This dream is becoming a reality.

Life has been happening, peeps.

I end my days with the kind of sleep that's so sound I don't even dream, exhausted after each day of parenting, working, thinking, planning, doing. The ball is rolling on one of my long-held dreams and as it picks up speed I am hustling to keep ahead of it. Or to keep up with it?

(Incidentally, I started this post several days ago and then spent this entire past week in sick bay - not working, barely parenting, mostly sleeping and sipping tea and chicken broth. Fortunately I'm on the mend now.) 

I am taking the plunge and becoming an entrepreneur. Starting a business. Steve and I have spitballed ideas over the years as we see businesses or buildings come up for sale. We tell each other how nice it would be to work for ourselves. But the pieces never came together like they have this time.

The one big difference this time is this new business is my baby. It is born of the visions in my mind, and I am doing all the leg work to get it off the ground while Steve continues to work at the job that provides for all the essentials for our family.

I'll continue at my part-time job, too. The cool thing is my new place is less than a block away from where I currently work. It's not much now - just a vacant building and a parking lot - but next spring it will be the home of a weekend farmers' market and the beginning of a produce stand/country store/urban garden/community gathering place.

Can't quite see the vision? That's ok. It's a lot to wrap your head around. I expect there will come a point when people see what's happening and think, "Oooooh. Now I get it. Cool!"

But first, the farmers' market. That's the first priority, and what I will spend the most time on over the winter.

Behold, the location:

It was most recently a car wash. Prior to that - decades ago - it was a service station. It's in remarkably good shape ... or a hot mess, depending on how you look at it. I'm going with the more optimistic view, despite the fact that the larger bay doors are so banged up they won't open, and nobody seems to have keys to unlock what we're all sure are restroom doors.

Most people probably look in this direction and see a building far past its heyday. I see a solid structure on a busy corner lot. I see space for people to gather on summer weekends and sell their wares, meet their neighbors, learn from each other. I envision a bustling market. A comfortable oasis with a place to relax in the shade. Community art. Repurposed objects. Color. Life.

There is a little bit of green here. Actually, the green that's here is a little bit out of control.

 

 Monster shrubs need trimming (or removing) ...

Grape vines need to be cut back ...

This will all happen in the spring. I have signed a lease agreement which will begin April 1. So I'm committed! And excited. When sharing my plan with folks I've gotten a lot of positive feedback. Lots of offers to help get things off the ground, and questions related to participating in the farmers' market. Very encouraging.

There is a part of me that can't believe I'm doing this. There's another part of me that walks a little taller these days, confident that I'm doing the right thing at the right time in my life. I'm stepping out in faith with a specific prayer that God would continue to guide me and bless my family on this journey. And also that I will have the patience to make it through the next five months - gracefully - and take care of the paperwork side of things so that on April 1 the physical (fun) work can begin.

Saturday worship and Sunday morning coffee.

We're smack in the middle of another cold snap here in Western Michigan.

Or ... colder snap. Because, ya' know, it IS the end of January. It's winter. But temperatures will be in the single digits the next couple of days with more snow piling on top of the more than a foot (and several feet where it's drifted) we already have.

A handful of churches in the area cancelled services today because the road commissions just haven't had time to clear everything, and once the snow is pushed back it reveals a layer of ice underneath. Treacherous.

I was bummed. For as much as I wasn't looking forward to going out in the weather, I really need to be "fed" among my church family. I can study the Gospel on my own any time, but it's not the same as hearing it surrounded by my people, who encourage me to live it out every day.

Alas, there is plenty to keep me busy here at home. Yesterday I was the one doing the feeding of my peeps, and it was my own style of worship. I cooked and baked - and prayed - all day. With Steve having been off work for a couple of months we are stretched pretty thin on the financial front, yet we have so much for which to be thankful.

We are well fed. We have a roof over our heads and a warm home. We are together as a family, healthy and able-bodied. We are surrounded by people who love us and provide a support system others only dream about. And so much more.

