Surprise Inspiration

Sometimes inspiration comes when I least expect it or when I'm not looking for it. It announces its presence in an unassuming way, giving me pause to consider what is and is not important in my life. It can come in the form of a hug from a little girl named Ellie on a Sunday morning at church whose eyes light up when she sees me and runs into my arms. It can come in the form of the wagging tail of my faithful dog as she greets me when I return home after a long, hard day at work. It can come in the form of reading a page-turner book that gives me escape from my daily routine and transports me to another time and place. Or it can come, as it did in the last few weeks, in the form of a 48-year-old woman who became an overnight YouTube sensation.

The first time I viewed Susan Boyle singing "I Dreamed a Dream" on the talent show Britain's Got Talent, I cried like a baby. In fact, I've watched that video over and over, and each time, tears well up in my eyes as her beautiful voice touches my soul. But it's more than Susan's voice that brings inspiration to me, so much more. It is the story of her life ... deemed "learning disabled" as a child and subsequently teased as she grew up; taking care of her elderly, ailing mother for many years while sacrificing her own dreams and desires; never marrying, now living alone with her cat, Pebbles. Her appearance, her humble life, her unassuming manner all contribute to build my admiration for the courage and inner strength that she obviously possesses.

It was Susan's attempt to fulfill a promise she made to her dying mother to "make something of herself" that spurred her to audition for the talent show, and the rest, as they say, is history. The judges, the people in the audience, and those of us who watched the video thought that Susan was a joke and that her performance would be a train wreck. And then ... she smiled, opened her mouth, and sang.

Susan came in second in the competition, but by all accounts, her life will never be the same. She will have a recording contract, and she will sell millions of CDs. She will get a book deal, and someone will make a movie of her life. The meager success she hoped for when she auditioned will pale in comparison to what is coming her way. I hope that Susan realizes that her voice is wonderful, beautiful, and inspirational. But what I truly hope that Susan knows and embraces is that it is her ... her life, her inner spirit, her courage ... that has brought inspiration to millions of people around the world.

So, Susan, from this 49-year-old single gal who needed an extra kick to follow her own dreams ... thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing you with me!

Reconnecting

My daughter recently told me that the "old" people like me have taken over Facebook from the younger generation. I don't know how I feel about called old at a youthful 49 years old, but I will admit and embrace the fact that I do enjoy Facebook immensely.

It brings a smile to my face each time I get a friend request, but I feel an extra joy when that request is from someone whom I haven't seen or talked to for many years. Reconnecting and catching up with friends from my high school and college years is just plain old fun. Well, most of the time. There is a sadness in hearing about marriages that have dissolved or spouses lost through death or friends who have passed on or are sick or have lost their jobs. But for the most part, connecting with old friends brings an undeniable joy to my heart.

I've often wondered if we will recognize one another in heaven, and I don't have an answer to that age-old question. I would like to believe that we will, and the joy of reunions here on earth will pale in comparison, I'm sure. I can only imagine the emotion I will feel when I see my mom and dad again or my brother Jerry or my grandparents.

So here's to Facebook and to reconnecting and reminiscing and remembering. And here's to what will come one day ... I can only imagine indeed.

Faithful Friends

I've been blessed through the years with a multitude of friends. Some of those have been friends for many years, and some have been more recently added to my quiver of blessings. Some have been friends during times of grief; some during times of great happiness or success; and some have gone the distance through every event of my life.

For this post, I want to focus on one particular friend who is very special to me. Her name is Debbie, and we've know each other for almost 20 years. I met Debbie when we moved to Kansas City while attending a women's Bible study at the church I currently attend. We felt an instant kinship, since we are both Midwest transplants who are very much still Southern girls at heart. Our sons are the same age, so we also bonded on a "mom" level, too.

We've been through a lot together, Debbie and I, and as I sat next to her in church this morning, I realized how blessed I am to count her among my closet friends. She has a heart of gold and derives tremendous joy through giving to others. There are too many times when Debbie has selflessly given to me to even begin to list them all. One in particular, however, I will never forget. When I had to pack my mother's possessions after she passed, Debbie was the friend who met me at Mom's and helped me through that task. When I would get choked up, it was Debbie who would recall something humorous about Mom and make me smile. I will never forget that day, and I will never forget Debbie's selfless love as she helped me make it through.

So many times, we take our friends for granted, and we forget that they are truly gifts from God. So, thank you, Debbie, for all that you mean to me and the way you make me smile. And, thank you, God, for blessing me with one of the best friends a Southern gal could ever ask for!

