The blessings of the year

I find it fascinating how easy it is to get down on yourself or your circumstances and be frustrated, depressed, cynical, etc. I think we very quickly "want it all," or really, want to be the center of the universe and want to have our life organized in a "picture perfect" way, whatever that might feel like. Yet, I think about the year and the circumstances that make me have regrets, and I am able to reflect on the blessings.

When I was young, I didn't easily make friends. I did have a couple of friends in Superior, WI, where I spent a good deal of my formative years. We moved to Montgomery when I was nine, and I really struggled in finding friends. I found it easy to tell white lies to cover up embarrassing truths. 

I remember when I was in junior high school, I became good friends with a couple of girls, and one of them called me one day and invited me to go bowling. I asked Mom, and she said we couldn't afford it. I was too embarrassed to say that, so I told my friend that my aunt had died and we had company over. It kind of makes me laugh to think of that now because, what was I thinking?

I remember when I was in high school I used to purposely sit in the corner of a room to avoid too much interaction with others. I think one time I even sat behind a couch so I could just listen in. I was always surprised when someone asked about how I was doing, because I wanted to be invisible. But I had some friends that were able to see beyond that, and I hung out with a few girls, not because they were popular, but because they wanted to talk with me, to know me.

It wasn't all pathetic. But I wasn't an easy person to get to know. I have realized as an adult that I didn't have the verbal or the emotional skills to know how to be a good friend to other girls, much less to boys. 

In college, I learned. I learned how to listen better and share. I learned how to have fun, and that sometimes there were people that weren't just trying to one-up you academically or socially. And when I got married, I learned more. I learned how to give and take. I also learned how truly selfish I was. Then, I joined a church. The message of grace was a new one. It didn't make any sense to someone who had always been judged for what she didn't do well, or what she did do well. Grace, grace, grace...free, unrestrained, unconditional love.

It's taken years, but grace makes more sense now. And my girlfriends...how lucky I am to have them. I get grace from them, all the time. It feels undeserved, sometimes, and I think that's the beauty of the friendship you should find in God's church. Not being judged, but being loved in spite of yourself.

It has been a tough year

I've been pensive this December. Well, I think I've been pensive for much of the year. It's been a tough year.

I'm not going to re-hash why. But I am thinking of a sermon I heard today. My pastor shared a story that happened right after the death of one of our elder's children. She died when she was 33, about five years ago. The family was all gathered together, solemnly praying and grieving. All of a sudden, there was singing from the mentally disabled grandson in the kitchen. He sang "Joy to the World" loudly. He was shushed, but it didn't work. Isn't that the way it is? Even in our mess, even when there is horrible grief, Jesus breaks in and provides light. That's the way it's supposed to be.

I have been reflecting quite a bit on theology this year. What is it I believe, why do I believe certain things; these are not quick answers. My friend Amanda told me something recently, though, which I really like: "your theology is what drives how you live, it affects your day-to-day." It drives how you treat people, how you shape your life rules, how you guide your children, how you work. What you believe about sin, what you think of God's sovereignty, what you see in Jesus' work and righteousness - it's such a big deal. And I am grateful my eyes have been opened to it. Soli Deo Gloria. Merry Christmas.

K's thoughts

It's 10:45 pm, K's light is off, and I'm assuming she's asleep. So I am a little surprised when her door opens.

"Did I wake you up?" I ask.
"No, I just wanted to tell you something," she replies. "We had a multiple choice test today. I don't do well on those, and I get really anxious. I think I got 2 out of 10 on the last one."
I nod, wondering where she is going with this.
K continues, "So today I decided to pray before the test. 'Lord, give me wisdom, and help me to be calm and not nervous.' Then I took the test and guess what I got? A 9 out of 10!"
She was so excited. I smiled.
She exclaimed, "I just realized, God answered my prayer! I just wanted to tell someone!" And then she went back to bed.

God is always with you, daughter.

December is upon us

It is December, and the Christmas season is well underway.

My stockings are hung, presents are being bought, parties are upcoming, and the music is playing. And there is a good focus on Jesus' birth, and the miracle that God wrought by becoming man.

However, I find myself stalking people on Facebook. Checking out photos or posts from those that have lost loved ones this year. I have had one not-close-at-all acquaintance from high school die this week. I remember passing her in the hall, she was one of those cute, peppy girls that seemed to be smart and well-liked. One of my bridesmaids lost her father on Thanksgiving. I remember going to her wedding and watching him, so proud of his daughter. And of course, there was a shocking celebrity death last weekend. But over the year, I think about others who've died - my college daughter's dear friend; another high school acquaintance; a child in high school that we were connected with; parents of church friends; the list goes on. Seeing death like this, I think, will become more commonplace, the older I get.

How do people convince themselves that death is something that just happens? That it is just part of life? I know some people that think this.

When I was in high school, I was an overly morbid teenager. I realize this is weird. I used to read articles of the Titanic sinking, or about the Nazi concentration camps, or about all kinds of historical happenings that resulted in mass amounts of death. Yes, I was studying history, but for some reason, reading this stuff made me really emotional. I have this strange empathetic ability that makes me really feel heartache. And that's what I felt in reading all of that back then.

Yet, I know now something I didn't then. I know that Jesus has conquered death. I know that this life is a momentary blip in the grand scheme of things. Still, that doesn't lessen my sadness for the families that may be spending the holidays without a loved one. How quick this life is! How wasteful it seems to spend time quarreling. How silly to be angry at obscure things...

My friend Melissa sent me this quote today, and I really liked it: "All we could ever imagine, could ever hope for, He is….He is the Prince of Peace whose first coming has already transformed society but whose second coming will forever establish justice and righteousness. All this, and infinitely more, alive in an impoverished baby in a barn.That is what Christmas means—to find in a place where you would least expect to find anything you want, everything you could ever want."  ~Michael Card, from The Promise

Even with the pain one might have from losing a loved one, there is still something more that can satisfy our greatest expectations, even when we don't feel it. Even when we feel like all is lost. Even when it seems as though nothing can ever be right again. There is hope, the strongest possible hope, in Jesus.

