Changing My Mind

(Sorry this is a long one! If you don't want to read it, but want to see a great picture, scroll down to the bottom and click on the last link about the squirrel!)

I’d like to think that I’m always open to the Lord changing my way of thinking about things. If I’m honest, though, I know that a statement like that probably isn’t true – I’m not sure I’m truly 100% open to anything all the time. I do have a bit of a stubborn streak. It runs in the family (but don’t ask us about it, we’ll just vehemently deny it). I can at least admit, however, that I should be open to learning new things about “old” stuff from Him.

It seems like lately He’s been in a mode (of sorts – I’m not entirely sure that God has “modes”) of revamping how I look at things, and I’m starting to like it. Take quiet times, for instance. I’ve always thought that a quiet time consisted of sitting down in a quiet place (hence the name), alone with the Lord reading His word and praying to Him. Sure, sometimes for me it also involves reading a devotional or doing some kind of study, but for the most part a “quiet time” has generally had a very distinct flavor about it. Until the other night, of course.

I love going to MSNBC.com and looking at The Week In Pictures slideshow. I don’t know, maybe it’s just a lazy way of catching up on the news, but I’ve always had an appreciation for un-staged photography. There’s something just so fascinating and real about pausing a completely unpredictable moment and getting to analyze every little detail about that split second moment. I could look at pictures like the ones they post in that slideshow for hours – and I have spent many days in the past doing just that.

Well I hadn’t been on MSNBC in a while, so I thought I’d check it out the other night. Shane was studying for a lesson and the boys were already in bed, so why not, right? I mean, I had lesson plans to make too, but why do that when you can mindlessly browse photography from around the world? So I dived in, never once expecting that the next 45 minutes or so would be a profound conversation with Jesus.

It started out slowly, as almost knee-jerk reactions to landscape and nature shots.

Boy, Papa, that sure is pretty. Wow – thank you for sunrises and snow. That’s the funniest picture of a squirrel I’ve ever seen in my life!!

But it soon changed to something much deeper.

A shot of a dozen or more babies sleeping on the same mat in an orphanage in the Congo, their parents torn from them and lost in a ridiculous civil war. Oh Father, please comfort them.

An aerial few of hundreds of baby chicks left to starve as part of a planned solution to prevent the avian flu. This is Your creation and I’m not sure we’re doing a great job of taking care of it.

The face of a beautiful young woman lying dead on the shore of a land that someone decided she didn’t belong in. Oh Papa, I’m so sorry. Your daughter was beautiful, and I know you love her.

Images of Jewish settlers in Israel being forcefully evicted from their homes by police in full riot gear. Lord! Your people! Your treasured possession – how your heart must break for them and long for them to once again gather under your wing.

I was having a deep, intimate time of communion with our Lord over pictures and the news. It seemed surreal. Someone else was in the room just feet away, I didn’t have a Bible anywhere near me, the pictures weren’t anything you’d see in a stained glass wall at church, there weren’t any worship songs playing or formal prayers being said – it was just a time of sharing in smiles and heartaches with the Lord.

And then it got personal.

First I saw this picture. A woman in New York completely unable to cram herself in her car on Black Friday because of all the toys she and the person I assumed was driving the car (you couldn’t see that far into the car for all the bags and boxes) had bought at Toys R Us.

Then I saw this one. The wide, innocent eyes of a young boy in the Congo staring at the camera, one hand holding a pile of flour and the other desperately scraping more out of the gravel and dirt. His beautiful, dark face splashed with the white dust of his treasured meal. A treasured meal. Flour scraped out of the dirt. I was stunned.

Immediately I thought of the three bags of flour I had in my own pantry, two of which I’m going to have to throw out because they are past date. He would be overwhelmed to have those stale remains. Then I thought of the contrast of the picture of the lady in New York. He’s eating dirty, raw flour, and we are drowning in a wealth of toys and presents we don’t even need this Christmas.

I spent some time that evening just standing in front of our pantry looking at all the excess we have stored up in there. I wished I could find that little boy and just give him the whole thing. I wished I could bring him and his family to live with us in a place where people throw out stuff every day that they are literally dying to have. I decided that we would at least honor him by living out of our pantry for the next few weeks when it’s just our family in the house. Why do we need more than what we already have?

Believe it or not, I’m not through with this post. I’ve learned more than I have room for here or you have patience to read, I’m sure. And God’s still working on me – those images still marinating in my brain. Just this morning He taught me something new along these line in His Word, bringing new light to a verse that has been a personal favorite for about 14 years. But it will have to wait until next time.

I hope you have a great Christmas if I don’t get to write again before that time. Remember why we’re celebrating, and Who it is all about.

And if you really do want to see the funniest picture of a squirrel I’ve ever seen in my life, click here.

Change of Plans

Yeah, so I had my plans all laid out this morning – go to Target and finish Christmas shopping, then to Panera to write for a couple of hours before my lunch date. I didn’t even eat breakfast because I was anticipating that pumpkin muffin and hot tea that has become my Tuesday morning fare as of late. Going there seems to be the best way for me to get any writing done.

And then my tire went flat.

I’m thankful that it wasn’t flat (or at least I didn’t notice it being flat) before school, so that Big Brother (much to his dismay) didn’t have to miss anything. No, it made it all the way to Little Man’s preschool, presenting itself in all its pancake-ness to me when I left the building thinking I was finally free to live life on my terms for a while.

So now, instead of eating a muffin and sipping on a hot cuppa to the delightful sounds of classical music and friendly chatter, I’m stuck in a waiting room with half a computer battery and no food, surrounded by the acrid stench of rubber and listening to Handy Manny playing on the TV despite the fact that the only two year old in the room is the only one not even watching. But I’m not bitter….

Actually, I have no right to be bitter. When I sat on my couch this morning and prayed (between sleepy nods as my body tried desperately to drift back into a deep slumber), I told the Lord that He alone is King in my life, and that I wanted to live my life in submission to Him today. I guess He took me seriously, huh?

The truth is that I got up this morning and budgeted my day according to what I thought needed to happen. I pre-spent money and time that wasn’t even really mine in the first place. So what that I thought I was going to sit down and write something for His honor and His glory? If that’s not what He had in mind then who am I to argue?

I thought I was “supposed” to be browsing the aisles of Target and happily clicking away without regard to hunger or a power supply at Panera, but apparently I wasn’t. Apparently I was supposed to spend my morning sitting in a cold, smelly tire shop, waiting to learn just how many Christmas presents I would have had to put back anyway in order to afford the bill that’s coming my way (because with our van, it’s never just a tire). Why? Was that it? The money? Or am I being kept from some horrible, unforeseen accident or an encounter with someone I wasn’t supposed to talk to? On the other hand could I be here to encounter these people for some reason?

Who knows. And who should know, anyway? When God changes our circumstances, it’s because He has a good reason. If He sees fit to share that reason with us, then we should feel blessed. If not, then we should just be thankful that He is the Great I AM, and that He always knows what’s best.

I’m clinging to that thought today, and trying to be thankful for cold waiting rooms and smelly tires. There’s a plan, and it’s much bigger than mine was to go shopping and eat muffins. I just hope I can find it in me to be thankful if that plan eventually involves a gigantic bill….

Oh Father, I love that you’re bigger than me and my little faith!

***Update: Just so you know, it definitely wasn’t just a tire. Apparently that was $645 we didn’t need for anything else! I actually am thankful that we were able to pay it, and that I knew that bill was coming. Remember “The Rule”? Yeah, someone just gave us some cash for Christmas the other day, so I knew something like this would happen. When the guy told me how much the bill was, I just laughed. He apologized for the bad news, but I told him it was ok because I had honestly expected it! I’m just wondering why “The Rule” was a few hundred dollars over what we were given this time…does that mean there’s more cash in our future to fill in the hole? We shall see, we shall see.

Dieting? Well, It's Elementary, Really.

