On my heart today

If you need prayer, I might not be your girl.

Sounds terrible, right?

I don’t mean it to, honestly.  I would be happy to pray for you, whatever burden you are carrying.  The problem with me is, chances are, I’m not praying the way you’d like me to be praying.

On Wednesday nights, our church has ‘Go! night’, where folks break off into different teams.  Some go out on home visits, some send cards to shut-ins, some have a bible study, and some pray for the prayer requests we have received.  I’ve been going to the prayer group, but every week I first find myself praying about whether or not I belong there. 

I don’t consider myself a prayer warrior.  I pray fervently, but I also pray differently. 

I question if different is better.

Many years ago, a tragedy struck our family.  The kind that shakes you to your very core, and changes who you are forever.  The kind of thing that is virtually unspeakable, because the words bring more pain than one can bear.

When we were in the midst of this, I cried.  I sobbed with the kind of gut-wrenching wails that sound inhuman, and I prayed more and prayed harder than I ever have in my life.  I was desperate, and terrified, and unable to do anything but pray.  I begged for a different outcome.  I begged for something to change.  I pleaded for a miracle.  As desperate people do, I asked that I be taken instead.

The outcome remained the same.

I was not taken. 

And although I now have three beautiful daughters who would not be here had my ‘deal’ been accepted – I still mourn that loss.

I still can’t talk about it.  Still can’t find the words to offer comfort to those who need it most.

I know that is selfish of me, and I am ashamed of that.

Hopelessly Flawed.

My faith was not shaken by this event.  They say when tragedy strikes, it either destroys faith or makes it stronger.  It made my faith stronger.  But it also made me realize that I need to change the way I pray.  Change the things that I pray for.

It isn’t easy to do.  It’s human nature to pray for what we want.

Please God, help me find a better job.

Please God, let us get that new house we want.

And there’s nothing wrong with that, per se.  The Bible does not tell you to keep your thoughts to yourself!  Scripture tells us that God knows your heart.  He knows your desires, your secrets, your burdens.  He wants a relationship with you.  He wants you to bring everything to Him – everything.

Yet I can’t seem to do that anymore.  I’m not trying to hold back, but I am trying to reshape my heart.

I’m trying to let go of what I want, and want what He wants instead.

I don’t pray for a specific outcome anymore – I pray for His will to be done.  I don’t pray for healing, I pray for courage.  I don’t pray for a lighter load, I pray for a stronger back.

I feel bad about this sometimes.  A friend will ask me to pray for something, and instead of praying for what they want, I pray for God’s hand to be in their situation.  That isn’t exactly the same, is it? 

I’m still weighing this, whether I should switch to a different team.  And I’m still praying about it.  And I’m still happy to pray for you, too.

Just as long as you can accept that we don’t always get what we want.

Reasons I love living in the South

Occasionally I am frustrated by things here. The slower pace took some getting used to. Especially when I lived in Alabama, where they take slow to a whole new level. Buying 3 things at the grocery meant at least 28 minutes in line, since the cashier would be so unbelievably chatty while scanning items ever-so-painfully-slowly. But you adjust, and it’s nice to be laid-back, right?

Tonight I was reminded of one of the biggest things I love about living where I do. It was the school talent show, and we had a great time. Most striking were the song selections. As a former Yankee, I can assure you that there would be some uproar up north, but down here no one bats an eye when 6 year olds in public school sing songs about God. Love that! We got to hear Annie singing and signing ‘Awesome God’, and other children singing songs like ‘This Little Light of Mine’ and ‘I’m in the Lord’s Army.’ Also, this being the south, we were treated to young’uns singing drinking, cheating country songs as well. Awesome.

Seriously, there was no screenage of the lyrics for appropriate content. I don’t know what some of the parents were thinking. They ranged from the mildly out of place (5 year old singing Hannah Montana’s ‘If We Were a Movie’- can’t the star-crossed lovers bit wait until at least 1st grade?) to the moderately strange (1st grade boy singing Taylor Swift’s ‘Love Story’ – sample lyric: you be the prince and I’ll be the princess… ooookay.) to the downright what in the sam heck are these parents thinking? (Another Taylor Swift moment – 6 year old girls singing ‘Should Have Said No’ – yes, a lovely cheating song with the refrain: You should’ve said no, you should’ve gone home You should’ve thought twice before you let it all go You should’ve known that word, bout what you did with her Would get back to me…And I should’ve been there, in the back of your mind I shouldn’t be asking myself why You shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness at my feet…You should’ve said no, baby and you might still have me) Only in the south. Up north we’d have heard rap. Or heavy metal.

