Abysmal

Oh girls, have you ever written something that you just knew was God-ordained? Well, I just started the book I have always wanted to write and I’m a little terrified at just how personal I am getting. After all, so much of what we put on paper is more about what we don’t say or are too afraid to say.

Look, let’s be painfully real with one another. I don’t care what you posted as your facebook or tweet quip. You can write “I’ve had the best day with my perfect children and my perfect life,” while you cry into your half-eaten pop tart because your four-year-old told you that you’re the worst mom ever.

We only write things that make us look good, don’t we? Welp, I’m so not writing things that will just make you marvel at how I’m wise beyond my years because if you know me at all, then you know that I delight in being an abysmally, if not mildly entertaining, person. How I tackle most things in my life is with tears every now and then, a lot of prayer, and a gentle mix of humor and coca cola classic to take the edge off of bang-your-head-against-the-wall moments.

I guess that is why I am so excited about this new project because I deeply despise fake and made up perfection. If you see me on Sunday and you just think, “Wow, she must have ironed her pants (which is scandalous on Sunday mornings) and really made an effort.” Then I’m going to be a little disappointed because I want you to see the messiness of me and that it’s a complete miracle that I actually have a little curl in my hair and bags under my eyes that I worked really hard to cover up to no avail. I want you to see me as a real woman with a heart after God.

When I pray over friends that I deeply love in the altars that are trying with desperation to hold onto their marriage, I identify with their pain because I have yet to have the perfect marriage. Newsflash, none of us do but somewhere between falling in love and a deep commitment to ‘til death do us part’ or whatever I said almost twelve years ago, we remind ourselves that life is sweeter when we give love away even if we never get all that we have ever dreamed of in return…like the big, awesome Mother’s day gift we’ve always dreamed of, but your man will never think to buy you in advance even if you circle it on the magazine and practically draw him a map to the store.

The man I chose and God chose is stuck with me…sorry babe. I’ve started walking and jogging on the rare occasion that if he tries to leave me by foot, I will catch him, pounce on him, and wrestle him to the ground with my brute force. And that last statement alone is why I started writing fiction, but just can't break away from what I really want to share with you. BTW,Why can’t I be five-four and powerful?

(If you read this, use abysmal in your facebook post and then post something horribly lame that you did today and make a comment on my blog to give me a good laugh. Seriously, I need a GOOD LAUGH .)

I love you guys!

Surviving Mother's Day

On Mother’s Day 2002 a dear friend of mine pulled me close and said, “It’s your first, Happy Mother’s Day”. I quickly wiped away the tear that was flowing down my face and smiled as we kept our little secret between us. It wasn’t my first Mother’s Day, but I was hoping that it would be that last one that was sorrowful. I did have reason to hope that the baby growing inside would be safe and I might actually have what my heart longed for. This time had to be different; my heart simply couldn’t take another loss.

The previous year was unbearable for me as I watched the mothers surrounded by lovely flowers and adoring children. Huge pregnant bellies encircled me and mine was empty. I had just miscarried for the second time, leaving me grieving the loss of two lives that I so desperately wanted. I knew that motherhood would be the highest calling I would ever receive. I wanted to honor God and give my husband a baby, and yet my body wouldn’t allow it.

Mother’s Day had arrived and I desperately wanted to stay in bed, but that was not a luxury a young minister’s wife has. Sunday is a day of work for me. I was grieving for the whole congregation to see, I felt their pity on that day especially. My husband and I were quick to share our news when we found out we were pregnant. The loss of our babies quickly spread through the congregation as a much needed prayer request. In that place of deep pain, I found the comfort of being real and refused to wear the mask that most Christians feel like they have to wear: the mask of perfection. I felt in my early years of being a minister’s wife that I was trying to fit a certain mold that I was never meant to fit. I was trying to be all things to all people, eagerly striving for a perfection that did not exist and that was not required of me. What I felt was self-inflicted, unrealistic, and unspoken expectations and my heart needed a break.