We've been confined to the house a lot lately with sub-zero wind chills and nothing extra in the budget for outside entertainment. It gives this over-thinker too much time to over-think. Lots of opportunity for the depression and anxiety I fight every day to weasel their way in. So I fight harder. Some days I give in to the urge to sleep all day. Some days I all but ignore my family and escape into someone else's world via books or the Internet. Or TV. And I don't even like TV that much, but I've come to feel a certain bond with the cast members of The Big Bang Theory.

It's bad, y'all.

But not today. Today we have fresh pumpkin bread to snack on and I hear productive activities all over the house calling my name. My morning coffee is kicking in and I know I better wrangle that energy into something good or before long I'll think the snowbanks are closing in on me.

Have a blessed day.

And so it begins.

It's Day 1 of a New Year! Happy happy. Welcome to 2014.

Do you have plans? Resolutions? Goals? Anything of the sort?

Or are you of the mindset that any day is a good day for a fresh start?

I fall somewhere in the middle. I love the idea of folding up the previous year's wall calendar and hanging up a brand new one. I appreciate a clean slate. But I also think just like the start of a new year is a great time to make changes, so is the start of a new week, or month, or season.

With that in mind, I wasn't too hard on myself (or my family) when the house was still in a bit of holiday chaos as the four of us rang in the New Year together. Each day will be a chance to make progress toward improving myself and living a better life ... and part of that is accepting the fact that everything doesn't have to be in perfect order all around me before I can work on me.

If I were to choose a focus for myself for this year it would be this: mindfulness.

mind·ful·ness

/ˈmīndfəlnəs/

noun

noun: mindfulness

1. the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.

   "their mindfulness of the wider cinematic tradition"
2. a mental state achieved by focusing one's awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique.

This is going to take some work for me, which seems funny since as a journalist it's my job to observe and be aware of my surroundings, to take it all in without judgment. But in my personal life I often find myself overwhelmed - with information, options, responsibilities - which leads to a lot of mindless eating, anxiety (which doesn't help anything), "paralysis by analysis," and generally just feeling not as satisfied with my days as I could be ... and I think as God would want me to be. I think there are a lot of areas in my life that will benefit from me simply being more aware, acknowledging how I feel in a particular situation without automatically reciting my old standby (and often negative) self-talk.

I'm ready for some positive personal growth. Strengthened faith. Better relationships.

And yes, maybe a little less chaos around the house. But that might have to wait until the kids go back to school next week.

Let's do this.

When the message smacks you right in the face.

Some weeks ago a friend posted on Facebook asking if anyone was interested in a Bible study based on the book "7" by Jen Hatmaker.

I jumped. Not only have I been craving a little more time spent in and studying The Word, but this part-time journalist/full-time mama and homemaker could really use a regular date with a few other adult women.

Fast forward a few weeks to now. I dive into 7 and I am immediately convicted.

I'm laughing, because Jen Hatmaker is hysterical and I adore her girl-in-the-next-pew, nobody's-perfect style. I am devouring the book. But I am also stopping every few paragraphs, going back and re-reading, reflecting on my own life, my family's consumerist habits and the very basic things we take for granted like all the clean water we could want and a warm, secure place to sleep at night.

(Go ahead. If you haven't already, Google Jen Hatmaker. I'll wait.) 

Reading this book now is perfect timing for me. Steve has been off work since the week of Thanksgiving, and probably won't be starting his next project until after the first of the year. This wasn't unexpected. We knew he would have some time off this winter, and I actually looked forward to having him here at home through the holidays.

Even when it's expected, though, is it ever really a good time to be unemployed (read: without a steady income)? And listen. I am the kind of girl who needs the threat of that looming deadline to get my butt in gear. I try to sock money away all year long for occasions such as this, but it seems like about the time we have a good chunk in the savings account the wheels fall off. Sometimes literally. Repairs on pickup trucks are expensive, and pickups are what we have. Household repairs aren't cheap, either. Home ownership is not for sissies ... or anyone who gets a little anxious when the numbers don't compute the way you want them to. *ahem* And don't even get me started on the expenses of raising children.

So when Steve came home we knew we'd have to go into survival mode, trimming the fat clean out of the budget and making every penny count. He did apply for unemployment benefits which equal about the same amount per week that he was earning in 1995 - when he was single and childless and still lived with his parents. It's at least a nice supplement to the last paycheck that will roll in this month, and all together it will be enough for us to make it to the next paycheck - whenever that is - well-fed and with our sanity (relatively) intact.

