A girl and her husband walk into a bar...

There's no punchline...not even a joke.  It was kind of funny in a self-deprecating way, but for me, it was the most identifying moment of my life.  I graduated high school in 1983.  Admittedly as in most schools, there were cliques, groups to which you identified yourself (or to which you were identified).  I moved to this area before I turned twelve.  For sure, the 'tween years are a hot mess for most kids.  

Back story, I teach and my FAVORITE group to teach is middle school/junior high. They live life on the edge feeling every emotion.  Teachers get this cool window where you can speak into their life the way they won't receive from their parents and they live in this between-world of wanting advice to thinking they don't need any.

I was "out" from the get-go.  A midwestern girl, fashion eluded me.  A tomboy, fashion eluded me.  Just out.  So weird to step into that world from the one where I came.  I found a group where I did eventually belong at church.  I was in the band and in the choir so there were friends and acquaintances there as well.  But, like any 80's movie or any human need, I felt the need to belong and feel accepted.  I didn't feel alone, and as a teacher, mom, human, my heart breaks for ANY child that feels this to the point where it alters their self-worth.  

Life moves on and as you age clarity, grace, wisdom...many things...form your thoughts.  My faith became my stronghold.  I always grew up in church, but (great quote, "Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car,") I became a Christ-follower in earnest in 2007 when I surrendered that last bit of supposed control and owned ALL of my junk (there's a lot of it).

I lived all my years, until recently, in the same community, but still on the fringe.  I didn't really care...but that darn human flesh still wants acceptance on some base level.  I chose to not go to the class reunions because many of the same people still lived here and the ones I cared about I kept in touch with on my own so I never felt the desire.  

Then the 30-year reunion came around.  Facebook was out by then and people were friends that were just acquaintances.  And one person wrote a beautiful note about acceptance and life.  I, for the first time, thought, "I'm gonna go."  So, I sign up, drop my youngest with my mom, and prepared for the unknown evening.

A girl and her husband walk into a bar...and not a single soul smiled, recognized, or said hello to me.  Some, I swear, that I knew, looked past me/through me/ beyond me.  So the girl and her husband walk to the side of the room where the reunion wasn't and sat down and ordered dinner.  

And here's the thing...not a single sad emotion in me.  Nothing but freedom for the first time in my life.  I could finally let go of this silly thing that I was holding on to.  I never hide or color my experience (probably should have a better filter, but alas).  I don't tell people who didn't know me then that I was anything other than who I was.  I wasn't ashamed.  I talked freely about it with my husband.  Told my mom when I went to pick up my daughter.  Then just let it go.  

It wasn't until recently when my daughter showed fear about going into someplace that I shared that story with her.  Then realized it's a story worth sharing and maybe one someone could relate to...looking for acceptance from others instead of where it should be found first.  I learned who I was and WHOSE I was.  Being accepted is wonderful, but not everyone is accepting or going to accept you.  But, the ones who God has for you to build you up and challenge and grow you, are the ones you look out for.  For my daughter, girl, walk in there unashamed.  "You BE you, boo!"

I wish it was a lesson I could have learned earlier, but God's timing has never been my own.  

A girl and her husband walked into a bar, ate a nice dinner, and walked out to freedom.  Nice price to pay for a little grub!

Time heals all wounds

Not sure who came up with this gem, but I can tell ya, in my experience, it is a crock of (insert poo emoji).  

It has been almost 23 years since my dad died.  And it hurts more today than it did then.  There are lots of reasons for this perhaps.  Maybe I never really let it be a wound in the first place.  He died on Sydney's birthday and was buried on Edward's birthday (a very weird gift in itself because the days would not be always remembered as sad days).  They were three and five.  Although I was married I was pretty much a single mom, so I was raising two young ones.  And our attention was now on our mom and taking care of her...for him...and in just doing life.  

There are days when the waves just come.  One thought process less to me to think of the advice he had given me one time about not brown-nosing the higher-ups.  In a hot second, the thought came to me, "I wish I would have listened to him more."  Boom...and just as quickly I am fighting back tears at work.  