A Simple Thanksgiving

It's been a quiet month for me on the blogosphere. That means that I've had a month of not wanting to share or a month of too much busy-ness...or both. In this case, it's been both.

But I had a great time with family this past week. In the past four or five years, we've spent it with my family, usually with one or both of my sisters' families. Unfortunately, work and finances prevented travel this year, so we spent a quieter thanksgiving with my parents. It worked out just right.

On Wednesday morning, we travelled to my parents' after getting some doughnuts at Krispy Kreme...for which we paid $1.06. I had two free doughnut coupons and a free coffee coupon and that worked out great for the three of us! We all pretended to be different customers, which is always amusing for us. Somehow the three of us all enjoy playing little games on people which I'm sure people see right through. Anyway, after arriving on Wednesday afternoon, I prepped sweet potato casserole and a lima bean/broccoli casserole while the girls helped. On Wednesday night, mom made "chicken patties" (her description) which were really ground chicken burgers. K said they were like "Indian hamburgers." Apt description, yet they weren't bad! We also watched part 1 of the first Lord of the Rings movie.

Since I did prep work on Wednesday, Thursday was low key in the cooking department. A trip to my parents always means an adventure on Dad's computer, and this trip proved to be no exception. I put a password (finally) on Dad's router after explaining that people with smartphones could be stealing his internet. He proclaimed technology an anathema. Okay, not really, that was a dramatic re-enactment of his reaction. It was touch-and-go when I realized I didn't have the password to the router, but I was able to get it going with my supreme tech support skills. (this is ridiculous)

We ate. And ate. Green bean casserole and a rice dish with rolls along with turkey rounded out our meal. The fun thing is that Dad shared stories from when he first came over the US, and the girls seemed fascinated. In past years, they weren't quite mature enough to listen like that, but on this trip, they actually wanted to hear more. And I was glad that Dad got a chance to share that with them.

We headed for Black Thursday shopping at 6:30. We hit Old Navy (50% off!), Target (lines everywhere with shoppers looking like the Walking Dead), Kohl's (long waits but great deals), Shoe Station (waste of time), and Belk (too late). Somehow, I have learned how to shop with my daughters. I used to fight with both of them - with M at "Limited Too" and with K about not shopping at all - but we've learned to get along! And we know our limits too. The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep and dreams about missed deals, I got up and headed for more shopping with my parents at 8. World Market, Costco, and Belk again (while Dad went power walking). I finally stopped after another visit out after lunch, but instead of relaxing, I re-configured their TV-DVD-Soundbar setup. This is how I relax.

We headed home Saturday before the awful Iron Bowl, but only after lots of pictures and some attempts by Mom to give me more stuff, which I hate. I was mean and refused as much as possible (I was told this later by M and K). I did call and apologize the next day. I think these visits mean so much to them, but I realized today that they mean a lot to me, too.

Empty Nesting It

This weekend has been a bit weird for me because I have been a bit disconnected from my children. Yes, I know, one of them doesn't live with me, anyway. Still, I'm used to having the other one around to keep me on my toes. This weekend, she went to a Christian conference and didn't have her phone. They take them away from the kids at the beginning of the weekend. So it's been a zero-silence time from K. Meanwhile, M was away in South Carolina for another Christian conference. I did hear from her, thankfully and it was great. But I saw neither of them, and heard from only one. This just doesn't seem right.

It gave a sense of what life might be like in a couple of years. I am not ready for this. This is an understatement. Let me say it again. I am not ready for this.

So I had time to do some projects around the house, and a project for a friend, and made dinner for my guy, did some shopping, spent time with some friends while watching the Alabama-LSU game, and yes, I've had some down time. So what? We think when we have kids that lifeissobusybusybusy and things will eventually calm down. But what we don't realize is that the busybusybusy IS life. The time when you are raising your children is really something that is annoying, inconvenient, painful, and wonderful, happy, and lovelovelove if you let it be that way. I am not sure that I always did that. And maybe I wasn't mature enough - I was pretty young; but I suspect we all sometimes just get annoyed when there are five places to go in one night due to extracurriculars and there aren't enough drivers to go around. Or when your child poops in the bathtub. Or when they have homework that you can't really help with. Or when they tell you that they have a major project due the next day and they haven't started yet. Or when they want to play Candyland or Tag or Bubbles or EasyBake and you're just ready to plop down on the couch after a long day.

Now, my challenge over the next year and a half is how to find out how to make empty nesting less "empty."

Lack of originality leads to malaise

I haven't written in a while, and it was mostly because A) I felt like complaining; or B) I'd already written what I was thinking about; C) my life was taken over by volleyball.

Last week K finished her last volleyball games for the season. Two tournaments occurred. The first, here in town, ended in a five-set thriller against Northridge High School which they lost in the last game, 15-13. It was a sheer three hours of screaming and being obnoxious. They played the best I've seen them play all season. The second, in Huntsville, was a match against Grissom High School which was over when it started. K said it's really hard to be pumped against a team that they had no bone to pick with. Still, K is thinking about not trying out for volleyball next year. She may change her mind. I hope she does. I love watching the girls play.

Before heading to Huntsville, I stopped by Montgomery. Okay, really it wasn't on the way, but it was such a quick trip that I felt like it was a pitstop. I went to see my sister and my niece who flew in to spend time with my parents. My sister threw my mom a 75th birthday party, which is exactly something my sister would do and exactly something I was too self-involved to think about. Sigh. Anyway, I did at least socialize with all of the Indians that my mom invited. A few of them I have known since I was nine. It's a little awkward, actually, since I'm 41 and I'm not the same person I was back then; and I also find their children a little weird too. I'm sure they think the same thing about me. I am a Christian, after all. My niece was in good form, not just for the party but for the entirety of my visit. Every time I tried to talk to her or hold her, I was treated to a look of skepticism or a whimper of pain. She is very mom-clingy right now. I take that back, she was that way in March too, so maybe she just reacts that way to me. Anyway, she's cute as a button, but mainly she shows that when her mom is holding her.

