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Emerging from the Cocoon

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One year ago today, my feet stepped back onto American soil after spending one month in Kenya, I wrote in my journal. I took a deep breath, and let my head rest back on my pillow, remembering the journey and how good it felt to be home. It felt like yesterday. No, it felt like three years ago!

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It was after that trip that my life completely changed.

So much change happened all of a sudden that I don’t even want to retrace it, yet here I am writing about it.

This change rocked me to my core. It put me flat on my back and knocked the breath out of me.

First sadness set in, then grief, which turned to anxiety and finally depression.

Before last year, I’d not had a personal encounter with those words. Sadness. Grief. Anxiety. Depression. I knew what they meant and I knew people who struggled with them, but they were not feelings I lived with. Sure, I’ve had a bad day or an off week, but eventually the clouds would part in my world and the sun would shine again.

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Trades of Hope {Interview with Katy Nutter}

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The first year I went on a mission trip to Kenya, I spoke at a ladies conference. In between sessions, we also taught the ladies how to crochet. It was a precious time for me, because I helped teach them this skill without knowing their language! I would sit next to a lady, demonstrate the stitch, then hand the yarn back to her to try herself. If she did it correctly, I would  nod my head and smile. If she needed extra help, I would ask for the yarn back and show her again.
I was so impressed with these women. They not only caught on fast, but some of them made hats, booties and purses all from us teaching them one basic stitch. We left them with a skein of yarn so they could continue creating masterpieces once we left.
They thanked us for teaching them a skill. That was something they could use and possibly earn money off of what they made. A small business.
A friend of mine, Katy Nutter, is apart of company that wants to do the same thing. She is apart of a company called Trades of Hope,  which teaches skills to women living in poverty.They don’t merely hand out money, but actually create jobs! Their website says, “So many women live in poverty, not because they lack abilities, but because they lack opportunity. We started Trades of Hope to give women that opportunity for a better life. Each woman has a story, and with Trades of Hope’s help, their story has changed from pain and struggle to a story of hope!”
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They are teaching these artisans how to sew, do bead work and more. Trades of Hope then buys the hand-made products from the artisan at a fair wage. After that, Compassionate Entrepreneurs, like Katy, market the products in the United States to give them a broader market and allow them to sell more quantity and make more profit. The artisans typically make 4-6 times what they would be making in their local markets!
Katy introduced me to these Restoration Earrings, which are made in Haiti from cereal boxes and clay.
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Aren’t they pretty? I love the colors! And they aren’t too heavy.
The artisans in Haiti can create 50 beads, 2 necklaces, or 8 bracelets from one box of cereal. Plus, it provides $40 in income!
 I asked Katy some questions about Trades of Hope, hoping to give you a chance to hear her heart about the company and products…

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The Ride of My Life

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For some strange reason, Six Flags brings out the teenager in me. A few weeks ago, we took our kids for the first time to this favorite theme park of mine. Yet it was me obnoxiously fidgeting in my seat and dancing along to the radio on the car ride up there.

It was impossible to contain my excitement!

Once we finally walked through the gate, map in hand, I located my favorite ride: Mr. Freeze. I begged and pleaded with my son to join me on what I considered to be the best ride in the whole park.

As we stood in line to this ride that shoots you backwards at 70 mph, I had my own flashbacks to when I was Caleb’s age. I remember standing in the exact same line with my youth group friends, my stomach doing butterflies at what we were about to experience.

As the line died down and we inched closer to the starting gate, my heart rate quickened. My palms started to sweat and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. I wanted to pass on the memory of this ride to my son, but in that moment I worried he wasn’t ready. This was only our second ride, and I wondered if I should have warmed him up a little more.

As the guy holding the microphone prepared the group before us to take off, I started chattering constantly to a group of 13 year old girls I had befriended during our wait.

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When God is On the Move

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Recently, in an effort to zone out from all the activity swirling around me and actually rest, I queued up The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. For what better way is there to escape the worries of this world than to wander through the wardrobe with Lucy and embark upon an adventure filled with curiosity, faith, fauns, talking beavers and a battle of Good vs. Evil?

I’ve read the book and seen the movie many times, but the line that caught my attention this go-around was when Peter, Susan and Lucy entered the home of the Beavers. Mr. Beaver looked at all of them and said “Aslan is on the move.”

It reminded me of the song “God is on the move, on the move, Hallelujah. God is on the move in many mighty ways.”

