I woke up this morning to the words It’s not supposed to be easy running through my head. It made me think of the P90X guy saying in the arm circle warm up…“We’re going to be here awhile. It’s going to burn. It’s supposed to.”
Life this side of Heaven: We’re here for an appointed time. It’s going to burn. It’s supposed to.
I know this, but somehow the creep happens. The comfort creep. I grow weary of fighting the same battles over and over again, so I start hunting for the cruise control button to make life easier.
But I forget ease and comfort are not the goal here. Life takes tenacity, endurance, perseverance. All those words you hear in cross country training and insinuate it’s going to be hard!
At 2 a.m., Dorie’s phone rang. “Your house is on fire!” said her best friend on the other end. “I gotta go.”
Dorie was in the horse breeding business and thankfully was at a horse show in Atlanta, Texas when the call came. A drunk driver had plowed into her house, setting it a blaze.
Dorie’s friend let the fire department know no one was inside and hurried over to the scene . Then she called Dorie back and said, “You’re free.”
It’s amazing how God prepares you for things. This friend had been praying with Dorie for 2 years about whether or not she should move. Dorie couldn’t bring herself leave the place she and her then, new husband had moved into 20 years ago. Six years into their marriage he had left, leaving her the house and the all bills to pay.
Click HERE to go to Thread of Redemption and finish Dorie’s story!
A few months ago I made a cake for a friend who turned 40. I had in mind this beautiful, elegant, tall, black fondant cake with the number 40 placed on top.
Simple and beautiful, just like my friend.
Black icing is a pain to make because it takes so much food coloring and even then has a purple hue to it. So I thought fondant would be easier and solve both of those problems.
Now, I haven’t used fondant much. My biggest undertaking would be this cake I made for my daughter’s 10th birthday party.
Notice the whole cake is not covered with fondant. Only the duct tape is fondant.
Nevertheless, I barreled ahead full steam. I bought 3 packages of fondant and set to work baking the cakes. Cake #1 was from my Betty Crocker cookbook called Best Chocolate Cake, and cake #2 was a vanilla flavor called Best Party Cake Ever from my Family Fun cookbook. Only the best for my friend!
Back in October life hit an unexpected bump which changed the trajectory of my plans for the fall. After a week in Kenya and then 10 days later speaking at the Hutto Bible Ladies Retreat, I was hoping for some peace and quiet and old fashion R-E-S-T. The kind where you zone out with a couple seasons of a Netflix show.
But apparently God had other plans.
The day I unpacked my suitcase from the retreat, Adam packed his. For the next two months, he had to work away from home for three to four days a week.
Not exactly snuggling on the couch watching Netflix together.
Since I couldn’t control the circumstances around me, this need for something to go as I planned bubbled up inside me. All of a sudden, I needed to sew something, paint something or rearrange something in my house to funnel the energy bouncing around within me and not take it out on the people around me.
As the leaves fall in layers outside my window, crunch beneath my shoes and swirl behind the cars, it reminds me summer is over and winter is coming. This little season we call fall prepares the way for holidays like Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. It ushers in chilly mornings, darker evenings and pumpkin spice smells in the kitchen.
I’ve often said that if I was a deciduous tree in fall, I would be the one to look around and say, “You know what, I’ve decided I’m keeping my leaves this year! I mean these are my favorite set! What’s the point of dropping my leaves now just to get them back again in a few months? Winter isn’t too bad here, can’t I just keep them?!”
What’s going to happen to me?
I’m probably going to freeze to death because if trees don’t drop their leaves in fall, they’ll die in winter from lack of food. Winter is not the time for nourishing extra things like leaves.
In an old Cosby TV show, Clair Huxtable is sporadically speaking Spanish to a colleague, while Cliff Huxtable stands off to the side, staring at them, because he doesn’t understand what’s being said. The two banter back and forth while Cliff’s face contorts into half a dozen classic Bill Cosby expressions. When the Spanish speaking pair looks back at Cliff he responds, “I’m just listening for my name!” That’s the one thing he understands and can respond to in a paragraph of fast flying foreign words.
