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.

Mother and Son

My son Brad is a second-year film student at The University of Kansas, and he truly loves making films. I should have known years ago when he would spend hours making up stories and adventures that he would someday parlay his storytelling talent into creating films. There is no doubt in my mind that he will make his mark in the world by sharing the gift that God has blessed him with.

His most recent project is a video promo for my book that he has posted on YouTube and GodTube. It took some serious persuading from Brad to get me to step out of my comfort zone and into the realm of the World Wide Web. It began in April with a website dedicated to my speaking ministry, something Brad assures me I should have done years ago. Then came joining several online speakers' bureaus, and having my book on Amazon.com. And now, my talented and visionary son has convinced me to allow him to use his talent to create the book video promo and post it for all the world to see. Talk about teaching an old dog new tricks!

To say that I'm proud of Brad would be an understatement, but not because of his vision in the films that he produces. I'm proud of Brad for the man that he is becoming, for the love he gives so freely to me, for his kind and caring heart, and for his selfless generosity to others. I look forward with great anticipation as to how God's plan for Brad's life will play out in the future.

If you're so inclined, you should check out the video. Just go to YouTube.com or GodTube.com, and search for Lord, Help! Here Comes Mom! Trust me on this one ... it's well worth the five minutes it takes to view it.

And Brad ... I have a feeling that your little Granny would be real proud of you, too!

Turkey, Taters and Gravy

For many years, Thanksgiving was an extra-special holiday for me. Since I moved away from my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, almost 20 years ago, Thanksgiving was always the holiday when we traveled back home to spend the week with our extended family. I would look forward to the trip for weeks beforehand.

As my parents aged, the trips became even more special with each passing year. We would all gather at Mom and Dad's for turkey with all the fixings. I especially looked forward to Mom's pumpkin pie, made from my grandmother's recipe. I remember one year in particular when Mom forgot to add the sugar to the pies, and when we all kept saying that they tasted different, Mom's laughter rang through the kitchen as she told us that she forgot the sugar. By the time she realized her mistake, the pies were almost done, and she thought she could pass them off with none of us the wiser.

Now that my children are all grown and have begun their own lives, we didn't travel back to Tennessee last year and we won't be going this year. In fact, this year, only one of my children will be home for the holiday. Matt and Becca have to work and/or are on call for their counseling responsibilities, so they can't come home. Meghann is traveling to her boyfriend's family's and will be gone for most of the week. Brad has a special girl in his life, and her family has graciously invited Brad and I to share Thanksgiving with them.

I must admit that learning to accept the changes that have come with my children growing up hasn't always been easy for me. Perhaps because as a single mother for many, many years, the kids and I spent almost every holiday together. But I've learned in the last few years to cherish the times we have together and that the "holiday" isn't defined by the day, but rather by the time we are together. If that's the day before or after, or even the week before or after, I make the most of "how" we celebrate and not "when."

So this year, I'm thankful for my children, for my brother and sister, for my nieces and nephews, my great nieces and nephews, and even the hounds who live with me. I'm thankful for my health, for the energy to perform my job each day and for a warm house in which to live. I'm most thankful for God's abundant grace and mercy that He bestows on me each day. I'm more and more thankful each day for the gift of salvation through my Lord and Savior and for the hope of eternity.

And last, but certainly not least, I'm thankful for turkey, taters and gravy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Walking the Path

This afternoon, I grabbed my camera and headed to the walking path across the street from my house. My intention was to spend an hour or so taking pictures of the beautiful trees that are now an explosion of reds, yellows and oranges in their celebration of the fall season. I set up my tripod, framed up several shots and waited for the perfect lighting.

As I took photo after photo, I often had to pause as people passed through the line of my shot. An older couple walking hand in hand deep in conversation. A young woman out for an afternoon run. A teenage boy walking a large black dog. A young father pushing his son in a stroller. The more people who passed by, the more I began to wonder who they are and what their lives are like. Are they happy? Are they surrounded by friends and family who love them? Do they have jobs? And if so, are they satisfied with their work? Do they know Jesus? Are they certain of where they will spend eternity?

We all walk different paths in life, and we make choices each day that impact the paths we've chosen. Some days, I feel as if I've made the best decisions I can and that I am in the center of God's desire for my life. Other days, I feel as though I'm wandering along, not certain of what to do or which way to go. I'm thankful, so very thankful, that whether I'm having a good day or a not so good day, God always has me in the palm of His mighty hand and that He is the one who holds my future.

As I packed up my camera and tripod and walked toward home, I stopped along the path and offered up a prayer. A prayer of thanksgiving, a prayer of hope, a prayer of petition for those around me who aren't walking the path of God, a prayer offering my all in service to the One who died for me.