Wow – have I got a diet plan for you. Not that you need to be on a diet…. I’m just saying, this is an incredibly affective way to lose weight. Best thing is – it’s cheap and you don’t have to cook a thing. Are you ready for this?

I call it the Elementary Diet (oh boy, I hope that’s not trademarked somewhere….I can’t afford a lawyer….). This is how it works. Step one is to plan a day to attend lunch with your Kindergartener. Don’t have one in Kindergarten? That’s ok. Call your closest elementary school and tell them you want to volunteer to let the Kindergarten classroom assistant take a lunch off. Trust me – they won’t turn you down.

Next, show up at the school and find your lunch partner. Obviously this would be your own kid if you are a K-grade room parent, but if it’s not, then look for the one kid whose parents actually needed that memo sent home in the first nine weeks about the need for children to take a bath every day (yes, by the way, that memo was real – I still have it). Don’t worry, you’ll know how to spot him – he looks a little like Pigpen from the Peanuts. By the way, you will notice that lunch starts at 10:30, so you won’t be needing breakfast that morning. See? It’s already working and you haven’t even done anything yet!

Now saddle up in line behind your little one (or Pigpen), and grab a nice melamine tray full of gelatinous meat (if you’re lucky they’ll throw in some gravy), heat-lamped turnip greens and “California blend” veggies (seriously, do people in California even eat this stuff? I don’t think so). Oh, and don’t forget to grab a roll and a box of slightly chilled milk on the way out. Now, simply sit back and let the magic work itself.

You will find, ironically, that the actual food you have loaded onto your tray doesn’t really have anything to do with the diet itself. In fact, you may even find that even though it somewhat resembles the same exact food you ate in elementary school (leading you to wonder if they just have a gigantic never-ending storehouse of 25 year old freeze-dried food somewhere), today’s mystery dishes are now much healthier. They actually contain vitamins and proteins found in real produce and meat, and (believe it or not) tend to taste somewhat good. But don’t worry, you won’t have to fret over wanting seconds you’ll never be allowed to obtain. Trust me.

It is at this point that the diet truly begins in full swing. All you have to do is keep your eyes open. Watch the girl in front of you squish reconstituted mashed potatoes through the gap in her teeth. Check out the kid who is trying desperately to be funny by unsuccessfully shoving an orange peel the size of a small football into his mouth. Observe your neighbor spreading butter all over his ham before he eats it, simply because he ran out of bread and hasn’t figured out – yet – that he could just eat the butter out of the little cup all by itself (don’t worry – come back next week. He’ll have figured it out by then).

Then take a gander at the rest of the table. The kid who puts ketchup on everything – including his pears. The one with the stuffy nose who feels the need to unstuff it right at the table. The girl whose loving mom knows that she likes lots of mayonnaise spread on the lunchmeat before it’s wrapped around the pickle. The boy who seriously thinks his chocolate milk tastes better with peas in it. Oh yeah, I said peas. And all the while, notice that any somewhat tantalizing aromas that may have risen from your own tray have been blocked by the hand you have to keep throwing next to your nose every time Pigpen leans across you to tell your neighbor something that usually involves the phrase “Hey, watch what I can do!” (don’t watch, by the way. This is a diet plan, not a prescription for permanent self-starvation).

Even if you do decide to close your eyes for a moment or two and choke down some good ‘ole county government fare, don’t worry, you haven’t blown anything yet – the diet’s not even over. The torture will only last about 20 or 30 minutes, and then it will be time to prance your tray over to the wash window. This is the real grand finale – the icing on the cake, if you will. Check out what the lunch ladies do with all that left-over, ketchup-laden, partially-chewed decadence. Oh yeah, they throw it all together into this little trough that leads to a garbage disposal, where it backs up and lingers in a pile of spooge and nastiness, all the while begging for a violent shove of the scrapper to send it into the rotating blades of horror and put it out of its misery. Mmmm, just like mom used to make, huh? Well, guess what? There goes all hopes of wanting to eat dinner, and possibly even breakfast the next morning. See how it works?

Do this just a couple of times a month and the memories alone will be enough to keep the weight off for years. I’m really looking forward to fitting into those size 6 Diamond Cut jeans I couldn’t get rid of after monster-huge baby #1 (they were really new when I got pregnant…who wants to get rid of perfectly brand new jeans? Even if they are hmmfnumabah sizes too small….ahem….). Just a few more lunch dates, and I’ll be there….I just know it….

Happy eating, friends!

Um, Thanks?

Last weekend Little Man came home from church with a treasure box he had made in Sunday School. It's a small, round wooden box with the words "I'm thankful for..." penned around the lid and a few flashy jewels glued on top by the little guy himself. Inside was a single piece of paper telling us what he is most thankful for in this life. You want to know what it said?

"...my kitty who throws up and vomits."

Yeah, buddy - me too. Meee toooo.

Happy Thanksgiving, whatever you're thankful for!


-Samantha

A Little Buried Treasure

I was looking through Proverbs 31 the other day in preparation for a talk I was giving on a retreat. I hate to admit it, but sometimes when I read that Psalm I think I’m just a glutton for punishment, because I always find myself deeply entrenched in the sin of comparison. And comparing yourself with Super Woman is hardly ever a feat that lands you anywhere near on top. So it was with great caution that I stepped into the description of the epitome of all women, and in that spirit I found a little treasure – a new mark of character to strive for that I don’t think is too far out of my reach for once.

It was in the middle of verse 28 that I found this tiny gem, sandwiched between the parts of Wonder Woman’s resume that tell of her never eating the bread of idleness and pretty much surpassing every other female in existence in her perfection (ok, are you catching a hint of bitterness and jealousy? I’m telling you, this may be the one Psalm that actually causes me to sin…). There, in those tiny words “Her children arise and call her blessed” I found my sparkling glimmer of hope.

Now wait a minute – don’t think for a second that I’m about to say that my kids will ever hang from a lamppost in the middle of town square and shout my praises to the masses. I’m not delusional, friends. No, no. This is definitely one of those times when the original language tweaked something deeper than our own English translation was able to convey to my heart (and you thought I was starting to lose it…well, fear not – “it” is all here in it’s glory).

Just for kicks I looked up that Hebrew word used there for “call (her) blessed”, and do you know what I found? It actually means “to call someone ‘blessed’”. Shocking, I know. But then the definition goes on to say that it also is used in other instances to call someone “happy”. Hmmm. Let the conviction games begin!

I immediately started to wonder if my children would “rise up and called me happy” to anyone, ever. And I have to admit that I think one of them would most of the time. He’s the one that doesn’t get in trouble a lot, so to him, life is pretty happy. But the other one? Yeah, I don’t think Little Man would exactly use “happy” as his chosen adjective for Dear Old Mom.

Just the other day we were watching a movie together when a character on screen started yelling in frustration over something. In his cute little stutter, Little Man turned to me and asked, “Why wh- why that man yellin’?” I told him it was because he was just upset over something, and without hesitating he asked, “Wike you?”

Ouch.

But you know, I actually think that’s something I can work on. In fact, I think the Lord’s been dealing with my heart on this subject a lot lately. He’s been gently teaching me about appreciating people and things, resting in Him, enjoying His presence and – yes – not losing it so much with my three year old. I’d say He’s definitely leading me in a direction that could result in a lot more happiness in my home.

For quite some time the greatest desire of my heart has been to experience unhindered joy in the Lord, of which happiness is a mere byproduct. Now, I know that doesn’t mean that every day would look like the filming of a Brady Bunch song (you know – from those later episodes when they thought it was a good idea to be in a singing group together…until You Know Who’s voice changed and ruined everything…), but I don’t think that’s what real “happiness” is all about anyway. I think it has a lot more to do with the state of your mind and the place of your heart.

I also know that our enemy just read these words I’ve written and would love nothing else than to knock this “silly” little notion out of my head forever. But I pray that the Lord would protect me from his schemes and let me take joy in the fact that my Dad really is bigger and stronger than that bully, and that He’s already beat his tail all over the playground and back.