The Best Medicine

Sometimes I wake myself up laughing from a dream I am having. Sometimes those dreams are, quite simply, hilarious. Recently, I had to leave work and come home because I was sick with a stomach bug that my daughter generously shared with me. Upon arriving home, I immediately took some medicine and went straight to bed. Accompanied by Julie and Peanut, the resident hounds of my house, I settled in for a deep and cozy "sick" sleep.

Several hours later, my daughter arrived home from work and came into my room to check on me. When she walked into my room, she could hear me laughing out loud. As I awakened to her asking, "Mom, what are you laughing about?" I realized that I was in the midst of a quite hysterical dream involving my son, Brad. Fighting to control my laughter, I managed to gasp out the answer to her question.

"I was dreaming," I said. "I was dreaming that Brad was dating an Oompa Loompa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." And I then proceeded to guffaw in a most unstoppable manner. I promptly slipped back into the land of dreams and after only a few short minutes of sleep, woke myself up laughing once again at the sight of Brad and his Oompa Loompa date.

A dream such as this always causes me to wonder how and why my mind conjures up such images while I sleep. Brad has been dating a lovely young woman for over a year, and she in no way, shape, form or fashion resembles an Oompa Loompa. And I haven't watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in quite a long time. It sure makes me wonder if I should ever take that type of medication again! When I finally woke up and got out of bed, I felt miraculously better. No rolling stomach, no tiredness, no headache.

I've often heard it said that laughter is the best medicine, and in my case, I believe this to be true. In fact, perhaps my Oompa Loompa dream entered my sleeping mind for that very reason ... to make me feel better and to be medicine for my ailing body.

I'm glad that I serve a God who sees fit to bestow upon us humans the gifts of humor and laughter and fun. So, laugh it up, whether you're awake or asleep, and breathe a thank you to the God of the universe Who may just be laughing along with you!

Who's In Charge?

According to the calendar, it is spring. You know, the time of year when flowers bloom and warmer temperatures arrive. And yet, yesterday, here in the Land of Oz, it snowed. In fact, it snowed a lot. While we saw four to six inches around Kansas City, some parts of Kansas received more than 20 inches of snow. And the weather guys here in KC are saying we may see snow a couple of times again next week.

When I first moved to Kansas City, I loved the snow. I grew up in southern Tennessee where snow was a rarity, and when it did snow (or even flurry, for that matter), the entire city would shut down. Being a stay-at-home for those first years after moving to the Midwest allowed me to continue my "don't leave the house when it snows" Tennessee upbringing. I would go to the grocery store and stock up on all the essentials just in case we were trapped at home for weeks. I would cook and build a fire in the fireplace and play with my children and enjoy the wintry weather.

Now, as a single gal with grown children, I am not as fond of the snow as I once was. I dread the days when I have to drive in to work with snow or freezing rain falling from a gray sky. My 50-mile round trip becomes a treacherous and slow trek when winter decides to make its snowy announcement. And when that announcement comes when the calendar says it should be spring, I am not a happy camper, not in the least.

As I watched the snow fall yesterday, and yes, it was beautiful with large fluffy flakes, I couldn't help but think that the calendar is not in charge when it comes to weather and timing. Weathermen can predict and anticipate and plan and try to gauge the various types of weather-related events, but it is the God of the universe Who is ultimately in control of not only the weather, but, well, the universe and all it contains.

Pondering God's control of the skies and all the universe gave me pause and caused me to give thanks for His sovereign power, not only of the great wonders in this world but also of the smallest details of my own life. Each of us goes through different seasons in life ... some short and some long, some easy and some hard, some joyful and some filled with sorrow. How thankful I am that God is in control of every season, every change, every event in my life.

So when it snows in spring or is warm in winter, look up and give thanks ... thanks to the Ruler of all things.

Friendship Shopping

So what was your first thought when you read the title of this blog entry? "Oh, poor gal, she's looking for a friend." Or maybe, "Is she fed up with her current friends and ready to search for new ones?" Or even, "Man, she's got nerve to announce that she's shopping for friends!" Quite the opposite, actually.

Last Friday, I had to stop on my way home from work and purchase office supplies for my company at Sam's Warehouse. I needed to go two weeks ago, and I had managed to put it off. You see, I really dislike shopping, even when I'm spending someone else's money (as is the case when I purchase items for work). I seriously would order everything online that I need if I could and have it delivered to my front door. So, stopping on a Friday evening and shopping with the other thousands of people who were present is a true testament to my willingness to go the extra mile for my job.

