that.

Garage Sale

I've always thought that God has a great sense of humor.  After all--he made me, didn't he.  I'm pretty sure that I at times, amuse him.  I like the fact that I amuse him, and I also like the fact that I am amazed by his timing and his orchestration of our lives.  My life anyway.  Always my life.  For I gave it to him when I was 6 years old.  Do what you want with me, I said.  And he did and he does--every day.

On one such day, in particular, I had a garage sale.  Hold on, bare with me here.  This really is a relevant story.  I promise.  You see, I needed to get rid of some junk.  My home didn't have a basement and we were a family of 5 living in 2000 square feet.  So every few years I needed to purge.  We collected way too much in the way of treasures and goodies.  I can admit it now-I am a collector.  I had extra kitchen appliances, china and dishes left over from an old antique business, various toys and sports equipment, and the usual garage junk.  I probably had at least 5 years worth of extra stuff to get rid of.

What was different about that day was who came to my garage sale.  At some point during the morning, I noticed a little family looking through my stuff.  Small appliances seemed to be their thing.  And I was curious--why did they need so many?  Not one to be shy about asking questions (I'm the curious type) I asked them--why all the appliances?  They explained that they were looking for their church kitchen.  After talking for a bit I learned that they were the new pastors of a small Covenant church just a couple of miles from my home and they needed some supplies.  Being that it was a small church with limited funds, they were hitting up the local yard sales.  After they were finished collecting up all their new finds, I bagged them up--we are Christians I said, and you aren't paying for a thing--we are donating this to your church. 

Funny how God works.  They stayed for a long time, chatting, laughing, their kids playing with our dogs--it seems that we were in the process of making new friends.  Funny how God works.  They asked if they could come back that evening, just for a visit over some coffee.  Of course, I said, we'd love to have you!  And that night marked the beginning of a Saturday night prayer time for this pastor and his wife and us.  We became friends and although we did not attend their church (not right then anyway) we prayed for them and their little church every Saturday night for the next year and a half.  Towards the end of that time, my husband and I felt that we were to leave our present church and start going to the little Covenant church that they were pastoring.  We stayed with them until we moved to the midwest.  Funny how God works.

Fast forward almost 15 years--all of our children are now grown and married, our friends moved up north to pastor another church, and we moved to the mid-west.  And only because of Facebook have we been able to keep up with each other's lives, pray for one another, and share pictures, etc.  I disagree with those who bash technology--I love it.

I look back now over the last 20 plus years and I can see the threads of God's timing throughout my life.  People, places, circumstances--all planned.  I had a garage sale, I met lifelong friends.  I met lifelong friends, I started going to a Covenant church.  I started going to a Covenant church, where I have met many more lifelong friends.  Funny how God works.  Even at garage sales.

I've decided that rather than collect things, I want to collect people.  Wherever God sends me, however, he uses me, I'll be ready. Whether I'm having a garage sale or going to one--I'll be ready.  Because I never know whom I'll meet.  I never know how God will use me.  I never know who will be my next lifelong friend.

I see God in the little everyday things.  Even garage sales.  I see him working, and moving, and ministering to me and others everywhere I go.  So I'll be ready, no matter where I am, I'll be ready.  To be used by him, and for him.

I'm His Favorite

Most Friday mornings you can find me sitting with several friends having coffee.  We meet, drink coffee and solve the problems of the world.  I (being the techie that I am) take my iPad.  That way when we have questions without answers I can google them and voila!  We have instant answers to our many inquiries about life.  We meet early and stay late--laughing, talking, and sometimes even crying.  Well. usually, that's just me, but whatever!

One morning during said coffee time, my friend chuckled as she remembered a t-shirt she had recently seen.  The front of the T-shirt had this quote on it--Jesus loves you, but I'm his favorite.  She said that she immediately thought of me.  We all had a good laugh over that t-shirt.  Of course, I was sitting there thinking--I so want that shirt!  Why?  Because I am his favorite.

I knew that later I would have to process what God was saying to me via our conversation concerning the t-shirt.  You see, that quote began to roll around in my brain and God wasn't (no matter how hard I tried) going to let me forget about it.  So, I just prayed and asked God to show me what he wanted me to know.  Over the next few weeks, he did.  Slowly.  I'm thinking it was slow so that I'd never forget it.  By the time he was done with the lesson on that little quote--well, I'd be sure, I'd know for certainty--I was his favorite.

And while praying one morning, he began to show me all the times he had gone after me.  As in--the shepherd going after that one lost, wandering lamb.  His favorite.  I cried and thanked him for going after me.  He is always faithful, even when I am not.

Thinking about the quote on that t-shirt and thinking about Jesus my shepherd, always finding me, well,  it made me feel safe.  It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  I was loved, cared for, and protected.  And then I thought--if he always goes after me and finds me--why don't I trust him with my loved ones?  Won't he also go after the ones I love so much and pray for daily?  Aren't they his favorites too?