While trying to survive Mother’s Day I went to the open arms of my mother, knowing that with her I could have the breakdown that I deserved. Going home to my parents’ farm has always been a refuge for my husband and me; it’s the most beautiful piece of countryside that I have ever seen. The hills and trees in every shade of green was just what my heart needed. A place to feel so small and know that there is a Creator. I needed to go away and hurt in a place where it was safe; I needed to be with my mom. I didn’t think God would mind me needing her so much since she is one of the greatest blessings in my life. I would always be her little girl in need of a mother’s touch and embrace.

As I walked through the door of the guest bedroom at my parents house I was overwhelmed by the love I felt in that little room. On the bed were presents for me and my husband placed there by my sister. On the nightstand was the most beautiful arrangement of lilies in an elegant vase with a purple ribbon placed beautifully around it. Tears began to flow and I had no choice but to let them, my mother quickly wrapped her arms around me wanting to take the pain for her own so I wouldn’t have to hurt. “I don’t want to live anymore, it hurts to breathe,” I said with hot tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t say that,” my mother replied as we wept together. I can’t imagine how that statement must have frightened her, but then again she knew me and my faith in God.

God was ever so near to my broken and contrite spirit just as He promised in His word. The lessons I learned during that time of waiting for what my heart longed for would free me in ways I could have never imagined. I was able to let go of the pain and the idea of perfection to embrace something truly greater; freedom in Christ. God was healing my body through a series of treatments and time allowing my body to be healthy enough to sustain life.

God asked us to step out in faith and move to a new town to minister, I was positive that God would bless us for being obedient. Six days after we moved to Bella Vista, I found out that I was pregnant for the third time. This pregnancy would actually give us our first little miracle. I gave birth to my first baby girl in February and twenty-two months later, another baby girl. They are the little mirrors showing me who I want to be and where I sometimes fall short. Every day I get the pure joy of kissing little miracles, trusting God that He alone will take care of them and lead me in such a way that they will come to the saving knowledge of the God that granted their Mother her deepest desire…to be their Mommy.

A Place Called Normal & Discount Plastic Surgery

I just celebrated my thirty-fourth birthday with a girl’s trip. Four women of God all involved in ministry, shopping till we dropped, lots of laughter, and just ourselves to clean up after made for the most wonderful mini getaway. I was so impressed with this group of ladies and friends. We are all serving God in different capacities.

I guess I’m feeling a little nostalgic as I reflect back on my life, counting my blessings, remembering a few heartaches, and looking ahead in life. I am amazed at the change in me as I look back at my twenties, I seriously wouldn’t go back if you paid me to. I spent a majority of my young life trying to be normal, whatever that is. But, over the years I have embraced this quiet place of contentment and acceptance of who I am in Christ. Such joy comes from having the mold that shapes me being the hands of the Potter and not the hands of man, society, or even the church world. If I did the things expected of me as a pastor’s wife, I would love me a potluck meal, wear panty hose in the summer time, and probably need to take up piano lessons or heaven forbid, the organ.

Months ago I was having a conversation with my mother about life, I really can’t remember all that was said or what we were talking about, but I remember saying to my mom, “When I have ever been normal?”

Complete silence.

She didn’t disagree or lie to me to make me feel better. She just looked at me as I continued to tell her that I never felt called to have a normal life. And frankly, I’m sure I would be bored to tears if ever I landed in a place called “normal.”

I’m thirty-four now and “Root Touch Up” is my new best friend. I ache when I work out and I’m sure I have the beginnings of arthritis or perhaps it’s just the display of my overactive imagination at work. I am aging and the world is using their best tricks to capitalize in the beauty industry. I’m not a hater, I love a good wrinkle cream just like the next gal…but, eventually the cream will just be a ritual to make me feel as if I’m taking care of myself whether it works or not. Just last week I got a “coupon” in the mail for an offer of 40% of tummy tucks and 20% off of breast augmentation. I waved it at my husband and said, “Who sent this to me?!” I was ticked.