But what if it wasn't enough?

Seriously?! (Now I'm talking to myself.) How could we EVER not have enough?

I know there are folks living in poverty all around us. I know many go without food and shelter on a regular basis for reasons out of their control. I know that if I were in their shoes looking at me and my family I would think we were wealthy. Sadly, I often get stuck in the mindset that we are not.

As Jen H. explores in the book, I too often struggle with the "why" of my lot in life. Why am I so fortunate to have been born in the richest country in the world? Why have I had such a wonderful life, never knowing what it's like to go hungry or to not be able to see a doctor when I'm sick? It makes me a little bit ashamed of where we are right now, today: watching Monday Night Football on a large screen, kids tucked into their comfy beds, my bare feet not cold at all despite the chill outside, refrigerator packed with food, some of which will no doubt be tossed in the trash because half the members of this household don't like leftovers.

Yes. We occasionally throw food away because we can't eat it all before it goes bad or starts growing fuzz. This is not ok!!

And this is why I'm feeling convicted. We need to be better stewards of the resources we've been blessed with always, not just when we're feeling the squeeze. AND (and this comes from yours truly, Ms. Pare Down and Simplify herself) we need to stop filling every little empty space in our home and in our souls with stuff. If we busy ourselves filling those gaps where's the room for God to do His work in us?

It's definitely something to ponder, and I have been giving it much thought these last few days. Well ... our "more is more" lifestyle  - and that's a collective "our" as in "Americans" - has been on my mind a lot lately, especially with Christmas coming up, but Jen's book is pushing me to examine my own family's habits a little more closely.

I'm halfway through the book. Who knows, I could end up hating the idea of her experimental mutiny against excess by the time I get to the end. I doubt it, though. I'll keep you posted.

Be still.

It's snowing that perfect kind of snow right now. Snow globe kind of snow. Big, fluffy flakes floating down slowly, landing gently, layer upon layer.

It's perfect for a day like today when I'm feeling reflective. Introspective. When I'm thinking about the Big Picture and wondering (as I do periodically) if I am doing the right things and going in the right direction.

I am incredibly blessed, and for that I am thankful. I am surrounded by people who love me and I know it. I have an amazing husband and two healthy children, a modest home, all the essentials of life and then some. Praise God.

But there are days when something tweaks me. Someone's unkind words swirl around and swoosh down into my ears and rattle around in my brain causing a noise that keeps me awake at night. A mustard seed of doubt grows into a monster the size of which I don't have the energy to fight at 2 a.m. So I refuse the invitation to duel.

Most things appear much better in the light of day. And while my first instinct is to busy myself and turn on the television to drown out the sound of the uglies, I don't. Instead I sit in the quiet and allow myself to breathe, and I wait for those hurtful words or that thing I struggled with to realize my heart and soul are not welcoming environments for their types. Return whence you came, dudes. I don't have time for you.

On days like this I always think of Psalm 46, which talks about God being our fortress even when the world is crashing down around us. Verse 10 reads, "He says, 'Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.'"

Be still. Nothing else matters. In a world that is constantly telling us we should be on the move every minute of every day, it's hard to be still without guilt. But we are commanded to do it. Over the years I have learned, and I continue to learn just how.

Stop the madness. Watch the snow. Be still.

Things are looking better already.

Clean Slate Sunday: 12.16.12 broken heart edition

I can hardly believe the weekend is over already. I'm pretty sure that, other than when I was sleeping, I spent more time in my truck or otherwise away from the house than I did at home.

After the news on Friday of so many children being killed at their school in Newtown, CT, I will not grumble about shuffling my kids from one activity to another. My children are alive. They are here. And while we are all brokenhearted and still in a bit of shock, we need to continue to live. We need for things to be as normal as possible.

Make no mistake. I am not downplaying the tragedy at all. While I go about my usual business with my children there is a voice inside my head screaming at me that I should be curled up in the fetal position sobbing for those children lost and their families who now have to learn how to go on without them.

