Cannonball!

I did the unspeakable yesterday and walked my kids up to the neighborhood park. Its pretty far on foot, farther than I realized, so I had plenty of time to think about stuff. Taylor came along with me riding her bike and Zi and Mars were in the double stroller. Now somehow since we came off of the mission field our family has expanded and I don't me in family members but in the size of each of our members, do you get my drift??? We work hard for God and come home and eat pasta late at night and don't have time to play outside and run around the yard and stuff. Anyway, we are working on that. So back to the walk. Taylor knows how to ride a bike, but our neighborhood is really hilly and she's not really confident. She will come to a hill and walk her bike down it slowly. I asked her why and she told me she's scared of losing control and a car coming around a corner and hitting her or something. My heart cringed. I flashed back to my own childhood when my sister and I would sneak off to ride our bike down the biggest hill in the neighborhood. It was so steep you had to walk your bike up and burn you brakes on the way down. We would wear ourselves out climbing up and streaking down with our long hair streaming wildly behind us. My mom hated it and would tell us of all the things that could go wrong and we didn't care. It was fun! Or how about jumping into the pool first thing in the morning, I mean as soon as you woke up and the water being so cold you just knew the only way you could get your body in there was to jump in. Run jump cannonball, ice cold water enveloping your whole being and it was breathtaking! What had I done to my child in raising her to think of all the contingencies? I want them to be smart and cautious but not afraid.

Jump ahead to the park that we finally arrived at and I'm brooding over this entire parenting dilemma and how I've ruined my child forever through my poor life coaching skills. But then I catch Emari pushing some kid out of her way on the slide and she's jumping off the dangerous parts of the equipment and screaming in delight and a big kid runs into and sends her sprawling in the dirt and she gets up, shakes the wood chips out of her hair and keeps going. I'm worried for an instant that she might get hurt or some parent will get upset with her and I realize that my heart has reached an equilibrium. Two children, same parents, same environment, different responses.

We are going to work on both of the extremes here in our house of course, but applying this concept to my own life I realize I need to find my own equilibrium. Considerate but not overly cautious to the point of not doing anything at all. I read somewhere recently that a clenched fist can hold onto what it has but not receive anything else. So simple but true.

Why I Hate Toy Story 3

NO, no I'm not a boycotter of all things Pixar or Disney or make believe or what have you. I hate the movie not for its content or message but for the power it has over me. Now to be truthful I haven't actually sat through the entire movie. That's because I can't. It makes me cry and you know how I feel about crying in front of people aka my children. They'll think I'm a wuss or something. But really Toy Story 1 and 2 are wonderful movies, but not the dreaded 3! I can't even stand to hear it. Just today I walked through the living room where one of my children had it paused and even in stilled form I felt it begin.

Let's clarify here okay. Andy is Tony to me. They played together, packed up their toys together, and dagum went ahead and grew up on me. Just writing about it drives me to tears. Will this torture never end? The bittersweet torment of a mother who grew a man and now has to let him go. He's not quite gone yet and I won't bore you with the intricacies of my love for him and all he represents to me, just know that I mourn his wonderful metamorphosis quietly so as to not embarrass or alarm him. But dang I hate Toy Story 3.

In-Laws

If you haven't already noticed through reading my blog or by knowing me personally, my family is a fruitful one. Not just me and my husband, but the in laws too. If you recall my last pregnancy I was sharing time with both my husband's sisters and my sister in law. Fast forward two years later and I'm the odd one out, here they go again. My sister this time and Josh's sisters again. We love babies, and our husbands of course. My kiddos gained two new cousins just this week two days apart. Jack Cohen and Gabriela Cricket. Beautiful babies, beautiful mamas, but this blog I wanna talk about something else, something generally passed over. The daddies, my brothers in law.

I love weddings and baby births. Two things I love to be a part of. But I'm the one not so much watching the bride or mama. I focus on the guy. It never ceases to amaze me. The look on his face when he sees his bride gliding slowly down the aisle or the glint of pride in his eyes while he's showing off his new little baby. This week as I was visiting the girls I just couldn't get away from the thought of what a true blessing a good man is. A daddy. So many people struggle through life without one. I am so glad that my children are surrounded by great men who love their wives and children.

Trey, Manny, Adam, Aaron, and Josh, thanks for holding our hands and reminding us to, "Just breathe, baby!"

