ups and downs

each day is filled with ups and downs
a roller coaster of emotion
highs of joy
lows of pain
laughter
tears

will we deal with what life throws our way
we must choose
open our hearts
crawl under a rock
embrace
or fear

attitude determines outlook
your choice in how to respond
you determine your next step
choose hope
choose love



For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline.
2 Timothy 1:7

That Silly, Precious Bouquet

Over the years I have been a part of over a dozen weddings...I have officiated, set up food, served as wedding planner, arranged flowers, been part of the wedding party, been the entire clean-up crew. You name it, I've probably done it.

Today I sat there with tissues in hand as I tried to drink in every moment. There were a thousand tiny details, and they were all for my daughter, my baby girl. The background was just what she wanted, her hair and make-up were just right, her dress was beautiful and her smile shined brighter than the sun.

For months we'd planned it. We didn't have a savings account for this, so everything she wanted was hard earned. We scrimped and saved. We sold stuff, and then sold some more stuff. We did without. But most of all we prayed, and God provided the funds. In the end, she got pretty much everything she wanted for her big day.

Over the past few weeks, as the event drew near, people would ask me if I had cried, if it had hit me yet. No, I was handling everything okay, after all there were too many details to concern myself with, I didn't have time to lose it. Until yesterday. Until I tied her bouquet. 

The boutonnières didn't bother me, the coursages were a cinch. And then I made her bouquet. I gathered the flowers and started arranging them. She tweaked them a little. We added the succulents she dearly wanted to have in her bouquet. We tweaked them again. Satisfied with the arrangement, I began to wrap up the stems. Her special request? Knot the ribbon in this fancy way she had seen on Pinterest. 

So I did. 

And then I cried.

I realized at that moment that my baby girl was getting married. That these flowers were for her. That she would be leaving the care and protection of our home and enter the care and protection of another. That life from this point would be different. We would have to share our girl with another family for holidays. We would be including our new son-in-law in family celebrations.  She would no longer be subject to our curfews or our rules. That our car insurance bill would go down. That her make-up bag wouldn't clutter the bathroom counter on a daily basis. 

And all of this because of a bouquet. The bouquet my little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, who I swear was just four years old and splashing in puddles yesterday, would carry down the aisle today. I cried. I hugged her hard, and kissed her cheek.

Today, I cried as she prayed with her new husband and held his hand as the pastor pronounced them husband and wife. I cried tears of joy. Beautiful tears of past memories. Joyful tears of a hopeful future. 

Of all the weddings I've helped with, of all the bouquets I have tied...this one was the most precious. That silly bouquet that made me cry, my daughter's bouquet.

The Lesson

Yesterday I had to have "the talk" with my son. He is our youngest, so it has been a while since I had to worry about this sort of thing. I suppose I should be grateful that we made it almost all the way to 8 years old before having an incident. Maybe you've been in my shoes before, so you'll understand.  

It was the middle of Kid's Church and it was one of those Sundays that I live for in children's ministry. The kids are focused, their attention directly on me. I've prepared and practiced. This is the object lesson that will change these little lives forever. Dozens of kids will look back and say..."that was the day I got it, that was the day I finally understood the Cross." The illusion went perfectly, and I prepared to launch into the closing statements that would have tears of joy streaming down the faces of the volunteers as little hands began to pop up to accept Christ...that's when it happened...

My son yells out, loud enough for the whole room to hear...."There's a little lever on the handle! She pushes that and a secret part opens!" That's right, the magic change bag trick, illusion shattered, concentration broken, moment not as powerful as I had hoped. I continued on, hopefully appearing calm on the exterior, but inwardly groaning at the loss of a moment.

Later, we had the talk. I explained that as a PK (pastor's kid), he would be privy to information and secrets about what was coming up that others wouldn't be privy to. As such, I would be counting on him to keep those details to himself, at least until after service.  To paraphrase Spider-Man, "With great privilege, comes great responsibility!"