But back to my main point – only in the south would no one bat an eye at Christian music being sung in public school. (ssshhh, don’t tell, but there’s even a nice little note on the bathroom mirror about God watching over your day. I say a little prayer of thanks every time I see it.)

Other great things about the south:

-gun racks in trucks. Now hang on a minute, don’t leave me. These are actually wonderful things. Those gun racks belong to redneck men who know how to use those guns, and they aren’t afraid of doing so. If I’m attacked in the Wal-Mart parking lot, I can guarantee you that one of those gun-toting guys will come to my rescue in two seconds flat. Seems counter intuitive to city folk I know, but guns all around do not make me nervous, they make me feel secure. You just have to be rural to appreciate that.

-y’all. I know that’s so basic, but I love it. I’ve always been a y’all kinda gal, even when I lived up north. Where I’m from everyone said y’uns, like ‘Are y’uns guys going to the game?’ That just doesn’t flow like y’all.

-panic over even the slightest snowfall. It’s ridiculous the way these people fall apart if we get an inch of snow. Yet for a girl who knows how to drive in the now, it’s kind of empowering too. I feel empowered so infrequently, I’ll take it however I can get it.

-the Bible belt. Sort of like #1 I know, but it’s worth repeating. I love the way professions of faith are part of normal everyday conversation here, and they roll off the tongues of complete strangers in line at the bank. I am surrounded by believers who are so open and honest in their faith, it’s truly inspiring. As I write this post I have the news on tv, and after a tragic story the anchor just said, ‘When something like that happens, all I can do is pray.’ To which the weatherman and the other anchor immediately added ‘Amen.’ I never saw that in Pennsylvania.

-getting directions. Forget route numbers or compass directions. Down here you’ll need to know landmarks, including those that are no longer there, and in fact have not been there for decades. I lived in Louisville for about a week before I could tell you where the old Sears building was. There’s no way to get to Target without knowing that. Asking how to get to the farmer’s market will involve an answer something like ‘After the cornfield, turn left at the red mailbox and go down until you see the cow pasture, then take a right by where old Marshey’s barn used to be before the fire [of '86] and go ’bout a mile or so until you run into a bunch of pines on the left side of the road. Slow down and look out for a gravel road. You can’t miss it.’ Beautiful.

-chivalry. It’s not dead people, it’s just concentrated. Down here. Gentlemen are in the south! Men who will still hold a door open for you, offer to let you step in front of them in line, volunteer to carry heavy packages, reach things on high store shelves, and call you ma’am while they do it. Just yesterday, as I left the grocery store with 3 kids and a cart full in the pouring rain, a nice gentleman insisted on unloading my bags for me while I buckled up the girls. And he took the cart back for me too. And no, he didn’t work there. In fact, he wasn’t even leaving, he was on his way in to the store when he saw me and offered to help. Chris has been out of town and it’s been a long week, and let me tell you my friends, at that beautiful moment I could have cried with gratitude.

So there you have it, my top 7 reasons to love living down yonder. I’ll be adding to the list in the future – stay tuned. And y’all come visit us down here!

PS) Since I know you are dying to see it…

Don’t forget to turn off the music player at the bottom of the page first!

Musical Monday

I’ve finally decided to participate! I’m a musical gal, so it only makes sense.

So often lately, this song has been on my heart and my lips. I sing it nearly every evening while making dinner, and I keep it in mind when I plan my devotions. It is so easy to ask God for what we want, or what we think we need. God has always provided for us, always kept us in His care, yet it’s still a constant struggle to let go and let God’s will prevail.

Bring The Rain – MercyMe

The Lemonade Award!

I can’t do 10, but here are a few of my faves:

Bring The Rain

Does This Blog Make Me Look Fat?

The Online Prayer Notebook

The Cullimore Girls

Be As You Are

Thank you ladies, for making the world a brighter place for all of us.

I choose Joy – no matter what

As many of you know, my Grama died last week.

Part of me is devestated. She was like a second mother to me. An amazing woman that I just adored, admired, loved more than words can convey. And seeing her with my daughters was such a blessing. She was so patient, so kind, so FUN. Just as I remember her from my own childhood. So yes, part of me is mourning the loss of her presence in our lives.

But most of me is celebrating for her. She is without a doubt in heaven right now. She is with her Savior, and nothing is better than that. She is reunited with my grandfather, which is what she longed for every day for the past 5 years. She is in paradise, and I am happy for her.

I believe that happiness is a choice, and I choose to be happy. Some days you have to choose it more than others. Some days I have to remind myself over and over (and over) again. But regardless – I choose happiness.

So I have joy in my heart today, even as I miss my Grama. Praise God for allowing us to know there is a bright side to everything, even in mourning. Praise God.