My mom passed away not too long ago.  The task of going through her stuff mainly up to me as my brother handled other affairs of hers.  A bit (sarcasm) of a holder on to all things, one whole wall of built-in cabinets was papers, books, articles made dad had written...from rough drafts, rewrites, to publications.  I think she might have kept them because she was the one who would type all of his writings on the typewriter (clearly lost some of you on that one)  holding us in her arms as she typed.  They were a team and an example of dedication to each other.  I got lost in the thought of how much I did not understand how brilliant of a mind he had.  Legit, countries invited him to speak and teach them.  The network news came to our house, more than once, to get sound bites when some big economic event happened. He was just my dad.  He was humble beyond description.  And in all this, I had no idea of the awesomeness he was...even being a BRAT of a teenager.  Wave upon wave of guilt and sorrow.  

I think that this is not uncommon, however.  Daily, in life, how much I am taking for granted the greatness of what is around me buried in the grind of busyness?   How much will I regret that I didn't recognize an even greater Father for every ounce of His perfect character because I running around chasing the tyranny of the urgent that the world is telling me is important?  How much will I realize what a BRAT I was as I cried out because of some perceived unfairness?

While I walk in the woundedness, I know I don't walk alone.  Maybe God waited for me to get to the place where I can sit in the wound and let Him do the healing so I can't say that I did it in my own strength.  I don't think I am waiting for time to heal this wound, but something greater.  Maybe even not trying to hide the scar because it shows something beautiful that was done in me when I walk through the hurt instead of hiding from it.  Time heals all wounds...no way.  But maybe, just maybe, time allows us to address our wounds to heal something else in us.  Maybe the wound heals me and not the other way around.

What I know

 This morning at 12:15 am, my mom took her last breath here on earth.  I count myself blessed that my daughters and I were there with the one who was there when I took my first breath.  We are truly #steelmagnolias (this movie reference is probably lost on all males and anyone under 40).  Here’s what I know.  Saturday I shared with the Saturday team what I had been reading in my Bible.  It has not been a good year, but God is ever good and faithful. 

In Luke, as Jesus prepared for His own death, He told Peter, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat.  But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.  And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”  (Luke 22: 31-32). 

Later, in Hebrews, I read about Jesus being a priest in the order of Melchizedek. 

Hebrews 6:19-20a, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.  It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf, “   and our need for a high priest in Hebrews 7:18-19, 21b-22, 24-26, “The former regulation is set aside because it was weak and useless (for the law made nothing perfect), and a better hope is introduced, by which we draw near to God…’The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind:  “You are a priest forever.”’  Because of this oath, Jesus has become the guarantee of a better covenant….but because Jesus lives forever, He has a permanent priesthood.  Therefore He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He always lives to intercede for them.  Such a high priest meets our need-one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted about the heavens.”

What a comfort to know I have a high priest interceding to His Father for me!  It is my better hope and it is the best covenant.  It allows me to approach Him with confidence and it helps me to TRUST.  This is my struggle.  I struggle better with it these days as God peeled my onion, through CR, showing me my anger and unforgiveness was really my lack of trust in Him (that HURT).  My God, in His perfect timing, gave me His promise again and prompted me to share it not more than 6 hours before I would get the call that my mom’s condition had changed.

And there are no such things as coincidences (it’s one of Gibbs’ NCIS rules …don’t judge).  On Dec. 16 on my way to work, I was t-boned crossing Northwest Highway to get on the Tollway. I spun and ended up going backward down the entrance ramp.  God protected me, yes, but He also sent me a CLEAR message that our family trip to Colorado to take the kids to see snow (weird when you grow up a Missourian that you actually have to teach your Texan kids this) was not to be.  This is the second time I had a car “taken out” on my way to Colorado this year (this summer my car died in Ardmore, OK on the side of the road, where I purchased said new car that was t-boned).  I didn’t know why this accident happened but was pretty adamant that God did not want us to go to Colorado.  Of course not, we would have been on the road trying frantically to make our way back home to be with my mom…that would not do. 