Of course, that talk might have been a little more convincing if I hadn't been struggling to get the words out between giggles.  By that time my frustration at the lost moment had subsided and I couldn't help but find the whole situation rather hilarious! 

Humor aside, I learned a valuable lesson in humility that day. God wasn't surprised by my son's outburst. He has a special plan for each one of those little boys and girls. He doesn't need me to do a single thing, perform a single illusion, or even say a single word to bring these little ones to Him. God simply allows me to be a part of His bigger plan. It is my job to rely on God, be lead by the Spirit and share Jesus...God will do the rest. I'm humbled, honored and encouraged that God used my son to remind me that His plan is so much bigger than me.

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. (1 Corinthians 3:7 NIV)

A Tale of Two Visitors

Today, I took a step into the unknown. I put myself out there, tried something new!

For years I had been hearing about this place, about the great food, the great prices, the great people. I saw people sporting the swag...t-shirts, shopping bags. I wondered what the fuss was all about.  

I found myself in the parking lot this morning...I had just intended to grab a cup of coffee with friends nearby, but since I was in the neighborhood, why not check it out? 

As I walked towards the front entrance, I had feelings of excitement, nervousness, wonder. What would it be like? Would the food be as good, the prices as great, the people as friendly?  

I walked through the doors of Trader Joe's and was pleasantly surprised to see, could it be, fresh cut daffodils, 10-stem bunches for only $1.49! I'll take three, please, one for me, one for my friend and one for my mother-in-law...I better grab a cart, just in case. Is it okay to grab a cart? Will I really need it?

Next, I was greeted with the produce section. Bananas sold by quantity not by weight! Beautiful little cherry tomatoes for less than $3!  So far, so good. I began to make my way down the aisles, observing the other customers out of the corner of my eye. 

They all looked like they'd done this before, like they belonged here. I felt like they'd know I was an imposter. Perhaps it was the fact that I was walking through the aisles of health food in my size 22 jeans, perhaps it was the way I wandered through the aisles overwhelmed, maybe there was a neon sign over my head that only they could see, a sign that advertised my inexperience at being in a place like this.

I picked up pasta, sauce...none of the usual name brands here. "Gluten-free" labels shouted at me from everywhere, so I picked up brownie mix for next week bake sale. Locally sourced eggs were next, followed by natural treats for my precious pup.  

Twice I was asked by store personnel if I needed help finding anything. Such nice guys who were hard at work making sure the shelves were stocked and the aisles were clean. There was no judgement in their questions, just general concern for my needs.

As I made my way towards the register I began to wonder, will they take my food stamp card for the grocery part of my bill? Maybe they don't do that here, and I'll be laughed out the door. I mustered the courage and asked the nice girl at the register. Of course they do, she told me, this was a food store after all.

She noticed me eying the cute reusable bags, did I want one?  Of course, isn't that like a rite of passage or something...when you shop here, you gotta have a bag. I bought the bag. As the nice girl packed my purchases into the new bag and I paid accordingly, I was elated by the selection, the prices and the friendliness.

I walked out the door and to my car with a smile. I couldn't wait to text my friend and tell her I finally did it.  She had been telling me for years how much she enjoyed shopping here. She got excited for me and started to tell me all her favorite things about shopping there. Apparently in my newness I missed some of the finer points. I'll have to look into them next time I go, because I will be going back.

As I reflected on my foray into this new world, I wondered if that's what our church visitors experience. 

This Sunday they will take a step into the unknown. They will put themselves out there, try something new!

They have been invited or saw the sign for our church. They see people sporting the swag...t-shirts, jewelry. They wonder what all the fuss is about.

They find themselves in the parking lot.  Feelings of excitement, nervousness, wonder.  What I'll it be like? Will it be all they've heard?

They walk in the front door of our church pleasantly surprised to see, could it be, a bulletin telling them what to expect from the service. They'll take one. Is that allowed, do they need more than one?