I don't even know any of those families, but just imagining their anguish would suck the life out of me if I let it. It's part of my makeup, this uber-emotionalism, and so I have learned to manage it and to recognize my limits. I spent much of Friday night flipping between news channels, devouring any new information about the shooting. The rest of the weekend I have focused on my own family - Rachel had activities with her Girl Scout troop both Saturday and today, and participated in the church Christmas program with her Sunday School class this morning. Sam spent much of the weekend at home battling bad guys on his PS3. We talked a bit. Hung out on the couch and watched movies. The usual. He's elated to be seeing the doctor tomorrow to (God willing) have the cast taken off his leg.

Normal, everyday stuff.

"I guess the world ain't gonna stop for my broken heart."

Those words from an old Reba McEntire song have been playing over and over in my mind these last few days. And it's true. Even though it feels like the world should stop sometimes, particularly when the loss is so great, so traumatic, and felt by so many ... life goes on.

In one week the love of my life will be home for Christmas. The kids will have their break from school, and we will enjoy some quality time as a family. But between now and then I will be sure to live every day, to continue to tell my children often how much I love them, and to pray for the mamas and daddies who can no longer hold their babies in their arms.

I wish you all a restful night, and a fresh start in the morning.

Clean Slate Sunday: 10.28.12 Confirmation Edition

We've had a busy weekend, one of those times I am happy to see coming to a close so we can return to our usual routine. But it's been good. Steve has been home since Thursday after finishing the project he was working on in Detroit and hauling the travel trailer home for the winter. Before he got home he already had another gig lined up - this time in Colorado. It will be a longer trek than what he's (we've) done in the past, but a shorter time period, too. Like six weeks or so, which would have them wrapping up around Christmas time. The kids are already trying to figure out how we can get out there to visit. I'm thinking Christmas in Colorado would be awesome, but it all remains to be seen as Steve has some training to do on-line and will likely head out there at the end of this week. We'll know more once he's settled in. For now we're just enjoying having him here at home.

Yesterday Rachel's basketball team had their first game. They lost, but they played tough and Rachel scored twice. I was so proud of all the girls.

Today was a big day for Sam, and another proud mama moment. After two years of classes, retreats, camp, community and church service, Sam was confirmed as an adult member of our church. I'm so glad he has a personal relationship with Christ, and my prayer is that he finds plenty of guidance in our church family as he reaches adulthood.

 Sam with Pastor Bill during the service at our church - Victory Trinity Lutheran.

 Sam and his confirmation classmate Ian help with communion at our sister church, Bethany Lutheran, where Sam attended classes. Sam was the only person of confirmation age at our small country church, so he joined two others at Bethany and we attended both services today.

So technically I guess he was confirmed twice.

Which I'm sure you know he was incredibly excited about.

I hope it takes. Heh.

This view just cracked me up. Typical boys ... whispering during church.

And it's official. Doesn't he look happy?

(He was not down with the robe business at all.) 

(Also, there was cake and punch waiting downstairs.)

God's blessings on you, son.

So. Tomorrow is Monday. This week the calendar is decidedly much lighter than it was last week, though we do have Halloween coming up and I'm sure things will fill in as we go along. And if the Tigers can pull off a win in Game 3 of the World Series tonight, it's going to be a long week of late nights watching more baseball. Here's hoping!

A prayer for my children.

 Rachel, all color-coordinated and ready for the first day of school!

Big brother would not allow a First Day picture. So uncool, mom.

Heavenly Father, thank you for the gifts of Sam and Rachel. Please watch over my children and keep them safe as I send them out into the world today. I pray they will be beacons of light to others. Guide them with Your hand and help them to make wise choices, have a positive outlook, and be respectful. Keep their minds open to learning, both from their books and through relationships.

Bless all the people who care for our children throughout the day: the school bus driver, their teachers and administration, the lunch ladies, playground aides and coaches. May they each have a heart for teaching, and lots and lots of grace.

Lord, thank you for the opportunity to be a homemaker. I look to You to help me make the most of my time so that at the end of the day I am focused on simply loving my children and giving them a comfortable place to call "home."

