The Sacrifice Jar

My husband and I decided many Christmases ago to simplify Christmas for each other and exchange only stockings.  Once the kids are in bed on Christmas Eve, with the house quiet and the Christmas tree lit, we sit together on the couch and like two excited kids, we empty the contents of our stockings and Oooo and Ahhh over each little gift.  It's a sweet, peaceful time, stripped from the typical, dreaded anxieties of gifts not being the right size, fit, shape or color.  As I pull each gift from the dark, depths of my red, velvet, Gingerbread Boy stocking, my heart warms at his choices for me that he proudly points out "spoke" to him.   It's my husbands loving reminder to me every Christmas Eve that not only does he love me.....but he knows me.  Through the years, however, my stocking stuffings have gotten more than my little sock can hold so like the popular Christmas song, "The 12 Days of Christmas", my own true love started the tradition of surprising me with my overflowing goodies every day for about a week before Christmas Eve.  I look forward to him emerging from our bedroom with his hands behind his back and the mischievous half smile on his face.  I've gotten beyond picking a hand and started my own tradition reaching around him feeling, poking and squishing, trying to guess my newest surprise before its brought out in front of me revealed.  My favorite surprise this year so far?  A new coffee mug!



I love my week long surprises, so for Jesus' Birthday this year I thought I'd share my Christmas Stocking experience with Him and make His birthday last longer than just one day.  So, my quest for "Gifts for Jesus" began a few short weeks ago.  I shopped and stockpiled a few presents, wrapped them, and waited with excited anticipation until I could give them to Him one by one!  I could barely contain my excitement as He opened His first gift.  With eyes wide, I clasped my hands in delight!  I knew He was going to just love it!  As the wrapping paper came off, terror gripped my chest.  That's not what I wrapped!  "Oh, Jesus!  I'm so sorry!  That's not what I meant to give you.....it looks awful!!!"  Embarrassed, I quickly presented Him with His gift meant for day two.  "Here, try this one, Lord.  It's much better, I promise."  He untied the red, satin ribbon, and began peeling away at the festive wrap, when again, I saw glimpses of another gift that was definitely NOT what I had wrapped.  "Master!  Forgive me!  These aren't the gifts I picked out for you!" Gift after gift, it was the same.  I was mortified!  Each gift when I wrapped them looked perfect, until He opened them and in His light they looked filthy, warn and broken.

I looked closely at Him.  What had I done wrong?  Why were my gifts turning out to be dismal failures and what possibly could I give Him that that wouldn't look hideous illuminated in His beautiful light?  I looked down at His hands, lovingly caressing my disastrous attempts at gifts for the King of Kings.  A lump formed in my throat and my eyes filled with tears when I noticed what I had been missing; the holes in His hands and feet; the scars of my Saviours sacrifice for me.  My heart dropped realizing each gift I gave to my Jesus, came with little to no sacrifice on my part.  A smile to a stranger, a kind word, a gentle touch......all beautiful gestures, and I could tell He liked them.....but it wasn't what He really wanted from me this Christmas.  My eyes turned to my closet and in my heart, I KNEW what He wanted.  Like a spoiled child, I inwardly stomped in defiance..."But I can't give that, I want it, too! My heart grew heavy as I felt His loving, brown eyes on me.  I couldn't take my eyes off His hands; my heart felt pierced at the visual reminder of the valuable, priceless gift He gave me.  My Master left His kingdom in heaven.... for me; He traded his kingly throne for a stable and an animals manger.... for me; He was beaten and bruised and hung to die on the cross....for me. He adopted me as His own and vowed to take care of me every moment of every day since I became His.  Not once has He broken that promise.  It was decided.  I opened the closet and reached in.............

I held the jar that had been meant for another purpose than what I had stolen it for.    I felt guilty as I turned the cold, glass in my hands.  The "Sacrifice Jar " was meant to sit on the kitchen counter as a living lesson for our family on the joys of sacrifice and to paint a visual picture for the kids of Jesus' sacrifice for us.  Each family member would sacrificially give to the jar for a family or person in need we felt the Lord wanted us to help.  We had just filled a need and it sat empty, taking up space on my counter...that is.... until I found another need for it; storage for the money I earned selling my first story.  I didn't make a lot....but enough to get the juices flowing and dreams airborne.  I planned on getting something big and exciting....kind of like a trophy...that I could look on with pride that I had earned with my writing.  Mourning the loss of my dream, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.  My Father held me close as He whispered softly, "We did write a good story together, didn't we?"  I turned to see His shining face and beautiful, wide smile.  Together.  It was never my story, my money, my jar.  It was His all along.  Given to me..........to give back to Him.  The jars original purpose to teach my children the valuable lesson of the joy in sacrifical giving........fulfilled its mission as my own heart swelled as I presented my Saviour and King..... His gift.

Last night, as the kitchen filled with the aroma of freshly brewed, Biggby hazelnut coffee, I hugged my favorite, new mug.  My husband gave me a weird look.......with a satisfied smile knowing he had chosen correctly.  Who knew empty mugs....and jars.....held so much joy?

Happy Birthday, Jesus!! 

Gifts Of Spring

I love the sound of our vacuum!  Not so much really when I'm pushing it, but the loud rumble seems to take on a happy melody when it's being pushed by someone else!  The low roar of our vacuum is a happy announcement to me lines are going back in my carpet and the dirt and dusties are going bye-bye!  Ahhhh, the sound of clean! The whirl of the vacuum isn't the only pleasing sound providing music for my tidy hungry ears. The squeakity-squeak of paper towel against our windows and the swish of the broom on our kitchen floor blends in perfect harmony adding to the joyous song! The symphony of spring cleaning in December my orchestra of kids play is beautiful to this conductors ears!

There is a purpose, really, to this Mom's need for clean in December.  Three years ago, I wanted to find a way for the kids to be able to give to one another and experience the joys that come with gift giving.  I didn't want to just hand them a wad of cash and let them loose in the store.  A)  Money doesn't flow that freely around here and B) gifts that come easily without some sort of sacrifice seem to kind of fall flat.  Mom and Dad have to earn money for the gifts under the tree, so the lesson of work and sacrifice is an important one to teach.  Spring cleaning was the perfect teaching tool......teaching the kids the valuable lesson that work and giving go hand in hand.  These cleaning jobs enabled them to not only earn gifts for each other but they double as gifts for Mom and Dad!  The gift of a sparkling, organized, spring-cleaned home done with excitement and zealous glee!

In 2008, "Christmas Chore Coupons" or "Christmas Cash" (from year to year the name seems to slightly morph!) was born.  Each year, Kris and I brainstorm a master list of "extra mile" chores (chores different from daily chores) ranging from organizing bedrooms, window washing, vacuuming out the van and even playing with the guinea pigs.  The difficulty of the task would determine how many punches the job was worth.   Each child receives their own coupon with areas for punches; 10 punches earned a gift and a unique shopping experience with Mom at "The Lash Country Store."