I took two days off when doing all of this. Seriously, you cannot put a price on vacation time when you are feeling burnt out and angry about work. And also when you're looking forward to annual reviews. Do you feel the next blog subject coming on?

Cover Her Face

This is the title of a crime novel by P.D. James. Agatha Christie also used it as a possible title for one of her novels, but James ended up publishing first. It's a phrase that I associate with scariness, sin, and death. I know, it's another positive blogpost...

When you come face-to-face with your own sin, and you realize it, do you find it shocking? Do you find it disgusting? Do you cringe in disbelief? Or do you make excuses? And then you fight believing that you are in the wrong?

I had a phone call with a co-worker this week where this person basically called me out for a good ten minutes on my rudeness. And the thing is, I had been rude. Not just that day, but in previous months leading up to that moment. In previous emails, I'd been really blunt and impatient. I get frustrated with this person's lack of grammar, lack of ability to put together a cohesive email that makes sense, and inability to understand my subject area at work. And I knew it while I was on the phone. I have been getting more and more frustrated about it, and I've felt a lot of anger about it. So even though I was "blunt" in my previous emails, in my heart, it was more. My heart was black about what this person didn't do well.

I'm not going to lie, in the phone call I tried to point out the fact that this person was a bad communicator. But that's not what the phone call ended up being about, it was really about this person calling me out. And I realized right at the front that I needed to apologize, that my first apology might have been disingenuous, and that any constructive criticism was not going to be listened to in the waves of the hostility I felt coming from the other person. It was not a phone call that ended well, it was upsetting, and I asked how many times I could apologize. In a sarcastic manner, I might add. 70x7?

I have really thought about this a lot over the last few days; I can't seem to let it go. I want to prove that I was right, that I was the bigger person, that I was better. And that, too, fills me with shame. I know, I know, I know I'm supposed to be sanctified through this, but I almost don't want to be.

I read this from Romans 7 this weekend and found it comforting:
"14 For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. 15 For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. 16 Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. 17 So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, 23 but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24 Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? 25 Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin."

Who will deliver me from this body of death, indeed.

Mom

My mom is 75 today.

I have a lot of moments where I just think my mom is just nuts today. When I visit, she's a little loony, she gives me all kinds of crazy gifts to go home with, she can't remember things sometimes, she's always talking about how everyone is not good but we are the perfect children, and boy, she really has trouble with cooking.

But here are some other random memories of me and my mom.

• I remember that my sisters and I used to sit in front of her, every morning before school, and she would braid our hair in plaits. She would sing songs and tell stories from India. She really has a pretty singing voice.
• I remember she would hold my baby sister and how she would rock her back and forth in her arms. Every mom does it a different way, and I remember watching her and thinking it seemed like home.
• She used to have perfume and a china doll on her dresser when I was little. I used to love going in her room and looking at it.
• She really is not good at cleaning/organizing. When we had parties with Indian friends, she would spend all day in the kitchen cooking and I would straighten up the living room.
• I remember reading a book called The Westing Game in 5th grade. It was a mystery and it scared me so much. I couldn't sleep in my own room so I would sleep on the floor of my sisters' room with her. Not just for a night, but for a solid year.
• I remember when she trained me to drive, she would pump an imaginary pedal when in the passenger seat and I didn't brake soon enough, and it would make me crazy. I also remember driving home with her in the passenger seat one day, and telling her that I hated her. I am ashamed at this memory.
• I remember when she got news of her dad dying, or her sister dying of breast cancer. She is very emotional, and she would cry and wail openly, loudly, dramatically. I would stare and look away. She seemed so foreign in her grief. I realize now this is similar to what the Israelites did when they tore their clothes in their grief.
• When I was in elementary school, I would be laying on our black couch when I was sick. She used to give me medicine, and I used to love tricking her and pretending to drink it (I would tell her to go to another room and I would pour it in the seat cushion). I have no idea how I ever got well. She was so naïve.
• Mom always, always ate last. Dad was served first, we were served next, and she would eat afterward, quickly, so she could clean up after all of us.

She may drive me crazy, but she's the woman that God gave me as my mom, and I love her.

What parents say

I was in the car with my parents last night, following my daughter K. I was sitting in the front seat with Mom driving, Dad's sitting in the back. Dad's hard of hearing and won't wear his hearing aid because he doesn't like the buzzing noise. So instead, he deals with people shouting to him.

Mom says to me, "Your daughters are precious jewels."
I reply, "Thanks, Mom."
Mom raises her voice to Dad in the back seat, "Did you hear that? I called M and K precious jewels."
Dad says, "WHAT?"
Mom shouts, "PRECIOUS JEWELS!"
Dad replies, "A precious jewel?"
Mom says, "OUR GRANDDAUGHTERS ARE!"
Dad says, "Oh, I thought you were going to buy jewelry. From TV. You know, like QVC." He turns to me, "You know, your mom buys all that stuff."

Oh goodness.

I hate being sick

Sometimes I feel like everything about being sick is abhorrent. I was diagnosed with walking pneumonia this weekend. Had two visits to the ER, one visit to urgent care, and about 100 texts/calls from my doctor sisters.

I could post about how this is the result of the fall, that being sick is not the way it should be and that's why we hate it, and my thoughts on the fact that God doesn't make us sick to keep us in line, as a punishment for something. I believe in all of that but I'm not going to write about it.

Instead, I'm going to complain.