This past month has been like a blur of fast flying foreign words. It’s been a series of packing and unpacking suitcases, preparing and speaking sessions, and eating lunch when I can. Between a Kenyan ladies conference, a Hutto Bible ladies retreat and my cousin’s wedding, I have spoken in a microphone more in the pat 45 days than in my entire life!
So many times after we return from Kenya, my heart is on fire with passionate future dreams. I usually hit the ground running in a flurry of activity, praying for clarity and trying to attain to the vision, before I wear a hole in the carpet.
Except all that changed about two years ago when God told us to “go home” from Kenya. We weren’t sure if we’d ever go back – not because anything bad happened but because it felt like the same cherubim and flaming sword God placed to guard the Garden of Eden from being re-entered was also guarding us against returning west.
I used to think I wasn’t the type that struggled with depression. During some deep personal struggles, I remember thinking I’m so glad I don’t struggle with depression, for this would be a really dark time.
Normally I would describe myself as an upbeat, passionate person who thinks deeply, sees life realistically and bustles about with high energy.
But as I look back over my 36 years on this earth, I see some mountain top experiences paired with some equally low valley seasons that were longer and darker than I gave them credit for. It’s hard to understand life as you walk it forward. It’s not until you look back that events make sense, yet time and circumstances don’t often allow you the luxury of looking back and reflecting.
Since my grandfather passed away, and even right after he took a dramatic turn for the worse, I have struggled off and on with this darkness.
Basically, sometimes I think I can do things, I can’t.
Like in my head I think I can do a round-off back handspring in my front yard. I’ve watched my daughter do it countless times. It looks easy!
But have you tried a cartwheel lately?
Something happened around 27 years of age that biochemically defies turning upside down without torrential side effects.
I remember one time, I was really excited about something and I did a frontwards flip onto my bed like a little kid. Afterwards I just laid there, flat on my back, watching the room pass by in front of me.
But I have these moments in life too…not over cartwheels and front flips anymore for I respect those boundaries… where I think I can do things I can’t.
Now, it’s over schedules and activities I think I can jam into my week and stay sane. Problem is they have the same result as the front flip on my bed – leave me dazed and confused as to what just happened!
“The kiosk to register to testify is around the corner.”
“Huh? I said where is the restroom?”
The two ladies laughed but the truth is, when God puts something on your heart to do, you hear it everywhere, even voiced over a request to go to the bathroom.
A few minutes later Charlotte made her way to the feared table, submitting her name to give testimony at a hearing in Austin, Texas on behalf of girls rescued from sex trafficking. Refuge of Light, a safe home for these girls, was requesting mercy from Texas lawmakers to be registered as a safe home to qualify for state funding. Charlotte and her friend were there to support this organization thinking their job was merely to fill a seat.
Little did she know God was about to knock on her heart to not just fill a seat but also share her testimony to those in attendance.
This testimony had been tightly locked away for years. Like a dog on a leash, Charlotte only let her story out to whom she wanted to and when she wanted to. She thought as long as she was living in the force field of control she wouldn’t be hurt again.
The trip to Austin proved to shatter Charlotte’s force field as the Lord said to her, “Charlotte, this story isn’t yours to hold onto. It’s really mine. Go. It’s time for you to tell your story.”
The Thread of Redemption exists to point out the fingerprints of God in the brokenness of life. Through people’s stories we highlight the thread of redemption weaved through-out the fabric of our lives.
Adam broke the silence of our family dinner with a bang, “So what is something you failed at today? And what did you learn from it?”
Gulp. And gulp again to swallow my food.
I studied his eyes to see if he was serious. He was.
Silence hung in the air as the four of us contemplated his words, not really appreciating having to think about the areas in which we failed today.
In our Facebook, perfectionist, everyone gets a trophy culture, we generally frown on sharing our failures because it is neither a trophy or worthy of shares. We feel ashamed when we fail, which evokes in us the need to cover the evidence, not display it.