Yes, I think happiness – in the right, Christ-led sense of the word – is attainable, even for me (despite what my youngest might think). It's in there somewhere, buried beneath the yelling and gnashing of teeth that is seen most often around bed times and in Target or Wal-Mart. With a little help from the Lord I'll be able to dig it up and present it as a treasure to my sons. And I’m looking forward to laughing when my sons stand up in the presence of witnesses and declare: “My mom may not be the Proverbs 31 woman, but she’s happy!”

Oh, what a fun day that will be!

Delight And Rest

I've just returned from a day of solitude - 24 hours of silence and being alone with the Lord - and I have to say that it was sweet and wonderful. I've mentioned on here, oh, I don't know, about a million times lately that I've been overwhelmed with living at the speed of life the past few months, and it was definitely time for a break. Honestly, no vacation in the world could have been more refreshing for my soul!

The Lord allowed me a lot of sweet rest and sleep, and then He had a specific word for me: "Delight in me. Enjoy me!" Up until yesterday I had always thought that "delighting in the Lord" was a suggestion. You know, like, "Try taking a warm bath to relax...it works for me!" But He very clearly showed me in His word that delighting in Him and enjoying Him is just as much of a command as "do good" or "turn from evil".

The scripture He had me focus the most on was Psalm 37. He definitely had some peace to speak into my heart concerning economy-type things through these verses, which maybe I'll get a chance to write about soon. If you read Psalm 37, you might see that it can be fairly easily broken down into two categories: commands and promises. Even all the stuff in there about what happens to wicked people can really be chalked up on the "promises" side of the board. And when you do that with the whole psalm, you'll very quickly see that "delight" and "enjoy" show up as commands.

Now we would never, ever think of "turning from evil" as a strong suggestion that we could simply take or leave at our own whim, would we? I mean, that doesn't even seem like a remote point of negotiation in the kingdom of our Lord, does it? Well what if He is just as serious about us delighting in Him? I'm beginning to think that He is.

How amazing is our God that He would command us to stop and enjoy Him. To take a break and breathe a deep, calming breath of His presence. I'd love for you to stop right now and think of something that you really, really enjoy - something that is your special escape from the reality of life. You got that picture in your head? For me it's a warm, candle-lit bath and chocolate truffles (shallow, I know - but it works for me...). As much joy and satisfaction and release that moment or thing or experience gives you - that is what God is commanding you to experience with Him. Amazing thought, isn't it?

I'm really looking forward to figuring out how to make enjoying the Lord a routine part of my spiritual discipline, and I'm excited to see how it might look! But most of all, I'm thankful for a God and Father who delights in me and wants me to enjoy and delight in Him so much that He commands it. What an amazing God we serve!

WIGIAT? I think I know...

I was sitting in the pickup line at school the other day when I saw a bumper sticker that really made me think. No, it wasn’t the one mini van’s giant red Darth Vader head my kids are so envious of, it was one I’d actually not seen yet. At first glance, it simply said, “WIGIAT”.

As I sat there and thought, Wigi-what?, and assumed that it probably had something to do with our current president (as about half the bumper stickers around here that have anything to do with the letter W do), I noticed that it said something else in very small print underneath those letters. I had to nearly snuggle up in their backseat to read it, but somehow I was able to make it out just short of hitting their rear bumper. It read:

“WHERE IS GOD IN ALL THIS”

It was kind of a disturbing thought to begin with, then I saw the “Jesus fish” not too far above it on the back door. At that point I was really disturbed.

I kind of wanted to get out of the car and remind her where God is in all this. God is exactly where He’s always been, and right where He belongs: on His throne.

Psalm 29:10 says, “The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord is enthroned as King forever”, and I believe it. Yes, our world is a mess. And yes, it would appear that we are drowning in it. But that doesn’t mean that God has forgotten us or disappeared. He sees us and He knows our hurt and confusion. He feels our pain and is deeply saddened by our fears. This is far from the Eden He designed for us, and He can’t wait to step in and take us home.

So why doesn’t He do something about it? Because He’s perfect and patient and just, and so much in love with us that He can’t. Doesn’t seem to make sense, does it? 2 Peter 3:9 tells us why it should make perfect sense: “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” He’s waiting for us to believe so we can come home.

I must admit, though, that some days I feel selfishly feel like enough people believe that He needs to come back and save us all from the rest of us who don’t, you know? But that’s just one more reason in a long line of reasons why I am so very, very glad that I am not God. He alone is perfect, and He alone knows the hearts of men. He already knows the perfect time to step in and make Himself known to even those who refuse to believe. It’s been marked on His calendar since before the beginning of time, and you can rest assured that He won’t forget or be a minute late. Our God is perfect and perfectly on time.

So where is God in all this? Right where He should be. And to those of us who do believe, that place is closer to us than our next breath. Through the Holy Spirit we have uninterrupted access to the Lord our God, who works tirelessly in and through us each day to strengthen our faith and lead others to believe in His name. He hasn't gone anywhere.

After having a few days to think about this, I’m considering making a rebuttal sticker. Maybe if I did it would say something like “GSIRH” (GOD SAYS, “I’M RIGHT HERE”), or WIOFIAT (WHERE IS OUR FAITH IN ALL THIS). But maybe it should simply just say “I AM” – because that’s all we really need to know. God is and was and always will be. Ultimately, we have nothing to fear.

That being said; Come Lord Jesus, Come. The flood is rising…

Boy-Speak

Ok, so I'm like the worst blogger ever lately. It's not that there hasn't been anything "blog-worthy" going on - in fact it's quite the opposite. There's been so much going on in our lives it's hard to stop and take a breath, much less sit down and write about it. So for those of you who used to check in regularly (like when I posted regularly), please forgive me and please don't give up on me yet. I'm not done - I haven't quit a blogging "phase" - I just have to get a grip on this whirlwind of activities, events and deadlines we call "life". Sometimes I feel like we're so busy doing the business of "life" that we don't have time to actually live it! What happened?

But don't take this as an all doom-and-gloom attitude on my part. I think we are just in a season of life where we're not only learning to adjust to new things, but we're also learning how to say "no". As you can tell, we're not so good at that last part yet, but we will be! And our family will be stronger for it!

Anyway, as a goodwill gesture (and a way to actually post something on this day when I have two sick kids and a husband who is away for the day), I thought I would offer up a little lighthearted "piece" on how to decipher some of the lingo in our household. Enjoy, and pray that my priorities will come into focus soon so that I can be back in the swing of writing!

A dictionary of terms you’ll need encase you visit my house someday:

Joopbits – the small wooden things Daddy likes to stick in his mouth after dinner.

Shark – 1. a sometimes rather large and possibly ferocious sea creature; 2. the name for anything that has a point on it or could cut you (as in a “shark” knife or a “shark” joopbit).

Pinato – a musical instrument consisting of black and white keys. Instrument is usually played with your hands in loud banging patterns that adults find quite annoying (unless they aren’t in charge of you and then it becomes “cute”).

Bwudder – a male sibling. *Note: can be interchanged with “punching bag”, “scapegoat”, and on rare occasions “best friend”.

Bonina – a long, yellow fruit that can be peeled, smashed and ground into the carpet when mom isn’t looking.

Peapop – a very colorful exotic bird which can be found at the zoo and in the woods around Aunt Kellee’s house.

Poskickles – a cold, frozen treat that is best served in the bathtub or to shirtless wonders in their swimming trunks.

Nightberries – bad dreams you have after you see something scary that you weren’t supposed to be watching in the first place

The King, aka The Princess – the principal at Big “Bwudder’s” school who gets him out of the car every morning. Yeah, he’s famous.

Pahtark – tasty toaster pastry usually served at breakfast. Can be found in rogue trace amounts in the couch cushions, the carpet, the arm chair… (why do we buy those things again?)