1. I hate going to the dr's office and describing over and over your symptoms to each nurse and the doctor. Then you realize the person you just told your story to most likely only listened to (or understood) maybe half of it.
2. I hate taking medicine. Chewables? Gross, I may as well be eating stomach intestines.
3. I hate feeling like I want to (or need to) stay in one spot during the day.
4. I hate feeling weak like I need to be cared for.
5. I hate being behind on work or things I need to get done.
6. I hate the expenses that come from dr's visits and prescribed medicines.
7. I hate missing things, like your daughter speaking at church or your daughter playing volleyball. So I go anyway.

Okay, now the flip side.

1. I appreciate seeing everyone's concern...texts, calls, so many people care!
2. You're bringing me dinner? I didn't ask for it? Heck yeah!
3. Both of my daughters are super-nice to me, even more than normal.
4. Seeing my sisters get into medical mode as they help me just impresses upon me how professional and smart they really are.
5. I am not sick enough that I can't read. So I'm catching up on some reading.
6. I am watching season 4 of the Good Wife, which I didn't even realize was available!
7. Having time on Mondays to catch up with church business.
8. Mom and Dad came to visit and Mom made Indian food. Pretty cool.
9. Getting time to write on this blog during the daytime.
10. Maybe I need to realize that it's okay to not be so independent and be cared for.
11. License to take naps and not feel guilty. Enough said.

Phew. I had to get that off my chest. Which is still a little weak. Cough, cough.

This is How God Works

I had one of those moments of utter clarity and happiness this week.

My daughters were with me, and I made them a nice dinner of Salisbury Steaks and potatoes with a Caprese salad on the side. Most of the time, K and I have started eating in the den, relaxed, just watching TV. Not sure why, we just do. When M comes over, we actually eat in the dining room and talk.

That night at the dinner table, we discussed school, volleyball, and work. We talked about M's job and how she actually liked working in IT. We discussed K and how she did at the volleyball tournament. Then M said, "Mom, remember when we were younger, and I would tell you something, like a problem? And you always would bring in God to the discussion? I used to hate it when you did that!"

I laughed. "I DID do that, I know you got annoyed!"

M continued, "Now, I'm so glad you did that. I really am, Mom."

WHAT?! She was saying she was glad that I brought up God when she talked about dealing with life?

I couldn't believe it. I have been pondering that this week. Me? Raised in a non-Christian home, having had no Christian training on raising children other than reading Focus on the Family books and a book on discipline by Lisa Whelchel. Yes, I did that. I remember playing a few games that Focus on the Family cooked up...teaching about prizing your body and the "present" that M could offer one day. We played a game where she fell backwards in my arms to teach her about trusting, and who to trust. I doubt M remembers any of that. She does remember doing nightly devotionals and prayers. We did that for a couple of years. She told me last year she never really listened to any of it, and would just get mad because she just wanted to go to bed. K remembers that too. What I did with K was go through the first 15 questions of the kids' catechism while she was taking a bath at the age of 5. I'm not sure if she remembers any of that. Probably should have gone through all of the questions. Apparently, what really took was the fact that when we were discussing the craziness of life when they were teenagers, I brought the subject back to God.

Here's the thing: do you see the complete incongruity in me doing any of this? I declared myself a believer at 27, got divorced at 30, sent the kids through public schools, watched all manner of crazy TV and listened to all kinds of secular music. That is how I know God did the work. It wasn't me. It was God giving me the words, using me as a vessel, helping my children see Him all the more.

"Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." Proverbs 22:6. Apparently this is true even though you may not have been trained yourself.

M telling me that she was glad at what God did was such a huge blessing. Thanks, God.

My heritage: why it kind of doesn't matter and why it does

The Target parking lot is the most unlikely of places to have a life-questioning moment. Yet that's what happened last week.

I was happily walking towards the store, ready to get some cold medicine and chicken soup for my ailing daughter, when I caught the eye of a woman. An Indian woman. She smiled and stared at me.

"Hi! Are you Indian?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Where are you from?" she asked. Immediately, I knew she didn't mean, which neighborhood do you live in, here in Tuscaloosa.
"My parents are from Madras. I mean, Chennai." My usual standard response. The underlying meaning is, I'm not really from India, my parents are.
"Really? I'm Usha."
"Hi, I'm Prathima."
"How long have you lived here?" She was genuinely nice, though inquisitive. Not a surprise.
"Twenty years," I replied.
"Twenty years? I have never seen you at an Indian function." She was taken aback. I had never been to a function. That is what Indians call the parties. FUNCTIONS. Oh no, here we go. I started getting flustered. Should I tell her I went to a cultural event at the University about five years ago and watched some Indians dance? Nope, too far-reaching.
"Well, I'm a little anti-social." Did I really just say that? What words are coming out of my mouth?
"What do you do?" She didn't get that there was a real live woman of Indian descent that lived here in town without going to an Indian function.
"I'm a software developer. For a company downtown." Again, my usual standard non-answer.
"Are you Tamil?" She asked. Another form of categorizing the billion plus Indian people that are currently alive. Dialect.
"Yes." Oops. Wrong answer. I was a little out of my head. "I mean no, I'm Telegu."
"There are lots of Telegu people in town! And you don't go to the functions?" She asked, pleasantly.
I gave up. "I don't really speak the language. I can barely understand my parents when I go visit them." Again, what am I saying? "It was nice to meet you! I will try to find a function!" Empty promises.

Literally, I was confused for about an hour after I talked to her. Why don't I go to functions? I feel mostly comfortable at functions with my sisters and my parents. When I hear Telegu, I listen in closely and feel like it's home. I smile and nod, like I understand all of the specific terms. It's amazing how much you can infer from context. I do struggle with some social mores, because as a divorced woman, I don't know how that might be received. I feel like I should wear a scarlet letter "D" sometimes when I'm talking to Indians.

So here's the truth. My culture is a part of me. Even if I can't make a proper Indian meal easily, even though I need a translator to tell my grandmother what I'm saying, even though I don't wear saris every day, I am Indian. I have the blood, I have the clothes, and I get the culture. I know Indian parents are overbearing, I know that there are places in India that have latrines in the ground, I know that cows roam the streets and everyone's fine with it, I even remember what it's like to ride in a rickshaw.

