Tuesday, February 26, 2019

"Comparison is the Thief of Joy"

[12.22.2018] 

You’ve probably read or heard the phrase, “comparison is the thief of joy.”

 It’s a phrase that is all over social media. 

I’ve always thought of it as it pertains to comparing your home decor to someone else’s, or your clothes to someone else’s...and not as much about comparing your life to someone else’s. 

But my sister told a story about my Dad the other day: he’s been in rehab since he fell in his home on Thanksgiving Day; how confused he is, how stubborn and grumpy he sometimes acts now...which is completely and totally not his character at all. 

And she told his caretakers and therapists how he is, and has always been, the kindest, most gentle person we’ve ever known. 

She says they act like they believe her. 

She said they are all touched by his love for Clara...and hers for him. And by the way his face lights up when he sees her. 

They say they want what my Dad and Clara have. 

I think it’s interesting that people see the two of them, and want what they have...but they have no idea of the heartbreak and loss that brought them to each other. 

We see a slice of a person’s life, and we assume that what we see has always been: that there has always been joy, love, and hope. 

Or that there’s always been criticism, frustration, and sadness. 

And then we compare what we have to what we *see* in others...and sometimes we wish for that life...when we have no idea what it has taken for them to get to that place. 

Such a great reminder to me that everyone has a story...and it might not be the one we make up in our heads.

"...'Should we accept only good from God and not adversity?' Throughout all this Job did not sin in what he said." Job 2:10

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Fighting for Love

We shouldn't be friends, she and I.

Hurt feelings and change and circumstances and memories and broken dreams...all could've divided us.

Too much...what is it they say..."water under the bridge."

And, yet, here we are.

Friends. Sisters in Christ. Forgiven...and forgivING.

Bound together by a deep love for each other, and trusting in the promise that God will work all things out for our good.

In HIS plan...and not our own.

This looks crazy to people on the outside looking in, but, honestly, we should not have a problem showing extravagant love to others...because that is exactly the way Jesus loves us.

Oh, it's not always easy. It hasn't always been easy for us.

But we fought for this.

And I'm so thankful we did.

"Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony." Colossisans 3:14

Monday, February 11, 2019

On Raising Strong Girls

Everyone wants to raise strong boys, but you can receive mixed reactions when you talk about raising strong girls. People are either like, “YEAH! Girl power!” Or they’re like, “slow your roll, Norma Rae.” 

Here’s the thing: we do need to raise strong girls. 

And here’s the other thing: We ARE raising strong girls, and we ARE already strong. 

We are strong enough to befriend the lonely, not worried about what others will say. I’m lookin’ at you, Lindsey Walker (Joshua's friend from K-12). 

We are strong enough to encourage our friends, because we know that their successes don’t take away from ours. 

We are strong enough to grow a life, birth a baby, and nourish them from our bodies. We’re also strong enough to love a child who was born from another, to raise them as equally as the ones who came from our bodies. 

We are strong enough to take criticism: from family, friends, and even from strangers...who have opinions about everything in our lives. 

We are strong enough to be in a marriage, without losing ourselves...and strong enough to go on alone, if we happen to lose our husbands. 

We are strong enough to hold our tongues when we should...and sometimes when we shouldn’t. We are strong enough to speak our minds on a subject, to voice our opinions, to own our emotions. 

Sometimes, we doubt ourselves, our abilities, our motives. We are still learning. 

Not every woman or girl has to be a sign-holding activist, altho there may be times when we feel so strongly about a situation or a cause that that’s what we do. Sometimes bringing awareness to a situation brings change. 

But I want to gently offer this for consideration: there are strong women who work quietly every day in their homes...raising their children (or other peoples’ children), and stretching their budgets. 

Some strong women are caring for their elderly parents. 

A strong woman close to my heart has added “caregiver” to her role as a wife, spending her days driving to and from a facility...where she daily visits, supports, and encourages her husband; daily laying down her life, her will, her time, her preferences, and her dreams...for him; daily living “in sickness and in health.” 

One of the strongest women I know lives with great challenges, parenting two daughters who have delicate and complex medical needs every day. EVERY DAY, y’all. 

Another strong woman I know advocates fiercely for the children in foster care in our state. 

Another strong woman I know is fighting cancer, and not for the first time...and is boldly committed to serving God “all the way to the gates.” 

There are strong women in the workplace...fighting against stereotypes and expectations, and shattering those glass ceilings. 

There are strong women who are single-handedly taking care of their families, by choice or because of loss or circumstances. 

There are strong women who teach our children in school every day. There are strong women who care for us and our loved ones in the hospital; strong women who work at Kroger, your bank, the post office; strong women who serve and protect our country. 

I want to suggest that we stop thinking women are “strong” only if they act or look a certain way, or believe a certain way, or have a certain profession, or belong to a certain political party. 

Strong women support other women instead of tearing them down. 

And here’s another thought: I’m confused as to why one gender needs to be superior to the other. And why we feel it’s necessary to put down one gender...in order to raise the other? 

Why can’t we celebrate BOTH? 