When God is on the move, you know it. The air is different. Your spirit is stirred, restless even in anticipation of what is coming next. You can’t  quite make out what it looks like, but there’s a rustling in the bushes and like a dog with his ears perked, you are waiting expectantly to figure it out.

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When Satan Splashes in the Puddles of Our Past {No More Secrets Release}

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My husband and I have this great relationship. He says profound, small sound bites that pack a punch and I write them down and later turn them into a blog post. The other day, he said something at the office he knew I would have taken notes on. When he got home he relayed it to me before he forgot. Here’s what he said –

“Satan wants to play in the puddles of our past and then blame us when we get wet.”

-Satan wants to play in the puddlesof our past and then blame us when we get wet.-

Isn’t that the truth?!

It’s like he runs beside us and spies a perfect puddle just ahead that would smear mud all over our face. He poises for the jump and does a cannon ball right in the middle of the puddle. Water and mud splash all over our face, and we remember the time, way back when, when that happened. That horrible, awful event that rocked us to the core. And just like that we’re back there.

We remember what it smelled like, what flavor ice cream we used to eat, the song that played on the radio, the feel of the leather seats in the car we drove. Just like that Satan splashes in the puddles of our past and we think we’re that person again.

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Friday Morning Devotionals: Heavy Change

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friday devotional

A few weeks before Christmas, Caleb lugged a one-gallon glass jar full of the year’s spare coins into the bank. As he walked carefully across the cold, tile floor, his lips pressed together as his arms strained to carry the weight. The clopping of his footsteps echoed throughout the quiet air of the bank. His gaze – straight ahead at the center counter where he could finally set down his load.

As he lifted the jug to set it on the counter, the corner of the platform kissed the edge of the jar. All he was left holding was the handle and 2” of the top. The rest shattered into a thousand shards of glass and the change spilled along beside it.

I thought about this episode this morning when I put some cash in my wallet. As I placed the wallet back in my purse, my shoulder immediately sagged.

What is making this so heavy? I wondered.

Ah, it’s all that change, I realized.

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Triggers

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Normally, I like to stay away from “How-To” books. They seem to stifle my creative nature, but also because, I long to follow a formula that looks nice and neat, tying life in a pretty bow. So, when the title promises me 5 Guaranteed Ways to Grow a Happy Family in 3 Easy Steps, it sounds appealing as I imagine my darling children all neatly dressed with ironed pants, smiling at me even when I tell them No.

Inwardly I want that book. I want to follow those 3 Easy Steps and obtain the advertised results. But I’ve tried to follow the 3 easy step philosophies and claim my overnight success as a parent and….failed.

I quickly thought about this glitch of mine when Wendy Speake Brunner asked me to read and share in the launch of her and Amber’s new book, Triggers.

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What Every Husband Needs to Know about Homeschooling

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Dear homeschooling husbands,

(And by homeschooling husbands, I mean not necessarily that YOU homeschool the kids, but rather you are the husband to a homeschooling mom.)

I am convinced that motherhood is the hardest profession out there. I am also convinced homeschooling, as wonderful as it is, places second in degree of difficulty. So when you mix the two hardest jobs in the world together, every minute, every day, well there is just not a word that fits the job description or requirements.

You know how you feel when you first come home? You just left the cozy quiet of your truck or car, walked all by yourself to the front door and then WHAM! One kid grabs your leg, the other slams you with questions and the other is quietly taking the vacuum cleaner apart?

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Beyond the Page

Thread of Redemption

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Thread of Redemption

Thread of Redemption

The words rung in my ears over and over again.

Is this my site?

Late one evening, I re-worded my site to look something like this:

The Thread of Redemption

I eagerly published it and was excited to share the new logo, until, as I was praying about what this new title held, I heard the whisper, this is a new thing.

A new thing.

So, I erased my work and took the months December and January to pray, listen and record the message I believe this site is to hold and share.

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Letting Go

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My arms ached as my kids grabbed their bags and tumbled out of the car.

I didn’t give them one last hug, my mind alerted me in bold letters.

I resorted to hollering “I love you“, through the crack in the car door before it had a chance to fully close.

The sweet, smiling lady I’ve seen every morning now grabbed their little hands and walked them to the cone just ahead of me. From there, she passed them to another lady who assured their safe arrival to the other side of the parking lot. But before they could walk across, the second lady grabbed both of my kids, gave them a big hug and kissed the top of their head.

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