But...I'm also full-blooded Southern American. I get the accent, I know that the south tends to be slower, heavier, but there are some really healthy people and also some fast-paced businesses here. We love football. We love meat-and-threes. We love the heritage, we love tailgating, we love hunting, we love down-home country people, we are also really smart, and we appreciate great music. I can go on.

I think that I represent what's great about this country. I'm part of the great American melting pot. Sort of part of this country, yet part of another. And it makes me who I am. And it led me, oddly enough, to be adopted into the best family I could ever be a part of: Jesus' family. Sometimes I feel like a woman without a country, but the truth is that I'm part of several countries and that makes me magnificently blessed.

Even if I haven't been to an Indian function in Tuscaloosa.

Dude, You Weren't That Good

I'm not able to sleep. I'm frustrated. And sad. And angry.

How is it that there are churches that can sell people on living their best lives now? How is it that churches can get away with positivity messages? How is it that we are fighting ourselves on the things we should do here on earth to gain access to the kingdom of heaven? "Well done, good and faithful servant" does not mean "Your deeds were good, dude" or "Thanks for getting all of those commandments right." It has to mean, "you believed in me, welcome home."

How do those false teaching churches explain the death of a 20-year-old because of a hiking accident? Or a beloved father and husband of cancer? Or a beautiful baby, born to live only two hours? Or a woman who gets paralyzed from the neck down in a diving accident? Or divorce upon divorce upon divorce? Do they comfort with platitudes that Jesus makes things right? He does, of course. But not here. Not with our weak and frail bodies and minds. Not with this sin in our hearts that never leaves us. I believe that perseverance produces in us a desire for heaven. A longing for it. We will not get heaven here, in this nation, in this state, in this city. Anyone who teaches that is a false prophet. This means you, Bryan Adams.

Give me a church that helps me cope. That tells me it's not up to us. That reminds me it's a temporary sort of happiness I feel about things. Give me repentance, and an acknowledgment of sin, and a belief system that won't crumble when circumstances change. Help me find "joy" that is only achieved by Jesus' work. Then, and only then, I will have no need to turn away because He won't let me.

Day by Day

As I get older, I am more and more enamored of simpler things. The things that are worth spending time on don't have to be amazingly complex, intellectual, metaphysical concepts. I find that I'd rather watch a movie. Or talk to my kids. Or hold hands with someone on a walk. Or read a book.

Yesterday, I got up at six and got ready to move M to her new apartment. She had an 8 am check-in time at her apartment complex. This complex is designed for college students. Furniture is already there. Washer/dryer exists, bathroom for each bedroom. The complex has a pool, volleyball court, soccer area, and a movie theater, for crying out loud. M is going to have three other roommates, two of whom were her high school best friends. I have known the girls and the parents of those girls for fourteen years.

When we got to complex, we waited in line for 45 minutes and filled out paperwork. Then, and only then, did we get the keys. And that started the process for the actual move. We still had a good number of boxes, even with all of the things that the Woodlands provided. Since I sweat amazingly well, I worked up a good one while we moved her in. Took probably two hours. Then we ate pizza with our friends. M and I went back to our house to get some things that we'd missed and we headed to Target to get a few groceries. On the way, M repeated the hilarious story of her interviewing for a job on campus...for tech support. Which she has never done in her life other than setting up her own computer. She impressed them somehow because she got the job while we were driving. She told them how her parents were both in IT and somehow that made them excited. Anyway, she has yet to figure out what to do with this job.

I went out last night with some good friends and my boyfriend to a restaurant called the Bright Star. You feel like you're walking into a bit of history, surrounded by pictures of Greek men who decided to open up a business in Alabama and it has now become the oldest restaurant in Alabama. We had amazing food prepared by the chef from Commander's Palace and topics of conversation that ranged from Buddhism, car accidents, how people met, and how spicy food makes people excited.

Today, I spent the day with K and we shopped and laughed like crazy. I bought lavender aviators, a chunky necklace, and a cream soda-flavored snow cone from Summer Snow. She bought two new shirts, a Camelbak, and a cherry limeade flavored snow cone. We got some nice loot at Walgreens and groceries to make a pizza. Somehow she managed to clean her bathroom and I went for a run on top of it all.

It's weekends like this that I really love. The simplicity of just being together with those we care about means so much.

Death is not the end

This has been an emotionally tough year. Lots of reasons. But most of them don't center around me. The tough times have centered most recently around those I love. And watching it and feeling it is so hard.

Almost three weeks ago, a dear friend of M's went hiking with two friends in Switzerland. He separated from them because he wanted to keep going, went off a beaten path, and fell. He was killed. He was 20.

This friend of M's was a believer. He's in heaven, rejoicing with Jesus. Rejoicing with his nephew who died three years ago of brain cancer. I am close with this boy's sister. I've seen his face in her family pictures for years. His sister is my age and we thought it was so funny that her brother was my daughter's age.

This boy spent the summer with M in Spain and I am so grateful that she knew him.

I have watched them both cry tears of pain and I've cried with them. I read a post yesterday by a mom who lost her baby and how she grieves and recoveres. It seems so appropriate:

"While the agony of missing my son throbs in my mind and my body, while I carry it every moment like a lead weight inside my chest, I still taste the goodness in my life, and am glad of it. But nothing is pure anymore; the bitter and the sweet are entangled forever. I am two people now: one mourns and the other takes the steps that make up life, and sometimes they regard each other with an aching bewilderment. And when the question comes—“How are you?”—they look at each other helplessly, wondering who should answer."

I have felt glimmers of that in my life. Life's bitter moments have led to rejoicing in God's goodness (after some wrestling with Him) but you feel like the bitter is still there, with the sweet. It makes us long for Heaven more, I think, the older we get. And sometimes, those that are really special get to go and be with Jesus even sooner.