If you think I cried before, you should have seen me that morning.  There I was sitting in my rocking chair, crying, praying, and asking God to bring these people whom I love so much--bring them back to you God, show yourself to them, please God.  I was begging him.  And then he spoke to my heart and said--they're my favorites too.  I'm going after them--don't you worry.  I'll never leave them or forsake them, I'll draw them back to me.  I promise.

That was a great morning, just having the assurance that my God, my savior, would go after them just like he always does me.  He'll rescue them, he'll protect them, he'll find them--because they're his favorites.  And I am too.  Jesus loves us, and we're his favorites!

Soul Sister

I have been extremely blessed in my life with lots of friends, and a huge extended family.  However, there is one stand out person in my life that I'd like to write about today.  And she happens to be my cousin.  Yes, she is one of many, however, this particular cousin is more like a sister to me, in fact, she's my soul sister.  At least that's how I think of her.  She's the one to have my back, to pray for me, and she listens to me--she's good at that.

We weren't close growing up though.  She's a couple of years younger than I am and she hung out with my little sister.  In fact, as much as I hate to admit it, I was a little (just a little) bit mean to her.  OK, a lot mean.  You see, she was a little tattle tail.  You remember those types--mom, so and so is doing such and such.  So much so, that I found myself looking for things to do so that she'd tattle on me and then I'd bat my innocent little eyes at my mother and say--who me?  I didn't do that mom.  She's lying.  And of course, my mom would believe me.  Yes, I was an ornery little booger.  My poor little cousin would get so exasperated with me but it was worth it just to put that little tattle tale in her place.  What a little brat I was!

Fast forward several years later, and we were married and starting our own families.  We'd just had our first babies, and I found out that she was moving to the town I was living in.  I wondered how that would go down--would we hang out?  Would she want to go to my church?  Would our little girls play together?  I wanted us to be friends, we were grown-ups now, we were moms--so I tried hard to welcome her and I introduced her to some of my friends.  And I invited her to church, which she declined.  It's interesting now that I think back on that conversation--I knew she was going through a rough time, but I also knew that I was supposed to invite her to my church.  At that time of her life, she wasn't walking with God, she was pretty much doing her own thing, and yet...I knew in my heart I just had to invite her.  What I said to her was this--I'm only going to ask you once, I'm not going to bug you.  When you're ready, call me, and I'll come pick you up and we'll go together.  But, I'm not going to ask you again, so it's up to you.  Honestly, I didn't think she'd call, not for a long time.  However, 3 weeks later she did.  She came to church with me that Sunday and never looked back.  Yes, she's gone through many trials and tribulations just like the rest of us and she has worked out her stuff with God.  And, we've always given each other space, and we've always prayed for each other.

We became best friends over the next few years.  We had so much in common--we each had a daughter and then, 2 sons, we went to the same church, had many of the same friends, we went camping together, (yes, I used to camp) we raised our kids together, hung out, went to Bible studies, and on and on.  And when I moved to the midwest many years later, she was one of the people that I hated moving away from the most.  It tore my heart out to leave her.  One good thing though is that we've still maintained our relationship.  Maybe because we are blood--I don't know.  Maybe because we have so much history, or maybe because that's how God wants it.  We are still (if not more so) close, we still pray for each other, listen to each other, counsel each other and think of each other as soul sisters.  She is probably my closest friend.  And without getting too mushy here--just know this, I love her very much, in fact--I admire her.  And, I'm going to tell you why.  This will embarrass her, however, since I don't use names and have a boatload of cousins, she will remain somewhat (not really) anonymous.

Almost 40 years ago my cousin (and her sister) suffered a great tragedy.  Their entire family was killed in a small plane crash.  Their father, mother, brother and sister--gone.  Just like that their world was interrupted and turned upside down.  I can remember that night very clearly.  My husband and I were in the car, and on the radio came a news bulletin.  There had been a plane crash with 3 family members on board, all were killed.  How sad I thought, a whole family--gone.  When we walked into our house the phone was ringing--my sister delivered the news--it was my aunt, uncle and 2 cousins--there were actually 4 on board.  They'd found their brother's body too.  The funeral for those 4 family members was one of the largest I'd ever been to.  They were from a small town and I think just about everybody came.  My cousin was only 18 years old and her sister only 16.  As I sat there watching both of my cousins say goodbye to their family, well, it just broke my heart.  I believe that it was at that time, God began to put that soul sister love and that protective big sister heart--into me.  Because within just a couple of short years, our deep friendship began.