When they are ready to "cash in" their 10 punches, they let me know which person they want to shop for and I get the store ready, complete with gifts, wrapping paper and cards.  It's fun waiting at our bedroom door like a gate-keeper as I examine the coupon for the proper amount of punches for entry (like I didn't know already.....I am the master of the hole punch! :D)  It warms my heart watching  each child search for the perfect gift for their brother or sister that they worked so hard to earn.  Together we wrap the gift with the paper designated for that person and with excited chatter we wonder whether or not their brother or sister will be able to guess what surprise lie hidden inside!  Its neat to think that each gift snugly tucked in Tinkerbell, Cars or Toy Story wrapping paper, is nestled in so much more.  Each gift is wrapped and taped in the sacrifice of time, energy, effort and beautifully, topped off with a big, bow of love.  The shopping trip with Mom at the "Lash Country Store" comes to an end with my favorite moment, the signing of the card.  The heartfelt, written words of love and friendship expressed by each outshines my sparkling windows and floors and leaves a lump in my throat and my eyes misty!

It's my hearts desire that "Christmas Coupons" spotlight the type of giving our Lord and Savior loving gave us that blessed Christmas morning! He gave the beautiful gift of Spring, giving us shiny new hearts through the sacrifice of His birth and death for each of us...if we accept it.  Though December generally brings snow and cold; blossoms of spring appear in my freshly, scrubbed home........love renewed through gifts of Spring!

Itchy Nose Syndrome!

Snuggled on the couch underneath my favorite, t.v viewing blanket, I let out a contented sigh.  We survived another year decking the halls for Christmas and shockingly, it went smooth!  No catastrophes, no blow-ups....no tears!!  The glow from the t.v and our newly, decorated Christmas tree filled the living room as the we huddled together on the couch; comfy, cozy and content, basking in the joy of surviving another year.  I smugly thought back to all the clearly marked storage tubs and the ingenious diagrams and detailed lists that I left tucked in with the decorations easily showing where everything was to go.  That had to have been the key!  Feeling proud of my OCD and exceptional organizational skills, my head swelled a bit larger at the thought of the Christmas Decorating Contract I drew up a few years back that we all re-read together that morning to keep the "grouchies" away.  Traditionally, it is NOT a Norman Rockwell Christmas scene over here on decorating day, the day after Thanksgiving!  Grumbles and mumbles from good ol' Mom and Dad replace the smiling, cheerful ones that can be seen in one of Mr. Rockwell's paintings....and the kids?  In our family portrait....children are no where to be seen, they scatter keeping as far away from the "grouchies" as possible. 

                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                     


My hopeful thinking that I found the key to our new found decorating bliss was interrupted by a horrific sound that I was no stranger to at this time of year.  NO.......WAY!!   Oh please, not again! The unmistakable sound of clinking glass and bulbs and the rustling of pine needles and ribbon was as loud as a lumberjacks "TIMBER!!!", jostling me back to reality from my self-absorbed day dream of Christmas perfection.  My ninja-quick reflexes kicked in and this pink, robed Bruce Lee burst out of her blanket cocoon and was up like a shot to examine the damage.  Standing above my tree that lay in a heap on the floor that I had spent so much time on, placing each bulb, ribbon and bow in just the right spot in artistic, perfect precision, was when I felt the first little twinge.  My hand went straight up to my nose.  With my family gathered around, I could feel a unified, silent gasp..........."Oh oh....."

In a police line up, its not hard to picture Oscar the Grouch, green, wild-haired and dirty, leaning out his dented trash can alongside Grumpy Dwarf with his long face, crossed arms and sour attitude. Next in line, standing shoulder to shoulder alongside Grumpy, another guilty grumbler stands; the axe swinging, little rumbler, Grimli, from "Lord of the Rings".  All three are guilty as charged with the "grouchies" and if you were to look a little closer, you'd see a fourth in this rowdy band of brothers. Yep, that'd be me....maybe towering just a tad taller.......but just as guilty and armed with the same prickly attitude.

                    Guilty of the Grouchies!


                                                                                     
Growing up, I remember talking to the Lord about my battle with the "grouchies" and telling Him how hard it was to control my short, hot temper.  I prayed, "Lord, if ya just gimme a warning the "grouchies" are coming...... you and me.....we can stop it before it gets nasty."  I was really little, but I was convicted in a big way!  It wasn't long until one of my brothers did something that really got my juices flowing and I got an answer to my prayer.  I felt a little feather tickle in my nose.  Weird.  I tried the Sabrina "Bewitched" nose twitch to stop it.  I'd sniff and rub and rub and sniff but it just got stronger and stronger until.................KACHOOO!!  Thinking something just crawled up my nose and died, I shook it off.  Until the next time my temper flared....and it happened again!  This continued on a few times until I finally got it, this could be my sign I prayed for.  I learned a lesson that day.  A) Be careful what you pray for!  and B) The Lord really does hear and answer our prayers!!

That was YEARS ago, and at 42, every time I get annoyed, ticked or miffed, my childhood answered prayer still faithfully kicks in!  It's a instant, visual cue to the ones who know me best the moment my hand shoots up to rub my nose an inward battle is taking place.  With each itch and feathery tickle, I feel the Lord's eyes upon me; watching to see how I handle the approaching "grouchies" with my flashing red warning light He installed in the middle of my face.  With each nose rub, I weigh my two choices.  Go with the moment and let it all fly, or heed the warning and batten down the hatches and lasso my tongue. 

Rubbing my nose and letting out a loud sniff, I look sadly at my beautiful tree.  I had no clue where to start.  Kris bravely made the first move and lifted my mangled tree back to its upright position.  It looked as sad as I felt!  I managed to heed the warning from the insane tickle in my nose and kept my mouth shut....for the most part. I did manage to muster up a few chuckles and even practiced Prov. 15:1 to answer one of my kids questions in a soft, sweet tone.  I was told later it was a little too sweet (over compensation, I think!) when I asked how I did with this years decorating battle with the "grouchies".  Good news, I got a passing grade!  Bad news, I still have work to do!

Thinking back (not only does pride come before the fall!), being organized is great and, yeah, it was a big help, but the smoother decorating year wasn't due to the diagrams, lists or the even the decorating contract.  The perfect Rockwell picture stamped in my head of sugar plums, steaming cups of hot cocoa and merry, carol singing is my expectation every year at decorating time.  No one can live up to my perfect standards, even myself, so I am disappointed every time and left with the "grouchies".  This year, however, my heart was in a different place.  November's 30 Days of Thanks gave my heart and attitude an adjustment and like a visit to the chiropractor, my spotlight on thankfulness popped them back in their proper positions; of praise and worship.  The side effect I witnessed was astounding when I purposely took the time to think and meditate daily on what the Lord has graciously and generously given me! Joy filled my heart when I saw my Master's hands in my everyday!

There is, believe it or not, another side effect to a heart happy, light and filled with joy.  In God's word, we can find that giving praise and thanksgiving to our Lord and King can lead, in most cases, to joyful contagious singing! Isaiah 50:4..."joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody (singing!)"  and Ezra 3:11 ".....and they sang together by course in praising and giving thanks unto the Lord; because He is good, for his mercy endureth forever...." With my own heart happy, light and filled with God's mercy's, it's easier for me to be that playful, lighthearted Mom singing crazy, made-up songs that my kids crack up to and inevitably, one or all start singing along! The "voices of melody" and the word "they" implies multiple people, multiple voices.  Joy...... is extremely contagious!  But, question is, how do we keep a heart happy, light and full of joy?  David writes the prescription in Psalms 100.  A daily dose of this song should keep the joy flowing!

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord all ye lands.
Serve the Lord with gladness: come before His presence with singing.
Know ye that the Lord He is God: it is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.
Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name,
For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.


It's amazing to think this prescription of David's is thousands of years old and this cure for our hearts is still as potent as ever!  Now, I wonder if he's got anything for itchy noses?