Definition

The church visiting that I've done (only two, let's be real here) has been very eye-opening in many ways. It's forced me to reflect on many things I sort of absorbed into my consciousness, things I took for granted, and things I need to make sure are valid.

I didn't realize how much of my church has been wrapped into my identity. I have always wanted to be part of a big family, part of a place where I'm accepted for who I am and for what I believe without being too judged, and I've felt that at church. But more than that, my church has also defined my belief system about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, and I have been challenging myself on what surrounds that. Churches can easily say the right things on the "What We Believe" or "About Us" portion of their website, and I want to make sure that when I go there in person, that what they say matches what they believe.

Things like:

1) Jesus saves. ie, Salvation.
2) God sent Jesus to save us. ie Justification/Redemption.
3) God sent the Holy Spirit to guide us, to change us, and to make us more like Him. ie Sanctification.
4) God gave us His word to teach us. ie, the inerrancy of scripture.

But even more than that...

5) What is the belief system on sin and what is taught on it?
6) What does church membership mean to another church?
7) Does God do the work in our hearts, and what is our part?
8) What is the narrow path? Is the easy road taken in teaching/preaching?
9) Is the teaching man-centered or Jesus-centered?
10) How is the church organized? Is it inward or outward?
11) Are the youth taught with depth about why they should abstain from sin, ie smoking/drinking/sex/swearing/disobedience? Why does all of that matter? Is it just obedience or is there more to it?
12) How do members proclaim their love, their joy for Jesus? Where is it on Sunday morning? Where is it during the week? Where is it when tragedy strikes?

My Niece's 1st Birthday

About a month ago, K & I flew to Chicago to celebrate my niece's first birthday.

There was shopping.
There was biking.
There was sightseeing.
There was talking/laughing.
There was playing with the niece.

K and I spent the first day out at the mall in Westmont while my sister and my parents went to buy a new car. I think we got the better end of the deal, even if we did walk a lot at the outdoor mall. We ate at Maggiano's, shopped at a lot of clothing stores, and just overall had a good time together. After lunch, we went home and helped get ready for the party. We actually trimmed bushes outside, helped blow up balloons, and made sure all the food items (popcorn, rice krispie treats, etc) were ready. My sister had planned a "bubbles and balloons" theme and really went all out. She'd hired people to put a tent in the backyard and had a lot of food and fun planned. Speaking of fun, K and I also took our first bike rides on my sister's bikes. Those were (quite literally) the best bikes I've ever ridden in my entire life. Easy to ride, no gear changing even on smaller hills, and a smooth experience. I even made K put on a helmet!

On my niece's birthday, it was a madhouse getting ready because the party was at 10 am. So we got catered food, finished decorations, and made sure she had the right outfit on. My sister hired a balloon specialist/tattoo artist; someone who could not only create balloon animals, but also put tattoos on kids that wanted to look like a rebel without a cause. My sister started noticing texts around 9 that people were cancelling...so we had way too much food, but what can you do? People began arriving, and around 30 minutes later, the bottom fell out - a thunderstorm came through. We all huddled in the tent watching the heavy shower around us. Through it all, my sister kept smiling and visiting. She was amazing! The rain stopped, we all ate, and then we decided to let my niece partake of her birthday cake. At that point, her bottom fell out: she began screaming while crying and wouldn't stop. Watching your niece do that while being force-fed birthday cake just makes you want to hold her and run away. She got cake everywhere, even while crying, which was pretty funny. My sister whisked her inside to clean her up while the kids ran around blowing bubbles and popping their balloon animals in the grass. Afterward, a lot of people left while some stragglers stayed, went inside, and played with babies. After everyone left, I would like to say that I went upstairs and took a nap, but I think I just relaxed and we went biking later on. We did go out to eat for dinner at Houlihan's and watched my niece devour tomato soup (I ate a great wrap sandwich). K spent some time at Forever 21 which she didn't get to do the previous day. How much shopping could she do? I was amazed. She is not a shopper.

We all went to Chicago the next day (minus my niece). We stopped at the Bean and the fountains (with faces of people  on them) first, watched a kid doing a street dance, and headed to the "Taste of Randolph" food festival in downtown Chicago. We actually rode a bus there, which was interesting because it was the first time I'd taken public transportation there. We got there without incident, but it helped that we had a seasoned Chicago traveler (my sister) to tell us when to get off the bus. It was pretty hot, so we walked slowly through the crowds and bought food from vendors at reduced prices. I got an amazing tomato salad, fish tacos, and some chips and guacamole. While it was great to get all of this food, it was really crowded and there weren't a lot of places to sit. So we left after that and took a bus down to the Pier, where we walked, ate ice cream, and watched the sailboats head into the Bay. We left for home, where we (once again) went biking!

On the last day, we relaxed for the most part. K and I went to a downtown area where we browsed some really cute stores and got some gourmet popcorn. We spent the day playing with the niece and hanging out with my sister. When you have a sister who is as hard-working, dynamic, and caring as mine, that's what you want to do.

The Church, Part 2

There has been so much going on in the last month, not from an "activities" standpoint, but from a "thinking" standpoint, that I have been fairly quiet. Some of my thoughts are related to matters that are confidential, and some are related to matters that I was afraid would be misinterpreted. Thus, the quiet. I've decided to start thinking aloud again at least about one of the matters.

I have been struggling with my break-up, and after discussing the situation with the man I'd been dating, the root of the matter really came down to one thing for me: what church we'd go to. I've been discussing this matter with people I trust. I find that the counsel of wise believers is worth so much - especially when it's from those that you've respected, not just from a "they're smart" perspective, but from people who live godly lives and have studied with you, prayed with you, and cared for you. Ultimately, what I realized is that in two to six years, my children will be grown, probably moved out of Tuscaloosa, and hopefully worshipping in a gospel-preaching church. And while my church family has been my spiritual family, there have been times of loneliness because of being single. It is hard to be single in a small church. No, everyone is not married. We actually have a number of single women, and a few single men. However, when I think of my future, I'd like to be married. I'd like to walk into a marriage knowing what it truly represents: a mirror of Christ and the church. Christ serving the church. And, God's sanctifying grace to the church because of Christ - which represents how sanctification occurs during marriage. These are all concepts that I didn't have any idea about in my first marriage.