What I wanted, what I still want, was to raise a strong girl, of course. But also to raise strong BOYS...who would grow into strong men: men strong in faith, compassion, and character; who respect authority, and obey their parents; who love Jesus; who value the role of a husband and father; who partner with their wives to love God and each other, who teach their children, with words and by example, about Jesus; who serve God, their wives, their families, their church, and others; who see worth in a person, no matter their age, skin color, or if they are differently-abled; who respect the thoughts and opinions of women; who believe that women are capable, intelligent, and valuable; who cheer on and support the women in their lives, and encourage them to be all God has created them to be. 

I have a girl and 3 boys. 

This time, next year...Lord willing...our family will look much different, as we add two precious, new grandbabies to the sweet one we already have. My desire and my prayer is the same for all of our kids and grandkids, no matter their gender: simply put, to love God, and love others; to serve God, and serve others; and to share God...WITH others. 

And for each one to tend carefully to their own spiritual life. Because, to borrow this quote, “you cannot impart what you do not possess.” 

Let’s do better. 

STRONG GIRLS. STRONG BOYS. STRONG HUMANS.

"I have no greater joy than this: to hear that my children are walking in truth." 3 John 1:4

Saturday, February 9, 2019

Making Room at Your Church for New People

Earlier this month, I went to a women’s event at our church. 

We have a new pastor, and God is using him and his wife to breathe new life and energy into our church, and into our women’s ministry...and I’m so excited about that. 

But as excited as I was, I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach as we drove to the church. 

I think we tend to base future events on past experiences. 

Anyone else? 

I’m an Air Force Brat. I’ve lived all over the United States, and in 2 foreign countries. By the time I graduated from high school, I had already moved 16 times. SIXTEEN! I was ALWAYS the new kid...at church, at school, everywhere. 

It’s been a lonnnng time since I rode with Pa in the covered wagon to school. And even tho I know a lot of people at my church now, as I walked in this morning, I could still remember that sick feeling in my stomach. 

Will I know anyone? 

Will anyone talk to me? 


Where will I sit? 


Will they like me? 


Years ago, I went to a women’s event at church...by myself. 

I was new. 

I walked in alone. 

I went because I believe new people have to do some of the work...they have to put themselves out there, and try to meet people. 

But they should never, ever have to do ALL the work. 

So, several people spoke to me. I put on a name tag, and walked into the room. The tables were covered with white tablecloths. They were beautifully decorated. Candles flickered on each table. 

But do you know what else I saw? 

Chairs folded and leaned up around each table...the universal sign for “YOU CAN’T SIT HERE.” 

Nearly every table had one or two people seated at it, with all the rest of the seats “saved.” 

All of a sudden, I was back in school...the little new girl with no friends, and no place to sit. 

UGH. 

I never want anyone to feel like that! 

Today, I walked into a women’s event at my church. I wasn’t by myself...my daughter, Holly, was with me. Many people spoke to us as we walked in. The women’s ministry members were greeting everyone, and making sure that each person felt welcome. 

Holly and I walked into the sanctuary to see tables covered with white tablecloths. They were beautifully decorated. Candles flickered on each table. 

What we heard: “hey, sit with us!” 

All over the room, women were reaching out to each other saying, “hey, sit with us,” making sure no one had to stand awkwardly at the back, wondering if there was a place for them. 

My church isn't perfect. Yours probably isn't, either. But we are doing our best to welcome, include, and care for each other. We are trying our best to point everyone to Jesus.

Let's do better. There are people all around us that need a friendly word of encouragement.

Let's make sure everyone has a seat at the table.

"And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of His return is drawing near." Hebrews 10:25

Sunday, February 3, 2019

Century Bob

A couple of years ago, our middle son, Logan, asked for a “Century Bob” for his birthday. 

First of all, I had never heard of such a thing. 

Second of all, I had to google it. Or, as my boys say, “GOOOOOOOGLE IT, Mom...GOOOOOOOGLE IT!” 

I’m pretty sure I asked the nice man at the sporting goods store for a “fake man that you kick.” 

I stand by the fact that’s it’s probably one of the most unusual gifts I’ve ever bought for my kids, or for anyone, but if you have boys...they will think it’s AWESOME! 

I didn’t, and still don’t, understand the fascination with the fake man...but he was on sale, so I bought him. 

Logan was so tickled with it, and spent the next few days scaring Morgan half-to-death, by moving it all over their house. He would put different clothes on him from time to time...a hat, a scarf, a jacket. He even brought Century Bob with him when he stayed several weeks with his grandparents. 

On the days when my husband was there for work, Logan would hide Century Bob in the shower, or move him around in the room to scare Jim when he came in. 

Century Bob can be raised to over 6 feet tall, and I’m not joking when I tell you: if you walk into a dark room, and turn on the light...assuming you don’t have a heart attack and die on the spot...it will take you a minute to realize it’s just a fake man from the sporting goods store. 

So when we were visiting Logan and Morgan this past weekend, we got to see Century Bob, loud and proud, in their living room. But this Momma was on her game, and I gave him a big dose of my foot in his mouth. 

Uhhh...neck. I mean, high-chest area. 

Because I'm 5'3".

I know I should be more embarrassed by this picture than I am, but I’m just sayin. A real mugger might’ve killed me dead, but I legit put the beat-down on ol’ Bob. 

Also? DO NOT SNEAK UP ON ME.

“It is He who reveals the profound and hidden things; He knows what is in the darkness, And the light dwells with Him." Daniel 2:22