     

Scrooge, Thanksgiving and a pile of Post-Its!

It's like a scene straight out of Scrooge!  Hunched over my stacks of receipts and bills, I examine each one; my face squished in a grimace and my eyes narrow in intense concentration.  I punch the numbers in my over sized, blue calculator and watch with increasing anxiety the slowly dwindling total. Sighs, moans and growls escape my tightly pursed lips.  I can feel my heart start to pound and my stomach tighten.  My hands begin to shake as I copy the ever shrinking total in my checkbook ledger.  This is usually the time my kids choose to come hippity hopping in the kitchen to see what Mom is up to.  They quickly turn to scamper at the sight of their Ebenezer Mom's head buried in her hands and the low, muffled response to their cheerful greeting, "Just gimme a minute, I gotta figure this out!"





I don't know what it is about me and bill paying.  It's kind of like being back in school and having homework...homework that never gets done.  Every month the bills get out....every month they come back.  I've been late on a couple of them before and to me, late notices are like a big, fat "F" on my report card.  I picture in my mind the bill sender as a cross old teacher with one fist clenched on her hip and the other hand with a wagging finger shaking back and forth crossly in front of my nose.   Month after month this goes on.  The shaky hands, the stomach aches........the Scrooge attitude.  Every month.....that is....until this month.






Post-it Notes and their lack of glue has shed a new light on Thanksgiving for this Bah-humbug, bill paying gal.  The 22...and counting.... colored sheets of square, barely glued paper hanging on my fridge has done the job of Jacob Marley and all three Spirits of Christmas to make this bill paying Scrooge a believer.  A believer in what?  A believer in God's daily provision!  Our family's "November's 30 Days of Thanks" started with a movement to take back Thanksgiving and give thanks where it's due....our Lord and Savior.  Bending over every morning to re-stick the previous days thanks, forced me to look at all 132 of our thanks.....and counting..... multiple times a day.  Today, however, I felt defeated by the steady flow of silent, drifting notes and I gathered them up in a pile and placed them next to the fridge.  Random holes of exposed refrigerator were tall tale signs where thank yous to Jesus were once stuck.  One of the kids noticed the gaping holes and the pile of fallen notes and asked what happened.  I told him we needed sticky tack to give the Post-It's extra sticking power.  A few teeny pieces of sticky tack to the back of the renegade notes and they were finally stuck in place!

                                               
                                                                               



My bill paying attitude.....the lack of faith of my Lord's providing for me and our family.....was like Scrooges gnarly fingers flicking each Post-It note of thanks down.  With every grumble, growl and moan I was removing a thanks from the fridge.  It was like I was telling Jesus, "Yeah, thanks for the groceries last month but.... I know THAT won't happen again!" Being thankful should encompass not only the past provisions, but my provisions of the present and future.   Like the sticky tack on our post-it's, Jesus' words in Luke 12:22-30 works like superglue and holds our thank you notes up permanently for my doubting eyes to see.  Jesus lovingly tells us that He WILL provide!   He has blessed us with so much, yet, how easily I forget.  For 21 years, He has faithfully paid every bill, provided a roof over our heads and food for our table.  For the next 21 years.....and beyond.....He promises to provide for those same needs.  ".....Oh ye of little faith.....seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind........your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.  Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."  If my Master says He will take care of me.....His promises are true!

Day 24.....Thanksgiving Day.....November's 30 Days of Thanks.  I'm thankful for second, third and infinity chances for bill paying Scrooges like myself with little faith......and sticky tack comes in handy, too!

Thirty Days of Thanks

I couldn't believe my ears!  Scanning through radio channels on my way to the boys' orthodontist appointments in Ann Arbor, Bruce Springsteen's recognizable, gravelly voice broke through the static.  "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" worked like a smelling sauce and my abnormally still boys were snapped from their reading trance!  Anakin and the rest of the Star Wars crew were left to fend for themselves and my once quiet library on wheels was now full of loud, off key singing. As the boys and The Boss shouted of the arrival of St. Nick, I looked around my van in dumbfounded shock, recalling how just that morning I had emptied it from its Halloween clutter of discarded costumes pieces and candy wrappers.  Christmas, I found out later that day, was not just blaring on the radio, but like a freight train eager to leave the station, it was making its way full speed at places like the Mall, Walmart and even T.V. commercials!  Grinning Jack-O-Lanterns, scary skeleton masks and aisles of Halloween candy were now being upstaged by Santa and Snowmen.  Standing in front of the huge Christmas tree looming just inside the entrance of Walmart, sounding like an old Wendy's commercial, I picked my jaw off the ground and found myself asking, "Where's the Turkey?!" 

It really shouldn't be that much of a shock.  Thanksgiving, a holiday with Christian origins, has had it's long, turkey neck on the the chopping block for a long time and the world seems to be working over time trying to silence its gobble.  Thanksgiving is just a reminder of when our country was young and Christ was in the center.  Amnesia is the worlds goal, and a good dose of egg nog in the veins of our children as soon as the month of November hits, is their solution.  How do we as Christians fight back and take back this historical, Christ-centered holiday?  Simple, leave a legacy of tradition even stronger than Rudolf and his red nose.

Tradition:  "An inherited, established, or customary pattern of thought or action."  I'm a big one for establishing tradition! Any chance I get, I try to tack a new one on and like clockwork I make sure they happen....why?  Tradition = family unity!  Traditions don't have to be fancy.  A few of our weekly examples are popcorn on Sunday nights, Saturday Morning Muffins and Friday Night Pizza/Movie Night.  Traditions can come in all different shapes and sizes and none is too small to be included!

We as parents can breathe new life into Thanksgiving for our children by expanding their view of this popular "all-you-can-eat " feast day by adding a few new traditions on.  What traditions can you start?  One we have used over the years is "Thanks-living" treasures by Family Life Today.  We get out our treasure chest shaped box a week before Thanksgiving and read the pilgrim story and the devotionals each day right up to Thanksgiving.  Recipes (hard tack is the kids' favorite!), pictures, and little trinkets are all used together to help teach the kids the Christian origins behind the holiday. 

After my Ann Arbor trip radio shock moment, I decided it was time we add another Thanksgiving tradition to our arsenal and shine an even brighter spotlight on the holiday.  Emphasising the "Thanks" in Thanksgiving weighed heavy on my heart and the phrase, "Novembers 30 Days of Thanks" popped into my head.  That's it!  We're going to retake Thanksgiving in 30 days! From the time the kids could write, we found it important to teach the kids thankfulness and gratitude by writing their own thank you notes. Verbal thanks is great and we encourage that, too, but there's something about going the extra mile and writing a hand written note that really cements the feeling of gratitude. Friends and family have received notes of thanks......but our God hasn't.  Kelsey came up with a post-it thank you note idea for the fridge with each family member writing their thanks on the post-it note of the day. Every day, the collage of thanks will be added to until the end of November, when the word "Thanksgiving" will be evident for all to see.   Our 30 days of hand written "Thanks" will create a colorful masterpiece displaying God's merciful and gracious "giving"!  November 30th, will be a day of rejoicing with a fridge full of rainbow post-its notes of promises fulfilled! 

So, how about you?  Are you up for the challenge?  Let's take back Thanksgiving.....in 30 days!

Monsters....not just for Halloween!