So, my thought process followed, if I was dating a godly man who liked the preaching of my church but not the overall worship service, then wouldn't it make sense to see if there was a church that suited both of us? This proved to be much larger of a question than I'd ever realized. Because with this question, you start thinking about what's important in a church. Things like:

What are the basics of belief you won't give on?
How does a church preach on sin?
What does church membership look like?
What does "joy" look like in worship?
What is done in the liturgy (Lord's prayer, reading of scripture, communion, benediction)?

Since I've only ever belonged to one church, I have taken much of what I've done there in the worship for granted. But I think there is much more to church than worship, although that's the first place to start. It's also about the underlying teachings and how they affect our lives from day-to-day. It's about how the members fellowship with one another. And it's about accepting that it's a body of sinners, and in that body, accepting each other's sin and working through differences can also sanctify us. It makes us more like Christ. Isn't that amazing?

So it's with those thoughts (which I've prayed about) that I asked myself, is there another church in Tuscaloosa that might work for me AND the man I'm dating, and if so, what would that mean?

Anxiety. Worry. Mistrust. What to Do?

I have other things to write about, but I must admit I've been victim to these emotions for a variety of reasons lately. I love to talk about my worry-wart mother who will sit by the phone and fret if her daughters don't answer the phone. One time, before I had a cell phone that I carried everywhere, Mom tried reaching me at my house for a solid day. Then, when she didn't hear from me, she called my friend David, who tried to tell her that he was sure I was fine. Then, she called the police. I'd been travelling for the day and got home right before they showed up. What a day.

Yet, she's not alone in her worry. I have it too. I must admit, being a mom shoots the worry thermometer through the roof. No longer can you be carefree, have no one dependent on you, and be ready to drop and do something at a moment's notice. Even worse, having someone dependent on you that you love most desperately makes you anxiously think that you could do something to affect that person's life negatively. Or, you just worry that they will get kidnapped, traumatically hurt, or doomed to a life of unhappiness because of something completely out of your control.

"Do not be anxious, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God." The Bible clearly has a remedy for anxiety and worry. Also, it clearly labels worry for what it really is: sin. Knowing all of that, I still do it. I know plenty of Christians who do it.

Why do I have this? Lack of trust, is the only answer. A lack of trust over who has me in His hands. Even when I tell myself to be patient, and tell myself that He is the there, or sometimes five minutes after I've prayed. I turn my head and I question who I am or what will happen with a situation. Quick as you can say "hot dog," I flip 180 degrees from peace to strain. I want to ponder my worry, turn it over in my mind, or discuss it verbally with someone who might tell me what to do. Immediately. That never happens.

The thing about it is that I know it for what it is. And that's a huge boon. I know what to do.  I know who I am, in Christ. And I hope one day, when I'm old and grey, that I'll be that much closer to "no worries." For good.

Wrestling like Jacob

I must admit why I'm feeling like Jacob this week. I have been feeling quite convicted and confronted by my own sin. Wrestling, wondering, pondering...Jacob did this, wrestled with someone from God one night at a place they called "Peniel."

First, I found myself last Sunday posting pictures of M's journey to Spain. I have to admit the first reason I did it is because I saw another mother post pictures of her child on a missions trip to Africa. I thought, "Oh, I need to do that! People will want to see some of the pictures I've been seeing!" Secretly, my heart was feeling competitive and proud over something that I really should not be taking credit for. My daughter's heart and why she went on her summer trip was entirely shaped by God. Her experience is her own. And I realized later that it might not be safe for me to post those pictures that place her in a specific location. Really, the whole desire to post the pictures, while seemingly innocent, had undertones of sin.

Next, a dear friend of mine got engaged this week. I love this woman. She got a divorce less than two years ago when her husband just decided he no longer wanted to be married. She walked through a horrific time, thankfully with her family's help. And just this week, she proclaimed her deep happiness at being engaged to a new love, a godly man. I can't tell you how happy I am for her...and how jealous I felt when I first learned of it. It was disgusting. Why didn't I have that? What was wrong with me that I cannot seem to find anyone that wants to marry me? This sin of self-pity was ridiculous, human, fallen, and not worthy of the grace I have been extended.

Finally, I've been talking to my ex-boyfriend some. We have both felt the pain of loss and have discussed if we should get back together. It has given me some ups and downs. One of the "downs" is that I realized what an idol I have made in my heart over being in a relationship. It was as if I am not perfectly accepted, perfectly justified, and perfectly made righteous as a single (not dating). My focus and desire has not entirely been on glorifying God. And while this may have been okay 10 years ago as a new Christian, I have walked this path long enough to know I am being pruned. God is reminding me of who comes first, and that ultimately it's not my work, my kids, my romantic life...it's really only Him.

Get me some bows

I really badly want to post about something happy, something positive. Unfortunately I am not in the place where that comes easily. I have felt of late like Jacob in the Old Testament, wrestling with God, and I'm just waiting for the permanent limp, whatever it may be. Yeah, not very sunny, but necessary.

So, moving on, I'm going to post about NCAA softball. I'm watching these girls that are so good at what they do, that are so intense and have fought so hard, try to get a national championship. I have great admiration for that. The whole idea that you can be the best in the world (or the nation) at something has always fascinated me. What drives them? What motivates them to be the best? Do they always know they will be the best? Admittedly, I'm sort of rooting for Oklahoma because of everything they've been through lately. Well, except if they were to play Alabama (which they won't, because Alabama lost to Tennessee).

I'm also amused that these girls who have dug deep and played with such conviction have these elaborate bows that they wear while they're playing. Girls just want to be girls, even when they are sweaty and dirty and playing hard.