They are greeted by the smell of coffee, encouraged to take a cup, free of charge.  So far, so good. They make their way to a seat, observing us out of the corner of their eye.

We look like we've done this before, like we belong. They timidly wonder if others can tell they have never before darkened a church doorway. They wonder if there is a neon sign over their heads that only we can see that says 'sinner'. Are they doing the right thing at the right time? Will they be accepted for who they are? Are the people friendly?

They listen to the preacher talk about God's love for all people. Notes are scribbled frantically. Could this be? Is there hope in this dark world?  This needs to be explored.

People welcome them, ask them if they need anything.  No judgment in their questions, just love and concern.

There is a call for prayer.  Can they go forward and ask someone to pray for them? Is that allowed here? Of course, Jesus said "My house will be called a house of prayer."

As they get ready to leave we catch them eyeing the Bibles, do they want one? Of course, isn't that like a rite of passage or something, you come here, you gotta have a Bible. We give them a Bible. They tuck it under their arm, amazed.

They walk out the door and to their car with a smile. They can't wait to text their friend and tell them they finally did it. This friend had been praying for them for years and encouraged them to find a church. The friend gets excited and tells them they should try it again. They'll check it out next time, because they will be going back.

We often talk about our churches being visitor friendly. Do our visitors feel accepted and loved? Can we help them find the hope they are looking for? Do you remember what it felt like to be a visitor?

Rich or poor?

I've come to associate the words "rich" and "poor" to mean a particular kind of lifestyle. "Poor" being where children wear torn clothes and shoes that don't fit, where families go to bed hungry and read at night by candlelight because they don't have electricity...kind of a great-depression, living in a shanty type of poor. "Rich" is a word reserved for people who live in mansions, wear jewels to fancy parties and have a butler.  I've come to find that neither is the proper definition. Rich and poor are more about perspective, they are a choice.

When my husband and I were first starting out, my step-mom looked at us and said..."You just need to admit that you're poor and live accordingly."  I'll never forget my indignation at her statement, but it rang true to an extent.  We were a young military couple pregnant with our first child and yes we had very little, but we never felt poor.  We lived paycheck to paycheck, but we had everything we needed for our new little baby and our bills were paid.  A few years ago, I found one of my husband's pay stubs from those days...we were living on $500 a month after our rent was paid.  We didn't need food stamps or energy assistance and we never went without.  We lived a simple life, yes, oftentimes relying on others for rides if we had car trouble, and much of our furniture was hand-me-down or second-hand.  We were happy, and we certainly didn't feel "poor."

Eventually my husband moved up in rank, then got out of the military and landed a well-paying job. We moved into a big house, had two cars and I didn't need to work.  We enjoyed that season of life, but even then we didn't feel "rich."

My family is now in a different season of life.  My husband has been out of work for several years now, plagued by injuries that leave him unable to do his old job and trying to figure out what to do next. My job as a part-time children's pastor is fulfilling, but not the most lucrative career. Money isn't the reason any of us go into ministry. We bought our home based on the pay from my husband's good-paying, physically demanding job. Now we cannot afford it and are working with the bank on a short sale. We receive a small amount of food stamps each month, not nearly enough to feed our family of 6, and rely God to make up the difference. He does, some months we eat lots of pork, because that is what God provides. We have one working car in a family with three drivers.  For Christmas we did not spend a penny on our children...all their gifts came from family members. Most of my children's clothes (and even mine) come as hand-me-downs from others or are items they buy themselves with their babysitting money and odd jobs.

I'm not saying all this to make anyone feel bad or to get a hand-out. I actually don't think about these things as being signs that we are poor. I still don't feel "poor." We have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our backs, power, running water, heat, a vehicle that runs, family and friends who love us and lift us in prayer, beds to sleep in, creativity to put all that we have to good use. Compared to most of the world, we are wealthy, and we know that.