And thank you for the rain. May it be a sign of new beginnings and fresh starts. Amen.

Clean Slate Sunday: Easter 2012 edition

I sure wish I had gotten a picture of our family at church this morning. I've really enjoyed seeing the pictures friends are posting on Facebook of their children and families all decked out in their Easter best. But it was a small miracle all four of us made it to the sunrise Easter Vigil this morning anyway ... I didn't want to push it by asking the kids to feign bright eyes and bushy tails for a family photo.

It's been a really nice day. I always love walking into our church on Easter morning and - after the solemnity of Good Friday and a stripped altar - seeing the bright white linens, smelling all those pretty spring flowers, and watching the kids turn their heads to see candy-filled Easter eggs tucked in every corner, on every window ledge, in each pew, and scattered all over the place. I love the celebration, the reminder that we are forgiven, the fellowship with friends and family.

And so here we are again on a Sunday evening, a full weekend in the rear-view mirror, Steve back to work for the week, and household tasks calling my name.

I am ready for summer. I'm ready to ditch the alarm clock and let Sunday night be just another night. I do appreciate routine and my kids seem to do best when we have at least some semblance of a schedule, but I'm plum tired of school mornings. I'm tired of always feeling like we're rushed to eat dinner, finish homework and get the kids prepared for the next day, every evening. I'm ready to relax.

I'm looking forward to getting some things done in the yard this week. The grass needs to be mowed (I can't believe it, considering it's only April 8) and there is some cleanup to do still. Other than that I only have a couple of things on the calendar ... though it tends to fill in pretty quickly once the week gets started.

I hope everyone has had an enjoyable and blessed Easter. Looking forward to a fresh start tomorrow ...

Four years.

April 2nd has been on the brain for a couple weeks since we learned today would be the day Steve would be back to work. And it finally hit me a few days ago - April 2nd was the last day I worked in an office at a full-time job.

That was four years ago.

At the time it was pretty monumental for our family and a huge leap of faith for me to walk away from my job to be a stay-at-home mom. Because even after you crunch the numbers and see how much it really costs to commute to the office, order out lunch a couple times a week, keep yourself looking presentable, pay the daycare lady, and keep up with all the incidentals that pop up, there is a sense of security in knowing you have someplace to be every day, and at the end of the week that check will be deposited into your bank account.

As it turned out, my job wasn't helping us all that much financially. And if you account for all the emotional turmoil I put myself through over not being available enough for my kids, my job didn't help at all.

It wasn't that particular job. I didn't hate it. It was the job, the kids, the house, the husband, the bills, the responsibilities, and on and on ... and I lost the ability to focus on any one thing. When I made that mental list of priorities my family was at the top of the list. And that job - the one I didn't hate, but didn't love either - was keeping me from doing everything I could for the people I love most.

Honestly, I don't even remember April 2, 2008. There was no grand exit or anything. Just lots of hugs and well wishes from my co-workers. But I do remember the days following. For about two weeks I slept every chance I got. It was like I had been running a marathon and it was finally over and my body needed to recover. And I do remember that the weather was beautiful that spring, and many evenings I took a walk with Sam and Rachel. It was refreshing ... new ... and I felt so good.

The past four years have been interesting for us, and we sure have had our share of highs and lows. There have been times when I thought it might be necessary for me to join the workforce again - and I was willing to do whatever I needed to help support my family - but I think I finally figured out that getting a job isn't the answer. Walking by faith ... trusting that God will take care of us ... that's the answer.

So today feels like a new beginning for us. Maybe a little more symbolically than really, but the excitement over what's to come? It's there. I look at the future with a little less (OK, a lot less) trepidation than I did four years ago on this day.

There are even more great things ahead for us. I just know it.

Simple pleasures.

The focus verse for today in my little book of devotions is from a section of John 12.

The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. (verse 3)

The devotion is all about accepting not only the grand gestures of God, but the simple pleasures of life, too.

" ... no less important are the daily acts of mercy that make the world a kinder and more satisfying home. This, too, is faithfulness: the loving touch, the sweet fragrance in the home, the visual art that adorns the wall."