Chickenpway – our favorite fast food restaurant, home of the “pway pwace”, our favorite milkshakes, and (of course) the cow we're scared of but always want to see!

Magnetized - what happened to the boys' cousin when our pastor dunked him under the water during church the other day!

Breathing Deep

Sometimes at the end of the day when I'm tucking the boys into bed, I'll ask them what their favorite part of the day was. They'll take a few seconds to think, and then their eyes will light up as they give their answer. I love hearing about their favorite part of the day, even if it's the exact same favorite part of the day before. I've worked with teenagers long enough to know that the time is rapidly approaching when they won't want to readily tell me about any part of their day, so it's something I try to treasure up in my heart.

If someone had asked me yesterday what my favorite part of the day was, I wouldn't have even had to think. By far the most outstanding part of my day was sitting with Little Man on the couch after his nap. Our airconditioner is broken, so during the day we have the windows open and several fans blowing, creating a very peaceful mixture of white noise and nature sounds. Nothing could have brought me more joy at that moment than sitting with him snuggled on my lap, taking in the peace and the stillness that was all around us.

We sat that way for at least fifteen minutes before either of us spoke a word. Oh how I wish there were more moments like that in our week! No whining or complaining, no tears, no punishments, no accidents....just peace - peace that was being shared together. At times it seems like nothing in my life feels greater than moments like those. To just hold him and feel him in my arms and smell his little boy smell and kiss him on the bridge of the nose... These are the memories I will carry with me forever!

But you know, the more I thought about how much I enjoyed that time with my son, the more I realized that God cherishes the same moments with us. How many times a day must He long for us to simply sit down, be quiet and snuggle up to Him?

I'm so thankful today for the God who knows me better than I know myself and who cherishes nothing more than time He gets to spend with me. I'm looking forward to the next moment I get to simply sit with Him and breathe in the peace that surrounds us.

As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to take one of those moments right now. Care to join us?

Why We Didn't Get To Eat Japanese (and other stories) Part 2

Ok, so you’ve heard about Friday (if you haven’t, read about it here). I told you it was just the beginning…

Saturday morning we woke up and went to get haircuts. When we came back, we noticed that Big Brother was starting to run a fever. Of course, it would make sense that he would come down with a sinus infection just like Little Man had the previous week. Bummer, but manageable.

By that evening he was feeling pretty warm, so we gave him some Tylenol and went to the store to buy a thermometer. It was getting obvious that church on Sunday morning was out for at least one of us, but it still wasn’t unchartered territory. We’ve done fevers before.

It did kind of bother me a little that he didn’t have any other symptoms – no runny nose, no coughing, nothing – but I just passed it off as a quirky illness that would probably run its course. We even went out for lunch with the family on Sunday and then went shopping at Kohl’s (I know – Mother Of The Year – you can nominate me later and I’ll mention you in my acceptance speech…). He was feeling pretty good thanks to Tylenol, so we thought we’d be in the clear soon. After all, it had been well over 24 hours and no other symptoms had crept up, so maybe it was just some kind of virus and it would all be over soon.

Or maybe not. We hadn’t hit Sunday night yet.

By Sunday evening his fever was up to 104.9 and he was pretty miserable. I don’t think he’s ever run a fever that high before, and it was a little scary. We called our friend (who just so happens to be his pediatrician and an amazing person to answer our phone calls) and asked him if we should be panicked by such a high fever. He asked some questions and then assured us that warranted panicking had less to do with numbers and a lot more to do with behavior. Was he out of sorts? Lethargic? Vomiting? If not, it would probably be ok just to watch it. If he started any of that other stuff, though – especially the vomiting – then we’d have to go to an urgent care.

I bet you can guess what happened at about 12:30 in the morning.

And again at 8:00 (times three).

Ok, off to the urgent care we go. He was sick – really sick. It took 5 hours, a urinalysis, a chest x-
ray, three tubes of blood work, and two shots before they let us go home with a couple of prescriptions. They had nothing more to tell us than he was sick with some kind of bacterial infection and that we needed to follow up with his pediatrician back home if he didn’t get much better. They felt so sorry for him, though, that they gave him two popsicles, a stack of stickers and a stuffed animal.

At least now we had some antibiotics on board, so things would get better, right? We took a car ride through an animal park, knowing that we couldn’t do anything that required him to walk or be around other people. He seemed to be feeling better, and we had a blast dodging ostriches and feeding pigs and zebras from our window. A good time was had by all, but by that night things got a lot worse.

The 104.9 fever was back, along with screams of stomach pain and burning eyes. I was so scared to see him like this that at one point I was in tears. He definitely wasn’t better, and I wasn’t sure what to even do to bring him a little comfort. We called our friend again and were told what to watch for incase we needed to take him to the emergency room. Beyond that, he said, we would need to leave a little earlier than planned and come on home.

Praise God, we got the fever down with Tylenol and a bath, so we didn’t have to go to the emergency room. The next morning we packed up and headed home a little early, making it to the pediatrician’s office just before closing. By then his nose had started to run just a little and his eyes were a bright cherry red. With still no great explanation other than a bacterial infection (there just wasn’t any other evidence of anything else), he got two more shots and we went home to monitor the fever and rest.

By the next morning the fever had peaked at a strong 102.8 (where it would stay for the next couple of days), and both eyes showed signs of pink eye. Later that afternoon his right eye would nearly swell shut with infection, and his nose would finally start running a little, but ironically he was improving. By then we had started oral antibiotics and the light at the end of the tunnel was finally growing bigger.

So there we were, fall break pretty much over, a limping van, a recovering kid, and a pile of homework yet to be done (homework over break in KINDERGARTEN – what the world?!?!?!). But we were all alive and at home (not lying in a hospital), so it could have been worse. Maybe next year, though, we’ll have one of those “stay-cations” people are so fond of these days.

Come to think of it, staying home sounds like a great idea…

With any luck they'll open a Nagano's in Tennessee.

Why We Didn't Get To Eat Japanese (and other stories)

Wow – we have had quite the adventure over the past few days. It’s fall break around here, which is apparently an invitation to chaos in our family. Who knew.

It all started with a trip home to North Carolina to see Shane’s parents. We were so excited to get away and to see family and friends that it didn’t even phase us when we started to notice a strange noise coming from the van. We pulled over on an exit ramp and discovered a flat tire. No problem – we’d just change it and be on our way. After all, there was still plenty of time to make it to our favorite Japanese restaurant for dinner, so what was the rush?

Well, someone forgot to tell the spare tire about Nagano’s amazing shrimp sauce and carrots. We tried to fix things on our own, but the wench mechanism holding the tire to the bottom of the car was broken. Still, no problem. AAA was just a call away, they’d come and save us in time!

An hour later we had been through all the alphabet flash cards with the boys and were making up new forms of “I Spy” to pass the time when “Bud” (aka Larry the Cable Guy’s not-so-distant cousin) showed up in the flatbed tow truck. Finally! He’d have the tools we needed and – though dinner would be late – hibachi steak was still on the map.

Only he couldn’t get it to budge either. There would be no “road-side assistance” – we were going to have to take it into “town” to a buddy of his who agreed to open up his shop just for us (“’cuz they ain’t nothin’ open ‘round these parts after 5 or on the weekends…”). So we agreed to load the van on the truck and climb aboard. He told us there was plenty of room – Shane and I could sit up front with him and the kids could sit “in the back” behind the seats. I was thinking jump seats. He was thinking piles of toolboxes and cables. And to think I was worried that they wouldn’t have car seats….seat belts would have been nice. Heck, seats would have been awesome.

It was after we finally got rolling that we learned “Bud’s” buddy wouldn’t be able to meet us for another hour or so. In that case, why not make another stop? It was off to a trailer park to unlock a car door. Yeah, awkward… but whatever, right? At this point, though, Nagano’s was looking doubtful. Although, if it was up to Buddy we were going to make it – he had no problem going 80 down the interstate and 30 around hairpin mountain road turns. Forget Halloween, the nightmares came early for us this year.