Rich and poor are simply a perspective in our culture.  How you or I view life our lives and circumstances is a choice.  When people hear that we are selling our house because we cannot afford to keep it they begin to feel sorry for us, ask how they can help, tell us they are sorry, that they didn't know.  I'm not sad, as a matter of fact I'm excited for our house to sell.  (We'll be moving into a much smaller place, less house to clean!) I'm okay with this.  I still don't feel "poor."

I have made a choice to honor God no matter what my circumstances.

I praise God that He has allowed us to have this house as long as we have.  I praise God for the pork! I praise God that my kids understand what is happening, how blessed they are and don't mind that none of the gifts under the tree were from Mom and Dad.  I praise God for the friends and family that love us and lift us up in prayer.  I praise God for who He is and how He loves us.

I could look at this season of life and lament, instead I choose to see this as a season that brings us closer together and closer to God.  My kids are watching at how I handle life.  I don't feel "poor," why should they?

Too often in life we look at what we are going through and compare ourselves to others.  We worry and fret because we can't give our kids everything their friends have.  I choose to be thankful for what I have and know that I am blessed!

I love how Jesus addresses this "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?" (Matthew 6:26, 27).

Are you looking at your circumstances and worrying?  Or are you looking at your blessings and praising?  It is your choice!

A Writer's Ramblings

There are times when I just feel a need to write. I'm not sure what I want to say, nothing profound is stirring in my soul, but I feel the need to write. Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a writer. I want to share my thoughts, ideas, hopes, dreams, and fears on paper. I want others to read what I write and understand me, and perhaps themselves, a little better.

The desire to write is a need deep inside of me, albeit one that gets shoved out of the way in the busy-ness of life. As a wife, mother, children's pastor and leader of leaders, one can imagine I have lots to write about, though very little time to do so. For most of my life I have just pushed these desires to the side, thinking eventually I'll get to them later. A great idea or poignant life lesson will come along, and I'll push it aside for later...but by the time later comes, the idea is all but gone. I am left with this feeling that I had something waiting to burst forth, but cannot remember what it is.

What is an aspiring writer to do? I write for work, little bits in the church bulletin, items that need to be communicated, brochures for events, etc. My lead pastor says I am good at it, and that makes me smile, but it does little to satisfy my need to write.  I journal, silly little things that happen in my day, thoughts that are rambling through my head at the time I pick up my pen, whatever flows through to the paper.  There is no rhyme or reason, and I secretly fear that someday my journal will be found and the person reading it will stare in disbelief at the pages and wonder about my sanity. I blog...when I have time to put words into the computer and ponder over them, nit-picking how I said this, or how that line came across. Half of the posts I start never get published.

Neither of these really satisfies the longing inside me to share my thoughts, feelings, experiences, imagination. How can I change that?  How can I satisfy the longing deep inside me to write? A very wise woman shared with a group of aspiring bloggers that she went to writer's conference.  Several days and workshops about writing, and she took 2 words away from her experience there..."Writers write." Plain and simple. She shared those words almost 2 years ago, and they have haunted me ever since.

Today, I make the choice to no longer allow those words to haunt me, but instead allow them to spur me onward. I will write. Even when I'm not sure what to say, I will write anyway. Perhaps I will be astonished at what bursts forth. Perhaps I will be embarrassed. Either way, I will be doing what writers do...Writers write.

If you happen to be reading this, I invite you along on the adventure. I will warn you, I cannot predict what will happen. Some days I will have nothing to say...other days I won't be able to stop the flow of words being transferred from my heart and soul to the keyboard.  God has placed this desire within me to write.  I choose to put it to good use.

What desire are you shoving aside?  I encourage you to stop putting it aside and to live the adventure God has for you!  Share your journey along the way.

Crayon Hearts

It all started when I got up early to make sure my oldest didn't sleep through her alarm. Going to bed at 2am naturally meant I intended to go right back to bed after waking her up at 6am. Alas, what ensued instead has been a whirlwind of productivity.