It seems appropriate for today. We're having an early spring and everything is green. It's been raining the past couple of days and it smells so fresh. I have a vase of daffodils on my table and they make me smile.

Receiving the gifts of the day. Enjoying the little things.

Today I look around and I see so many simple pleasures. And I am thankful.

Remembering ... and celebrating.

These last couple days I've had so many thoughts running through my head it's hard to sit down and write any one of them out. Today is no different, but there are a few that come to the forefront.

First, today marks one year since my grandma - my mom's mom - died. That day was much like today - cold, but sunny and pretty. I remember because after standing vigil at her bedside around the clock for several days I had decided to finally go home, sleep in my bed, hug my kids, and get them off to school for a little sense of normalcy, then go back to be with grandma and my parents and aunt and uncle. About the time the sun was coming up on that Tuesday morning and I was saying goodbye to Sam and Rachel, grandma took her last breath. When my dad told me over the phone I was not sad that I wasn't there. I knew it could happen at any time and I was OK with that. I chose to go home to my kids that night because that's where grandma would have wanted me. There were so many times over the weeks before she died that she was in pain or tired and she would ask me about my kids. She'd tell me to go get them, go be with them. Because that was grandma: she would rather you focus your attention on someone else, even if she was the one in need.

When I finally did get to the rest home that day I kissed grandma's forehead, still warm, and reminded myself that her body was merely a vessel that had carried a precious spirit, a soul which I believe left this world long before her body gave up the fight.

She was my last remaining grandparent and I was honored to spend the last few months of her life helping to care for her. I miss her terribly. And tomorrow is my mom's birthday, which adds some level of weird emotion ... to want to celebrate life and allow ourselves to continue to grieve at the same time. Incidentally, my other grandma - my dad's mom - also died in February. It was 1995, I was a freshman in college, and I still miss her, too. My relationships with my two grandmas were different, but both very special. I am so fortunate, so blessed, to have had time to know each of them.

Today is also Ash Wednesday, which begins the season of Lent for Christians. I've written about that before, here. Last night the kids and I had a traditional Danish aebleskiver dinner with folks from church as our own way of celebrating "Fat Tuesday" and tonight I plan to attend the Ash Wednesday service. Which leads me to the third big thought in my brain today ... that Steve is on his way home for a few days' visit. I have a feeling the kids will want to hang out with him, or waiting for him, rather than take the time to go to church with me, and I'm OK with that. Spending time with daddy is important.

And besides, I'll have plenty of opportunity to get those little buggers into church over the next 40 days of the lenten season.

The story of Samuel.

Both of our children have Biblical names.

That's not why we chose their names. I wish I could tell them we pored over scripture and picked names of people who were humble, brave disciples. Nope. Just happy coincidence.

But as our kids have grown I have taken an interest in the stories of the people their names represent in the Bible. Particularly Sam, because a certain section of verse makes me chuckle ... and ponder a little bit ... when I read it.

This section was one of our lessons in church on Sunday: 1 Samuel 3:1-20

I'll give you the gist of it here in my own words. Basically, God called to Samuel three times, and three times Samuel did not recognize the voice of the Lord (because he didn't yet know Him). Eli finally told Samuel that when he heard the Lord calling again he should say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." The Lord told Samuel of his plans to lay the smackdown on Eli and his family, and then at Eli's insistence Samuel repeated the information to him.

"The LORD was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of Samuel’s words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beersheba recognized that Samuel was attested as a prophet of the LORD." (v. 19-20)

I chuckle because I can almost feel the confusion of poor Samuel who heard a voice and responded to Eli who then told him he hadn't called and Samuel should go back and lie down. Three times! I imagine my Sammy rolling his eyes and turning on the ball of his foot and thinking how ridiculous this all is. I see it as our son makes his way through Confirmation classes at church, picking through scripture, asking questions, telling me what he has learned (only when I prod him), and learning to recognize God's voice in his own teenage, whirlwind, I'd-rather-go-skiing-with-my-friends kind of world.

Is my son hearing God's call? Is he responding? Will he affirm his faith when Confirmation Day comes? I hope so. I do want for Sam to have a personal relationship with Christ. I pray that through his own actions this world will recognize him as a believer. Even if instead of singing hymns after he takes communion he proceeds to whisper to me that the wafer and wine aren't very tasty and he'd really like to go out for breakfast.

