A Special Gift

A month ago today I was walking around on Freeport island in the Bahamas...

Since then I've been wishing I was still there.

My last few "vacations" have been the most incredibly memorable moments of my life...

The year is half over and I've been to Puerto Rico, Alabama, and most recently found myself on Carnival Cruise lines traveling on a 7 day cruise with a wonderful man and his amazing parents.

The time spent in between those adventures have been mostly rainy and cold with little to no sunshine. But not only do I wish I was still on vacation for merely the weather...

We arrived back in New Orleans from the cruise the day before Mother's Day and immediately jumped in the truck for our 5 hour drive back to Alabama where I would spend the next few days.

This was the first Mother's Day in 14 years that I would be away from my boy. Granted, I'm not one for having a big deal made out of days like this, but it did feel a little strange.

Little did I know that even though I was away from my child, I would still be greeted that morning with a "Happy Mother's Day" smile and a gift...

He handed me a leopard print looking bag with a little box inside. I opened the box and my heart stopped.

While we were visiting our first port in Key West I found him standing in a little store looking at jewelry. This wasn't a typical jewelry store, but more like a lost treasures kind of place.

He was chatting with the employee who was holding a necklace that held a tiny coin.

The coin was called a "Widow's mite" and was about the size of my fingernail. It wasn't round like a penny nor was it stamped entirely in the center like the coins we use in the present day. It was smooth but uneven. The employee showed us a card explaining the coin's history...

"Each widow's mite was hand cast from bronze and minted by the Kings of Judea so each is uniquely shaped. Widow's Mites were widely used throughout the region today known as the Middle East, especially Jerusalem. The Bible speaks of these coins. Mark 12:41-44: Now Jesus sat opposite the [temple] treasury and saw how the people put money into the treasury. And many who were rich put in much. Then one poor widow came and put in two mites, which made a quadron.

The story of the "Widow's Mite" in Luke 21:2 tells of the woman who gave all she had. The Greek word for "mite" is "lepton." In the first century, there were many beautiful coins, (prutahs, denarius & sheckels). However, the lepton was often small and crudely made, often with no image on either side.

As we looked at this coin and I held the necklace in my hand, he asked me what I thought of it. "If it is what they claim it to be, I'd say that it's pretty amazing" I said as I pondered what kind of history I was holding in my hand. Wondering who else had held this coin and the journey it has been through. He asked the employee a few questions before going out the door.

We made our way upstairs to a toy store so I could look for something to bring home for Nick. As I was looking around, he told me he'd meet me downstairs and while thoughts of where he was headed to entered my mind, I also thought about how crazy it would be for him to return to the jewelry store and purchase it.

Six days later, I was holding this coin in my hands. It was the gift he chose to give me on Mother's Day...

Part of me still thinks he's crazy...

But a much bigger part of me is so thankful for the gift of having him in my life.

I actually had to wait a few weeks before finally possessing this necklace due to the fact that he had it set in a chain locally in Alabama. During that time I researched the mite a little more and found some pretty incredible things.

The story of the widow putting in all that she had was a testament of her faith...that God would provide.

Wikipedia says this:

A more likely interpretation has a different focus. Since in any case the woman would have been under no obligation to give the second mite, when she gave "all her living" she could not have given any more. Thus, the traditional interpretation of the passage is that God accounts the value of a gift not by how much is given, but by how much is kept back. Hence, the poor widow is counted as having given a great gift, having kept nothing for herself, while those who give out of their abundance but keep plenty for themselves are counted by God as having given very little. While the passage may or may not be an encouragement to live in poverty, it is certainly an encouragement to give generously.
and
...it was the quiet "small" gift of the poor widow that impressed the Son of God. If we do our works to be seen of men, we have our reward. If we do our works as the poor widow, if we are wholeheartedly devoted to God instead of seeking the praise of people and instead of spending riches on our own pleasures, we will receive a far greater reward which He has for us.

I am extremely fortunate to possess something so beautiful as this coin. And even more fortunate to have been given this gift from someone so special...not only for the gift itself, but for how it serves as a reminder of who I am to be.

Tough Love

Last night I worked childcare at my church. Before I get too far into this post, I want to stress the fact that I absolutely L-O-V-E this job. For soooooo many reasons! I love loving on kids. I love calming a crying baby. I love rocking in a rocking chair, reading a story. I honestly don't believe that there are greater feelings in the world than having a young child hug you out of the blue, color you a beautiful picture, or simply smile at you from across a room...

But... Sometimes it's tough. Some nights I walk out of the church in frustration. And there are times that I find myself sternly saying, "enough."

Working childcare at the church isn't merely a weekend job. We're not there for church services alone. Our childcare services are offered 7 days a week not only for church services, but for Bibile studies, funerals, church ministries, special events, and community recovery groups.

...Just to name a few... Our doors rarely close. And I am extremely blessed to have the opportunity to be a part of such an intregal part of the children's ministry department. Yet as any job does, it becomes wearisome at times. Last night was one of those times. There are nights in which I all but throw my hands up in the air in an act of surrender. And I haven't quite fugured out how, but you can almost ALWAYS tell when it's a full moon!

I have found that the most difficult aspect of working in a childcare is having to remind myself that these children aren't my own. These are children that are placed in our care for a reason. For a very divine purpose. There are some instances in which I can clearly see what that purpose is. And there are many times in which I haven't the slightest clue. And I may never know why...

Yet that's ok.

Working with children means that you have to implement discipline. It requires an act of consistency. And more times than not... tough love.

Tough love is something I have struggled with as a parent quite frequently.

Having one child, I find myself wanting to provide for him in any and every way that I possibly can. Unfortunately, there have been many things that I have been unable to give him...

When he was younger, a "no" resulted in an occasional temper tantrum. Kicking and screaming, not able to comprehend why. At 14 years of age, the tables have turned. When I ask him questions, rarely will he answer me. I can't remember the last time that he actually "asked" me for something.

He's grown up to be a lot like I was at his age. Retreat to the bedroom, come out for dinner or to clean up for bed.

...Sometimes I really miss the younger years...

Lately, the common question discussed has everything to do with our future. Possibilities of potential change. And change...can be a very difficult topic to tackle.

Tough love is rarely something that is seen. Decisions can be made, without complete understanding as to "why." It's an act of trust. It's trusting that the decisions are the right ones, and that the revelation will eventually come in due time...

In a way, tough love requires a leap of faith. And in my opinion, faith is one of the greatest things we have to believe in...

My tough love with the kids last night may not be understood for years to come. And that's ok. I know that I love those kids, even if they may not realize it until they're grown.

Tough love isn't allowing someone else to determine the outcome of a situation. Tough love is knowing what's best for the situation and acting upon that knowledge.

As I was leaving the church last night, frustrated as well as questioning some of the decisions I made, I stopped to talk to one of the parents as she was loading her kids in the car. I apologized for possibly coming down a little too hard on the kids and after a few moments of conversation, the pieces began to fall into place.

...With a sincere look in her eyes, she was grateful and quick to remind me that if it weren't for us caring for her kids...she wouldn't be clean.

Divine appointments. You can't help but love them!

Discipline isn't a bad thing. Tough love is an act of love, period.

Flying Kites

Last weekend while I was attending a birthday party for a friend's son, the children were given kites to fly. It was a beautiful day, with wind that is the worst enemy for an allergy sufferer, but perfect for kite flying.