So in the waiting, I remembered the faithfulness of God preparing me for such a moment as this (thank you, Esther).  And it took away the sting.

Many of you know the salvation of my mom was always a question mark for me (another LONG conversation).  But also in the waiting, I talked with the hospice nurse, “Do you have a faith?” (Thanks JP for the convo starter lay-up) and shared with her my fears.  She, a woman of faith, left the room so I could have this crucial conversation with my mom and just pray “the prayer” over her after sharing the gospel with her (this was not the first time…just the first time I had a ‘captive’ audience without earthly push-back).  It was another gift to me.  And I will take it to my grave that after that moment, her countenance changed, her breathing, her peace.  I will not know the status of her salvation on this side of Heaven.  And as I tried to sleep tonight, I just told God how much I TRUSTED Him either way.  The outcome was His and I was grateful that He was my comforter, provider, protector; and that when I did get to see Him, I knew the things of this earth were not going to matter anyway. 

Can’t say 2019 was my favorite year to answer Jermaine’s question.  I can say, I’m glad to see it go.  But, oh, how sweet my Savior that He was praying and interceding me through all this.  Where would I go, but YOU?  So, tag…I’m “it”…my turn to turn back and strengthen my brothers (Luke 22:32)

ONE person

"See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?..." (Isaiah 43:19)

Unprecedented times.  Crazy times.  My mind is on full-blown overload.  So sleeping...that's been fun.  Not.  Really monitoring what goes in especially before I go to bed.  Some nights, melatonin is required...just keepin' it real.

One night I was praying...desperately pleading to God to change hearts, to heal our country, to come.  One thought came, "one person".  I thought about how one person supposedly started this whole COVID-19.  Bam...lives disrupted, jobs lost, incomes lost, lives lost.  I thought about how one person, a police officer, took the life of a man and brought a country to its knees that was already reeling.  

"One person" though is not a bad thing.  

"One person" brought disease, thousands came together to protect fragile, at-risk lives.  Pictures of "one person" bringing joy to neighbors by sharing their voice, their art, and blessing thousands.  Thousands of people on their balconies singing together, cheering for the "one person" willing to risk his or her life healing others.

"One person" (I cannot judge the motive of his heart, but it will be judged by "ONE") brought hundreds of years of racial injustice to the forefront.  Thousands, upon thousands, came together to say, "enough."

"One person" is not unique...it's historical.  The power of "one".  Ultimately, God brought me back to the "One person" who changed the trajectory of the lives of millions.  "One person" came and died on the cross taking the penalty of my sin and giving me eternal life.  "One person" offers this free gift to billions.  His power is unmatched.

So, we've said "enough."  Now, I'm back to that "one person"-ME.  When Jesus left, He said we would do greater things and every power He had He gave to me through His Holy Spirit.  

All through this pandemic, I've been saying and searching, "What's the lesson?  What's the message?"  When George Floyd died (say his name), I found the message for me, the only "one person" I can change.  

See, I thought I was all "woke."  I grew up in St. Louis...an ethnically rich, diverse community.  My best friend, Heather Smith, was black.  I didn't realize this until "Roots" came out when I was 11.  By then, Heather had gone on to private school.  I tested to get into the same school and couldn't get in, so it was a public school for me.  I had friends of every color.  I didn't get it, but they did.  The tenor of the atmosphere changed (not with my friends, but with those I didn't even know), but I didn't fully perceive it. 

So, I couldn't understand and would even get angry with the notion that I would be called "racist" because of my skin color.  Dude, you don't even know me. Then I began to educate myself after George Floyd's death in small ways...videos, articles.  I always said I was "color blind" without the slightest notion that this was offensive because it meant that I didn't acknowledge the beautiful colors I did see.  