So we unlocked the Johnson’s car and headed “into town” to the tire shop (or, rather, we drove into the middle of nowhere to a freestanding garage). There we met “the King” (I can only assume that was his name – after all, it was tattooed in rather large script on his forearm….but not on the same arm as the Cadillac symbol, of course). The King reminded me a little of Eminem and a kid we once knew, and he turned out to be a really decent guy who knew a whole heck of a lot about tires (information which he gladly imparted to us – if the whole writing and speaking thing doesn’t work out for me, I think I’m well prepped for a career in the tire business).

The King set in on our tire and soon hit a new snag: One of the three different sizes of lug nuts on the tire was stuck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it off. Bud stepped in to help, but they were getting nowhere fast. Then the King seemed to remember some magic stuff in a spray can and used that to finally free up the situation.

Once the tire was off we could see that it sported a hole certainly big enough to pass a dime through piggy bank style. It took several more minutes (and a lot more instruction) to patch another old tire and fit it to the van. By the time we left, Nagano’s (which was still an hour away) was minutes from closing and Hardee’s was sounding like very viable competition.

So in the end, we endangered our kids’ lives and spent $60 to take a three hour detour into the Neverland of tow trucks and spare tires in the mountains of North Carolina. I have to admit, though, that the whole time I was feeling a sense of peace and patience that certainly surpassed understanding (which immediately meant to me that it had to be from God). Maybe He was keeping us from something. A wreck? A horrible act of nature? Food poisoning at our favorite restaurant? Who knows. Somehow it all just felt like part of the plan. So we ate a heatlamped thick burger at 9:45 instead of steak and mushrooms covered with shrimp sauce (mmmm…), so what? So we got to Shane’s parents house sometime around 11, no big deal. No one was hurt and our van was drivable (even though it has a used, patched tire on it). Things were really ok.

Too bad it was just the beginning….

I’ll be back later with more of the story.

I Want It All

I was at a women’s conference not too long ago and heard the speaker say that her husband tells the Lord every day that he wants all He has for him for that day, and if there is someone who doesn’t want their portion he’ll take it too. I thought it was cute and funny, but I didn’t realize that God would use it to spur my spiritual life more than anything else that I heard that day.

I’m not used to asking for things that I want. For reasons that I won’t go into on the internet, I’ve never been comfortable asking for what I want, but I think it is mostly because for a long time I have been under the impression that I’m not worth the cost of most things that catch my eye (whether that cost be financial or simple physical effort). I guess I’ve always sort of believed that it was wrong to put someone out for something that I didn’t deserve in the first place (which, by the way, has made it a constant struggle to accept God’s free gift of grace).

It suddenly occurred to me the day of that conference, though, that each and every day of my life, God has preordained blessings that He has set aside just for me. It’s not selfish to ask Him for what He has already decided to give me! In fact, I bet nothing brings Him greater joy than a child who wants to receive every ounce of the full life He died to give her.

Not taking every blessing He offers would be like being offered a gigantic piece of cake on your birthday and only taking one small bite in the name of “being polite”. Not only are you insulting the host and causing the rest of the slice of cake to be thrown out, but you’re missing out on the gift that was made just for you!

It’s going to take a while to sink in, but I have to come to a place of realizing that God has blessings lined up for me every day, and that He’s already paid a price for them that He says I am totally worth. Old habits are hard to break, even if they are the habits of not doing something. Somehow, though, I want to get in the habit of asking God for everything He has for me – every word, every conviction, every whisper, every miracle – I don’t want to miss out on a crumb of blessing!

How about you? Has it ever occurred to you that God has piles of blessings marked with your name, and that it isn’t selfish to simply ask for them?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one. If you’re new to blogging and have never left a comment before, just click on the little line below this that says “__ Comments” (that blank will be some kind of number). You don’t have to have a blogger profile to do this – you can comment anonymously and simply type your name in your comment. Be sure to leave your email address if you want me to respond to your comment though!

Appointed

I had the privilege of speaking to a women’s luncheon today about the freedom we have in Jesus from the sins that threaten to enslave us. Even though it wasn’t the best, most professional talk I’ve ever given (I lost my place like 3 times and totally drew a blank at the end – that’s never happened before), I know and believe that God had a word for someone there. I believe that not only because He spoke a specific word into my heart for this talk, but also because of the level of spiritual opposition I faced this past week as I prepared.

There were distractions galore, and missed writing days (for the second week in a row) that I had to try and find time to make up. Then Little Man got sick and was not only miserable, but unable to go to preschool (again, no time to prepare). Add on top of that not feeling too great myself, the doubts upon doubts that plagued me (to the point of doubting my doubts…which is really ridiculous), and the fact that the air conditioner in our house broke last night and I couldn’t sleep because it was so hot. Yeah, I’d say someone was trying to derail my train of thought, wouldn’t you?

I was feeling a little distracted and out of it right up to the time of speaking today. As always, I got to the place early so I could have a moment to gather my thoughts and pray. I love that time – it’s kind of the “point of no return”. The event’s about to start and you are absolutely as prepared as you are ever going to get. It’s just time to stop and give it all over to the Lord.
So I was sitting there praying, and I had a bit of an epiphany as I heard myself praying these words: Lord, I know that You have appointed this time and this place to speak. You have appointed these people and You have appointed the message I am about to deliver to them. You have a plan, and I know that You will not disappoint those You have prepared for this day…

It seems like such a silly thing to think of, but I guess I was just so worried about messing up and being disappointed (or others being disappointed in me), that I guess I just needed to hear out loud that whatever God Ordains and sets into motion, He won’t take back. Whatever He appoints He won’t then dis-appoint. I know that seems like stretching when I actually write it out, but it was pretty profound to me at the time.

Now that the talk is over and it didn’t exactly go the way I had envisioned it, I’m realizing that even if I feel “disappointed”, God carried through with exactly what He had planned. Whoever He appointed to be there and hear His word heard it, and the things He wanted to begin in her life were set in motion. Because God is good, and He can accomplish miracles through even our greatest debacles.

So I guess I’m writing this to say that if God has called you to do something – big or small – carry through with it, even if you think it’s going to be a disaster. Be faithful and obedient to His call in your life because if He has ordained it, He has a plan that He will carry through in spite of anything you might do. Just remember – it’s not about you, it’s all about Him.

I’m amazed tonight at how wonderful He is, and so thankful that He is the great I AM.

-Samantha

Be Careful What You Ask For

I was asked a couple of months ago to speak at a women's luncheon next Wednesday. The topic is "Laying Aside the Flesh and Running With The Spirit". I've had an idea of what direction I'm supposed to take it in, but honestly with all that's been going on in our family lately I haven't had much time until today to sit down and write it all out.

I've been particularly struggling with an intro. Not the most important part of a talk, I know, but you do want to have a good way to start off your journey with someone. So I have been wracking my brain for the past week or so trying to come up with a way to start this talk - some story about trying to run and being hindered or tripped up. I just kept praying and asking the Lord to help me out so I could get the creative juices flowing, but there was just nothing but a "wait and see, it will all come together" kind of feeling.

Then there was yesterday.

My husband and I decided we needed to put air in the tires on the van. We were down to our last 3 quarters in change in the car, and one air hose session cost $.75 (of course). So we were bent and determined to fill up all four tires without having to go get more change. Time to attack this thing NASCAR style, huh?

So the plan was that he would gage the tires, and I would fill them, then he would run around and recheck them and I would top them off. Sounded great, but running with a hose apparently isn't my forte. I'm sure you've guessed by now what happened - I totally tripped over the hose and crashed shoulder-first into a stucco wall. Yeah, are you laughing like my husband was? Mmm-hmm - it was hilarious - just keep on laughing.

It scraped up my whole left arm, bruised my shoulder blade, left my shoulder stiff and (I'm pretty sure) realigned some of the vertebrae in my upper back. Lovely. But at least I now have a story for my intro...