I grabbed my camera with the rest of the adults and headed outside to join the little ones.

I honestly can't remember when the last time was that I actually flew a kite. Nick went through a handful of kites over the years, but as luck would have it, we never really had windy enough days or a spacious enough backyard to fully be able to experience the wonder of a kite flying high in the sky...

So I may not remember when the last time was that I flew a kite, but I will never forget what it was like to fly one as a child. To see an object gliding high in the sky above you, twisting and turning, yet...free. I remember sometimes feeling as though I wished I were a kite. What would everything look like from way up there? How would it feel to have the push of the wind behind you, come up underneath, and carry you through the air?

...knowing that there was something, someone greater than you, allowing you to soar while having complete control via a thin piece of string. Granted, there is always the possibility of the obstacles of an old oak tree or a telephone wire to crash into, but the string is usually still attached.

And then there is always the possibility that the string does actually break. The tie between "kite" and "kite flyer" is severed. But with a skilled craftsman present, it can generally be repaired quickly with a knot.

Our lives are quite a bit similar to a kite. We are given the freedom to fly. To twist and turn in the wind and soar high. Sometimes we crash into a tree and sometimes we take a nosedive into the ground below.

We hold a sense of security in knowing that we are connected to Someone greater. Our string is our lifeline between us...and Him.

And no matter what happens, no matter what we do or where we go, He doesn't let us out of His sight. He never lets us go. He provides the wind and He carries us. If our resistence between us and Him severs the string, He is quick to repair it. If we find ourselves hung up in a tree, He climbs up to rescue us. When our nosedive into the ground below bends or breaks any part of us, He restores us to better than new.

In a sense we are all better off than a tangible kite. Because when the day is over, when the wind stops, or the thrill of flying a kite is outgrown, the kite is stored in the rafters of the garage or maybe even thrown away. The Creator of our being says that we belong to Him...forever.

And I can't wait to see the view from Eternity!

Why Wait?

Oh my goodness...I can not believe I have neglected to blog for three months!

Writing isn't so much of a passion to me as it is a type of "therapy." One might assume that based on my absence in the blogging realm, I must not need therapy! I would have to say that would be a poor assumption and that in all honesty, I have really missed blogging... My hiatus has consisted of nothing more than pure happiness and extreme enjoyment of life. I've taken a trip, planned another really exciting trip, and lessened my work load from full time to part time. I am anticipating this to be one of my greatest years yet, even though I'm finding myself closer and closer to my 40 year mark. I mean "milestone!" Anyway...

This afternoon as I was driving in the rain (which has been lingering around northern Cal for weeks) I heard an old song on the radio that immediately soothed my soul. With my windshield wipers on high speed and rain battering on my car, God gently reminded me that this rain, this cold, and this dreariness is not going to last forever. This weather, these natural disasters, and the waging of war, is not eternal. He promises us that. Yes, these things are predestined to happen. BUT, He promises us a place where we will forever stand in the sun. Where we will be able to dance with Jesus surrounded by His glory and praise His name forever. In this place there will be no pain, no ridicule, no hatred, no sadness.

...I can only imagine...

Yesterday afternoon I had the opportunity to talk on the phone with my baby brother. It has been well over a month since we chatted last. Once our "small talk" was over, he candidly asked me what I thought about all of the billboards and vans that are advertising the end of the world coming on May 21, 2011. I first heard about this so-called prophecy when I received their fliers in the mail at my work. My initial reaction was anger and frustration because all my life I've been told and have read Scripture which states that no one knows the day or the hour. Those are God's words. And for someone to proclaim that they have it all figured out, based on a theory using numbers, is in my opinion, calling God a liar. And their publicizing this all over the country could potentially turn non-believers even further away from God, if that's possible.

So here sits my brother, hundreds of miles away, asking me questions and for my opinion. The craziness in all of this, is knowing that he's questioning this right along with studying numerous other theories. And God's all but shaking me to use this opportunity, this divine appointment to further His kingdom. I'm not sure that anything is more important than sharing the gospel with those you love. Those you care about more than anyone else in this world, and fear that ultimately, they may not be in the same eternal destination as you. I don't know if my response to him was what he was searching for...but I do hope and pray that I was used to water the seed I know was planted in his life years ago.

So as I sat listening to this particular song, thoughts flooded into my mind and my heart was heavy. Can I imagine entering eternity, knowing that I didn't share the love of Jesus with those closest to me in this earthly life? It is so easy and peaceful when I sit and ponder how wonderful eternal life is going to be, why is it so hard to let others in on this amazing destination? It's no secret...it's not like there will only be "so much room" and guests will be turned away. The problem is, sometimes we just don't feel "comfortable" talking with others about it.

An even bigger problem, is that we will never know when Jesus is coming back for his people. And because of this reason alone, we should never be afraid to share the love of God.

Why wait?

Snacks that Appeal

I am an individual with several weaknesses. One of which is a 100 calorie bag of something called “Reese’s Snacksters.” This bag includes cereal puffs, peanut butter chips, cereal squares and Reese’s pieces. It’s more or less peanut butter in a bag.

This past weekend I shared a bag of them with a three year old, toe-headed ball of fire. I adore everything about him. After I opened the bag for him I watched him carefully sift through the bag and separate the contents. He’d immediately pop the Reese’s pieces in his little mouth (more than likely because they were his favorite) and set the rest aside on the end table. Maybe it was the color that was appealing to him, or the hard candy shell that covers them, or perhaps he just preferred the taste of them over the others.

Whatever the reasoning, the bottom line was that he chose them. He was given a bag containing several options to satisfy his hunger, yet he chose what he wanted at that particular moment, without hesitation…

It’s funny how we seem to go about our lives in a very similar way…

We take in the things that appeal to us the most, without much thought or hesitation and leave the rest behind. Discarding it. Maybe out of some sort of hunger we go back for the leftovers, but typically they fall by the wayside.

We go for the designer clothes, the fast cars. We want the latest gadgets. We get involved in relationships because the outer beauty is simply too beautiful to pass up. We desire the jobs with the higher pay so we have more money to spend, rather than simply being happy and loving what we do regardless of the size of the paycheck.

…we want what meets our needs.
…and usually we want it immediately.

…Only to find out later that it didn’t satisfy us the way in which we thought it would.

So I have to wonder why it takes so many of us so long to realize that God’s plan may be that those things we discard and disregard might just be his greatest blessings for us. I do believe that God’s timing is perfect, and yet could it be that we push His timing aside because we have our minds set on our own timing and selfish desires?

There are moments in my life that I regret some of my past decisions. Thankfully, we serve a God of second chances. Sometimes even third and fourth ones! And He redeems those choices and creates something much more beautiful than we can ever imagine…

Hello World

I am a big fan of Lady Antebellum. A really, REALLY big fan. Not in a psychotic way, but I am a sucker for harmony. Period. And when this group was introduced to radio a few years ago I was hooked. Instantly.

This video is their latest single and I can't get enough of it...

One of the things I am most grateful for in my life, is to have eyes that are constantly on the "look out" and a heart that is ready to embrace the moments that surround me on an every day basis. I love looking for God's miracles and the manner in which He speaks directly to my core. I am somewhat guarded, but I believe in opening my heart to those God places in my life.