Startled awake, my little heart pounded with the loud "THUD!" that came from the other side of my room.  I knew immediately what it was.  It was that dog gone attic door again!  I hated that attic, and I always wondered why me?  Why did it have to be in my room! Even in broad daylight this little attic (that stored an ordinary, hodge podge of items like Halloween costumes, out-grown clothes and old toys) was spooky; complete with a dank, musty smell, creepy, low ceiling and total lack of artificial light.  There were no hinges, latches or handles on this door; it was just a cut-out that fit like a puzzle piece into the entry of this eerie, monster lair.  An important door like this one missing all its valuable hardware was alarming to me.  It was an open invitation giving whatever monster that was living inside the attic attached to my room...easy and effortless access to eat me any time he wanted.   I pulled my blankets tight under my chin and with large eyes, I held my breath.  To scream or not to scream....that was the question!

 As I teetered back and forth as to which plan was best, I dared myself to sneak a peek to see exactly what pushed the door down.  Keeping my covers tight, I mustered up the courage to slowly lifted my head to assess my danger level.  In the dark, my eyes made out the even darker, large, open mouth of the attic which seemed to open wider the longer I stared at it.  I dared not to blink.  I was frozen in horrified anticipation for my monsters gnarled, slimy hand topped with sharp, jagged nails to wrap around the door frame so it could pull its over-sized, hunched-backed monster body out of its dungeon.  The suspense was killing me, the monster was taking so long that I thought, maybe, I missed him!  Maybe he's ALREADY out and is stealthily, slithering on the bedroom floor making his way to me!  Well, in that case...................."MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!"  My voice penetrated the darkness like an alarm, making my heart pound even faster at the sudden realization that I've given given away my position to the monster that was undoubtedly making its way to me! My screams for my mom became louder and closer together until finally, my monster busting mom arrived, flipping my bedroom light on, filling my room with life saving light!

Most of us no longer struggle with fears of childhood monsters.  The monsters we fear are the ones we sinfully created ourselves.  Two of my nastiest monsters are viciously armed with forked tongues and dagger like tails; the monsters of jealousy and anger.  Skillet, a favorite christian rock band of mine, describes well how it feels to harbor monsters of sin:

I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

My secret side I keep hid under lock and key
I keep it caged but I can't control it
'Cause if I let him out he'll tear me up, break me down
Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

Songwriters: Brown, Gavin; Cooper, John Landrum;("Monster", by Skillet)

On our own, the monsters we create, cannot be controlled or defeated.  They will, in real life as well as in Skillet's song, tear us up and break us down.  As a child, I didn't wait to ask the question "Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?" I knew there was one person who could make it all better and all go away...I made a loud, persistent cry for my mom!  My adult monsters should be treated no differently.  A cry to my Savior is all that is needed for Him to come repel the darkness and shine His light (I John 1:5)!  With my monsters illuminated for Jesus to see, we can now fix my "attic" door and put the proper hardware back on; the hinges of unceasing prayer (I Thessalonians 5:17 ) and a shiny, new door knob bearing a strong lock of proper thoughts (Philippians 4:8); making monster reentry a little more difficult!

As Jesus and I battle my grown up monsters, my childhood attic monster still needs some help.  Kris has taken over Mom's job of coming to my rescue with the light and as a precaution, I still sleep with my blankets tucked tightly under my chin.... just in case that monster of my attic decides to finally show up!

Battling with the "WHY?!'s"

"Why?!"

In a state of shock, I stared at the blank computer screen. "WHY did God just allow that to happen?!" I wasn't expecting anyone to answer. I really didn't want anyone, too. I mean, there was absolutely NOTHING anyone could say that could soften the blow of the fate I sentenced my story. All I could think of was all my hard work and all the hours I spent....now wasted. The words, sentences and paragraphs of precious, yet painful memories, that I had poured all my heart and soul into.....were gone forever. With one, swift, fatal keystroke and a push of the backspace button, I sent my story off to its eternal grave in cyberspace. My mind was blank; blank and empty like the mocking, newly white blog page that eerily stared back at me. "Why?!" I whined......louder this time; wanting no one else but God himself to give me a personal,verbal answer. From behind me, I got my answer. "Maybe He wants you to do it better." My body felt the sting and weight of words that I felt but didn't audibly hear. Stupid, klutzy, worthless..... can't......can't......can't. I looked to my wise 13 year old son. "How can I write it AGAIN? I can't...." It was then, through my storm of disappointment, heartbreak, and doubt, my heart heard His voice......"YOU can't......but I can......"

When an advertising sign displaying the newest DVD went up in the entrance of Walmart bearing an animated lion and its cub.....I gasped and clapped my hands like the little kid I truly am! The kids and I were biting at the bit until the day we could own one of our favorite Disney movies on disc so we could at last retire our old, worn out 16 year old VHS version. This was my daughters first Disney movie. She was a sweet, adorable, stubby, two year old when we first bought "The Lion King" and I can still hear our VCRs mechanical whirling noise as the movie would rewind over and over again. My princess girl loved her "King"; her affectionate nickname for both the movie and the stuffed Simba she got for her birthday. All lions to her were "King" and a visit to the zoo one summer brought her pointing and wiggling excitedly in her stroller when we came to the lion enclosure. "King! King! King!" she'd shout, pointing and looking back at her dad and I, amazed at the huge, life-sized version of Simba. A beautiful lion with a gorgeous, full, shaggy mane walked right up to the glass, as if to personally greet his biggest fan....a breathtaking sight.......awing me and thrilling my daughter! I didn't know it at the time...but God had special plans for our family and valuable lessons for me to learn...and "King" was to be part of it.

Best friends and an inseperable duo!

Why?!......digging deep........

As a young mom in my twenties, my little family consisted of my husband and I and our long awaited baby girl. The Lord made us wait for two years before having our little princess girl. For me, it felt like two long years of war; battles that consisted of crying, pleading, deal making and praying flat on my face in front of my Savior. Babies seemed to be everywhere....except where I felt one needed to be.....in my arms. This was the beginning of my wrestling's with the "Why?!'s" I felt in my young life I had paid my dues in the pain and suffering category and I was entitled to a ticket on the "Easy Train". I felt what I wanted, I deserved, so when I thought the Lord was resounding a loud "NO" to fulfilling my desire for a baby, I kicked and screamed in rebellion. I never was (and still am!) one to accept the "no" word. "Where there's a will...there's a way" and, as my husband will attest to, I have a pretty strong will! My will had to be broken, and it had to be changed to His will. It sure wasn't easy....and it didn't help I was a stubborn mule kicking violently the whole way! The Lord saw my struggle and introduced me to a woman at church through our pastor who knew exactly what I was feeling and what I was going through. Even though we were separated by time, and I could only see her through God's written word, she became a good friend to me. I cried with her as I read her story of struggle, faith and triumph. We shared the same pain and it amazed me that though thousands of years separated us....Hannah and I...... we were the same. It encouraged me as I spent time with her to discover that the Lord heard her cry. He gave my bible friend not only the desire of her heart, a child, but He also went above and beyond and blessed her with more! Years later, I now see the Lord chose to close my womb to prepare me for a life time of being stretched and pulled to mold me to be the woman He desires me to be. I never received my ticket for the "Easy Train" but, I did receive the desire of my heart, my sweet, baby girl, Kelsey.

Why?!.......digging deeper.....