Although it was not easy, I chose to speak at my Grama’s funeral to try to capture and honor the amazing woman that she was. I’d like to share that with you, again to try to share this great woman. Our family was so blessed to have her. She made our world a better place…

Thank you all so much for coming here today. It is a difficult time for our
family, and we truly appreciate the outpouring of love and support we have been
shown over the past few weeks.

And since you are here, you probably already know what an amazing woman my
grandmother was. The mold was certainly broken when God made her. I have been so honored, so blessed, so privileged to have her in my life. There could be no
better example of God’s love.

In thinking about what I wanted to say today, the words that would best sum
her up…what I came up with is ‘classy’. Mary Roberts was a real class act. She
looked the part, she acted the part – she lived the part.Pap used to laugh about
the time a girl in our church told him that he looked like an oil baron. And he
did always look very polished. On Sunday mornings especially, my grandparents
were as regal a couple as I’ve ever seen. But for those of us who really knew
him, we can attest that he looked that way only because my Grama was laying out
his clothes for him. She very carefully coordinated her dresses to his ties, and
always made sure he had a freshly pressed suit to wear. Grama took great pride
in their appearance and it showed. Which made it all the more amusing the time
she realized she accidentally wore two different shoes to church!

My grandmother-in-law first met Grama at my wedding shower, and they were
fast friends. Granny told me just a few days ago what a true lady my grandmother
was, and I have to agree. She was always a lady, no matter what. So when Pap and
Grama decided to cut tomato stakes, and Pap’s plan for cutting the rebar instead
sent Grama flying off the porch and onto her bottom in the driveway, despite the
pain my Grama’s immediate reaction was to say, “Oh, I hope none of the neighbors
saw that!” Our family admittedly has a sick sense of humor, and we all tend to
laugh when more sensitive people would probably not. Needless to say, that
anecdote has gotten a lot of mileage over the years. Even in pain, Grama was a
lady.

But she was not prim and proper by any means. Grama was never afraid to be
silly. I will never forget the time we went out to eat and Grama whispered her
order to the waitress. Everyone had their food and we were concerned about hers
taking so long…only to look up and see an enormous banana split coming her way!
My Grama knew how to let loose. We rode bikes, played frisbee, threw lawn darts
(which I’m pretty sure are now outlawed in all 50 states). Grama was fun.

As children my sisters and I spent nearly every Friday night at their
house, for just that reason. Mom and Dad weren’t going out (as you may know,
there’s not a whole lot to do in Rices Landing) We went to their house only
because we wanted to be there, to be with them. And who wouldn’t, really?
Breakfast in bed, all the coco wheats and bacon a girl could want. Even a drawer
full of twinkies. It was paradise up there. We had trips to feed the ducks and
get ice cream, and Grama played games like Trouble and Sorry. And of course we
watched the Price Is Right. Even my daughters love to watch The Price Is Right
now, thanks their GG.

My Grama never had a bad word to say about anyone. Ever. Even when they
deserved it, even when it was understandable. Her ability to hold her tongue was
enviable, and a trait that I unfortunately did not inherit. Chris can attest to
this. But I do aspire. If I could be even half the woman my grandmother was, I
would be lucky. Never have I known anyone as disciplined as her. When Grama had
back surgery, the doctors gave her a list of exercises to do, and she did them
faithfully, first thing every morning. Every morning. When she was told to avoid
red meat, she didn’t touch it for years. Her willpower was amazing to me.
Thankfully the doctors never told her to avoid chocolate, or we may have seen a
great woman stumble.

It’s hard to squeeze in everything that I want to say about Grama. She was
so amazing, and I don’t know how to edit that. She loved to sing. She taught me
silly songs at home (Jonathon, Joseph, Jeremiah) and belted out hymns on Sunday
mornings. She never complained. She liked to go out to eat, and to go for a
ride. Grama knew every road in the county, and many beyond. She had perfect
posture. She loved to dance, and taught me to waltz for an elementary school
play. She was a great audience. Always patient, always kind, always encouraging.
She went to great lengths to ensure that her Christmas gift-giving was exactly
equal for everyone. She loved to brush hair. I remember her sitting in her
rocking chair, brushing our hair when we were little girls. Years later she sat
in that same chair and brushed her great-granddaughters’ hair as well. She knelt
beside her bed to say her prayers. The image of my Grama, on her knees and
praying, is one I will carry with me forever. I was with her the night that Pap
died, and just as she did every night, she knelt and thanked God for His
blessings. Her faith is an inspiration to me.