Miss First-Born didn't get to bed until the wee hours of the morning either (her fibromyalgia makes it difficult to fall asleep at a decent hour) so I felt a little guilty getting right back into my nice, warm, cozy bed after listening to her tell me how tired she was. Instead I began tackling the sink full of dirty dishes that I had turned a blind eye to yesterday. I still had every intention of crawling right back into bed as soon as she pulled out of the driveway, but my mom-brain, perhaps fueled by lack of sleep, kicked into overdrive. After the dishes and dirty appliances, the counters begged my attention. As I wiped the counters, a mixture of time spent on Pinterest last night, knowledge of our schedule over the next few weeks, and quiet led to the crayon hearts.

I've been at it all day now and had plenty of time to reflect.  Here's what I've discovered about the value of crayon hearts...

Crayon hearts: just one step towards decluttering our home and letting stuff go.  You see, I hate to throw anything away. What started as a new box of 24 crayons ten years ago had become an unruly basket full of crayons from school, restaurants, activity kits and just random places.  That's where the Pinterest inspiration comes into the story.  Silicone heart molds that were gathering dust have been put to good use, the basket is now in the yard sale box, and our crayon stash is down to a usable amount.

Crayon hearts: proof that I can indeed accomplish things weeks before they are needed rather than the night before.  I have a tendency to do a lot of things last-minute. It is a skill of sorts, this ability to think on my feet and come through in a pinch, that I usually have to rely on when my life gets out of control.  Unfortunately that skill is also a detriment, because I know I can think on my feet and tend to procrastinate.  By the grace of God, I am slowly conquering procrastination one project at a time.  My son's Valentines are done three weeks in advance, all he has to do is write names on them when the class list comes home!

Crayon hearts: one less thing to purchase. To say that finances have been tight would be an understatement of epic proportions! We pinch a lot of pennies around here. We rely on God to provide, and He does.  Praise God, we have food, clothes and electricity.  In return, we are being faithful to do our part to cut expenses as much as possible.  Every item we make ourselves or do without is one more bill that can be paid or gallon of gas that can go into our vehicle.  Today's project gives me $5-$10 to allocate to a need.

Crayon hearts:  one step closer to Mom of the Year, at least in my kid's eyes. Okay, so I make plenty of mistakes as a mom, and fingers hurt really badly (seriously, spend a couple hours peeling the wrappers off about 3 bazzillion crayons and pieces of crayon and you'll understand) but none of that compares to the look on my kiddo's face when I revealed my plan and again when he saw the finished project.

Crayon hearts: productivity squeezed into productivity. It sounds daunting to say that I've been at this project for over 8 hours, but in reality I have accomplished so much in that time. This has been one of those projects that has lots of sitting around and waiting...kinda like baking cookies. While waiting for crayon hearts to melt and cool I have gotten clutter cleared, done my Bible reading and devotions, spent time with my son, printed stuff for work, written this post, cooked breakfast and even eaten lunch.

When I woke up this morning, I had no plans for the day other than to go back to bed. Funny how crayon hearts changed that.

There are hidden blessings in each day...sometimes they are disguised as crayon hearts!

Many thanks to this blogger for the basic directions I used to make my crayon hearts.  Hers are much prettier than mine though!

New Year...out with the old to be ready for the new!

I'm starting the new year with a list of things I would like to do in 2015, not necessarily a list of resolutions.  One of those "to do" items is to live with less stuff!  We have managed to fill every nook and cranny of our 2800+ square feet.  This year we will be selling our home and downsizing by at least 1000 square feet.  

Today I started with my own closet.  More than just clothes, I found items on the top shelf that are still wrapped in the plastic they were put in for the move into our house almost six years ago.  Here's to marking things off my list in 2015!

Yep, a giant box of clothes and curtains, a bin of miscellaneous stuff and a busted old hamper full of busted old items!

Hmmm...what item on my list shall I tackle tomorrow?

Side note...another item on that list...Blog More!  Bam...two things worked on and it is only January 1st!