I have given birth to two large babies (8 lbs 4 oz & 9 lbs 14 oz) and nursed them. Sure, I could use some work, but maybe I should just try doing a few sit-ups and buy a better bra before I cash in this absurd coupon preying on the insecurities of women. (Now I’m worked up, so forgive for going off for a second about this.) I think that it is completely ridiculous that the Heidi Montag’s of this world can’t look in the mirror and feel beautiful. These are women in their twenties having multiple plastic surgeries. It’s crazy. Something happened to her as she was sucked into the world of Hollywood. A beautiful girl became broken and wanted to fix something on the outside of her gorgeous body that needed to be fixed inwardly. My heart breaks for her, my heart breaks for all of the girls in this world that feel like they are not good enough. My heart breaks that they feel the need to sell their bodies to make it in this world. They need hope in Christ and to know their worth and value as women. And that is something they should NEVER throw away or sell. We could bash Hollywood, but someone needs to reach Hollywood.

We are the temple of Christ, we do not need plastic surgery or to show all kinds of flesh to make ourselves attractive. This world is selling sex and the world is buying it. Our teenagers are buying it and Vogue is their new Bible.

Oh, Lord, help me to raise secure, healthy daughters who look in the mirror and smile because they are whole on the inside. Help me to age gracefully, to use my wrinkle cream with pride and look at this body and give thanks because it gave life to my little girls. I would not trade them for anything, so I won’t be mad about the stretch marks! I’m grateful for the gift of womanhood. Help me to be a display of Your splendor, make me beautiful on the inside so I’m not tempted to be caught up my outward appearance. Help me to reach those in need and searching after you.

Amen.

Big People Helmets & Bronchitis

Here’s a recap of my previous two weeks. It started with a trip to urgent care on Saturday. Sweet Elise had started coughing and things were starting to get scary. I spent most of Friday night praying over her as she struggled wheezing and coughing. The doctor’s confirmed it was bronchitis and we started treatment for my baby. On the way home I found out that Jonathan had been knocked out while trying to teach Whitley how to ride a bike. Who knew that we needed to get my big, strong man a helmet for this? He actually fell over Whitley and landed on his face. Whitley’s knee was bloody and bruised, but she was fine. It’s a Mom thing, but I needed to see her with my own eyes and Jonathan wasn’t making much sense over the phone. I was just sick to my stomach on our drive home trying to get to them. My world is wrapped up in Jesus and those three people, who are my highest calling.

When I walked through the door, I couldn’t believe it. Jonathan had really been hurt and I was scared. I sent out a few text messages asking for prayer. I stayed by his side for hours waiting to see if we should take him to the hospital. He was fine, but in shock about the whole thing.

Sunday morning he walked onto the platform and was greeted by gasps. I actually heard one man say, “Look at his face!” He truly wished that he had a better story to tell, like ‘I was mauled by a bear’ or ‘I was climbing the tree to rescue the neighbor’s overweight cat.’ Some of the men in the congregation teased me saying that I did it. (I’m little, but I’m powerful. ;) Jonathan is one of my favorite preachers and despite his throbbing head, he preached a great message and this week you can barely tell anything happened to the poor guy.

By Monday it was time for Whitley and me to go to the doctor. My blood pressure was extremely low and I was wheezing. I had my first steroid shot, which was painful, but extremely effective. Did I tell you that my five-year-old and seven-year-old have also been on steroids? Next time, I’m asking for a shot of Prozac too. It’s one thing to have children on steroids, but it’s another thing to feel like Cruella de Vil while caring for them. Today Whitley actually used the steroids as an excuse for her behavior.

“I really don’t want to be cranky, Mom. It’s not me really. It’s the steroids.” She said and then flashed me a toothless smile that melted my heart so much that I had to remind myself that I was supposed to be annoyed.