You might wonder why I admire my cousin so much, well, in all these years she's never played the victim.  She doesn't talk about her loss.  She is strong in her faith and she loves and trusts her God.  She knows that he is in control and although I am sure that she misses her parents and siblings every day, she doesn't dwell on that.  Her loss has never defined her.  She is a survivor.  I have such great respect for her, and her relationship with God.  She knows that one day she'll be reunited with her family, and she's more than willing to let go of the past and get on with God.

Last week God gave each of us a gift.  He allowed us to go to Triennial together.  And boy did we have fun.  Not only was I there with 15 others from my church, but my soul sister was there!  We were able to stand next to each other and worship God together side by side for the first time in 14 years.  And it was awesome.  We cried, we prayed, we talked, we worshiped, and we sang--together.  Me and my cousin/best friend/soul sister.  I'll never forget that week in San Diego.  Soul sisters were reunited.
And I thank our awesome and mighty God for such a wonderful time.

Now, I have one more thing to say--something grandiose--something kind of crazy sounding.  I have a request for prayer.  My cousin and I, no wait, now that I think about I have several cousins with daughters--anyway, wouldn't it be the coolest thing ever if in 3 years, at the next Triennial, well, if we could all go again only next time with our daughters?  I wonder--if I start praying now--how many would go?  Cousins, and their daughters, sisters, and their daughters, the possibilities are limitless, kind of like my God.  He's just so awesome like that.  And now I've lots to pray about.  And so does my cousin--she'll be so happy!  Her bossy cousin strikes again!  Soul sisters forever.

Triennial--Part 3

At the beginning of this year, our pastor asked us to pray about God giving us a "word of the year", mine was service.  I heard God speak this word very clearly to my heart.  Service.  I wondered what that would look like.  I assumed I'd be pretty busy, with a word like service.  There were several areas of ministry I was already involved in, so I felt pretty good.  I was already doing service.  I thought.

However, once again, on that very last worship service at Triennial, that last Sunday morning, just when I thought I was safe, God spoke one more thing into my heart.  He said to me--I want you to be available.  And I quickly answered--I am available--don't you remember, my word for the year is service.  I thought maybe He had forgotten.  No, I didn't.  I knew He hadn't forgotten.

I thought this blog would be one of the easiest to write, but I think now it just might be the hardest because I found that before I could be available, I had to come clean before the Lord.  I had to be honest.  You see, I had tucked something so far deep down into my heart that I didn't even realize it was there.  I was holding on to a hurt, a disappointment, and I needed that area of my life purged before I could be completely available, or totally surrendered to God.

Here's what I was holding onto.  Anger.  I was mad at God.  Want to know why?  Because He moved me away from my kids and grandkids.  I now live 6 hours away from my 2 sons and their families and 12 hours away from my daughter and her family, and I hate it.  I tried so hard to push that anger way down deep, far away from me, and I tried hard not to dwell on something that right now I can not change.  I seriously thought I had done it, that I was managing quite well.  After all, didn't I constantly talk about how much I love my home, my neighborhood, my church and my new little town?  Well, didn't I?  I asked God these things as He exposed my true self to me.  He told me that try as I had, I still harbored anger.  I blamed Him for ripping me away from my family.  And in blaming Him, everything I did--was half-hearted.  And God doesn't want half of my heart, He wants all of my heart.

So there I was, once again tears streaming down my face, asking God to forgive me and heal my heart.  And He did that day.  He healed my sad little broken heart--the one that misses her kids and grandkids so much sometimes--that when I am all alone, all I do is cry.  I really don't know how to explain this part, but He has put an assurance deep inside of me that He has everything under control, and that if I will just trust Him and serve Him and be available to Him--with ALL my heart, He'll bless me, and take care of me and heal those sad little parts of my heart.  He'll make me whole.  I just needed to hand all that over to Him, and so I did.  Right there in that service, I lifted up my hands to Him and said--wherever, whatever, however God, I am yours, and I surrender it all to you.

I am now available to be used by God, for His glory at any time.  I am His and He is mine.  And I will serve Him and love Him and honor Him with all I've got.  I am still walking around my house in utter amazement over all that God accomplished in my life in those few short days in San Diego.  Yes, Triennial was life changing for me.  I am praying that 3 years from now 100 women from my little church are able to attend.  I don't know how, but that's really not my problem, now is it?  God will take care of the logistics, and my job is clear, I'm going to pray.  And I'm just going to be available.

Triennial--Part 2

There are many many titles I could give to this blog post.  One of which would be--my calling.  And that is what I am going to talk about.  My gift, my calling.  We all have them, they are special giftings from God.  Ephesians 4:11, 12 talks about these specific calls or gifts from God.