Clean Slate Sunday: 12.11.11 edition

God is working on me.

It's difficult to articulate exactly how, but I can say it caused me to smile to myself this morning in church when I discovered one of our lessons was one of my favorite sections of verse.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 (NKJV)
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies. Test all things; hold fast what is good. Abstain from every form of evil.
Now may the God of peace Himself sanctify you completely; and may your whole spirit, soul, and body be preserved blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful, who also will do it.

Through a combination of hearing or reading familiar Bible passages I know and love and digging deeper into those I'm not as familiar with, God is working on me.

Through the people I cross paths with and the things I see and read and experience, my heart is changing. Growing? Maturing in my faith? I don't know. Just ... changing. In a good way.

I've always said I am a work in progress. What I meant was that I am constantly working on bettering myself and becoming the best person I can be. Now I really feel like I'm not the only one at work here, and that's pretty cool.

Putting those lessons to work.

 Photo credit

I have been known to shed a tear during special services at church - weddings, funerals, baptisms, or even the children's program at Christmas. But yesterday was the first time I can remember tearing up over an ordinary Sunday service.

Perhaps I am just in an emotional state right now and it would take the tiniest little thing to make me cry. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed - not just about Steve losing his job, but about life in general. Kids growing up and constantly testing their boundaries. Holidays approaching - and all the expectations that come along with them. The pocketbook is tight and the house is a wreck (I'm working on that one today). Some days it's just a little too much ... though I have to admit it is somewhat easier to handle since Steve is here by my side.

Anyway, what touched my heart yesterday as I sat in that pew were some familiar words from Ephesians, chapter 1:

For this reason, ever since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all God’s people, I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. (v. 15-19)

I bolded that last half for emphasis, because that's what really stuck with me.

And there was more. Between the Gospel lesson (Matthew 25:31-46) and the pastor's sermon, the same thing kept running through my mind. Don't worry. Don't live your life concerned with what you can or cannot do here on Earth, but focus on eternity. Allow life's trials to bring you closer to God through prayer. Continue to do for others. Be thankful for each and every blessing, and confident in His promise to provide.

I'm listening. And I'm trying.

A day of rest?

We have had such a full weekend and the busy-ness continues until later this afternoon so I thought I'd take the few quiet minutes I have right now to scarf down a piece of leftover birthday cake update the blog.

I was so tired this morning and really would have liked to reset the alarm clock for our later obligations, but I am so glad I got up and went to church because I really needed to hear today's message. (More about that tomorrow.)

Our service starts at 9 a.m. and it's about a 40-minute drive, so we try to be out the door by 8:15. That's asking a lot of our teen/tween kids, I guess. Even Rachel, who was the only one to make it to church with me today, lamented on the way home that she has no time to rest, even on the weekends.

Being the sympathetic mother I am, I offered to not take her to her bowling league next Saturday morning so she can sleep in. But no! That's not what she meant! I suggested we turn down invitations from friends so we aren't tempted to stay out too late on weekend evenings. Oh no. That's not what she meant, either.

"But we always have to go to church," she says.

Yes, and the service is over by 10 a.m. and then we can go home and rest, I reminded her. Then I asked if she would like to skip her Girl Scout meeting this afternoon so she could rest.

Ummm, no. Not what she meant.

Bowling leagues, birthday parties, visiting with friends, hunting, confirmation class, Girl Scouts ... and compared with so many other families my kids are hardly "involved" at all. They don't play any after-school sports or do dance or gymnastics or martial arts or any of that. But a few different activities each requiring a minimal commitment can add up to some very busy days. So yes, I do sympathize with Rachel. Trust me, I would choose rest over most other activities including eating ... and really, I don't miss very many meals.

For me, joining my church family in a familiar setting, sharing hugs and handshakes and laughter, and catching up with each other and sharing the Gospel is as good as curling up with a blanket in a comfortable chair with a mug of hot cocoa and reading a book. It makes me happy. It lifts me up. I feel rested and cared for and loved when I leave, and I take that feeling with me out into the world.