Honey child…that is exactly what I have been trying to tell your Daddy! (Wink)

Life is getting back to normal and we are doing so much better. Please keep the girls in your prayers; they are still doing breathing treatments. This allergy season hit all of us pretty hard, but God is so faithful. His love overwhelms me. It’s been a difficult week, but He knows when I sit and when I rise. He perceives my thoughts from afar. He knows me, He formed those precious little miniatures of myself and He is the God that heals.

“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thought from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in-behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” (Psalm 139: 1-6)

If you are feeling overwhelmed today or just need to know that God knows where you are at…read Psalm 139. You are hemmed in, handcrafted, enclosed by His amazing love, and surrounded on all sides. Oh, how He loves us. How cool is that?

Love ya’ll!

Tug of War

My previous post was my latest attempt at comedy, which I have to admit that I find myself terribly funny and sometimes just plain terrible. But, the moment I wrote the phrase, “…I began to walk faster thinking how ironic it was, and completely like myself, to try to be disciplined in one area of my life and not the other.” Something inside of me wanted to elaborate on our tendency to have noble expectations and desires and yet fall short.

It’s a universal dilemma that we all face. If discipline was a four letter word it would be this: work. It’s not just work, its hard work. We can have good intentions to live a life of godliness, desire to live by the word of God, and miserably fail at times with a heart full of good intentions. But, we are not alone in this. Paul wrote:

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.” (Rom 7:15-16 NIV)

“So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me, for in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. (vs. 21-23)

Here is the part that gives me great hope:

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.” (Romans 8:1-2)

Even the apostle Paul wrestled within longing for the tug of war inside of him to be removed. He realized that apart from Christ, there was no good thing inside of him. So many times we try to do things in our own strength before leaning on Christ. Jesus Christ came to set us free! Freedom can only come through Him.

So as I long to be more disciplined in my life, to exercise more and lay off the Twinkies, to feed my spirit with the word and lean on Christ alone before trying to fix things in my own strength, I’m completely aware that I am going to have days that make Jillian Michaels cringe. Days where I do the complete opposite of what I desire to do and yet I know at the end of the day I will be welcomed by a loving Savior.

What would Jillian say?

Today I actually started my walk with a chocolate chip cookie in my hand. Try to picture it, me with a cookie in one hand and my cell phone and ipod in the other. I smirked as I began to walk faster thinking how ironic it was, and completely like myself, to try to be disciplined in one area of my life and not the other.

I thought to myself, “What would Jillian Michaels say?”

I shudder at the thought.

I ate half of the cookie and in total disgust tossed the other half into the woods by my house. And then I ran after it crying, searching desperately to find it. I can’t believe you guys fell for that. The part about eating half of the cookie and tossing the other half totally happened.

Later on I ate two, fluffy yellow Peeps and some other Easter candy that made me think about kicking the Easter Bunny in his two front teeth. Who needs to run crying after half-eaten cookies when I have a stash of Easter candy that will last me a year? I won’t even tell you what I had for lunch at 3 pm from Sonic; all I can say is that Jillian, with her toned abs and hunger pangs, would have me in a choke-hold if she knew.

So, is walking and eating a cookie the equivalent of jogging with a cigarette in my hand? No, but it wasn’t healthy. Tomorrow I plan to do better and eat a more balanced diet… and get rid of some of that dang candy.

Come back for tomorrows post…

Easter blessings

We had a wonderful Easter; I’m still blown away by our family events and God’s favor on all of us. We were blessed beyond measure by our church family who provided a meal for all of us, which took a huge load off of me. Every time I tried to pick something up, clean up, or try to help I was rushed out of the kitchen and practically threatened with spankings!

Saturday morning we had an Easter egg hunt with the church, later we hunted again and had a cookout over at a friend’s house. Oh, how we love the Dunfee family, even if their huge TV is a sin according to Jonathan’s grandmother who is 84. Of course, we think she was joking but that hasn’t stopped the male owner from praying over it before he watches the game tonight. I can’t tell you how much we have laughed over this one.

I’m sure I will write more about our family time around the table, but right now I just want to tuck our conversation away in my heart and thank God for the blessings He has given us: time together and for a Savior who is risen.