I'm going to go find an ice pack and call my chiropractor. You just keep laughing.

I'm Actually Looking For A Rut

Hello to all. Thanks for praying for my sister - she is at home and doing very well! God is truly amazing!

I wish I had something profound to write today, but I'm afraid I don't, really. Not that God hasn't been working in my life lately - it's just that I haven't had time to process it all and put it into words. In fact, He's shown me some pretty profound things over the past week or two, and I can't wait to figure out how to communicate them. For now, though, I think I feel a little like life is running over me like a steam roller. If this gives you any idea of what I mean - I went to bed last night at 8:40. By the way, 5:30 still comes early, regardless of when you fall asleep!

I guess there's just been a lot going on lately, you know? And the thing of it is, I'm a routine person. As bored as I can get with repetition, I absolutely have to have a routine. I kind of feel lost and unorganized without one, you know? I've been thinking since school started a couple of months ago that I would fall into one, but it just hasn't happened yet. I've tried and tried, but every time I think I find a routine that works for the week, something comes along to change it. I'm starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me something...

What about you? Are you a routine person? Or has God given you some great insight about why you shouldn't have a routine? I'm just curious this morning. Well, curious and wishing that I had some sort of plan for getting everything done this week that needs to get done.

Uh-oh - I think I hear that steamroller coming back for another pass...

Update And A Random Thought

Thank you for all your prayers and kind words over the past couple of days. I am happy to say that my sister's surgery went well and that she is out of a neck brace and was actually able to sit in a chair for a while today! She should be out of the ICU sometime today and out of the hospital all together by the end of the week if everything goes well.

Now for the random thought: on the way home from the hospital last night I saw a billboard that advertised that the lottery this time around is at something like $162 Million. I briefly thought about how funny it would be if someone climbed up there and wrote next to it "...or a tank of gas".

Keep praying, and thanks again!

Please Pray!

Plans are funny things, you know? They always seem so important until something entrirely unplanned comes along and totally takes over. Last night my sister planned on playing Bunco with our little group of Bunco Babes. She had been planning since Friday what she would bring for potluck snacks. But instead of rolling dice and eating the goodness that is the food other people cook, she was lying in ICU unable to move.

I was planning on posting today, but instead of posting today, I would like to ask you all to pray for my sister Kellee. She was in a car accident yesterday and is in the hospital with several broken bones and awaiting surgery on her back.

It goes without saying that I have no idea how regularly I will be able to post over the next couple of weeks as I step in and try to help where I can with her four boys. Thanks for understanding, and know that I will be back the second I can sneak in some time!

Oh how thankful I am today that God is bigger than our plans and the unplanned things that turn our lives upside down.

Nice Flarpet - Is That Berber?

So Big Brother got an award for being good during children's church a couple of Sundays ago. He was so excited to bring home a prize. His trophy? A can of Flarp - aka "fart putty". Now some of us moms will read that and go "how disgusting and inappropriate!" But I'm telling you from years and years of ministry with older boys, Flarp is the way to the male heart (and you always thought it was through his stomach!). Nothing breaks the ice faster and causes more laughs than being able to produce the sounds of bodily functions by simply inserting your finger in a can of goo (and nothing pleases the females in the room more than bodily noises that smell like blueberries instead of, well, you know....I always thought blueberry was a kind of interesting choice of fragrances though....).

Many, many laughs were had over the past couple of weeks in the Roberts household over this little can of Flarp. Until this past Sunday, that is. I'm not laughing so much right now....

Little Man thought it would be a good idea the other day to play with the Flarp outside of it's original, intended container. He also apparently thought it would be a good idea to see what happens when we put Flarp on the carpet - and leave it there. Oh yes, and I discovered all of this right before we were supposed to walk out the door for evening services. Perfect.

So it sat there all night (the residue, anyway - I picked up what I could). And then I forgot about it the next morning. Which meant that last night I was laying in the carpet wetting it down to try and saturate the now cement-like substance, and squeezing each individual fiber to get out what I could. I worked on it for about 45 minutes and did pretty well, but there's still a long way to go. Yeah, Flarp? Not so funny anymore.

We'll get it all out eventually (I hope). But you want to know the best part of it all? Until we figure out how to clean it all up, there will be a very noticible Carolina blue stain in the perfect shape of a Tar Heel footprint next to our dinner table. Guess which football team is my husband's least favorite?

Yeah, he's not laughing either.

Under the Bridge Downtown

Last Saturday Little Man and I went downtown to feed the ducks while Big Brother was at a birthday party and Daddy had company. We bought a loaf of bread for a dollar at the grocery outlet and drove to a part of the park we hadn’t been to before to see if we could find any willing diners. Boy, did we hit the jackpot! There must have been 80 or 90 ducks in that little area.

In no time the bread was gone and we found ourselves walking. And that’s when we saw him – the man I haven’t been able to get off my mind since.

When we first passed him, we were on the other side of the water from where he was sitting just watching the world go by. He might have looked a little down on his luck, but I just thought he was another tired guy taking a rest in the park. When we crossed over the river and came back on the other side, though, we saw the real story. That bridge he had been sitting under was his home.

Though the man himself was gone by the time we reached his spot, the evidence of a life worlds apart from our own remained. A pair of shoes, an old pair of thin pants, a garbage bag, a trash can… It wasn’t much to look at, but it was more than enough to open my eyes.

How many times have I driven over that bridge not knowing that he was there? How many times have people passed him while walking in the park without giving him a second glance? How often did he have to watch people like us feed a loaf of bread to a bunch of ducks while his own stomach went empty?

I thought about him all the rest of that day, and at some point a verse came to mind that has marked me deeply: “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” All at once that guy I just felt sorry for became someone different in my mind – he became a picture of my Jesus. And it’s a picture I can’t get out of my head.

My Jesus slept on a slab of concrete last night with a trash bag for a pillow.

Tonight my Jesus will be lulled to sleep by the sound of cars passing over his head.

Tomorrow my Jesus will wake to a foggy, chilly morning with nothing for warmth but a ragged, thin pair of cotton pants.

This week my Jesus will watch a bunch of ducks eat more than he might be offered in days.

Everyday my Jesus has to put up with stares of contempt from people who are inconvenienced and even repulsed by his presence in their otherwise tidy little worlds.

My Jesus is loved by his Father and deserves some help.

I know some might be thinking, “Yeah, and your ‘Jesus’ probably has a raging drinking problem or has done something to deserve being exactly where he is.” And maybe they’re right on some level, but what if they’re not? With the way the economy is going these days, can any of us guarantee that we aren’t going to fall on hard times at any minute? And even if they are right and he has made some big mistakes, isn’t that what makes him “the least of these”?

I’ve spoken with the outreach coordinator at our church, and we’re working on finding out what we might be able to do for this man. I wonder, though, how many others there are – even in our small town – who will have to go without food or shelter tonight. I bet it’s a lot more people than I would ever imagine. I’m thankful that Jesus sees every single one of them and knows their greatest needs by heart. I pray that He will help us see how to be a part of His solution in their lives.

If you want to listen to a great song that has made me do a lot of thinking lately, click here and watch a video someone put together for Brandon Heath’s “Give Me Your Eyes”.

I’m thankful today for this messy, chaotic old house that, despite all the frustration I feel because of it at times, I get to call “ours” for the time being. I really do have a lot to be thankful for!

Can You Pass Me a Bigger Plate?

I just want to apologize to those of you who have been checking on my blog the past couple of weeks to find that I haven’t been writing much lately. It’s not that I’m giving up on bloging or anything, it’s just that I haven’t been able to get used to this whole new life we’re living lately!

I have to admit that the stuff of life is overwhelming me right now. We’ve started so many new things and have had to begin so many new routines that I don’t even have a clue what my days (much less my weeks) should even look like. And every time I think I’m starting to forge a plan, something else starts up and throws it all out of whack.