I came back to "one person."  ME.  I can't change the world today.  But, today I can change me.  I can draw the circle around me and do the work to change everything in my heart.  Then widen the circle (sound familiar?!) I see you in all of your beautiful colors.  I hear your hurt.  I ache for babies that grow up experiencing anything but love in an age that should be full of innocence.  I ache for parents that fear for their child's life because of their skin in a different tone than mine.  I didn't see it, but a new thing is springing up in me, and He is doing a new thing in me and now I perceive it.  The power of "one person."

"...So she named him Judah."

How often do I pray for what I selfishly desire and in all honesty am disappointed in anything less than?  Way to often to even count really.  Today I read about Jacob and how he had worked 7 years for Rachel, the one he loved, only to receive her sister Leah for his wife.  Different days (thank goodness)...so he worked another 7 years and was offered Rachel in earnest.  Two things about this selection that I loved.

God is so cool and His Word is so relevant.  Of the two things that I noticed, one was old and one was new.  The first time I read this, I noted, "So Jacob served seven years to get Rachel, but they seemed like only a few days to him because of his love for her."  At that time, I had marked it with a heart....ever the romantic that I am.  Oh, to be loved so.

Today reading, I'm in a different "place" so it was sweet but what stuck out to me today was Leah.  She realized Jacob loved Rachel and not her.  God noticed, too.  He allowed Leah to get pregnant.  She had four sons and named them, perhaps because of the "place" she was in accordingly.  The first was named "Rueben" (Hebrew for 'He has seen my misery').  The second was named, "Simeon" (Hebrew for 'One who hears').  Her third son was named, "Levi" (Hebrew for 'attached' out of her desperate desire for her husband, Jacob, to be drawn to her for the strapping sons she could provide for him that Rachel could yet not).  She became pregnant again, yet she named her fourth son, "Judah" (Hebrew for 'praise').  Genesis 29:35, "She conceived again, and when she gave birth to a son she said, 'This time I will praise the Lord.'  So she named him Judah..."

She got it!  So did I.  She prayed for what she wanted.  Was given what she prayed for yet it was all about her.  In her abundant blessings from the Lord, she was focused on herself.  She wanted sons and got them but for all the "wrong" reasons.  She wanted them to win her husband's desires.  She didn't "see the forest for the trees".  She was blessed with children, a gift from the Lord.  And she couldn't yet see or know what a blessing her sons would be to Israel and us.  Then she got it, "THIS TIME I WILL PRAISE THE LORD".

Oh, may it be so for me, too?!  May I look up and trust that the manna I got for today is all I need and praise the Lord.

Pump Those Brakes

What crazy times are these? I mistakenly thought I was settling into my new normal.  For a hot minute, I was an empty-nester...although I had no idea what to do with that.  Although the "baby bird" was away at college, my mom was still sick which translated into being at the nursing home 5 days out of 7, and life as husband and wife was more like ships passing each other in the night.  My mom passed away, but there was much to do in the time that followed. When the immediate craziness settled, John and I looked at each other one night in the kitchen, and he said, "What now?"  I have been determined to let God be in charge of this one...grieving in the amounts I could handle, not judging myself or others for how grief looked on the outside.  After a while, the storm settled and there was a sense of settling in.

I was SO excited to go to Mom's Day Weekend for the sorority (OUR sorority).  It happened to fall on my spring break (not hers, of course) so I decided to stay a few days.  Away from home, I knew I wouldn't be "burdened" by daily tasks all around me that "had to be done" (the quotes will become more clear in a little bit).  I told her the day I was leaving that I had a dream that the reason I had stayed there so long was that I was going to have to bring her home.  But, with no real evidence to support it, I drove home according to plan.  The next day, she got the email that the school was going online for the remainder of the semester.  So, 36 hours after leaving, I was back in my car going to get her and as much of her stuff as we could.  