Crying, I held my screaming and thrashing 2 year old daughter in the air, "What is WRONG with you?!?!?!" I was just about to angrily shake her, when the nurse walked in. Startling me.... being caught in the act of doing the unthinkable and startling her....locking eyes with a wild-eyed crazy woman at her brink. We stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments both realizing she had just saved my daughter from my anger and frustration and saved myself from a lifetime of regret. Over the yelling and screaming the nurse
suggested bringing in a TV and VCR. Trying to compose myself and feeling like a beaten, submissive dog, I nodded an ok. She returned a short while later with the TV and VCR on a cart, and two movies in hand....."Beauty and the Beast" and "Lion King". As the nurse

plugged in the TV for us, I adjusted the blanket around my daughters naked, squirming body. I wished I could put something warmer on her. Wearing only a diaper and an I.V. drip, I bundled her as best as I could and laid with her on the fold out chair I made into a bed for us. The nurse put in the first movie and as the familiar music played, I could feel my daughters body begin to slowly relax. Her swollen, red, tear-streaked face looked up to meet mine. I noticed her glassy, bloodshot eyes as she smiled a crooked smile. Clumsily, she lifted her unsteady, chubby arm and with a shaky finger, tried to point to the t.v screen. My heart shattered into a million pieces as my most prized possession, the desire of my heart, attempted to say her friends name, "King" and all that came out was a slurred mumble...........                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                

Why?!.....The struggle.........

One morning, out of the blue, my daughter was riddled with seizures. In the hospital, she went from a drooling, limp, doll to a raging she hulk when the nurse administered Dilatin, a strong anti-seizure medication. Her violent reaction scared us and loudly proclaimed that either she was overdosed or was experiencing a severe reaction. "WHY?!" screamed loudly in my head as the doctors explained their findings, a seizure disorder. I was filled with anger and disgust as healthy children giggled and ran past our door in the hospital hallway. As we took our baby girl home, not being able to talk, walk or sit up on her own, clueless as to whether it were temporary or permanent, the "WHY?!'s" plagued my soul. I had forgotten God's grace and the journey I had traveled just a few short years before. Now, like those forgetful children of Israel, I was consumed with "me" and forgot to trust my Savior and His plan. Part of me was still waiting for that "Easy Train" and that privileged seat on board complete with a life time boarding pass! To have to go through painful and uncomfortable things just seemed......so unfair!


Why?! What the Bible says......


During those times of "Why?!", I pictured God, arms crossed, looking down on me in disappointment and frustration......punishing me! Wasn't I a good girl? Shouldn't being "good" be rewarded, not punished? Isaiah 64:6 says, "But we are as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags...." and I John 1:8 calls me out by saying "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves.." Digging deeper, I find comfort in Romans 8-28 & 29 and it promises that all things work together for good. All encompasses everything; the good, the bad and the ugly. My picture of with God standing up in heaven with His arms folded and looking down on me with this stern, emotionless face, couldn't be farther from the truth. I found my favorite childhood verse paints a more truthful picture focusing on the first three words...."For God so loved" and John 11:35 & 36 can be summed up into two powerful words, "Jesus wept". When we are going through tough times, Jesus weeps with us. It pains Him to see His children suffering, but through painful and uncomfortable situations, comes faith, strength and growth changing us from what my mother-in-law likes to say....."From a weak, little Weeping Willow to a big, strong tree!"

Why?!.... What the Lord showed me.........

The Lord uses difficult times to mold, shape and grow us. He is ever present...even in the midst of the storm! As He shined the spotlight into the dark areas of my memory, beautiful, little miracles sparkled and glimmered like diamonds in its glow! I wasn't abandoned and alone in the hospital. Sending the nurse, at just the right, precise time, saving me from a life time of regret, was by my Saviours hand. Making sure my daughter's favorite movie was there, a miracle to behold, a gift from the King. Cradled in the arms of her Abba Father, my sick little girl was comforted and soothed through Her Creator's touch and her favorite lion cub. Why the "WHY?! 's"? My deleted story and my son's quote comes to mind..."He wants you to do it better." He wants us to be big, strong trees!

Dedicated to the "desire of my heart"!  :)

To Love And Cherish

"No one cares about your birthday, Mom." My nephews words rung in my ears and felt like a dagger to my heart.

"What?!"  I stewed angrily.  My sister shared with me over the phone what one of her sons had said innocently, but honestly, to her.  "Well, dog-gone it, I care!" I felt hurt and upset at the thought of my baby sister's birthday going by without notice or care. I knew this was going to be a difficult day for her, and I had a choice to make.  Make the hour drive and deliver a gift or pick out something online and have it sent... and hope and pray it gets there in time!  I went with convenience, and my husband and I sat down in front of the computer and picked out a beautiful, fall inspired bouquet of dark pink, orange and green flowers in a glass vase and a cute little birthday balloon.  We signed the online card with all of our names, pushed the send button and felt satisfied this would help make her day a special one. 

My fears came true when my sister called, on her special day, to announce nothing came.  Nothing.... meaning from us....or from anyone else in her home.  Frustrated and annoyed, I made a B-line for the laptop and immediately sent an email to the company that we ordered the flowers from that promised 24 hour shipping.  My kids stood by and listened to me vent not only about the incompetence of this online company and their broken promise but also about the insensitivity of the males in her household. Good grief!  My sister makes sure their birthdays are made special....so why shouldn't her day be any different?  While I typed out my frustrations on the keyboard, my daughter brought her little brothers upstairs and encouraged them to make their aunt a special birthday card.  It'd be a little late but her aunt needed to know she that was truly loved and cherished.

God's timing is always perfect.  Maybe He felt my sister would need these flowers more on another day....maybe He wanted my boys more involved then being just written in on a cybercard over the Internet and maybe....... the Lord felt they needed a fresh lesson in loving and cherishing.

Dad's, teach your sons.....

Loving and cherishing doesn't come naturally; sin has made us selfish creatures.  Paul teaches the importance of regarding others as more important than ourselves in Phil 2:3 and 4. Cherishing one another needs to be taught, practiced and as verse 5 goes on to say.....it needs to be kept in our minds and attitude. Fathers, have an important role to play. They can show their boys how to love and cherish their future wives through example in their own marriage.  Ephesians 5:25 claims that this is the marital responsibility of the husband to give sacrificially to his wife.  As Jesus sacrificed himself for us, there should be no sacrifice that a husband should not be willing to make for his wife (King James Bible study notes).   A sweet kiss in front of the kids, holding hands with her in the store, jumping in to help with the dishes, making a big deal over birthdays and Mother's Day.....all ways to show our boys how to love and cherish.

Mom's, teach your sons.....

My boys answer me with a "Yes, Mom" after being asked to do a task.  Not to fulfill my lifelong dream of being a drill sergeant but I want to show them that through their obedience and acknowledgement of me being their mother...a) not only is it respectful but b) it's also a way that they show that they love and cherish me through their compliance.  Opening and holding the door for me, their big sister, grandmas, aunts and women in general, is training them....to love and cherish.  Helping me to bring in the groceries, laundry from the line or other manual tasks....all training ground for loving and cherishing. Thank you cards, birthday cards, Mother's Day cards..........simple, but thoughtful ways to get boys involved and practicing for the day when they have a wife of their own, when loving and cherishing will continue on for another generation.

As I tucked the kids' cards in an envelope to send to their aunt, I noticed my sons card.  It had a verse written on it along with the happy birthday wishes.  When I asked him what made him choose that certain verse, he told me it was special to him and he found it when he was scared one night. Tears sprang to my eyes at his verse choice;  a verse on comfort.  He wanted to comfort his aunt knowing how sad, disappointed and downhearted she must feel about her forgotten birthday.  A valuable lesson learned in loving and cherishing.