I thought that once Big Brother started Kindergarten and Little Man was in preschool that everything would very nicely fall into place. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I could be all domestic-y and get house things and shopping done, while Tuesdays and Thursdays would be writing days. Sounded good, didn’t it? But alas, it isn’t working.

For one thing, Little Man has recently developed an allergy to errands – it makes him breakout in a rash of evil and apparently causes him to lose his hearing. There doesn’t seem to be a thing I can say or do to make him behave in the store. Scratch grocery shopping from Monday and add it to Tuesday when he’s busy being a total angel for his teachers (I’m glad he’s good for them, but come on! Why is it that they are always these alien other children when you’re not around so that you think either you’re crazy or you’re the one that makes them so difficult?).

Add to that volunteering at the school, working for the church and trying to physically take care of my exhausting, aching body, and Tuesday fills up real quick without a word having been typed. I’m sure it will get better, but right now it feels like my plate is so full I won’t make it back to my seat without spilling it on the floor, and I wasn’t even aware that my life had saddled up to the buffet!

But in the midst of feeling completely consumed this morning, a verse jumped out at me. Mark 7:37 says, “People were overwhelmed with amazement. ‘He [Jesus] has done everything well,’ they said, ‘ He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.’”

I realized this morning that it’s been a while since I allowed myself some time to just be overwhelmed with amazement at Jesus, but I think that’s what I need the most right now. Not a new day-planner, not a life coach who could come in and make some sense of this chaos, not even Jo-Jo from Super Nanny to teach me how to shop on Mondays (although that would be nice…). What I need in all this craziness is to stop, take a deep breath of the Spirit of God, open my eyes and be amazed at Jesus.

Oh just to sit in His presence and be filled with Him! If I truly gave myself to it, I think I could do it all day without a thought about that other stuff! Mmmm…

Oops…there goes Thursday… ;-)

In Kindergarten? Really?

10 Things about Kindergarten I wasn’t prepared for:

1. When I got up this morning I could see a star in the sky

2. When I got up this morning the dishwasher was still warm from running the night before

3. When I was getting my boys out of bed, the school bus going to their school drove by (6:40 am!)

4. Their dress code actually includes the rule, “Cover all tattoos and piercings”

5. They eat lunch at 10:30 in the morning

6. They have homework every night

7. Only one working toilet in the boys’ bathroom actually has a door

8. None of the clocks in the hallway show the right time (unless it really is 4:30 am when we
get there)

9. Peer pressure is just as real at 5 as it is at 15

10. School can be just as fun for mom as it is for the kids!

Hip Service

I learned some pretty profound things at my chiropractor’s office this week. One, I learned that when a woman you just met 30 seconds ago asks you to take off all your clothes and then lie on a table and “relax” so she can come in and massage your messed-up hip (and the adjacent butt cheek), it’s much easier said than done. I kept thinking, RELAX? Really? I’m naked. And I can hear not-naked people talking just outside the door of this tiny little room. But you want me to “relax”. Yeah, I’ll get right on that…

The other thing I learned was that when one little part of you is out of line, the rest of your life can and will suffer.

It seems that I have a hip that doesn’t want to stay where it’s supposed to (how old am I anyway that I have hip problems?). It’s been this way for years and years – I know because I’ve felt the pain and (I now realize) have suffered the consequences. I knew something was a little weird with it, but I didn’t know just how much trouble it was causing.

You see, when my hip is out and my pelvis rotates with it, it causes problems that literally span from my head to my toes. The painful inflamed cartilage in my rib cage that keeps me from sleeping every couple of months or so? From my hip. My crazy neck that causes headaches? Somehow related to my hip. The blue toenails on my left foot (no, it’s not nail polish)? You guessed it – my hip. Even the numerous damaged right shoes in my closet – they’re all missing pieces of rubber on the heel because my left foot rotates inward and kicks them every time I step. It’s all about the hip.

Suddenly I’ve realized that I’m not exactly falling apart like I’ve thought for years. I just have one major problem that is causing a lot of other little ones. Fix the major problem, though, and the others will clear up with time. But the funny thing is that I never dreamed my weird hip was the source problem – I just chalked it up to another little quirky thing about my body.

It got me thinking today. Could our spiritual lives work in much the same way? If we could take an x-ray of our hearts, could we possibly find one little shift that is capable of producing a myriad of painful consequences in our lives? I think so. And I think that just like my hip it would be something that we might know is off, but not so much that we suspect it of affecting anything else.

Maybe a shift in our quiet times with the Lord? Or perhaps a slight bend in our heart toward jealousy? I’m almost certain it would be something we would realize could use a little work, but wouldn’t be high on our list of blaring things that need to change. The thing of it is, though, that maybe if we corrected that one little “minor” issue, all those other more obvious problems would begin to fade away.

I’m thankful that we have access to an amazing physician Who can take that spiritual x-ray for us: “O LORD, You have searched me and know my heart … see if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139). If we ask Him, our Father will help us see where we need a spiritual adjustment, because He knows our hearts better than we ever will.

I’m just now beginning the uncomfortable, slow process of changing the way my hip has been behaving for at least the past two decades. It’s not exactly going to be what I’d call fun, but the reward on the other side – the freedom from other pains and issues I thought I’d always have – is well worth the journey. I can only imagine how my life could be different if I allowed the Lord to work on those little spiritual misalignments.

Sounds like I’ve got some praying to do, huh?

I think I’ll start working on that. Then maybe I’ll watch some more of the Olympics and try to “relax” (seriously, that word has lost all meaning to me now…).

"The Story"

Wow, has it really been almost a week since I posted? Sorry about that. Between not feeling well lately, getting ready to teach a seminar at a women’s conference and Shane being out of town (sorry creepy cyber-stalkers, he’s back), I haven’t had a ton of time.

Ok, so enough of you emailed me wanting know “the” story that I’ve decided to just post it. Well, most of it anyway. Part of it is kind of R-rated, so I’m going to try and talk around it. For what it’s worth, here’s the rest of it:

We went to the Tennessee Smokies baseball game the other day with the boys. The Smokies, for those of you who don’t know, is the minor league team for the Chicago Cubs, and on Fridays in the summer they have this awesome fireworks display after the game. It’s really amazing, and if you’re ever in East Tennessee in the summer, you should go.

So anyway, we’re at this game sitting out in the berm area (the grass beyond the outfield – way fun and way cheaper), when I spot this guy wearing what I assumed was a novelty shirt. It looked like a Cubs shirt, but when I saw the back the last name printed across the top was, shall we say, obviously vulgar. I mean REALLY vulgar. It was like one of those vanity license plates people have that spell things out phonetically, only this one definitely wasn’t street legal. It may have taken some people a minute or two to figure it out, but unfortunately I got it right away.

I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to wear that shirt to the game. I mean, this is a family place and there were kids everywhere! I was definitely offended, and could only imagine what other parents felt like when they saw him. It was very uncalled for.

So when I got back to where my husband was sitting, I told him about what the guy’s shirt said (spelling it out, of course, because I couldn’t bring myself to say it). He couldn’t believe it either. I asked if he thought I should say something to someone, but he wasn’t sure what to do.

So I sat there for several minutes, feeling like I needed to do something. I mean, it just wasn’t right – I have a right to protect my children in an environment like that, you know? Finally my righteousness kicked in and, deciding to be the purveyor of truth and justice, I called over a guy that worked for the Smokies.

“Sir”, I asked, “do you ever talk to anyone about wearing inappropriate shirts into the stadium?”
He told me that he usually didn’t. “But,” I explained to him, “that guy’s shirt is really vulgar. And I know my kids aren’t old enough to read it, but there are plenty of kids here that are. I just don’t think it is appropriate, and I don’t think he should be allowed to wear it at a place like this.”
I gathered that he really didn’t want to get involved, but now he was intrigued. I watched him walk over and looked at the guy’s shirt. Then he took a second look. Oh yeah, you read it right, Buddy. It says #$*!%&#*! I wasn’t even kidding…

Slowly the Smokies guy came back and got my attention.