Examples:

For the past month, I have seen someone bundled up in a sleeping bag, sleeping on the steps of a church in freezing temperatures. The first time I witnessed this, I cried. Not because it was cold and this person was undoubtedly homeless, although that is heart wrenching in itself. I cried because the one place this person chooses to unroll his sleeping bag and rest for the night is under the cross. Whether or not they choose to do so for that reason or not, I don't know. But the symbolism that God revealed to me is that whatever our circumstances are in this life, when we choose to surrender every ounce of them, He gives us rest.

You know that old saying, "When one door closes, another one opens" ? I have literally seen that occur in my life this past year and it has been absolutely one of the most amazing feelings ever! I don't know where the "corridor" is going to lead me, but I have walked through the door and have begun one of the greatest journeys I have ever embarked on throughout the course of my life. I am extremely excited to see what this next year is going to bring and overwhelmed with how incredibly fortunate I have been in such a short amount of time. It's amazing to think about the blessings that come forth when you merely open your heart to receive them.

Last week on my flight home from Puerto Rico, I was sitting on the plane surrounded by a fairly young family. There were three children, of which included a set of twins. They all took their turns swapping seats between mom and dad. Dad was in my section and was the most phenomenal story teller ever. I sat and listened to him make up his own story as each child sat mesmerized and hung on to every word that came out of his mouth. He and his wife apologized quite often during the 5 hour flight for their children's' behaviors and I responded by saying that it was perfectly fine and that I work with kids. I thought it was wonderful to witness the love these children had for their parents.

About halfway through the flight, the oldest girl was sitting next to me. She would compliment me on "how good" I was at my word seek book. She asked me if I knew any Spanish words, because she was beginning her own little list of translations. She told me about their trip to Puerto Rico and visiting the rain forest. We even played a few games of Go Fish. Before the flight was over, I had even learned about the boy she had a crush on.

As we scurried off the plane, I walked up to her and told her that it was very nice meeting her. She responded with a gigantic hug...

It's been a week, and she may not even remember sitting next to me on the plane. But I will remember little Sophie for quite a while. God used her to remind me of the innocence that I often times forget about.

Simplicity. Affection. Honesty.

Most days I'm afraid to make eye contact with a complete stranger. For a few hours that day, a little 8 year old girl treated me as though I was her very best friend...

What am I so afraid of?

To the world you may just be one person...but to that one person you just might be the world.

A smile and a hello can make a huge difference to someone. A few dollars or some loose change given to the stranger on the street corner could provide a hot cup of coffee and something to eat on a cold day. A simple gesture of hope could quite possibly save a life.

I think that's more than enough of a reason to step out of our "comfort" zones...

God gave me this life. He hands me blessings every day. What am I doing in response to his love? Do I bottle it all up and store it away like a selfish pack rat or do I pay that love forward into the lives of the people he places all around me?

This world has way too many opportunities for us to just walk away from. Embrace those opportunities. Love on people.

You may just bump into a miracle in the making...

Getting Here

Sitting on an American Airlines flight last week, I was overwhelmed with one simple, yet complex question:

How did I get here?

One day I was preparing for a trip to Alabama, the next day I was informed that the trip would have to be postponed. Disappointment took over my emotions yet I tried my best to accept the situation for what it was. Disappointment has become an unwanted companion of mine for many years. So I spent the next few days convincing myself and living by the motto, “it is what it is” as well as telling myself that somehow it would all work out. And rarely does this happen, but I believed those words.

And within a week, I was heading on an outbound flight from Sacramento, California to San Juan, Puerto Rico.

The flight was completely full. There were screaming toddlers, happy couples holding hands, and one stewardess that was clearly having a bad day. I rested my head against the window and looked outside at the terrain thousands of feet below me. Closing my eyes and fighting off the unsettled nerves that danced around inside of me, the question resurfaced:

How did I get here?

Landing in Dallas, Texas, my heart raced right along with my legs as I tried to figure out where the gate was located for my connecting flight. Even though I had a few hours I wanted to make sure I was where I needed to be even if I got there two hours early.

Could it be that I am finally where I need to be?

Relationships have never come easy for me. Don’t get me wrong, I know “relationships aren’t easy” but I can’t help but hope that one will come along that will be easier than they have been for me over the past 20 years. My best friend who has stood beside me during the good, the bad and the ugly has always been there to encourage me that I deserved more. And I always wondered how easy it was for her to feel that way. She and her husband have been married nearly 17 years. How could she possibly understand what is…or isn’t out here in the “world of singles.”

…but I’m nearly convinced that she has always known much more than I could possibly give her credit for.

After boarding my connecting flight and being in the air for a few hours, the overcast sky that surrounded Dallas had turned into a perfect view of the burning red sun that eventually caught up with the horizon. I sat in my window seat glancing back until everything above and beneath me was completely black.

It was then that I pondered the symbolism between the darkened night and my past relationships.

Occasionally a relationship will end mutually, with the understanding of both involved, that things just aren’t meant to be. There are also the ones that end with the words, “What was I thinking?” And then there are the ones that end in extreme heartache. The heartache that ultimately leaves you with the impression or assumption that maybe you are meant to spend the rest of your life alone. While that statement has haunted me more times than I can count, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it for me…

How did I get here?

A combination of those three scenarios…

Feeling the descent of the aircraft, the nerves once again bounced around inside of me. But they were no longer “unsettling” nerves. They were nerves of anticipation, because waiting for me outside of the baggage claim was the reason that I was stepping foot in San Juan. Someone I couldn’t wait to see. The answer to my question…

He was the one person I wanted to be standing next to when the final second of 2010 ticked away, and he was the first person I wanted to be next to when 2011 came to be. I wanted to walk away from the old and into the new with him. And it all worked out…

Four days didn’t seem like enough time…and before I knew it I was once again standing in the San Juan airport to head back home. After a handful of goodbyes and walking the dreadful steps to the security checkpoint I glanced back to see a man in his Army fatigues watching me with a smile…

The flight back home was long, but hopeful. I thought about every single moment in my life that led me to where I am. The heartaches, disappointments, the “what was I thinking” situations. They all got me here and I am thankful for each and every one.

And right now there’s no place I’d rather be.

Tis the Season...

It is a very natural feeling for me to always think about Advent this time of year. As I sat at my desk the first part of this week, I was overwhelmed with the thought of how important it is, and how I wanted to blog about it but wasn’t quite sure where to begin…

The first thought that came to my mind was, “Tis the season…”

The season for busyness, chaos, shopping, tight finances, overly excited kids that tend to stress me out. There are so many different factors that can play a role in “tainting” this time of year. My thoughts become preoccupied with how can I possibly get everything done and purchased before December 24th gets here? Not to mention that the people in my life have become more and more difficult to shop for as each year passes…

The word HOPE has resounded within me for the past several weeks, and yet with all that I’ve mentioned above, it momentarily slips out of my vocabulary.

This is the season of HOPE.

If there ever is a time throughout the year that we should hold onto this truth, that time is now…

Advent is marked by a spirit of expectation, of anticipation, of preparation, of longing. There is a yearning for deliverance from the evils of the world… It is the cry of those who have experienced the tyranny of injustice in a world under the curse of sin, and yet who have hope of deliverance by a God who has heard the cries of oppressed slaves and brought deliverance!