I don't know when my sisters flowers will make it there. It hurts to know I failed her. But what I do know and what I cling to is that the Lord has other plans....better plans.... and they will arrive when He feels they need to.  His plans are different then ours (Isaiah 55:8)) and even though I love my little sister tremendously......He loves her more!  Through the pain of a birthday lost and forgotten, beauty arises from the ashes......lessons are learned afresh in the importance of loving and cherishing....a beautiful lesson from Home!

Family Reunion

Today looks different.  It feels different. I got up at the usual time, went through my usual morning routine but everything seems so still and silent.  It's that feeling you get when you realize....another loved one has gone home.

One of my aunts went home to be with the Lord recently.  It's been a while since I seen her last, yet, when I heard of her home-going, I felt the void.  Childhood memories of visiting her and my uncle on their farm came flooding back.  I loved visiting the farm!  My two cousins, aunt and uncle would take my brothers, sister and I around the various animal pens.  We'd marvel at how big, fat ....and muddy.....the pigs were! We'd watch and giggle as these over sized "Wilburs" from Charlotte's Web grunted and buried their pink noses in the mud in search of the perfect corn cob.  Next, came the cows with their glassy, google-eyed stare, swishing their tails shooing away flies and... good grief.... that endless chewing!  On our tours, my cousins would patiently answer all of our city slicker questions.  Like, why do cows look so dumb?  Do pigs bite?  Do they have names?  Why do they stink so bad?  To us, they knew everything and we were in awe of their endless farm knowledge!  The running, cackling chickens were next.  They weren't as fun.... we couldn't catch any!  Last on our tour was always the best...the kittens.  Every visit would end with my sister and I begging for one of those cute, little bundles of fur and it wasn't until I was married with a family of my own, on a grown-up visit to the farm, that I finally got to bring one home! 


The family farm is feeling a void today. A sweet, soft-spoken, beautiful woman; daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt; has been called home.  Handmade baby quilts, blankets and flower arrangements are just a few of the priceless treasures she left behind; gifts given by her in a quiet spirit voicing her love and care.   As we mourn the loss of our loved one, we can take comfort that at this very moment a celebration takes place in heaven.....another child has come home!  

Someday, when we are called home, it will be my aunt, along with all our other loved ones who went on ahead, to give us yet again another tour....a tour of heaven; walking the streets of gold, hand in hand, never to endure a painful seperation ever again!  What a glorious day that will be when we are all home together in heaven with Jesus for our eternal family reunion! 

What do you see?

When you look at me, what do you see?  I wonder......


A few years ago, Jesus took me by the hand, walked me over to a full length mirror and together we examined my reflection.  Horrified, disgusted and ashamed, I wondered if I would ever "look" normal.  Jesus answered my unspoken question with a warm smile.  He squeezed my hand gently that was still tucked into His and with His head close to mine, He examined the damage.  He looked into my eyes through the mirror and spoke directly to my heart,  "I'm working on it." 

In my first days of therapy I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia and borderline OCD.   Therapy was once to twice a week in the beginning stages because it was so severe.  I was convinced I was dieing. No one could reassure me otherwise!  I mourned the thought of leaving my family behind; my husband without a wife, my children motherless.  I felt powerless to stop this raging tornado that tore its way to me.  It's deafening roar filled my ears and the impending doom of its arrival plagued my thoughts every waking moment.  My body was so tired!  I was in constant discomfort from chest pains and stomach aches; I had a hard time breathing and felt as if I were being smothered to death by an invisible pillow.  Those days, weeks and months of physical and emotional pain, were needed to get me in front of the mirror.  Jesus was beginning the process of healing my infected, festering wounds that I had been so horrified of in the mirrors reflection.

In a session, my Christian Therapist/Pastor asked me to close my eyes and describe myself to him.  What I felt I looked like.  Barely able to sit still and with tears streaming down my face, I described to him the scene that I saw forming in front of my closed eyes.  In the corner of a dark, bare room, a little girl sat silently with her head buried in her arms.  The long, blond hair that spilled over her folded arms looked stringy, dirty and wet.  She made me shiver.  The only thing she wore was a filthy, white night gown and her feet were bare on the cold, dirty cement floor.  Even though her face remained hidden in her arms, I knew exactly who she was.  I couldn't go to her.  Even though I knew all she wanted was to be seen, to be comforted and to be healed, I couldn't move.   I just left her there, cold and alone huddled in the corner.  Weeks went by, and I left her there untouched and undisturbed until one day, my therapist asked me to bring Jesus in.  I watched in my minds eye as Jesus walked up to the little girl.  Gently, he lifted her chin and a dirty face streaked with tears met His gaze.  There they sat, just looking into each others eyes.  The girl silently crying while Jesus lovingly wiped away her tears.  I began to sob as Jesus knelt down and scooped the little girl up into His arms.  He began to comfort her; gently rocking her back and forth while softly whispering comforting words and smoothing her dirty, greasy hair.  It was then that I felt brave enough to enter the room.  Jesus was there now and I didn't have to face her alone.  Kneeling beside the two, Jesus held out his arm to me. It was time to accept and comfort this child.  I had to acknowledge who she was, what she went through and what she needed.  She needed me to see her and Jesus to heal her.



When I look at me?  What do I see......I wonder........


In my last days of therapy, my therapist asked me to close my eyes and describe myself to him.  What I felt I looked like.  With my eyes closed tight, happy tears streaming down my face, I described a much different child.  A beautiful snapshot of a glowing, rosy cheeked, happy, little girl appeared before me.  Her once dirty, blond hair now shiny and clean was brushed back into two neat pigtails tied with pink ribbon.  Jesus took care of her.  I am comforted, happy and whole.

It's been several years since my years in therapy when I faced that little girl in the mirror. My sores and wounds have since healed and though many scars remain, I'm not ashamed of them. It's what my Saviour allowed and they are a part of me just as my blue eyes are. My scars make me special, unique and equipped with an armoury that not everyone gets to battle with. I hope to use these weapons for God's glory and to be able to help other people face their own reflections in the mirror.



When you look at others, what do you see?  I wonder.....



Behind every smile there is a story.  So often we hide our reflections; keeping our wounds and scars secretly hiden underneath robes of shame and fear.   Please pray today that the Lord will help you see someone in need.  One person can make such a big impact in a hurting persons life.  We are told in Gal. 5:13 that we are to love and serve one another.  We can do that so easily through a bright smile, a warm hug or an encouraging word.  Sometimes, the best medicine is someone to cry with.  Romans 12:15 wisely instructs the importance sharing tears with one another and to help carry the burden of grief.   A card, a gift, a phone call, a smile or a hug....whatever way you are lead to minister.....listen to the Lord's call.  Let the Lord use you to nurse someones wounds today.

Burglars and Bats

He's gone.  My husband is off to Nebraska for work leaving the kids and I here home alone for the next few days to hold down the fort.  Yesterday, the day before he was to leave, a break in happened the next road over. Bad timing! Living in the middle of nowhere makes me a little nervous with this new development.  1/4 of a mile separates us from our neighbor to the right and our neighbor to the left is a whopping 1/2 mile away.  Not bad when you're out for a stroll to visit with the neighbors on a bird churpin', cloudless, bright, sunny day (or my personal preference, cloudy, dark and dismal.  Don't be alarmed, honestly, there's nothing wrong with me!) So, maybe you can see my predicament.  If anything goes wrong, our screams will go unheard. 