As I was wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the things I needed to purchase, I became more and more frustrated with each passing minute. Too many people, too many items I couldn't find, too many reasons to run for home. And then, in an instant, everything changed. As I stood gazing at the aluminum foil, a sweet Southern accent filled the air. A voice that made me feel at home, comfortable and loved. I turned my head and saw my former neighbors, Cindy and Perry, and as always happens when I see them, my heart filled with warmth and happiness. They are Kansas City transplants like me, being born and raised in Arkansas.

I truly believe that Cindy and Perry are two of the finest people to walk this earth, and I've always considered myself immensely blessed that God placed them in my life. They stood behind me through my long and difficult divorce, and they were there for my children and me in the years that followed. They helped me in ways that I'm sure they aren't even aware of, from Perry teaching Matt to shave to Cindy watching my children so that I could get out of the house for a much-needed break. As my Daddy used to say, "They are just good people, salt of the earth, they are."

Calling out, "Hey!" as all true Southerners know is the only real form of acceptable greeting, we hugged and began to talk. As we stood and chatted about Perry's recent retirement, our children, their grandchildren, my book, gardening, work and all sorts of other things, I found myself happy and thankful for this divine appointment right in the middle of Sam's. My recent fuming and fussing about shopping and how much I disliked the experience turned into a time of laughter and love and friendship.

I hope I learned a lesson last Friday ... that joy in life can come in the most unexpected places if I'm willing to look for it. It doesn't have to be some spectacular event or production that imparts that joy; it can be a chance encounter in front of the aluminum foil at Sam's. It really can.

And So It Goes

Every day, we hear about events that are occurring in our country or around the world. It's one thing to learn about the state of the economy, job losses and home foreclosures through the Internet, television or newspaper, but it's another thing altogether when you watch close friends and family lose their jobs and homes, and face trying to find employment with the economy in such a critical condition.

Last week, the company where I work had to make the hard decision to eliminate several positions. While I understand the need to make adjustments to accommodate the changing business climate, I couldn't hold back the tears as I watched coworkers whom I love and care about packing up their personal belongings and walking to their cars. In the blink of an eye, their worlds had been turned upside down and their lives changed in a drastic way.

Over the last week, several of those friends have contacted me to ask for my help on writing or editing their resumes. As I spoke with them and searched for the words of comfort, hope and support that they desperately need at this time in their lives, I felt as though anything I might say was shallow and meaningless. I still have my job; I can still pay my mortgage on my home; I can still buy groceries without fearing that someday soon I may not be able to do so.

The general prayers that I have offered up over the last months for those caught in the economic crisis have suddenly changed. They are personal prayers now, prayers for close friends, for those whom I love. As I prayed yesterday for these friends, something struck me. God calls me to a personal faith, to a faith that gets involved, to a faith that is willing to put everything I am and have on the line. God wants me to live out a dangerous faith and to love with a crazy love.

As I see people losing the "things" in their lives, I'm reminded of Peter who left everything he owned, gave up all he had, to follow Jesus. As the world around us is spiraling downward, perhaps God is calling those of us who believe in Him to be willing to sacrifice all in order to help those who are in need. It's a time to pull together, to live out our faith in a dangerous way, to love in a crazy manner, to follow wherever He may lead.

God bless you and keep you close in His loving hands, and may He light a fire of compassion in the hearts of those who call Him Lord.

Losing Myself

Many weekends, I travel to various locations to speak at women's retreats after working a full-time job during the regular work week. I truly enjoy these weekend events and know that being a speaker, a vessel for God to use, is my true calling in life. My regular job is one that pays the bills and one that I enjoy, but there's a difference between a job and a calling.

While I love traveling and sharing with other sisters in the Lord, I also love the weekends when I am home, caught up on all of my household chores and can just relax. Sometimes I read a book, spend time writing or simply watch a movie or two. There is nothing like losing myself in a good story or movie, allowing my mind to become a part of what I am reading or watching.

This has been one such weekend, and I was pleasantly surprised to find one of my favorite movies on television last night. I never tire of watching the film, Dances With Wolves, even though I am able to quote a great deal of the dialogue before it is spoken. Each time I watch the film, I always get lost in the story of boundaries being broken, of love, of acceptance, of family and friendship.

I think I would do well to live such a simple life, a life unencumbered by the trappings that the world teaches are so important for success today. I think I would do well to let God lead my every step and not the influences that surround me each day. I think I would do well to love my family with a pure and faithful love, one that would lay down my very life for them. I think I would do well to treasure my friends and to value the gift of their friendship in a true and honorable way.

Near the close of Dances With Wolves, as Kevin Costner prepares to leave the village, he and Kicking Bird say their goodbyes with these words. "We come far, you and me. I will not forget you." Those words, as they always do after watching the movie, will roll around in my mind for several days as I think of the goodbyes I've said to friends through the years.