It is that hope, however faint at times, and that God, however distant He sometimes seems, which brings to the world the anticipation of a King who will rule with truth and justice and righteousness over His people and in His creation. It is that hope that once anticipated, and now anticipates anew, the reign of an Anointed One, a Messiah, who will bring justice and righteousness to the world. www.cresourcei.org/cyadvent.html

This is the season of HOPE.

For the hurting…
For the broken…
For the sick…

For pain to be removed…
For broken relationships to heal…
For miracles to happen…

It is impossible to take a look at this world and the ones we love and not have HOPE.

Monday began with the thought of a blog.

As I was sitting at my desk today, a gentleman who appeared to be homeless, walked in to my office and introduced himself. He lost his job. He has no money. He has no home. He’s hungry. He wanted to earn some money for food and offered to clean or do anything that he could for a few dollars. Today was a day that I wished I actually carried cash on me. Instead, I pointed him to our shop to see if there was anything he could help with out there. It’s been two hours and he’s still “earning his wages.” In those two hours, I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind. I had to leave to run a few errands for work, and as I was driving I thought about how I didn’t even remember him telling me his name. I know he did…why was I not more attentive?

I stopped to grab a few pizzas and came back to the office. Walking up to him, he was startled. I apologized, introduced myself and asked him his name. I explained that there was hot food in the break room and he could help himself to a soda in the fridge. He was very appreciative and replied with a “Thank you, Miss Angie.”

I can’t believe how much I stress about whether or not I should buy an iPod for my son for Christmas when there are so many people that don’t have a roof over their head, a penny in their pocket, or a hot meal to eat. They have what’s on their back and nothing more. They probably don’t even know what an iPod even is…

It’s a bittersweet feeling knowing that you’ve bought someone lunch and then have to leave them on the street as you lock the door to head home to your warm house and comfy bed.

HOPE. Not only should we look for it ourselves, but we ought to find ways to offer it to others. It may be all they need…

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. –Romans 15:13

Lord...the one whom you love is sick

“Lord...the one whom you love is sick.”

These were the words that found their way into my heart this morning as I was on my way to work…

This past week, one of my uncles has been in the hospital. It began as an infection in his elbow, which then brought about concern with his kidneys, and as of last night, has led to a heart attack that will result in open heart surgery the first part of next week.

My uncle is one of God’s soldiers. From a very young age I can remember him holding this position. Always being armed for battle, he has followed God’s calling to preach the Word to every single person he passes by.

He has five sons and two daughters, his daughters being one year older and one year younger than I am so I spent a lot of time over the years at their house.

I will never forget riding in a car with him on my way to my grandma’s house. If I had to wager a guess, I would say that I was somewhere between the years of 8-10. While meal and bedtime prayers were always said as well as evening devotional time with his family, he spoke one question to me in the car that day that really caught me off guard…

“Angie, are you saved?”

My initial (silent) reaction was, “What kind of crazy question is that?” I grew up in a church, never missing a Sunday, or so it seemed. I went through confirmation, memorized Bible verses, sang in the kids’ choir, went to the front of the church for the children’s messages, but to my recollection I had never been asked that question.

“Yeessss…????” I am pretty sure I said with hesitation.

He must have sensed the uncertainty in my answer and in the few brief moments that we had left in the car he was kind enough to further explain the question.

“Do you believe in Jesus? Have you asked Him to come into your heart and be your personal Lord and Savior?”

Of course I believed in Jesus. But that last part? How can Jesus live in my heart?

And so began my journey of slowly beginning to understand what being a Christian was all about. It’s been a long journey that has taken me several years to completely understand. Several years that have included falling, failing, and while I never realized it at the time, running away…

Shortly after I had Nick was when I came to realize the depth of God’s forgiveness, His grace, mercy and love. All of which were …extremely undeserving for this little girl who had been consumed by sin for many years.

Yet I will never forget the seed that my uncle planted in my life nearly three decades ago. Knowing that he loved his niece so much that her salvation was of utmost importance to him.

Even more than that, the importance of complete strangers’ salvation has always held a top priority in his life. He has been ridiculed, I’m pretty sure he’s been cursed at over the years, and maybe even lost a few friends. But he’s done it all for one reason:

To help bring people into God’s eternal kingdom.

“Lord...the one whom you love is sick.”

In the story of Mary, Martha and Lazarus, the sisters sent a message to Jesus with those simple words. Not knowing what the outcome of the illness would be, they had faith and knew that the only One they could place their trust in and turn the situation over to, was Jesus.

There is not a doubt in my mind that God has something planned for my uncle within these next several days. I know that He can heal him completely before the operation is scheduled, and He can take him to his eternal resting place this very instant. The selfishness of my being screams out healing. He has two new grandbabies and a few handfuls of older ones to tickle. He has two daughters and five sons that still need him. A beautiful, faithful wife…

…and a niece that isn’t quite ready to let him go either.

Lord…the one whom you love is sick. I thank You for placing him in my life. Thank You for the example he has been to me personally over the years. I know that You alone, can do all things. If Your Will is to heal, then it will be done. If it is Your time to bring him home to You, the purpose You had for his life has been complete. He has been Your faithful servant for many years and I am extremely thankful and blessed that You have chosen him to reach lost souls. He is Your child and in Your hands. I ask that You continue to be with him and his family during this time and always. Amen.

Silver Dollar Blessings

This past weekend I took my car to the carwash for a long overdue and very much needed bath. When I purchased my little Honda nearly 6 years ago, the color black seemed appealing at the time. Over the years I have decided that this will more than likely be the last time I own a black vehicle.

Anyway, I made my way to the change machine to cash in some dollar bills for some quarters and then proceeded to drop them into the machine to begin the wash. One of the coins wasn’t fitting in the slot and I assumed that it had been battered and bent, so I slipped it into my pocket.

Later on that day as I grabbed the remaining change out of my pocket to place into my change jar, I noticed that what I thought was a battered and bent quarter was in fact a silver dollar. I got a little excited as I realized that I was given $1.75 for $1.00. It kind of felt as though I had won the lottery or something!

Days passed and the scenario found its way back into my mind. These past few months have been so insanely hectic. And good. My life seems to really be falling into a place that I believe to be what is right for me. After many years and what seems like an eternity, I can almost sense the rays of light at the end of the tunnel. I can feel its warmth, and I am at peace as I see the glow.

I hold on to the silver dollar as I am reminded that God hands us silver dollar blessings quite often in our lives. Sadly, we sometimes don’t notice that we have them until hours, days, and sometimes years pass by. Yet I have to wonder if that isn’t God’s divine plan for us.

…I wonder as I slap myself on the forehead questioning how I could have missed it when it was right there to begin with…

You know, in one of those, “What was I thinking?” moments.

My mind stills as I hear the answer.

“You weren’t ready.”

I believe that blessings are handed to us every day. Sometimes God reveals them to us immediately and other times He simply waits until we’re ready for them. Until we are completely willing to appreciate them, to cherish them, and to be thankful for them.

That’s where I am today. In this very moment.

As Thanksgiving approaches I clutch that silver dollar and I don’t think I will ever spend it. Not because of its “money” value, but to remind me that God's blessings are always present.

...even when we can't see them...

Making a Difference

A few weeks ago after I had picked Nick up from practice we had a brief conversation that lingered in my mind for many days.