Funky

Do you ever have one of those days where you wake up and feel like the sun shining through your window is sparkling just for you? Morning commute prayer time is like kneeling before the throne of God and placing your requests at His feet personally? Smile on my face, pep in my step. You know what's coming next don't you? Slam, sucker punch right in the gut, air pulled from my lungs, trying not to let my lower lip quiver. What was that? Somebody tell me I just dreamed that and I'm gonna wake up in a second. Response time: cry, pray, cry some more, tell somebody what just happened, suck it up, move on. The ground just disappeared beneath my feet, but I'm gonna dig and scrape my way up the other side. No stopping this girl. Every set back is just another opportunity to implement the change step. The show must go on.

Abasement Stories

Paul learned to be abased and to abound and to be content in both places. I'm still learning. I struggle with entitlement. The inner dialogue begins, "God I've been working so hard for you...., so why did this happen to me???" Again and again and again. My great desire is a trendy prayer room in downtown Fayetteville, with the capacity to span the generations and the denominations. My present situation: a basement. Kind of ironic huh? God deals with me like this. College bound? Teen mom. Yearn for companionship? Learn to battle loneliness. Want an amazing marriage? Deal with this....first. Want to counsel others? Six kids...handle them with care. The hardship leads to the testimony leads to the victory. True victory is found in the telling. My story is what reminds me of His goodness, not my own. The deeper the descent the steeper the ascent. Abase me and abound me Lord.

Historic Downtown

I haven't always loved Fayetteville, but I have always loved its downtown. Even back in the day when Hay Street conjured up different images like Rick's and the Korean Lounge. If you have lived here for any amount of time, you know what I'm talking about. The night before our first daughter was born back in 1995, Josh and I were there walking up and down the streets admiring the faded beauty. We were ecstatic when things started being renovated and never cease to be astonished at the changes that have come. The pull to have a prayer house in the midst of the Market House has been on our hearts for a few years. So much potential, so much more to reach for. Intimacy and Fire, God's desire for His people in Fayetteville!

Return from the Summer Sojourn

I know I haven't posted since something like February, but I thought the post title sounded more mysterious. Kind of like I had embarked upon a incredible journey sort of adventure, but for people. Maybe I have. All I know is a lot of emotions have been running around in my brain and I didn't want to be using the blog to just make me feel better. Plus, teaching this year really drained all my creative juices outside the classroom walls and enough of my explaining/complaining. I return now to remind you I'm still here...
So, this summer has been fun. Kids going here and there and me and Josh realizing that we have reached that age in which we enjoy our bed best. We are vehicularly impaired this summer and therefore would not take our entire brood to the beach, mountains, or frankly even to church in one vehicle. Pray with me that our mechanic will be released from whatever it is that is keeping him from dropping the brand new engine into my beloved Expedition.
I got to go to my first ever conference without kids this summer. Global Awakening had a prophetic school in PA and I stepped out and went with a couple of friends. Wow, I forgot how amazing it was to just be a girl. Not a mama, not a pastor's wife, just little ol' me. Thanks Kim and Kathy for letting me tag along. You guys are truly the bestest! Some really great things were opened up to me at the sessions, different and new things. It seems like that's what has been going on with Josh and I for the past three years or so. Things are coming into our line of sight that we probably would never have been opened up to before. While God is a unchanging God we as human vessels are learning more about him everyday. He's just that big, and awesome and multifaceted. As you get close to Him, the light hits just a little different and you notice something you never noticed before. My prayer is that it will always be that way for me, that I never get "grounded" in a particular way of seeing Him.

Always Good...

Do I really believe that? I remember the pastor saying, "God is good" and the congregation would respond, "All the time!" and there were times that I doubted. When my whole world is turning around and around and the bottom drops out and I can't find my bearings. He's the one ripping off the covers and making me face those things that I've hidden from. Where is my belief that He's always good? Is He really always, always good? I can so quickly turn into the people of Israel and complain just like them. Did you deliver me from that, to kill me with is? Really how shallow, how ridiculous; that question doesn't even make sense. Where's the trust in that mode of thinking? In that perspective I'm essentially saying, "I'll handle this I just needed you for that, God." But what we fail to understand is that He is in everything, really, really. Look for the goodness, look for Him. He always gives us the grace to to go through with it. Success cannot be measured by our weak, human eyes. We can only attain it by pursuing Him and taking all that He gives us, not running from the bad, the difficult, the scary things and embracing the lovely and good only.