My Grama blessed hearts. A conversation with her always included at least
one, ‘Bless his little heart,’ especially when talking about her
great-grandchildren.

Grama rarely missed Jeopardy, and she never ever missed a Steelers game. I
spoke with my sister a few days ago, and she asked me to be sure that Grama was
buried with her terrible towel. I’d never have expected Grama to leave us right
before a big game. I wonder if she and Pap will be bickering over the plays in
Heaven, just as they did here.

Almost exactly five years ago I stood in this same place, paying tribute to
my grandfather. It was a very difficult thing to do. Even though I knew he was
in a better place, I hurt for those of us left behind. I hurt for my
grandmother, who spent 62 wonderful years with the love of her life, and now had
to find away to live without him. Today as I stand here, I still mourn our own
loss. But far more than any sadness I feel, I have joy in my heart. I know that
Grama is in a better place; she is with her Savior, and reunited with Pap. This
has been her hearts desire for the past 5 years, and I am happy for her –
because I know that she is finally at peace. Finally whole again.

When Grama fell ill last week, I was faced with the task of telling my
young daughters. I prayed for God to provide the right words, the right message,
when I knew that my own explanations would be inadequate. And as I told my
5-year-old daughter Annie, I watched her eyes turn red and fill with tears. I
worried about her reaction, and what comfort I might provide. And slowly she
turned to me, with a smile spreading across her sweet face, and she said “I’m so
happy for GG, that she gets to be with Jesus and Pappy again.” Amen little girl,
Amen.

So please, please do not focus on our loss. Please hold in your hearts and
your minds the image of Grama and Pap together again. Whole again. Happy again.
Because they are happy, I guarantee you that. They were truly meant to be
together, and praise God, we know that now they are.

xoxo I love you Grams.

Sometimes our kids really ARE smarter than we are

From the first day of school, Annie has been coming home with stories about Sammy. He seemed a bit ornery, that Sammy. Impulsive, always getting into little jams, and earning the not-so-distinguished honor of being the first child in Ms. Kristen’s room to lose their green light. I don’t know why, but somehow I’ve always envisioned little Sammy as high-spirited rather than naughty. (Possibly because I hope that’s how people will view Catie when she gets to school!)

Yesterday Annie’s Sammy story was sad. He told Evelyn that he would not be her friend because he does not like her. Seeing as how Annie and Evelyn have been BFFs since they met last week, this did not suit Annie very well. She said that Evelyn started to cry, and she told her not to be sad because she loved her and she was her bestest friend in the whole world. She said that cheered her up a little, but Annie was still concerned about the whole situation. Over dinner last night she asked me what she should do when something like that happened.

I wasn’t really sure what to say. In my head I admit to thinking ‘Kick him’, but it was very fleeting and only slightly serious. I told her that in my experience, people who say mean things usually do it because they are hurting on the inside. And that while I don’t always know the right things to say, I try to remember that and treat them with love. She didn’t say very much after that, but when she said her prayers last night she prayed that Evelyn would be strong and not have her feelings hurt, and that Sammy would learn nice words to say. I kissed her and told her that was sweet. As I started to leave the room, Annie told me that she figured out what to say to Sammy if he says bad things again.

“Oh yeah baby, what’s that?”

“Jesus love you Sammy, and so do I.”

Yet again this child, this amazing child, has humbled me. What else could one possibly say that would be any better?

One of my biggest fears about Annie going to school was situations just like this. Everything in her world has been sunshine and roses, and I’d like to keep it pristine for as long as possible. I’m sad that this sort of thing is already happening in the second week of Kindergarten. But I am so encouraged by my daughter’s response to it.

I think every parent believes that their child will change the world – someday. Last night was the first time I realized that my little girl was already out there doing it.

So last night, and again today, every time I think of them I am praying for Sammy and for Annie. And if you can spare a moment or two, I’d love for you to do so as well. Annie asked me last night if I prayed for her while she was at school and I said yes.

“Well then could you say two prayers tomorrow? Because I’m kind of nervous.”

“Absolutely baby. And remember that God is always with you, ok?”

My little kindergarten missionary. I couldn’t be more proud of her.

Hug your kids extra tight today

Steven Curtis Chapman has always been one of my favorite musicians, and in December 2007 I was able to see him up close when we attended the Moms Panel training session. It was a highlight of the trip for me.

Today I am heartbroken over the headline that his family has suffered a terrible tragedy.

AP News story

This radio interview is especially heartbreaking to hear in light of recent events. And here is the song he is talking about:

Cinderella

I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child. Add to that the pain of having to comfort one child while mourning the loss of another – it’s just unbearable.

My thoughts and prayers are with this family, and I hope that yours will be as well.