Nick began his conversation by saying, “Mom, I don’t know if I want to go to River Valley next year.” This immediately shocked me because from the moment ground was broken for this new high school he had his mind set on going there. There was a time that I wanted him to go to a smaller high school but even I have adjusted to my son being a Falcon next year.

I asked him why all of a sudden he was having doubts.

Nick doesn’t share a lot of things with me. Part of me wants him to, and a bigger part of me remembers what it was like being his age and the last person I really wanted to confide in was a parent. So I’m ok with him not pouring his heart out to me every second of the day. I try not to pry and hope that if it’s not me he chooses to talk to that he has someone else.

This particular night he allowed me the opportunity to share in what was troubling him…for a little while. Then he remembered that it was his mom that he was talking to and ended the conversation just as quickly as it had begun.

From what I gathered, he was disheartened in hearing his peers talking negatively about someone and he realized that he didn’t want to attend a school where kids/friends did that to others. Sadly, that’s a very inevitable season of “growing up” and it won’t matter if you attend a school of 300 or 3000. Hazing, backstabbing, mockery, lying…all seem to be the price you pay to become “popular” in a teenage society.

Thankfully, I have a boy with a big heart. I have a son who knows the difference between right and wrong. A child who is troubled when he recognizes how evil some people can be.

As I thought about this conversation there was one thing in particular that stayed with me. God had placed something on my heart and I was compelled to share it with Nick.

A week had passed and as Nick was getting his football gear ready for practice I told him I wanted to share something with him in regards to the situation.

“Nick, I know that you may not feel like you want to go to River Valley anymore and I understand. But one thing that I would really like you to think about is that maybe God wants you there so you can stick up for those kids. It’s not an easy thing to do, and surely isn’t the “popular” thing to do, but you might be the only one who cares enough to take a stand.”

As I spoke those words to him I began to tear up. Not just because I was having this conversation with my own child, but as I spoke those words to him I thought about the people in my own life.

How am I extending kindness to those around me? How can I reach out to extend compassion on a complete stranger? What am I doing for “the least of these?”

Everyone is placed in our lives for a reason. Do we look for that reason or do we let the moments slip by and assume someone else will meet their need? Sometimes we are only given one chance to make a difference.

What we might think is a small gesture of kindness could end up meaning the world to someone else.

My Journey on a New Road

I have been driving the same stretch of highway to work for the past 8-1/2 years. Five days a week and there are days I think I could make the drive blindfolded. Knowing that would not be the most intelligent thing to do, don’t worry I won’t.

This morning as I was on the county road getting close to merging onto the highway, I noticed extremely bright lights up ahead. At 6:15 am it’s still pretty dark, so as I saw these lights I assumed something major was going on.

There were road construction signs on the shoulder, indicating a one lane road ahead. Could it be? They have been working on a new four lane along this stretch of Highway 99 for the past few years. As I approached a man holding a sign, waving me to the other side of the road I actually became a little excited.

…Until I got to the newly operating stop light at the intersection…

I almost began to panic. I knew that I needed to go south because that was the way to Sacramento, but why were there cars on the opposite side of me. Where were they coming from? Where does that road lead?

It was dark. There was the inability to see exactly where I was going. The road was extremely unfamiliar to me as opposed to the road I was accustomed to drive on. I wasn’t sure if I was excited anymore. Actually, it was starting to freak me out a little.

Trying to gather my bearings and figure out where I was only confused me more.

However, after a few moments on this new road I began to enjoy the ride. And once the new road merged with the old and I knew exactly where I was, I uttered the word, “huh” to myself in the car.

The brief time I was traveling on that section of road, all I could think about was this past week…

I encountered a new set of emotions within me. At 37 years old, one would think that they have experienced every emotion humanly possible. Ha!

As I try to sort through this new feeling, the journey to work this morning reminded me that it’s ok to venture down a new road. And that while the road is somewhat dark and unfamiliar, all I have to do is trust that it will lead me where I’m supposed to go.

A new road is smooth. Flawless. So why does it frighten me so? Somehow panic and doubt seem to rob us from merely being able to enjoy the excitement of a new journey...

Driving home this afternoon I know I will see things differently. And I know that as the days go by, the same will be true in my life as well.

The Time In Between

A few of the things I love include having the opportunities to see the sun rise as well as the sun set…

A sunrise indicates that a new day is upon us. A fresh start. New beginnings.

A sunset indicates that another day has passed. A time to reflect upon the events of the day. The ending of whatever chapter we may have encountered throughout those 10 or so hours of daylight.

And then there are those seconds that tick away in between…

How do we spend those moments? Do we live with gratitude or do we allow the dark situations all around and within us to consume our time? Do we ponder the beauty of this thing called life and count our many blessings or do we shut the rest of the world out and sulk in the misery of situations gone wrong? When we look at the landscapes as they turn from vibrant colors of spring to the browns of winter do we view them as barren, dull, and boring or stop to contemplate the concept that in order for newness to come forth, there has to be a dying of the old?

I think about that last part a lot…

Not only as a person who loves to spend time outdoors but as someone who looks at her own life, where she’s been and what’s in store for her life.

Saturday was definitely a day like no other. Every possible emotion that could be felt and seen, was.

Between games my dad, my son, my nephew and myself took a little break from the football stadium and ventured on a little drive. It was a much needed and very enjoyable distraction from the grip of reality that had been holding us all so tight.

For two hours my mind was clear and my perception changed. Strange how being outdoors can do that to a person. I feel very fortunate that I am the type of person who can let everything go and find that sense of peace.

Aside from having the opportunity to see these things on our drive, I was struck by a pretty emotional moment later on at the football field as well.

It happened within minutes of the final buzzer of the game just before Nick’s. One of the best players on River Valley’s team had taken a hit and was motionless on the field. After a moment, he was on his feet and limping to the sidelines, hand across his stomach, hunched over in pain. Crying. His dad is a coach on that team and as they made their way to the sidelines the two of them stood together. The boy’s head on his father’s shoulder, his dad gently stroking his son’s head as if to comfort. The boy’s body was shuddering through the sobs. I don’t know exactly what happened, but an assumption was this 12 year old had the wind knocked out of him.

The buzzer sounded. The boys lined up to cross the field and shake hands with their opponents. All of them but Dante. All of a sudden, this mass of kids in red surrounded him. They patted his shoulder, rubbed his head, shook his hand, and gave him hugs. It was absolutely, utterly amazing. While he may have had the wind knocked out of him, that moment literally took my breath away. A random…very meaningful act of kindness. Maybe not for the people in the bleachers sitting around me and maybe not for the other 40 or so players on the field. But that moment truly spoke volumes to me.

When life knocks the wind out of us…and it will, there’s comfort. If we seek it. When bad things happen…and they do, there’s hope. If we look for it. Always.

Just as the grass fades from bright green to brown through a season. A new season is just around the corner…

Don’t miss the beauty during the time in between.

A Lesson from the Sidelines

A few weeks ago, River Valley hosted a scrimmage at the high school for the Junior Falcon football teams. Our day began bright and early with my nephew’s games.

This was the first time the boys were sporting this year’s game jerseys and they looked absolutely adorable! The younger kids played their games on the practice fields that were blocked off and measured a little shorter than half of an actual football field. With parents lined up in lawn chairs surrounding the “mini fields” the teams began to play and parents began to cheer (or in the case of my brother…shout).