Maybe it's time to get out my own bows.

In a Mirror Dimly

Is it true that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I hear this expression and it just confuses me. Because when I am going through the loss, the expression feels like utter crap. I don't know if that's because I'm too sensitive, because I feel like relationships in general are just hard and many lead to loss, or because I dwell too much.

When I try to find truth, I go to one place. And of course there is one book that really dwells on love. 1 Corinthians...

13 If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have aprophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, bso as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 cIf I give away all I have, and dif I deliver up my body to be burned,1 but have not love, I gain nothing.

4 eLove is patient and fkind; love gdoes not envy or boast; it his not arrogant 5 or rude. It idoes not insist on its own way; it jis not irritable or resentful;2 6 it kdoes not rejoice at wrongdoing, but lrejoices with the truth. 7 mLove bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, eendures all things.

8 Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For nwe know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but owhen the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. 11 When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. 12 For pnow we see in a mirror dimly, but qthen face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as rI have been fully known.

13 So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Paul, by God's grace, shares with us what love is. This man, who never got married, but had plenty of cohorts in Christ, tells us what love is, and he defines it by telling us of the love of Christ. We will have nothing if we cannot love, he says in v2. An unstated conclusion looking at v7 is that love is painful, it's messy, and there will be suffering with it. I love this: "when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away." Paul is not describing love we can manufacture, but still, we can strive towards it with the Holy Spirit working in us. And the love in all of the verses applies to our families, our marriages, our friends. While there are differences between eros, agape, storge, and phileo love, we still have to remember that in all of those cases, somehow God uses our own imperfect love and draws us closer to Him. And although we cannot practice a perfect love here, I do believe we can grow in the qualities he lists the longer we walk with the Lord, avoid hiding ourselves in a cocoon, and allow those experiences and relationships to make us sanctified.

I don't think we need to force relationships or try to be friends with those that we have nothing in common with, or be in a romantic relationship with someone we're not attracted to. But when we're in one, I think we need to be all in, according to these verses. Painful as it can be. So, I think it's a yes, according to Paul, it's better to love (as God told us to, not another kind) and to have experienced loss. We have to give of ourselves in our relationships, and give with love, and lose in love, because of one simple truth: it looks like it's biblical.

This is precious

My daughter in Spain

 

Life goings on

I spent mother's day weekend with my girls at my in-laws. We went boating, paddle boating, the girls even went waterskiing, and we just enjoyed each other. We even had a family dance party. I also ran a 10K! For the very first time in my life. That was an adrenaline rush.

I unsuccessfully tried to sell signs for TCHS volleyball.

I succesfully sold some hair ties for M's missions trip this summer.

I went to a graduation party for one of my friends' sons and reflected on how fast kids grow up.

I signed about 10 check-in notes so K could skip school because they weren't doing anything. She finished her last exam today and is sort of ready for summer.

I went to dinner at a restaurant where K has started a new job as a hostess. She makes a great first impression.

I still struggle with not being in a dating relationship, and it goes in waves, but I asked for prayer this week at fellowship. I am deeply glad for the prayer.

I am sad and happy for my daughter M who's going to Spain in two days for this missions trip. She is not just growing up, she's there.

And that's how it goes.

The least of these

I'm ashamed to admit I was once "pro-choice."

When you are indoctrinated with what you are fed by the media, that a woman's body is her business, you tend to believe it. When you realize that women who get raped may not want those babies, you think it makes sense. And when you don't examine those fetal cells in a woman's body too closely, you don't think about when life begins.

Then I got pregnant. And I knew the baby I carried was alive.

Then I started meeting women who miscarried. And the grief they experienced was akin to losing a child.

Then I met women who gave birth knowing that their child would have birth defects or would even die. And I knew there was a purpose behind the beauty of creation.

How does anyone hide from details around these precious babies before they are born? Even if you are raped, even if you believe that a woman's body is important, shouldn't you value the baby if it could be a woman one day?

I read with interest today about Kermit Gosnell's conviction today on three counts of first-degree murder, 24 counts of felony, and 227 misdemeanor charges. I am convinced that man is a monster. It is hard for me to pray for him, but I feel like I must...that at least one day he is brought to justice and knows what occurred. It boggles my mind what happened in that "clinic" of his and it makes me physically ill.

Let us pray for, speak up for, and fight for "the least of these."

Ever paid attention to Ephesians 1?

From 1 Ephesians

3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. 4 For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love   5 he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will-- 6 to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace 8 that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. 9 And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, 10 to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment--to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.11 In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, 12 in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory.13 And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit,14 who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God's possession--to the praise of his glory.

These verses are jam packed with meaning. Literally.

My sweet friend Kristina told me recently she's been listening to Mark Driscoll's series on Ephesians. Mark pastors Mars Hill church out in Seattle. God has used him in Seattle greatly, and they've been able to plant several more churches. Mars Hill takes seriously the spreading of the gospel and making disciples in the nations. They talk about it every week in the intro to the sermons, so they must be really serious.

I really want to dislike Mark Driscoll. He seems extremely confident, know-it-all, even. I'm sure he has trouble with humility (and yes, it takes one to know one). One of those born leaders, quite passionate about his calling and doing what he thinks is right. Likes to yell about things when he feels something very strongly. I do dislike public figures that tend to have some of these character traits, probably without good reason. Anyway, I listened to his sermon series on marriage, men, and women last year. He definitely knows his scripture, and extrapolates application pretty well, for the most part. Sometimes I think there is too much extrapolation. In listening to his sermons, he preaches for what I think is a long time. Literally, the Ephesians series has averaged an hour a sermon. Without the liturgy. Regardless, I have to give him credit. They guy knows his stuff. And he's funny to boot.

I listened today to the sermon on the verses above. Mark was spot on. He covered being "in Christ", predestination, being adopted into God's kingdom, being holy and being marked with the Holy spirit. Really good. Give it a listen here. If you have an hour, that is.