“I’m sorry, did you mean that guy? That guy right there - in the hat?”

“Yup. Did you read it?” I said smugly.

“Yeah. Are you kidding me? Kosuke F______? He plays for the Cubs. He’s huge. He’s number one and everything.”

No way. I couldn’t believe it. This guy had to be putting me on. Shane and I couldn’t believe that someone could actually have that last name. We weren’t back home five minutes before we Googled it. And you know what? It’s true. That “vulgar” shirt was a legitimate Cubs jersey. The guy’s from Japan and everything. I tried to get a guy in trouble for wearing a baseball jersey - to a baseball game. Yeah, I’m an idiot.

So much for truth and justice.

Still, I can’t even bring myself to write his last name on my blog. It just makes me think bad things. If you really, really, really want to know what it is, you can follow this link. But don’t say I didn’t warn you – the four-word phrase I thought it represented was bad. Then again, maybe you’ll see his name and not have a clue as to what I thought it said. If that’s the case, God bless you consecrated one! You are truly a gem in this filthy world! (I, on the other hand….)

Time Keeps on Slippin', Slippin'....

Well, we did it! We survived the first day of Kindergarten. I totally cannot believe I have a kid in elementary school. I saw a napkin (of all things) the other day that totally sums up what I'm thinking: "When did we become adults and how to we make it stop?" Argh! I'm the mom of a kid in KINDERGARTEN! What the world?

But seriously, he did great. He doesn't get to go back until Monday ("staggered enrollment" a.k.a. an ingenious way to confuse five year olds and their mothers), but he's got homework every night until then. Yup, I said homework. Right on, brother - it's just going to go downhill from here in that department. Might as well get started early, right?

So anyway, I got my Mom's Plan-It calendar in the mail from Amazon today, so I guess I can officially take a stab at being organized. That should be interesting. One starting Kindergarten, one starting preschool, and I'm trying to start freelancing. I think I'll need more than just a calendar...

I gotta run for now, but I'm trying to figure out a way to post my latest most embarrassing moment without offending anyone. I still can't decide if that's even possible, so who knows if it will make it on here or not. If I don't post it in the next couple of days and you really want to know, ask me by email and I'll send you the laughs right in your inbox. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

More Than Enough

Last Sunday our church gathered for our annual end-of-the-summer picnic at the lake. Even though it usually feels like it’s 110 degrees outside, it’s definitely one of the most fun things we do together as a church family all year.

This year the youth played ultimate Frisbee and the adults sat around and fellowshipped with old friends and new comers alike. Then, after dinner, we all gathered near the water’s edge to listen to the praise band, worship and celebrate the gift of baptism. I was re-baptized there myself last year, and as I watched others being buried to their sin and raised to new life this time, I was reminded of all the Lord had washed from my soul just 12 months before.

I officially died to my pride that day at the river last year. Not to say that I haven’t struggled with pride since then or that I’m the most humble Christian on the planet, because I have struggled, and most days I certainly wouldn’t consider myself humble. But, I died to the hold pride had on my heart. I surrendered myself and my will to God, making a new commitment to walk in obedience with Him, and things certainly have been an adventure since then.

After several people dedicated their lives to the Lord through baptism, we broke into groups to share communion. It was during this time that God spoke to my heart and shared something with me that I hope I never forget.

As I took the bread and the wine, I stepped away from the group and looked out over the lake God had used to swallow my sins and give me new life. The sun was setting behind the mountain and the water reflected the warmth of the evening sky with golden ripples. I breathed deep the beauty of life with Jesus and silently prayed, “Thank you, Lord, for loving me enough to die for me.”

That’s when He spoke. It was simple, yet deep and convicting.

“Enough” to die for you? I felt Him say. Oh, I love you way more than that.

I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but it’s true – God’s love didn’t just go as far as the cross and stop there. Jesus didn’t just love us to a certain extent and then hit a wall. No, His love extends far beyond those nails and His pain. I think I’m beginning to see that the Cross was just the start of His love. His daily touch on our souls is proof that He loves us more than we can ever imagine, even more than we reason He must have to want to die for us.

How about you? What makes you realize that God loves you more than “just enough” to die for you? How has He loved you deeply lately?

I’m looking forward to keeping the eyes of my heart open the next little while to see the deep confirmations of His heart in the smallest of things in my life.

I’m so amazed by my Jesus today!

Noah? Are You In My Basement?

So I haven’t posted in a few days, but it’s because life hasn’t been very predictable around the Roberts’ household. Preschool went great on Thursday, and Big Brother and I got to spend some time together - the first time it’s been just the two of us for a whole day since he was two. That part was great! It was the next day that things started to get complicated.

Saturday morning Shane went downstairs to get some milk for breakfast and found himself wading through a small pond in what we had always assumed was a garage (and not an indoor water source). It took him a while to find the culprit - our water heater had apparently decided it was high time the contents of our storage area were baptized, and was well on it’s way to accomplishing this in the true Southern Baptist spirit of full submersion.

I give him props, though. He didn’t panic or even curse. He simply came back upstairs and informed me that we had a problem.

And he even remembered the milk.

So, anyway, long story short (and $800 later), we are still recovering. I think the basement carpet is finally dry and the carpet people will be back tomorrow to pick up the fan. Then we can start restretching it and moving the furniture back in. After that we get to tackle the white mildew lines on the concrete in the garage. Fun, fun!

But something struck me in the midst of placing disaster calls Friday morning - I suddenly realized that I was neither panicking or that upset about it all. The water heater itself was covered under our home warranty (even though the pressure valve and about 3 other things weren’t), and we had the money to pay for everything already sitting in the bank (that’s a big deal and pretty unusual for us). Nothing major was damaged, and it happened on Shane’s day off so he didn’t have to take time from work. We were really ok! It definitely could have been a lot worse.

I know the peace that I felt had to have come from the Lord. Even though I had no idea that I was going to wake up to something like that Friday morning, I somehow felt prepared. There was no doubt in my mind at any point this weekend that He was right there in the midst of our little disaster taking care of things and bringing us comfort.

So in the end, this thing that should have been a major source of stress turned out to be not so bad. And the big bonus of it all was that Shane took the boys out for about 5 hours on Saturday for the carpets to be cleaned, so I got my writing time after all!

I’m thankful today for the Lord’s provision and His peace.

(And for brand-new water heaters that don’t leak!)




Here’s a little snapshot of the first day of preschool. Do you think he was excited?

Storm Warning: The Winds of Change Are HERE!

We've been having a tough time with Little Man the past couple of days. It has involved a lot of yelling and time outs and even a couple of spankings, even though I'm not a big fan of those with him. He was so bad at the grocery store the other day that when we came outside and realized it had been storming the whole time we were shopping, Big Brother put his hands on his hips and yelled, "Way to go, Little Man! You made it rain!"

Sure, why not? He had caused everything else to go wrong that day. I thought the lady next to us was going to die laughing.

But things are about to change in his crazy little world. The preschool called while we were out today. School starts Thursday.

I really, really, really thought we had a couple more weeks, but no - we have one more day. One day! So much for working on potty training and trying to get him psyched for school. It leaves us with a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it. When I asked him today if he's excited about going, he informed me that he wasn't. And furthermore, he let me know that he most definitely wasn't going. But a trip to Wal-Mart and one lunchbox featuring the Hulk later (totally appropriate for a kid with rage issues, don't you think? He picked it out, and at least it has Spider Man and Iron Man on it too...), and we're a little step closer to wanting to go.

I can't believe he starts preschool in about 36 hours. Or that his brother will be in Kindergarten in 10 days. It feels a little like we've been preparing for a hurricane like we used to back in Florida when I was a kid, only the storm changed course and it's going to be here sooner than we thought. It's just that same feeling of "it's coming, and there is nothing we can do to stop it".

Oh why do they have to grow up so fast?