So, here's the new normal we're still trying to figure out.  What keeps hitting me in the head is the thought to not waste what God is giving us.  NO, I do not think God caused the coronavirus...it's just one of many consequences of living in this world.  But, I DO believe He works all things for our good and His glory.  So what is He up to?  We live in a world of break-neck speed.  The "to-do" list that NEVER gets done.  This looks like me getting away from the tasks of just being at home because it has taken on its own urgency by opting to stay in a hotel 5 hours away to escape its demands for just a while without the guilt (see "  " above).  

A while ago, in a class I was taking, we read excerpts from Tyranny of the Urgent.  It has been weighing on me these past few days.  It's not a vacation for teachers despite what anyone might mistakenly think.  So, I planned my hours...but built in the time to SLOW THE HECK DOWN...to stop the tyranny of the urgent and remember the important...love, relationships, laughter, togetherness, quiet, rest... so many, many things the "urgent" has pushed aside.  My schedule now includes coloring, playing games with my daughter, naps, eating together,  quiet, reading, praying.  I feel like I lost me in the race.  I love Jesus more than any human being (and that took time and some painful experiences to get there).  Even in that deep-seated love, my gaze left Him and landed on the to-do's...not even to please Him, but to "get the things done".  



Jumbled Priorities?
When we stop long enough to think about it, we realize that our dilemma goes deeper than shortage of time; it is basically a problem of priorities. Hard work doesn't hurt us. We all know what it is to go full speed for long hours, totally involved in an important task. The resulting weariness is matched by a sense of achievement and joy. Not hard work, but doubt and misgiving produce anxiety as we review a month or a year and become oppressed by the pile of unfinished tasks. We sense uneasily our failure to do what was really important. The winds of other people's demands, and our own inner compulsions, have driven us onto a reef of frustration. We confess, quite apart from our sins, "We have done those things which we ought not to have done, and we have left undone those things which we ought to have done." An experienced factory manager once said to me, "Your greatest danger is letting the urgent things crowd out the important." He didn't realize how hard his advice hit. It has often returned to haunt and rebuke me by raising the critical problem of priorities. We live in constant tension between the urgent and the important. The problem is that many important tasks need not be done today, or even this week. Extra hours of prayer and Bible study, a visit to an elderly friend, reading an important book: these activities can usually wait a while longer. But often urgent, though less important, tasks call for immediate response--endless demands pressure every waking hour. A person's home is no longer a castle, a private place away from urgent tasks. The telephone breaches its walls with incessant demands. The appeal of these demands seems irresistible, and they devour our energy. But in the light of eternity their momentary prominence fades. With a sense of loss we recall the important tasks that have been shunted aside. We realize that we've become slaves to the tyranny of the urgent. Is there any escape from this pattern of living? ...

Wait for Instructions 
What was the secret of Jesus' ministry? We discover a clue in Mark's report of what happened after the very busy day of teaching and healing which we first noted. "Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed" (Mk 1:35). He prayerfully waited for his Father's instructions. Jesus had no divinely drawn blueprint or schedule; he discerned the Father's will day by day in a life of prayer. Because of this he was able to resist the urgent demands of others and do what was really important for his mission. When Simon and his companions looked for Jesus and finally found him, they exclaimed, "Everyone is looking for you!" (v.37). The disciples had become embarrassed over their leader's delay. Didn't Jesus realize that back at the house people who had not yet been healed were crowding around the door asking for him? Jesus' answer couldn't have been more shocking. "Let us go somewhere else-to the nearby villages-so I can preach there also. That is why I have come" (v.38). He then turned away from the waiting crowd and traveled throughout Galilee, preaching in the synagogues and driving out demons. On another occasion Jesus faced a similar difficult choice between two worthwhile tasks. In the middle of a fruitful ministry across the Jordan where John the Baptist had preached, Jesus received an urgent message from his close friends Mary and Martha concerning their brother Lazarus: "Lord, the one you love is sick" (Jn 11:3). John records the Lord's paradoxical response: "Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. Yet when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days" (vv. 5-6). The urgent need was to prevent the death of the beloved brother. But the important thing from God's point of view was to raise Lazarus from the dead. So he was allowed to die and his sisters to grieve. Then Jesus traveled to Bethany and also wept with the family He raised Lazarus, having proclaimed: "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies" 3 (v.25). In both of these situations Jesus' yes to the Father's purpose meant saying no to urgent demands of human need. For the "man of sorrows, . . . familiar with suffering" (Is 53:3), those frequent decisions must have been extremely painful. We may wonder why our Lord's ministry was so short, why it could not have lasted another five or ten years, why so many wretched sufferers were left in their misery. Since Scripture gives no answer to these questions, we must leave them within the mystery of God's purposes. But we do know that Jesus' prayerful waiting for the Father's instruction freed him from the tyranny of the urgent. It gave him a sense of direction, set a steady pace and at the end of his earthly ministry gave him the satisfaction that he had completed the work God had assigned him. ...