While Landon’s team had a break between games, I sat in my chair and observed two of the other teams playing in front of me (I am, after all an avid people watcher…). Whenever I’ve seen this (unnamed) team play this year, my eyes are fixated on this one particular coach, and it’s NOT because he’s a handsome lad! He’s crazy. He yells at the kids like they’re 18 years old and not 6. He jumps up and down on the field like he’s slammed more than one energy drink. When they play…they play to win at all costs. These kids are 6 years old!!! I don’t know if he thinks that every game is the Super Bowl or what, but he’s one of the most aggressive people I’ve ever seen. And that’s NOT to compliment him… He intimidates me, so I can’t even begin to imagine how these poor little boys feel when they’re on the same field with him.

Anyway, the scrimmages are played with 10 minutes of offense and then 10 minutes of defense. At this particular moment, the (unnamed) team was on offense. I believe they had just scored and were on their way back to the opposite side of the field to start another play when I noticed this little guy from the other team lying on the field, flat on his back. A few of his coaches walked over and stood above him. While this was going on, “crazy coach” was corralling his boys to line up for the play. There seemed to be more interest in the clock running down and running out of time than there was in stopping for a moment to check on the welfare of this boy.

Typically in a game, each player is taught that when there is an injury, regardless of whose team it is, everything stops and every player takes a knee. I was disappointed and disheartened in how this incident played out.

Until…

The little boy got to his feet and began to walk off the field. As he walked within 20 feet of the sidelines, one of his teammates walked out to meet him, placed his arm around his shoulder, and walked with him the rest of the way.

I was so touched with this little boy’s concern and sensitivity to help his friend that I almost cried. To me, that’s what life is all about. Interacting. Helping one another. Having compassion for those in need. Extending mercy and grace to someone who may have never received it otherwise.

As well as almost crying, I really wanted to walk up to the crazy coach, point my finger directly in his face and sternly say “shame on you.” These boys are at a very impressionable age and sometimes I wonder how some people can’t seem to grasp the concept that if we don’t help encourage and uplift them, we’re setting them up for a greater failure in life than if they simply lose a game…

Where are our priorities as adults…as leaders to the generations behind us? No wonder this world has gone crazy and values and morals are so far out of whack.

The little boy that walked out on the football field could have taught the crazy coach a very important lesson, had he been paying attention to the bigger picture rather than the sound of the buzzer.

This little boy taught me a lesson that day. To become more aware of those who surround me. To try and be an encouragement, not merely to the people I know, but to random strangers as well. There’s an old saying that goes something like this: People pay attention to the way we act more than the words we speak. And his actions spoke volumes to me…

Scuffs on our Helmets

One of the crazy, yet very cool changes to football season this year is the addition of my nephew Landon to the River Valley Junior Falcon’s Mighty Mite team. This change is crazy because every Saturday my family and I will spend at least 10 hours at the football field for the next few months.

I still can’t get over how cute these 5-6 year olds look in their football gear. The pads in their pants seem to go past their knees and they look like a bunch of hyped up “little people” running back and forth aimlessly.

The past few weeks I have been able to catch a few of their practices before running over to watch Nick practice. See…crazy!

This week as Landon’s team was finishing up for the night in their team huddle, his coach was giving them a pep talk in regards to how hard they’d been working. He had the boys look at their helmets. He said that when they were issued their helmets, they were brand new, straight out of the packaging. They were shiny and bright…flawless. And now each one of them had colored markings…scuffs on them bearing the colors of the paint from their opponents’ helmets which means that they are all playing really hard.

As they were walking away towards their parents, the coach yelled out a “Brooks! Come here!” So I ran out on the field as fast as I could…just kidding.

Landon turned back around to meet his coach, who asked him to remove his helmet. He spoke to Landon individually and proceeded to show Landon the scuffs on his helmet. As Landon walked back over to meet his mom and dad he was proudly wearing a grin, stretching from ear to ear.

I sat there and watched my adorable little nephew as he showed his daddy the marks of accomplishment from his hard work as a football player…

Prior to practice the following night, my brother stopped by to pick up Landon. He walked through the door, frustrated and stressed not only because he was running late, but because as he drove to the house there was an indication that the transmission was going out on his truck. I believe his words were either, “I don’t know what else could possibly go wrong for me right now.” or “If one more thing could possibly go wrong in my life I just might lose it.” And as he loaded up the boys for practice his assumption proved correct as he had no reverse gear and the transmission was gone.

After they left, I looked at my dad and said, “You know…I think Satan is knocking at my little brother’s door.”

My brother is one of the hardest, if not THE hardest working person I know. Not only is he a physical laborer, but he labors long. He has a full time job and when he’s not working for a salary, he’s working to help someone in need for no other reason than to help. His work ethics far exceed the norm. And somehow he manages to take what little time he has to be an amazing father to his kids. I hated seeing him frustrated, stressed, and feeling like his world was crashing down around him.

Then I began to think about Landon’s coach the night before and his speech to the kids. How true that message is for all of us.

We’re all football players in the grand scheme of things, with one Head Coach. When we are born again, we are given a brand new helmet (life) straight out of the package…flawless. As we tackle every one of life’s obstacles, our helmets get scuffed in the struggle to conquer them. Because our helmets are on…we can’t see the progress of our hard work and struggles. And often times we feel that instead of a gain in yardage we’re getting pushed back and about to lose possession of the ball…

These are the moments when we need to listen to our Coach as he asks us to remove our helmets and take a good long look at the scuffs. One of my biggest and darkest scuffs is single parenting. Yet when God asks me to focus on that scuff, I see my struggles reflected in a beautiful 13 year old boy. Happy, sensitive, encouraging, and carrying a faith in God himself. I am reminded that Scripture tells me that in this life there will be struggles, but because of Jesus there are no struggles that can not be overcome.

This past weekend I was able to sit down with my parents and watch a movie called “Letters to God.” It is based on the true story of this incredibly strong 8 year old boy and his struggle with cancer. During the movie there is a scene involving a non-Christian man who is searching to find his way in life and sits down to have a conversation with his boss. It was a divine appointment as they conversed on a bench outside of church. In tears, the man explained how everything he cared about was slipping through his fingers. His boss told him to place his hands together and interlock them. He placed his hands on his employee’s hands and said something to the effect of, “When your hands are like this…nothing can slip through them.”

I pray for those who feel as though they have no where to turn in the difficult times. For those who don’t have a relationship with their Coach.

I look forward to the final buzzer of the game. When I can take off my helmet for the last time and not have to worry about ever putting it back on again. But until then, I will embrace the struggles and wear the scuffs with pride, knowing that they all have great meaning and purpose. And I want to play the game well…

Knowing When

The beginning of last week began my son’s persistent demands to have me take him back to the doctor to get a release form for his strained ACL. Tuesday marked the second week of recovery, and the doctor originally advised he stay off of it for three weeks. Nick…was determined to convince me that it was healed.

I waited until the latter part of the week, spoke to his coach, and decided to take him for his word, that it indeed was healed and that I would take him in on Friday to have the doctor look at it again.

My concession didn’t come easily and after the news of 3rd baseman for the Atlanta Braves Chipper Jones collapsing on the field mid-week from a torn ACL, I began to wonder if this would indeed be the wisest thing to do.