Oh, and the photos? They are awesome!

Watching Them Grow

My son Brad celebrated his 21st birthday last weekend. As we all gathered at his apartment to spend the day together, I had one of those "mom" moments. If you're a mother, you know the moment well. And if you're a mother of adult children, you know exactly the type of moment I'm talking about. The moment when you look at your adult son or daughter, and all you can think about are memories from their childhood.

As I watched Brad interacting with his girlfriend and his siblings, my eyes saw him as an adult while my brain pictured him pretending to be a fireman, dressed in a plastic red hat, yellow coat and rubber boots; playing Little League baseball; catching bugs in his little bug holder and setting them free minutes later; participating in children's choir; and shooting hoops on our driveway. I look at Matt and Becca, and find it difficult to believe that my oldest son is married. I see Matt dressed as a Ninja Turtle; assembling Lego projects; driving his battery-powered Jeep; catching his first fish; and getting into trouble at church camp for cow-tipping. My eyes move to Meghann, and I am so aware, as I am every time I look at her, that she is truly a beautiful girl. From birth, she had striking blue eyes and gorgeous blond hair. I remember her painting her name on her carpet with red nail polish; dressing like a princess; lining her stuffed animals up for "school"; learning to swim and dive in our neighbor's pool; and singing in choir concerts.

I'm happy to be in the place I am now with my adult children, part parent, part friend. There's nothing more fun for me than to spend time with them whether individually or all of them together. It is awesome to see my family growing through marriage and girlfriends and boyfriends. But, even as I type these words, I'm also aware of how quickly it seems my children have grown into adults. Only yesterday, they were at my feet playing, and today, they are each making their own way in the world.

I often think of the saying that a good parent gives their children roots and wings. My prayer is that my children always feel grounded in my love for them, and that they soar high above the clouds in their adventures through life. And I thank God for the gift of each of them ... every morning and every night ... thank you, Lord, for such precious gifts.

Beyond Belief

Each time I participate in a women's conference, I come away wanting to do so much more in service to my Lord. This weekend was no exception; in fact, I feel the calling on my life growing deeper and stronger than ever before.

The theme for the weekend (every women's conference has to have a theme!) was Beyond Belief. The keynote speaker focused on the life of Peter in her messages, beginning with his failures and ending with his victories and depth of faith that grew out of his adversities. As I listened to the words that God had given her, I felt God calling me to grow deeper in my own faith, to stretch in my trusting of Him, to go beyond my belief in Him and step out of the boat and onto the rolling waves, to take His hand and follow Him wherever He may lead.

I've been speaking for women's events for quite a few years, and I was asked to lead a session this weekend entitled "A Heart Beyond Belief." As I prayed and prepared for the session, as is often the case, God spoke to me about the condition of my own heart. As I studied about what it truly means to have a pure heart, a heart that follows hard after God and His will for my life, I realized that I needed to ask God to wash my own heart, to scrub me clean, to make me pure.

It is so easy to let little things creep into my life that cause a shadow to fall over my relationship with my heavenly Father. It is so easy to allow being too busy to keep me from spending the time I should in God's Word. It is so easy to make excuses as to why I can't step out in faith and follow God wherever and whenever He calls. The very morning I was to lead this session, I found myself on my knees by the side of my bed crying out to God to wash me, clean me, and make me the woman He wants me to be.

I think I would do well to learn from the example of David and cry out, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me."

It's Officially Official

Yep, it's officially official. My first book is now available on Amazon.com and createspace.com. There really aren't words to describe how it felt to view the pages and read the first review of my book. Maybe humbling would fit. Or maybe grateful. Or maybe excited. Or maybe even official. Or maybe all of those combined.

One thing I know for sure is that God is the One who should receive any accolades or glory because of the book. He is the One who gave me the words to put on the pages and the time to put them there. He is the reason I live and breathe each day, and He is the giver of all things. Without Him, I would be nothing.

There are many people to thank for their encouragement as I wrote the book, too many to mention here. You who offered support and words of wisdom ... you who told me to persevere when I wanted to quit ... you who read and edited and read and edited again. Each of you deserve my deepest gratitude for your help and my deepest appreciation for your unconditional love and friendship.

It will be fun to see what God has in store for the book as people begin to read it. My prayer is that readers will be touched and drawn into a closer relationship with God and with their families.

I often wonder if those who have gone before us know of things here on earth. If they do, I'm sure that Mom is in heaven saying, "Lord, help! She's done gone and wrote a book about me!"

I have, Mom, I have indeed.

http://www.createspace.com/3352848



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