Hang on, my dilemma doesn't stop there.  Yesterday, Kris shushed the loud ramble of our family's usual chatter to crane his neck and examine the strange rustling and scratching sound coming from the kitchen ceiling.  The identity of this mystery critter was left unsolved leaving me to my own deductions as to who this creepy invader was making its home above my kitchen table.   My thoughts went through its mental file of all the worse case scenarios. It was a long file. There are a lot of creatures, critters and creepy crawlies that freak me out.  But there's one that stands out highlighted amongst all the others with the Hollywood credentials to back it up.  Bringing even the bravest of critter catchers on their knees and covering their heads in submission, the bat is the reigning king of terror in the realm of all things that make you go, "EEEEEKKKK!"  We've had several run-ins with bats at this Victorian farm house of ours.  Our last hiatus with this freaky, flying little monster left the family ducking and screaming (behind the protection of our big kitchen window on our side porch) leaving Kris, frustrated and annoyed by his family's insanity, to battle this zig-zagging, fast flying creature of terror all by his lonesome.

So, what on earth am I going to do if Stellalunia decides she wants to come down to play?  Well, I've already thought of that and I have the perfect plan in place.  I'm going to do nothing.  Really.  I mean, these spine-tingling flying rodents only come out at night, so during the day, we're golden.  When "Luna" wakes and comes down to the kitchen in search of a buggie snack, its all hers!  Kelsey taught me the last time how to move around successfully under the high flying noses of these creatures.  It involves getting as low to the floor as possible under the cover of a blanket.  It may be a little hard to breathe and t.v. viewing a little obscured but if it keeps Stella out of my hair, literally, I'm on board!

These next few days are going to be an adventure for this ship full of mates sailing on without our Captain, aka Head of the House, Big Cheese, Top Dog, King Dad.  He has to settle ruling his roost from miles away by cell phone.  As the sun sets, and thoughts of burglars and bats settle in my brain, I remind myself, someone with more seniority and a higher rank is on duty, 24/7.  My Jesus is here, vigilantly watching over my children and I as we sleep (or tossing and turning in my case!) promising to always be here.  He is my helper, I will NOT fear!  (Hebrews 13:5 and 6) Verse 6 ends with a phrase that brings a smile to my face, "What can man do to me?"  Burglars beware, I have a houseful of kids who are prepared to conquer with Ninja moves and Jedi jabs.  If he is brave enough to face my Lord and these battle ready kids, bring it on!  As with the bat.....I'll leave that one for Kris to handle when he gets home!

Sleeping Beauty

I'm tired!  No, really, I am T.I.R.E.D! I diagnosed myself with the help of WebMd (don't tell Kris, I'm banned from that site!!) and other sources with Chronic Fatigue.  My doctor believes its only a reoccurring virus of some sort and a coincidence that I get it 3, 4, 5 times a year or more.  Coincidence?  I don't do coincidence.  You know the saying, "If it walks like a duck, looks like a duck, quacks like a duck....it must be a duck"...well, I'm a quackin' because put it all together, its Chronic Fatigue in all capital letters.

"Tired?  Take a nap for cryin' out loud!" Is that what you're thinking?  This overwhelming fatigue is beyond not getting 8 hours or more of beauty sleep or the tired after a long, hard days work.  CF, in my experience, is like being injected with a sedative.  My body feels heavy, like I'm trudging around in cement shoes, my face and eyes feel swollen, and sleep is a constant, nagging thought.  A bed of nails, a nest of cobras......it doesn't matter where.....my body screams for sleep! 

I nicknamed CF with a better name, "The Sleeping Beauty Syndrome."  I remember a few years back I lost the whole month of February!  Homeschool was put on hold while I lay unconscious, oblivious to the world around me and believe me, I resembled nothing of Sleeping Beauty!  My slumbering attire wasn't an evening gown but a baggy sweatshirt and sweats, my blond hair didn't spill beautifully curled over my shoulders, it was more like a frizzy, matted nest; bed-head fashion at its best!  A kiss from my prince charming husband couldn't even bring me back to life!   With blinking, long, fluttering lashes, Sleeping Beauty's bright, blue eyes sparkled at her prince.  Receiving only a one-eyed greeting, my husband could only catch a brief glimpse of a blue, glassy, blood shot eye before it to returned back behind its heavy, black curtain of sleep.

A better name would be "The Zombie Curse."  When I could drag myself out of bed, it would only be to stagger from bed to couch to chair.   Emerging from my dark cave would bring excited chatter from my neglected family but the only uttering they would get in return from this Zombie Mom would be communications in grunts and mumbles.  With "The Zombie Curse", my personality shuts down; a smile takes to much energy, my singing comes to a halt, and growls more than giggles emerge from my lips.  The worse part of the "The Sleeping Beauty Disease", or "The Zombie Curse" is that I never know how long its going to last.  Days? Weeks?? Months???  As the Curse drags on, frustration usually prevails.  I feel like a Zombie Slacker; lazy, annoyed and just plain tired of feeling tired!

So, how do we deal with illness when it seems to stretch on and on?  For me, I am fortunate I have a supportive family.  My husband, who wears many hats here at home (shrink and doctor are just a few), who also has CF, brings out his invisible prescription pad and starts listing instructions.  My kids pitch in and fill in the gaps where my illness creates the void. I am so thankful the Lord has placed these special "nurses" in my life! 

Family can help deal with the physical aspect of CF but how do we deal with the emotional aspect; the feelings of laziness and worthlessness?  Meditating on God's word whenever possible is important.  I think back to my life's verse, Jeremiah 29:11" For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." Other bible versions use the word "plan" in place of thoughts.  If having CF is in God's plan for me, who am I to argue with the Master and Creator of......me? With CF, and in other areas of my life, I am learning to take each day, moment by moment.  In Matthew 6:33 we are told no to worry about tomorrow.  Today holds enough challenges to bring another day into the mix! 

Prayer is another important aspect when struggling through illness.  In the middle of CF, sometimes the only prayer I have enough energy for is, "Lord, please give me strength for today!" The Lord promises that He will give power to the faint (Isaiah 40:29) and that His strength is made perfect in weakness (II Chor. 12 :9).  When CF hits, and my physical power is gone,  I lean on my Savior for His perfect strength to help carry me through.

As I struggle through this bout with "Sleeping Beauty Syndrome", one of my mom's favorite quotes comes to mind, "This too shall pass", and I know it will, in the Lord's perfect time.  CF is part of the Lord's plan for me and until the veil of slumber is lifted, I will be content.  Each day, sleep beckons me and its pull becomes stronger and stronger.   As my lids close I see my Saviors face, learning today's lesson from Home that the Lord wants me, for today, to rest in His arms.  

Your Word Life

The written word is beautiful!  A great story is a beautiful masterpiece that tantalizes all your senses.  It creates a beautiful painting for your minds eye, a majestic symphony for your ears, and it can taste as rich and fulfilling as a feast for your soul! The words become more than just letters on a page.  Put together properly, the words gain movement and swirl and sway; able to transport the reader into another world, another time or another place.  The author has done his job!  Guiding you with his words he was able to lead you on an unforgettable journey.  Sometimes, however, the word map drawn by the author can be too vague.  During the journey, the readers may be forced to read between the lines for direction and they can become lost...frustrated or confused.  The author becomes misunderstood; heartbreaking to the author; frustrating to the reader. 