Mountain Climbing

The way is steep, the path narrow, but the perspective is so much better. I climb this mountain and it takes my breath at times, and my calves scream from the stretching of muscles out of use. At its base I can't see around it, can't tunnel through it, can't dig under it, the only way is up and over. But the view is indescribable to those who don't make the trek. Things look different from above, from His viewpoint. You can see over the circumstances, the way to come, further into the distance. On the way, He leaves little traces of His own steps, love notes for you to read, treasures for you to find. Here's one He left for me on the trail this morning:

Luke 12

22-24He continued this subject with his disciples. "Don't fuss about what's on the table at mealtimes or if the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your inner life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the ravens, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, carefree in the care of God. And you count far more.

25-28"Has anyone by fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can't even do that, why fuss at all? Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don't fuss with their appearance—but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?

29-32"What I'm trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don't be afraid of missing out. You're my dearest friends! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself.

Leaning down to tighten up my hiking boots I trudge on, knowing that He's got the vantage point I want to look for.

Say Uncle!

Wave after wave, trouble upon trouble it mounts and I fight for the surface and beat back the foe. But what if I'm not being bullied, what if I don't think about giving up and crying for release? What if I don't hide from the next storm, but instead I speak to it and learn to exercise my voice and authority? Change my perspective and realize that everything that comes to me comes through His hands first, no matter if I recognize it as good or not. What if I really believe what He says, all that He says? What if I stop saying Uncle and start saying Abba...

Gratitude Journal and the Book of Job

So I heard somewhere recently how a person should never say that their troubles are akin to the trials of Job, and I agree. I told you all in my last post how I started reading that amazing book and to go along with it I began keeping a Gratitude Journal. Now, in this space of my life I really really need this to keep perspective. I complained and got tears in my eyes and all for my husband today, and asked him the age old question, "When is it bad enough?" Wanna know his answer? "Have you ever thought it was good?" Of course, I have, I'm just not as emotional or vocal at those times. So I keep writing about the little things and find myself in a situation similar to the victim of a disaster picking through the rubble to find something salvageable.

1. unexpected gifts delivered to my classroom by my first born.

2. the stillness of the house when its just me and God.

3. clear sky full of stars

4. daughter's quiet voice singing along with God-songs on the radio

5. pink clouds behind barren trees

6. quiet voices in the next room

7. early morning hugs from princesses

8. hearing the soft whisper of His voice even in the little things

9. Rob Thomas and White Merlot on the wine aisle

10. the silent invitation of a lamp

11. the quiet of early morning

12. big brother and little sister cuddled

13. apple fritters

14. garments replaced

15. new gallon of milk and a full tummy

16. instructions repeated (again)

17. a new church growing one person at a time

18. watching my husband, the pastor, find his bearings and climb up high

19. teenage sons who still kiss mama and daddy good night

20. waking up with arms around me

21. car to put gas in

22. job to go to

23. electricity and a portable heater

24. reading in context

I guess its not bad enough yet...

Eyes Wide Open

I love to read! My joy is found in reading those books that pop up at just the right time to bring correction, direction, focus, to what it is that I find myself struggling with. Over Christmas break I found this blog,

and fell in love instantly. The daily blogs are beautiful, the pictures draw you in. We used the Jesse Tree Advent and the girls loved it too. As soon as our finances allowed I bought the book by the blog's author, Ann Voskamp.

The book is just as beautiful. It came to me last Wednesday, on the afternoon of a no-good, horrible, I don't-think-I can-take-much-more-of-this day. As I opened up our screen door to walk into the next phase of the beforementioned chaos, there the beautiful, brown Amazon box lay, at my feet, and even though I had expected it, it was still a gift, from God, to me. A such a time as this moment. So, I hurried through my before Core chores, and abandoned my husband to the burrito making. I ran a bath, because that's the only place in our house, where I can read and cry and pray all at the same time and nobody's gonna walk in on me. And so it began, me reading another girl's story which feels to me an awful lot like my own and I'm finding grace to plod on and redemption in her invitation to focus on the gift that life is. My life, no matter what comes, has God all over it, woven through, and I have to look around to find it each day. I'm loving it. Check it out!