I’m not entirely sure that the doctor was easily convinced either as he spoke to Nick in the exam room. The middle aged man asked Nick to promise him that if at any time it began to flare up again, he would back off of practice and give it more time to heal. Nick nodded his head as if to understand in compliance with “Doctor’s orders.”

The good news is his first day back at practice is today. One day shy of the three week mark. I’m trusting Nick is familiar enough with his body that he knows when it’s back to normal…and that he’s not merely saying it’s better because he’s itching to get back on the field.

Sadly, one of his team’s strongest players collapsed on the field this past Saturday with an ankle injury. Apparently this is a recurring injury that requires him to wear an ankle brace; however he failed to wear it which may result in having to sit out for a bit as well.

All too often we spend our lives rushing into things with the hope of satisfaction of some sort. Typically, when we rush, whatever satisfaction we acquire tends to be “short term.” And because we rush…we risk the possibility of becoming disappointed and often times, wounded.

Something looks or sounds good and we dash to grasp. We rush towards it with tunnel vision and don’t heed to the warning signs, telling us to stop, yield, slow, or even turn around. Seldom do we seek the advice of others because the last thing we want to do is entertain the idea that someone else may see the bigger picture of potential disaster.

As I heard the words “I’m ready” come out of my son’s mouth last week, my stomach turned with doubt and concern. I cringe at the thought that he may face the possibility of further injury.

Sometimes I find myself telling God those very same words. “I’m ready,” I say as I proceed without waiting for God to respond. Failing to realize that even when I can’t hear Him speak, He’s preparing the way for me and if I simply wait for Him, He will make my way perfect.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” My timing isn’t His, and trying to make everything beautiful on my own only destroys the beauty He’s preparing. And knowing that I can’t fathom what He’s already done and continues to do should be more than enough of a reason to sit in peace…

And so I begin this week in prayer, praying that Nick knows when he's strong enough to push forward and when to heed to the instruction to ease up when he's hurting. And I also pray for my own discernment, that I know when to wait on God's timing and not my own...

Life Lesson Through a Strained ACL

I cannot believe that it’s August already…

August marks the start of football season, and this year has proven to be pretty eventful so far…


Practice started the last week of July, which just so happened to be the time I set aside for a “last hoorah” trip. Destination Los Angeles.

Nick began his first week of football with what they dub “hell week.” My son has made it an annual tradition NOT to prepare for intense drilling and once again found himself getting sick in the middle of night number one. His response to me that first night was, “I just wasn’t ready for it.” Hmmm….

Night number two brought him home limping and complaining of a sore ankle.

As I watched him walk to the car after night number three I noticed that he wasn’t drenched in sweat. When I questioned it, he confessed that he sat out of practice because of his ankle and was told to put ice on it.

Night number four marked the first day of my vacation and the evening before Nick’s started. After a phone call before bed he confessed that he sat out once again and his coach advised that he go in to see a doctor.

As Nick arrived in Orange County that Friday morning, I watched him limp towards me like an 80 year old man with a prosthetic leg. He had been living on Aleve and I decided that we should make a quick stop at a drug store to pick up some Ben Gay or Icy Hot to help the muscles.

I honestly felt bad for him as I watched him painfully walk around the entire weekend. He didn’t complain much, but I could tell he was hurting.

Upon our return home last Monday, I took him in to Urgent Care before practice to have a doctor tell me what we’d already diagnosed it to be.

A strained ACL.

No football practice for 3-4 weeks.

As we drove home I could sense the disappointment in my son’s being. He has come to terms with the fact that this year will be the last year that he will play football because he knows the intensity of the sport, what is required to perform at his best, and he has somewhat acknowledged that there are some things that he knows he simply cannot do…

Sitting in the doctor’s office, I had asked Nick if the ankle he strained was the leg that he has problems with and he said yes. I then explained to the doctor that Nick had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy a few years ago and the only thing that was affected from this disease was his leg…could it be that the lack of “working” nerves in his leg resulted in the strained ankle? His response was…absolutely. He continued to stress the importance of exercising that ankle and leg to build up extra strength, which ironically was the advice given by his doctor at the Shriner’s hospital.

So back in the car, I put on the “stern parent hat” and explained to Nick how important it is to listen to the advice that a doctor gives him. Saying you understand and are going to work on it is very different than actually doing it. With tears building up in his eyes on the verge of pouring out, he quietly said, “I knew you were going to think this was my fault.”

One of the greatest difficulties for me as a single parent is trying to find that balance between the roles of mom and dad. Sadly, I believe I find myself telling my son to “buck up” more often than wrapping my arms around him and telling him it’s all going to be ok… My prayer is that one day he’ll fully understand the things that are truly important to me in regards to raising him. To love him the best way that I know how, and to help him become a man of strength, courage, and integrity. To build him up and encourage him along the way. To teach him the importance of morals and the things he should value.

I felt as though I let him down on our drive home that day from the doctor…

It makes me wonder how God does it with us…finds that balance between the stern discipline and wrapping his arms around us in comfort, to let us know that it’s all going to be ok. How He hurts more than anything when we’re hurting and yet will continue to discipline us as needed. How He must rejoice when we fully understand the depth of His love, mercy and grace.

And for a moment I was the 13 year old in the car, seated next to Jesus in the driver’s seat. Tears swelling up in my eyes as I felt the blame placed upon me… All of the advice I have never heeded to. The endless number of times I felt things never went my way. And He looked at me with piercing, compassionate eyes. “It’s not your fault… I have done what I’ve done because I love you…and I have greater things in store for you than you could ever possibly imagine. It’s not your time now, but it’s coming. And all the pain, heartache, and disappointment will blossom into life’s greatest blessings for you. I promise.”

Life is full of all kinds of lessons, and thanks to God for allowing them to shine through in my life...

Saving Grace

Yesterday morning as I was checking toddlers in at church, my boss gave me orders to page the grandma of one of our little boys because he had a rash on his skin and there was no explanation given as to what it actually was. Under normal circumstances, pagers are issued to the adults dropping the children off. But occasionally they aren’t handed out which as luck would have it…was one of those times.

Knowing this little guy’s grandma, I offered to go into the worship service to look for her, not thinking about this particular service being the largest in attendance over the weekend.

I walked through the doors during worship and began panning through the hundreds of heads that were standing. As I panned, more and more people poured through the doors to find seats which added more difficulty to what I was trying to do. After failing to locate her from the back I made my way over to one side, walking up and down the isles looking like a confused, lost soul. No luck on the left so I moved to the right. Up and down the isles, scanning hundreds of faces. Nothing.

A few of the ushers asked if they could help me look for someone, which would have been great had they actually known who the woman was!

I’m starting to get a headache…

I took a position at the back of the sanctuary once more as the congregation sat down for a moment. Back to front, side to side. Still nothing.

I walked back to the nursery to check in and give an update on my pathetic findings. I was informed to keep searching, as there was a room full of little ones and a single boy with an unidentified rash.

Back to square one…

This time, I started on the right. Walking up one isle and down the next, I was beginning to wish that I was carrying some sort of sign that indicated who I was looking for. More and more people could tell that I was struggling, or entirely crazy and would stop me to offer their help.

Now I was beginning to wish that our video screens had some sort of “ticker” scrolling across the bottom like on ESPN.