The spoken word is beautiful!  Letters, words, sentences and paragraphs.....all become just that without the emotion written behind them.  Human speech adds another dimension to the written word.  In design, lighting is crucial to completing a room.  It adds mood, depth and highlights to important features in a space. By God's incredible design, the human voice adds a rich layer to human interaction.  Tone, volume, infliction all allowing one to to go places that the written author could only dream of.  Speaking fills the void where the written word fails.

The unspoken word is beautiful!  Our eyes, face and body speak when there are no words.  Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre" is a perfect example of the power of personal presence.  The written word can be misread, the spoken word misheard but what brings all three together in perfect harmony is the power of body language. If not for subtle physical cues, the budding friendship between Edward and Jane may have been doomed from the beginning.  Edward with his harsh but teasing comments may have been misread if not for a raised eyebrow or a sly smile.  Jane's quiet growing affections may have been missed if not for her wringing hands or flowing tears.

In our lives, it's important for us to use not only one form of words but all three together.  Where one creates a void, the other fills it in as neatly as a puzzle piece.  Our designer and creator left us an example of using all three forms of communication.  He left us His word, His, however, being flawless and perfect and without void.  He gave us his Son, Jesus, who added another beautiful layer by bringing God's words to life through His teaching and His beautiful parables.  To have heard His voice, as a tidal wave, rising and falling with passion to teach and later to recede to calm and steady waters to soothe, comfort and heal; we can only imagine!  Lastly, Jesus was able to make the unspoken word shine through the power of His touch, bringing healing, love and peace to all who came to seek Him. 

This technological age that is quickly emerging around us is slowly smothering God's perfect design for us. Texting, Facebooking, Emailing and Tweeting all are taking away the beauty of the written, spoken and unspoken word.  The computer screen cannot replace the depth of anothers gaze, the keys cannot replace the warmth of the human touch, the clicking keys the soft tone of the human voice.  If the keyboard or keypad is the only word life you're living, fill your void with the puzzle pieces God has designed for you.....they'll be a perfect fit!

The Beast in the Beans

Forget all that nonsense about aliens, demented scarecrows and other horrors lurking in cornfields. Our home is surrounded on three sides by this tall, leafy, green stuff and I can't say I've seen any evidence at all of these slinky, sneaky, vessels of evil.  Not that I'm looking, mind you, or plan on conducting any type of nighttime investigations. My observations from my kitchen window in broad daylight is enough for me.  No, I think too much emphasis has been placed on possible corn dwellers when there are horrible things that truly do exist in other vegetative forms............like beans. You read it right.....your everyday, home grown, jolly green giant endorsed green beans!  Their beautiful rows (I love lines!!!!) look innocent enough... short, full and leafy; sprinkled with tiny, petite, lavender flowers; they're just adorable.  However, readers, beware of the great evil that dwells in this mini paradise, this oasis of cute! 

My story of survival begins not after the first bean harvest...but the third.  If the frozen food section is the only place you're familiar with beans, that's ok, you must already know the danger of harvesting, so, a wise one you are! Green beans are a favorite among many gardeners because it's a great "big bang for your buck" kind of plant!  After each pick.....they will continue to reproduce.  On this particular evening, the family and I were out picking.  I, in my flips (I was later scolded for this), the rest of the family in proper footwear.....tennies and garden clogs.   Clouds of mosquitoes filled the air every time a bean plant was repositioned to expose beans ripe for the picking, so when I felt the nibble on the back of my leg, I assumed it was one of those pesky, sharp nosed critters. Cute, fuzzy, white caterpillars, bouncy grasshoppers, buzzing bees and little, green, hopping frogs were as abundant as the beans, so when my bucket was full, I was thrilled to end my visit to this world of creepy crawlies!

Later that evening, my bite started to glow, two days later, the glow turned to raised red blisters.  After almost 2 weeks, the color purple and "yellow" (from the ooze!) were added to the mix.  I despise doctors, so Kris humored me and let me try to "lick" my own wound.  "Lick" meaning, doing absolutely nothing and hoping it would go away on its own. I don't do medicine well.  When I complain of headaches, Kris will ask...."Take anything?"  My response is usually always no.  A resounding "Duh!" ends the conversation with me making my way to our medicine basket.  With my bite fashioning colors of purple, yellow and red, no amount of sobbing, whining or crying would work against Kris' rock solid stance on me going to the place I dread the most....the doctor.

To the doctor I went, with my kids in tow for support.  There's something exhilarating about the fact that I, little ol' me, could gross out nurses to the point of the"hibbie jibbies"......exact quote.  My exam room was more like a pre-schools show and tell with both nurses on staff at my doctors office huddled around my leg; me proudly displaying my war wound and laughing at every "ick" and "nasty"!  One of the nurses biggest fear, and Ryan's, was that there were babies or eggs of something in the red, nasty mess.  A "Monsters Inside Me" show fresh in her mind, the nurse proceeded to give me all the gruesome details of maggot like creatures hiding in a wound bearing striking resemblance to mine.  A friend of ours suggested I skip going to the doctors and go to the vet instead....so he can deliver the babies.  Ok..this amoeba, maggot, worm talk was starting to gross me out and all these "implants" were making me feel as if....something truly WAS moving around inside my leg!  The doctor finally came in, looked at it and reassured me.....and my roomful of grossed out comrades......that nothing was living inside and that whatever got me, apparently just got me good.  My guess was as good as his on what on earth bit me and he proceeded to prescibe a steroid ointment.  Leaving the office, I noticed curious stares from the adjoining office.  Receptionists craning their necks over their desks and nurses peeking around corners all sneaking a peak to get a good look at this possible walking incubator.  Giggling, one of my nurses called out "Tsetse" (a fly in Africa with parasites) while the other nurse handed me breathable bandages to assure the little ones nestled snugly in my wound wouldn't smother.  Nice.

Curious, a friend of mine researched online the possible suspects of terror.  Spiders were quickly ruled out, I only had one puncture wound.  The list slowly dwindled down until only one suspect remained, the fluffy white cutie I saw in the garden.  It's cuteness lures in its victim...as innocent as a wide eyed puppy, then WHAMO!  With tiny hollow quills on their bodies connected to poison sacks*, it injects the "toxic" venom into its shocked prey leaving them looking like alien incubators for weeks to come.

You know, this cuddly caterpillar, reminds me so much of another enemy in my garden.  Satan.  The bible says in 1 Peter 5:8 to "Be sober (alert), be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour (consume)."  In my garden, I should have been alert and vigilant to all the dangers that lay seemingly hidden and been prepared by wearing the proper foot gear;  socks, tennies or garden clogs.  In my life's garden, the protective clothing of daily meditation in God's word, prayer and regular church attendence can help guard my heart against Satan's stings and the spread of his deadly venom.

Our beans were ready for another picking.  I bravely put on my husbands tube socks, a pair of old running shoes, took a deep breath and walked into caterpillar territory.  During my picking, I found the rascal that wreaked so much havoc on my leg.  My son did me a favor and established justice.....taking care of the culprit for all eternity....my hero!  Romans 16:20 says, "And the God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet...."  We can take comfort in knowing that God will take care of Satan for us for all of eternity someday. In the meantime, take safe guards in your life's garden and be sure to wear your "tube socks"!!

*"Stinging Caterpillars", by Deborah Tuka, Aug. 11, 2006, Farmers Almanac Blog