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What I Want to Do When I Grow Up & Why Your Story is Part of It

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I remember on the weekend visits with my dad, he would say he was still trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up. To my young adult brain, he seemed already grown up. In fact, if he wasn’t grown up, who is?

Back in school, I wanted to grow up to be a vet. That is, until I learned how many years of college it took and that they had to put animals down at times. Never mind! I was told in school that I could be anything I wanted to be. The sky’s the limit. Dream. Then go after them.

I did. It didn’t work…as I planned it would, so I stopped. “What do you dream about,” whispered the Lord one day while I was on a walk. Continue reading →

Truth, This Generation’s 4 Letter Word: What Happens When We Ignore It

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It happened last summer: I’d had it with the carpet. My son spilled a berry smoothie on it for the last time. Yes, it coordinated well with the beige paint I spilled on it a few months ago, but still, the carpet had to go and NOW. Maybe I was feeling a little too ambitious, but by the end of the day I was proud of the rolled up nasty, dirty carpet and linoleum strips that lined my driveway awaiting the dumpster.

The only thing that bothered me and my family now was the continual white bottomed feet and fine dusty floors that could never be swept enough. No, I didn’t have a plan when I ripped up all the flooring from the kitchen to the living room. I was hoping inspiration would come soon – I’d take it any minute…

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What Now?

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Change

It’s what I receive back at the checkout stand.

It’s what happens between 12 and 18 years of age.

It’s how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly.

Change

It jingles in my pocket.

It’s also what must happen in my heart to follow Jesus.

It must happen sooner or later-

Change

I feel it in the breeze that blows on my face.

I hear it in the voices that echo in my home.

I see it happening, like leaves changing color in the fall.

The wind changes direction and ushers in a new season

Do the trees willingly embrace their bare branches? Does it hurt to bud new leaves?

The colors of fall are breathtaking. Yet, the temperatures of winter are harsh.

Change can bring exciting, new ideas. Yet my heart beats in fear.

Change leaves me feeling uprooted, like a transplanted rose bush. Caught up in the nailed marked hands of my Gardner, I go only where He places me.

He gently surrounds me with Songs of Deliverance as He prepares the ground.

Two sparrows are sold for a penny, the Word says. And the strands of hair on my head, numbered.

I am worth more than many sparrows. My life is in His hands.

Change

O Lord, soften up my soil. Prepare the branches for your pruning and plant me where I will produce fruit for you.

Massage the soil of my heart that my roots do not break off in my attempt to hold on to where I am. I want to go where you want me.

Make me more fruitful Father. Harden me with your gentle love to endure the wind, rain, heat and cold of this life.

Replant me by your streams of water that I may always bear fruit.

Thanks Flickr for the photo.

What Stays Still, Yet Holds Great Power?

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I have figured out why I love words –

They don’t move.

The rest of my life doesn’t like to stay where I put it down last. Put the clean dishes away in the cabinet…only to get them out again for dinner. Vacuum up all the dog hair…only to see it pile up again or blow away as you try to sweep it up! Wash, fold, put away the clothes…only to, yes, wash, fold and put them away again.

My kids. I’ve tried to make a deal with each of them to stop them from growing up so fast. I told my daughter I wouldn’t allow her to turn 4, just wouldn’t allow it. Then, when she didn’t listen to me and was on the heels of turning 8 I told her this, “Ok, so, how about you don’t turn 8 and I’ll forgive you for turning 4, 5, 6, and 7?” Again, she laughingly declined and actually turned 9 this year! Not what I call being still!

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What Happens When We Blur the Lines: My Response the Bruce Jenner Saga

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Everyone else has written about this topic, so I might as well join them.

I keep reading about how we who call ourselves Christians just need to love this man more. That we have no right to call what he’s done right or wrong. I keep reading that somehow by me not agreeing with his lifestyle choice, I’m judging him. We just need to love more. Love, love, love. It’ll solve everything.

I disagree.

Yes, we must love. It’s by our love that people will see Jesus.  But in this case, I see the issue being more about truth than love.

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How Does God Confirm His Will To Us?

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Finding God’s Will can often seem like staring at two jigsaw puzzles with the pieces all mixed together. Which piece goes to which puzzle? And what image are we piecing together?

I’m not a famous artist but I remember how my mom ( who is a famous artist ) taught me how to draw a tree. It’s a series of Y’s. I drew this in my journal one day as I thought about the different choices I’ve made all trying to be in God’s Will.

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Results Matter but Don’t Define: Why I Write

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Something hit me as I slept last night.

If I am blogging for fan mail and Facebook likes, or for Twitter retweets and Pinterest awards, I would’ve quit months ago.

I’ve stared at my stats page before, wondering why I spend the time to write and post, write and post. Do my words matter to others? Should I continue to hope for more followers, comments and future inspiring post material?

I watched a movie yesterday that had completely nothing to do with writing, but yet may go down in my history book as monumental. It was the story of gymnast Gabby Douglas.

Gabby came from a single parent, single income family. Her mom funneled all they had, and even some of what they didn’t have into providing her daughter the tools and time to pursue her dream of becoming an Olympic gymnast. At the age of 12, Gabby studied the athletes as they performed at the Olympics through the screen of her television.

As we watched the coach, she decidedly declared, “He will be my coach one day. I want to go to the Olympics.”

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What if the Alarm Clock Fails and You’re Late Again?

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Before turning out the lights to end the day, I had Adam set the alarm for 7 a.m. My parents are in town and my dad wanted to go jogging with me in the morning.

Being able to hear the birds sing rather than dodging two way traffic is my preference, so getting out the earlier, the better. At 5:30 my body jolted up, peering through blurred, squinty eyes to see what time the clock said. “In case the alarm forgets to go off,” I thought, “I need to wake myself up.” I did it again at 6…and again at 6:30…finally at 6:45 I thought, “The alarm is set, just trust that it will work.” Sure enough at 7:00, the alarm rang!

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4 Ways We Can Have Unity in our Diversity

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If you mix all the colors of the rainbow together, you get brown.

Ephesians 4 talks of “Unity in the body of Christ”. It says things like “ walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace… (verse 1-3)”

This unity of the Spirit implies we allow each color to shine its designated, unique hue while working together as one body. We also have the beautiful imagery of Believers being the body of Christ. Some of us are maybe more thick skinned than others and therefore are a perfect heel, some bend really well and act as an elbow. We each have our part, yet bend and strain as needed to keep the whole body healthy. When the right side of your should hurts, the other side also begins to because it’s been overcompensating for the right side. Without the smallest member, our body and the Body of Christ can’t function properly. So how do we work together while letting each part/each color be unique? In other words, that’s easy to say and write about; it’s much harder to live. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but just some examples that have come to my mind:

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What if I Just Want to be with You?

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 I’ve had a long standing rule in my house that “wake up” time is at 7:00 a.m. I need my sleep and space in the morning so everyone is to stay in their room till then.
Before my oldest son turned three, I had a clock in his room with stars marking the 7 and 12. I followed this timely gift with a conversation about when the little hand points to the 7 and the big hand points to the 12, that means it’s 7:00 and you can wake up!
For the most part it worked. At times, even now, one of the kids will push the envelope and crack open the living room door at 6:55, just to check the validity of this invisible boundary. I usually let it slide, but then in a couple days, 6:55 turns to 6:50 and then to 6:45.

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