So, here's to quiet weekends at home, to good movies and old friends, and to the times when I can slow down and lose myself for a little while. And one more thing ... here's to popcorn, one of God's greatest gifts!

Billy Goats and Tomatoes

For many years, I've thought that I would like to live in Alaska or Colorado when I retire. I just celebrated my 49th birthday on December 26th, and I've changed my mind about where I want to spend my golden years.

Winters in Kansas are often a mixed bag when it comes to weather, and this winter has been no exception. One week in early December, we had snow, freezing rain and temperatures in the 60s all within the course of 36 hours. Believe it or not, that kind of wild swing in the weather is not an unusual occurrence here, but after 19 years of living on the plains, I find that the drastic weather changes have begun to affect me more as I grow older.

Climbing out of my warm bed on a cold and snowy morning means aches and pains in my muscles and bones, and the thought of spending hours in traffic on my morning commute is not a pleasant thought at all. I find myself wishing to live in a spot that is 80 degrees year-round, perhaps near an ocean with mountains in the background.

I remember my dad talking about heaven as he aged, often mentioning that heaven for him would be a farm with ripening tomatoes and perhaps a couple of billy goats grazing on lush green grass. He never spoke of having a mansion in heaven, just a little log cabin on a few acres of land. I didn't understand when I was young why Daddy didn't dream of a large crown filled with various jewels or of a mansion built of gold, but as I have grown older, I completely understand his view of heaven. Though he had one of the truest hearts of service I've ever seen, he never wanted the "finer" things in life. He lived simply, loved tremendously and served tirelessly. He understood that things never bring happiness, but that God and his fellow man provided real and lasting contentment.

So, as the weather folks are forecasting another snowy morning, my prayer is that God would grant me a heart like Daddy had ... a heart of love, a heart of service and a heart of contentment. And maybe, just maybe, a couple of billy goats and a few tomatoes when I get to heaven.

The Road to Bethlehem

The road to Bethlehem. Over 2000 years ago, angels, kings and shepherds made their way down the road to Bethlehem. In my mind, I picture that road as a dusty, winding road, perhaps difficult to travel. These shepherds, these kings, these angels – why did they journey down that road? They went to Bethlehem to herald a king. A king born in a humble manner – in a wooden manger, in a stable. A king born to simple parents – a virgin mother and a father who was a carpenter by trade. A king born to be their deliverer, their hope, their blood atonement, their salvation.

This king, this baby in the manger, this carpenter, this brother, this perfect man, this Son of God, has drawn many down the road to Bethlehem over the course of time. Some walk that road out of curiosity, some out of contempt, some out of fear, some out of need, some out of deep hurt or pain. Some come seeking a friend, some an escape, some a provider – but all come in need of a Savior.

I traveled that road to Bethlehem only a few years ago. For me, it was a dark and dusty journey. A journey that spanned my lifetime. A journey that was filled with steep embankments and sharp edges. A journey that passed through shadowy valleys and deeply rutted canyons. A journey that snatched me from the very jaws of death and hell. Truly a journey that led me to that manger, that stable, that King Eternal.

I had spent my life traveling down a different road, a wandering road, a deadly road. I was empty inside, searching for something or someone to fill that emptiness, that ache deep within my soul. The road I followed was dangerous, filled with sin and despair. My life had become a meaningless existence, defined by my reckless defiance of all things pure or holy. Through the love and faithfulness of three close friends, friends who were devoted followers of this King, I finally arrived at the place of the manger. Battered, bruised and broken, convinced that I could never be forgiven, stripped of all my pride, desperate, desolate, hopeless – I came to the manger.

You see, on a cold and rainy Monday, I met the King. The King who was born in the manger, who lived and walked and worked and loved and taught among us. The King who healed the sick, caused the blind to see, made the deaf to hear, changed water into wine, cast out demons, the King who raised the dead. On that Monday, that same King stood before me with outstretched hands, hands that bore the marks of another piece of wood – the cross on which He hung and died for me.

And the King asked me to make a choice. A choice to give Him my life. To believe in the King of the manger; to trust, to trust in the King of the cross; to follow the King of the resurrection. A choice – belief or unbelief. A choice – life or death. A choice – heaven or hell.

I chose the King. That cold and rainy Monday, I took the final steps along the road to Bethlehem, and I met Him. The King. Jesus. Lord of Lords, King of Kings and Prince of Peace. He's transformed my life, He's renewed my mind, and He's given me a whole new heart. And now, He stands waiting, hands outstretched, heart filled with love, ready to change you. On that Monday, I fell on my face and I made my choice. Now, in this moment, if you haven't met the King, if you haven't truly met the King, the choice is yours.