 ~Charles E. Hummel
   Tyranny of the Urgent


So, I'm pumping the brakes.  If I work with you, 1 Corinthians 10:31 has been and always will be my motto...but while work is urgent, relationships are more important.  I want to be satisfied with the work God has assigned to me.  I want Him to know I didn't waste this isolation chasing the urgent and leaving behind the important.  Somewhere in there, I want to find the me that was so desperately in love with Jesus that I didn't really see anything else.  I liked her.  I hope we meet again.

Consider Jesus

It's been a while since two words (or a word) have knocked me on my behind and up the side of my head...in addition to hitting an arrow in my heart.

Life, o life, you are a complicated thing.  We were not promised comfort or ease ("I tell you these things that you might have peace, in this world you WILL have trouble but take heart, I have overcome the world" John 16:33 emphasis mine).  Yet it seems to be that which I run after and seek...comfort, ease.

And in the seeking, I get lost in the tyranny of the urgent.  The latest drama or life event, even that which is hard by anyone's standard, comes forefront and the source of my peace pushed further back.

But, I consider Jesus.  The OG, the ORIGINAL rich, young ruler.  (Mark 10:17-31)  He didn't turn away when He considered all He had to give up...instead He took on flesh, took on our sin although He was blameless, suffered immeasurably as the weight of that sin made blood pour from His pores as He cried out to His Father who was with Him before always, for always. 

I consider Jesus who didn't turn and run as the detachment of soldiers came with weapons bore, but stepped out to them ("Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to Him, went out and asked them, 'Who is it you want?'' John 18:4).  He lovingly told Peter, "Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?" (John 18:11)

I consider Jesus.  He considered me.  He considered me before my first breath...knowing every sin I would commit, did commit, will commit.

I consider God.  As a parent, I consider giving up a precious child.  I consider it for a second because I can't consider it.  

I consider Jesus.  As He hung there and, for a short time, His Father turned His face.  The aloneness as He hung there.  

I consider Jesus.  His death was His promise.  His death was the blank check He wrote.  2 Corinthians 1:20, "For no matter how many promises God has made, they are 'Yes' in Christ.  And so through Him the 'Amen' is spoken by us to the glory of God."  

I considered Jesus as I got up this morning and asked God to help me cash the check today as I want boldness to speak the gospel to my mom...not in my power, but in His.   

None of His promises are filled in my power...but ONLY when I consider Jesus.

I consider Jesus as I walk away from a weekend of lingering with Him.  I consider and ask Him to cash the check that I do not forget my moments of lingering at a conference, but that the Holy Spirit would remind me, CONSIDER HIM...CONSIDER JESUS as He graciously intercedes for me where mercy meets might in His power.  

I consider Jesus.  Oh, will you please consider Him with me.?  If you don't know Him, let me know.  I might stumble through it, but as I consider Jesus, He will help me help you know Him in His MIGHTY power and his GREAT mercy.

Thank you, Shane and Shane, Thabiti Anyabwile, Ben Stuart, John Elmore, David Nasser, JR Vassar, Jimmy Needham, People and Songs.  Thank you for letting me linger. Thank you for teaching me to Consider Jesus.  Pray with me as I do so, in His power, and as I pray for you.  Thank you John, you love me so well.