I went back to the nursery yet again, frustrated with myself. I felt as though I had been looking through a “Where’s Waldo?” book for the past half hour. I asked if there would be a way to have someone make an announcement before the sermon, or at least take this little boy into the sanctuary with me this time to attract attention. Permission granted! I scooped him up, knowing that somehow this time would be a success!

On the way in, I tried to make a game of it with him. “I need you to help me find your grandma, ok?” He smiled in excitement. As soon as we stepped inside, the lights went completely out. Seriously? After a few moments, they came back on and knowing the pastor would begin preaching very soon we hit the isles again. By this time the congregation had to think this was hysterical. Two sections down, and all of a sudden his little arm pointed straight out as he touched grandpa.

I’ll embarrass myself right now by saying that I eyed this woman several times. The only difference between this woman and the woman I was looking for was newly added highlights. I even questioned my co-workers. “Did any of you notice her hair today? Did she get highlights?” And the response given was no. So I dismissed the possibility. As the ever-so-annoying saying goes, “my bad.”

The whole congregation should have erupted with clapping and a standing ovation. After all, it was…well deserved. I’m joking. I was just ecstatic that this needle in a haystack adventure was resolved…

As relieved as I was, I became aware of how often I put myself through similar situations. Rather than taking the easiest way out, I stubbornly seem to think I can take care of everything myself. Rather than seeking first the wisdom from the One who knows me better than myself, I create my own navigation system through my life. Had I taken this little guy with me on the first trip I would have saved myself frustration, caused a little less distraction, and been available to do other things in that amount of time.

Sometimes I feel as though much of my life is wasted in trying to figure things out. Trying to locate Waldo in a sea of faces, feeling my way through the darkness, and feeding into my stubbornness.

Yesterday, my saving grace was a two year old boy. Every day, my saving grace is a Loving Father. I need to remember that…

Bellevue, Iowa

This past week, my heart has definitely been back "home."

I grew up in small town Iowa, with several neighboring small towns where everyone literally knew everyone.

Last Sunday, July 4th, my Facebook updates were flooded with links spreading the news of a parade tragedy in a nearby town called Bellevue. Apparently a pair of horses that were pulling a family in a buggy/carriage were spooked and took off from the parade route onto the sidewalk lined with families and small children. 24 were reported injured at the time.

I spent most of that day in shock and prayer for that community.

A few days later, a friend of mine who is in law enforcement and grew up in Bellevue, posted a link to the actual dispatch call from this tragedy. I sat in bed Tuesday night listening to the familiar voice of the dispatcher and the officers that were frantically trying to work at getting EMS where they needed to be. It brought tears to my eyes. My friend added on his link, "Ever get a chance...thank a dispatcher. Nice job Bellevue and Bob Lane and crew at Maquoketa Law Center."

Most people wouldn't know this, because it isn't typical in this day and age for Emergency Response/Dispatching to be done in one location, for several communities. Maquoketa PD was practically a second home for me when I was in my early 20s. I was working in the small town, and dated one of the men in blue for several years. He was also from the town of Bellevue. The dispatcher in Maquoketa is responsible for communication between at least five small towns, as well as the county. He is the link between the PD, FD and EMS. And he typically works his shifts solo. That's a lot of weight to carry in the midst of a tragedy...The dispatcher whose voice I heard this week, was the very same dispatcher 17 years ago.

Throughout the week I searched on the internet for news stories reporting on the accident. KCRG TV did a great job at keeping people informed and covering the community well.

As I thought about Bellevue, I thought about what a great community it is and has always been. Its population consists mainly of a handful of families, and that's exactly what the town is. One big family. Nestled along the Mississippi River, it is one of the most beautiful places in the state of Iowa. I always enjoyed visiting whether it be for a walk along the river, or lunch with my grandma. If I could bottle up this small town and place it anywhere, I would want to scatter it everywhere!

Later on in the week, I noticed a Facebook page set up specifically for this unfortunate event. It listed all of those who were injured which included a few names that I actually knew.

Below is a link to one of the news reports. As I watched it I was truly touched as I recalled what small town life is truly about...

http://www.kcrg.com/news/local/Bellevue-Mayor-Medical-Response-was-Amazing-97901619.html

"The human touch outweighs anything else in Bellevue." What a statement. What a motto we all should live by. Can you stop for a minute and imagine what our world would be like if we spent every day of our lives living by this simple truth?

What an honor, that I can say I'm from a small town. You hear some people complain that small towns mean that everyone knows everyone's business, and yet at the end of the day, small towns pull together like no one else does. And that is what truly matters in the end.

Peaceful Chaos

Yesterday afternoon I had the opportunity to visit with my friend and her beautiful family of eight.

Whenever I pull into their driveway I chuckle because I see the cars and feel like I’m intruding on some sort of get-together but then remind myself that all of the cars belong to their crew!

As we pulled into the drive, the dad was heading out for a run, their oldest was standing outside as their family friend was working on her car’s air conditioning, and my friend, with a houseful of little ones awaited us inside.

We walked in and Nick was greeted as if he was some sort of “fresh meat” ready to be devoured. This is typical whenever we visit and I love watching them attack Nick because the one thing he doesn’t have in his life is a sibling to tug at his leg, jump on his back, or wrestle around with. As long as my friend is ok with Nick playfully reacting to her boys, I am perfectly fine with merely letting the boys be boys.

We sat in her family room and conversed as plastic toys flew to and fro, boys jumped from sofa to sofa, latched onto Nick’s leg as he drug them across the floor. It literally was a combat zone filled with giggles and laughter. While mom tried to calm them down to no avail, I sat there and couldn’t help but laugh myself. Are you kidding? I thought. This is GREAT!

What makes it so great is the fact that while these boys are running wild, the evidence of love abounding under that roof grips my soul. Family pictures line the walls. Christian books sit on the end tables. And rather than four boys yelling at mom because “so and so hit me over the head with such and such” there is laughter. Something I would consider “peaceful chaos.” It’s what makes her house a home…Life under the roof of my friend’s house is an example of how homes should be.

As I sat there bursting with laughter on the inside I glanced across the room to see a frazzled, yet submissive look from my beautiful friend. And while she may have many moments of which she just wants to take a walk alone, I know…without and ounce of doubt, that she wouldn’t trade her life for the world. One of the many things I admire about her.

Another thing that I admire her greatly for, is her love for Jesus. Seldom does she speak of any one thing and not bring up the name of Jesus, mentioning His mercy and grace, His sovereignty, His love, His teachings. She has an amazing passion. And while we share the love of Jesus, we also share our struggles with humanness. Our frustrations, our anger, our questions.

Amidst the noise and dodging toys, if there were moments I had to sit and read her lips for lack of audibly being able to hear her, I was comforted merely by seeing the look of passion on her face. Her eyes truly are the window to her soul and I’m pretty sure that everyone who knows her feels the same.

When her husband arrived home from his run, they rounded up the rest of the boys to take them into town to go for a swim and leave us girls alone, for some “girl time.”

As the front door closed, the house was quiet and still. And I have to wonder what I would do if I didn’t have the sound of laughter and love in my life. How empty it would make me feel.

We spent the remainder of our time together expressing our concerns of others. We spoke of the heartaches and hurts of this earthly life. We cried. We prayed. And I walked away feeling so blessed to have moments like that. Thanking God for knowing who to send in my life and at just the right time. And encouraged by words spoken and seeing love displayed through the art of “peaceful chaos.”