So, there I was minding my own business at Triennial, thinking I had heard from God, ready to digest and mull over what he'd said to me, when low and behold he spoke again.  This time though it was through a memory, a flashback to a time over 30 years ago.  It happened during the same time my husband had his come to Jesus meeting that I've shared about in my blog titled--A Calling Fulfilled.
I shared the story about how a pastor spoke into my husband's life.  Well, that same pastor spoke into mine that night as well.  I've just never shared it before.  Ever.  Oh, I've talked about what he said to me regarding how to be patient, kind and understanding with my husband as God was growing him, but I've always trailed off by saying--he said a few other things too, but--and then I'd never finish that sentence.

Well, at Triennial, on Saturday night, he reminded me of just what that pastor had said to me.  He said the strangest thing--he leaned in and whispered something into my ear so that only I could hear it.  And what he said sent chills down my spine, because there was no way in the whole wide world he could have known.  You see, when I pray, and when I hear God's voice deep down in my heart--he calls me daughter.  I know that sounds crazy, but he does.  This pastor could have started out his sentence in so many other ways, but he didn't.  He said, daughter.  So when this pastor said--daughter, he caught my attention.  And, then he said something else--something that I already knew was real and active and working in my life, but, also something that was so scary to me.  He said, daughter, you are God's weeping prophet.  And he sees every tear you shed.  Funny thing is--I wasn't crying at the time.  But, the minute he said that the tears began to flow, I couldn't have held them back if I tried.

Yes, I am a daughter of the most high God.  Yes, I cry--when I talk about God, when I pray to God, when I think about God when I sing to God--I cry.  I also have that whole prophet gifting thing going on.  Oh yes, I do.  I have as far back as I can remember.  Dreams, visions, the whole nine yards.  And, as I stood there during our worship service at Triennial, I realized that I had not been moving in my gift.  Not really.  Not in the way he wanted me to.  Why?  Because I didn't want anyone to think I was weird.  I wanted to just be accepted.  I wanted people to like me.

The Holy Spirit convicted me that night.  Basically, in a nutshell, he said--I've called you.  Now own it. Please don't misunderstand me--I have been hearing God's voice all along, and when appropriate, I've spoken up.  I just haven't been moving out in the way God wants me to.  I've sought man's approval over God's, and for that I am ashamed.

I've decided to share a couple of examples as to how God speaks to me, just for clarification.  I always think it helps to have something to visualize.  So here's the first story.
It was a Sunday morning and I was getting ready for church, and as I was praying/singing to the Lord, I saw a picture flash through my mind of a friend of mine.  She was sitting with a razor blade laying against her wrist.  Fear shot through me, and as I finished up getting ready I could not get that picture out of my head.  I prayed for her all through church, and yes, she was there.  I wondered--what do I do with this information that God has given me?  As the service was coming to an end, our pastor asked the elders to come forward and pray for those who wanted prayer, being an elder, I went up front.  And so did my friend.  She got in my line.  She wanted me to pray for her.  As she stood in front of me, I reached out and held her hands, I stood there quietly praying for several minutes with tears rolling down my cheeks.  And then I boldly prayed over her concerning what I had seen that morning while praying at home.  Yes, she said, I sat there, telling God that I was done, I had had it, I was going to kill myself because no one understood the pain I was going through.  We prayed up there at that altar for a long long time.  God intervened, and she is doing great--all these many years later.

To me, that's what a prophetic call is all about--it confirms things already in our hearts, it gives us encouragement, and also is used as a warning.   A word of wisdom, knowledge or confirmation.  That's the call that God has given me.  I did not ask for this gift.  However, I will accept it and I will walk in it and I will share and speak out what he wants me to.

The next example might sound silly, but it really did happen just the way I'm telling you.  We had just moved back to a small town that we had lived in for 8 years, so I had lots of friends already in the area.  As I was praying one morning I heard God tell me to get ready and go to the mall.  I know, I get the irony here!  But, I did not go into any stores, I just felt lead to walk that 2 story mall, so up and down the corridors, I went.  Up ahead of me I heard someone almost scream out OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD.  As I looked towards the woman yelling, I realized that I knew her, so I started walking towards her.  She threw herself into my arms and began to tell me the story of how she had been so desperate, so despondent, so emotionally undone.  She had prayed that morning and asked God to bring someone to her that she could trust, talk to and pray with.  Immediately she thought of me but knew that I had moved away years before, but she did not know that I had recently moved back into town.  When she saw me, she knew that she was witnessing a miracle right before her eyes, she was so excited and thankful that God loved her so much that he told me to go to that mall, on that day, at that hour.  God met us there that day, we sat right there on a bench on the second floor of a huge mall, crying, praying and praising God.  Yep, it was nothing short of miraculous.  But, that's the kind of God we serve.

So, that's my calling.  Prophetic and prayerful, and God wants me to move out in this gift more than I do right now.  He's calling me to walk a truer walk of faith.  And I will.  As scary as it seems to me, as stretching and uncomfortable and disruptive as it might get--I have to be obedient.  And I will.  I will continue to be that weeping prophet for the rest of my life because that's what God has called me to.