Whether my children realize it or not, they do the same thing. I see it in the smiles on their faces when their Sunday School teacher seeks them out for a hug before they leave, or when one of the older gentlemen shows interest in Sam's hunting experiences or a picture Rachel drew. That's why I ask them to go with me. Someday they will make their own decisions and might choose a different path no matter how much I insist they follow the path of faith in God. If that ever happens I hope they eventually find their way back to a place where they feel safe and loved - a place they can lay down their burdens and rest. Yes, getting out of bed early on a Sunday morning is a pain in the behind, even for me. And no, we don't make it every single Sunday. But when we do it is so, so worth the effort.

 Here's wishing you a blessed - and restful - day.

Shitcanned.

I've had just over a day to process all this, so here it is.

Steve was fired. Let go. Cut loose.

Was it related to the economy? No. Work performance? Absolutely not.

Steve lost his job because of personal differences with the company's corporate blowhards. Because he is, in their words, a "disgruntled employee."

WHO DOES THAT?? What is this, the sixth grade?

Listen. We have a son who will turn 13 years old tomorrow. He's in middle school. Sam is at a point when we are teaching him it is a fact of life that he will encounter difficult people. That's just how the world works. We tell him it is his job to always handle himself appropriately and do his best to be kind and respectful to others, no matter how badly their personalities may clash. Sometimes it is helpful to simply walk away, but you can't always just gather up your toys and go home.

Unhappy relationships are tough, but even the best of relationships take work to maintain.

Steve has said working for this company is like being in a bad marriage; nobody communicates, and everybody blames someone else for any infraction.

My husband tried. For months he has set a positive example by going straight to the sources of gripes and grumbles and insisting on working through issues so everyone can move on. In his supervisory role he was probably too kind at times, giving second (or third or fourth) chances and plenty of corrective instruction in order to keep people working.

But he didn't buy into the corporate BS. He is a man of high morals and is driven by things far greater than money: Integrity. Kindness. Family. That's what I see. If you ask him? He was taught to do things the right way - to do the right thing - no matter who was or wasn't watching.

As it turns out, his former employer talks a great talk about putting people first, but their follow-through stinks. In fact, the company's motto is People first 24/7. In our house we've added to it a little: People first 24/7. Unless you're not the right people.

In an interesting twist, my brother worked for the same company, on the same crew as Steve. They fired him, too.

Oh yes they did.

WHO DOES THAT???

In the grand scheme of things we will come out on top. Today I am angry and feeling defensive, yes. (And if Steve wasn't disgruntled before, he sure is now!) Because in 17 years of working in the pipeline industry - and I mean working, putting pipe in the ground, operating equipment, not giving orders or pushing papers from an office - Steve has never come close to being fired. Ever. Has he butted heads with some higher-ups? Of course he has! That's life. The people who have to keep everything within budget and on deadline don't always see eye-to-eye with the folks who have to stand knee-deep in the mud with rain pouring down while they try to bail out the hole so they can work. That's just how it goes. But each has their job to do and most adults can learn to overlook their differences and work alongside each other toward a common goal.

So yeah. I'm pissed off that of all the crappy employees they could have chosen to weed out, they picked two of the best workers in the field. Apparently your work ethic means nothing if you refuse to drink the Kool-Aid.

Whatever. Life goes on. The natural gas industry is a great one to be in these days. Business is booming and it won't be long before both of these guys have settled into new jobs, hopefully far, far away from the corporate madness. The paychecks might be a little slimmer but as long as we can feed our family and keep the bills paid, we're good.

Yesterday I teetered briefly on the edge of madness just thinking about how we'll make it through the next few weeks. Between Steve having some time off between work projects, then coming home to be with his dad during brain surgery, and now being cut loose altogether, we are scraping the bottom of the barrel.

But then the phone started ringing ... friends sent messages of support ... prayer warriors added us to their lists ... and so many people we love collectively took my face in their hands and forced me to focus on what is important: Steve. Sam. Rachel. Me. Our faith. Our family and friends. We are warm and well fed, and we have much for which to be thankful. Praise God.

I'm no Pollyanna, but I can say with confidence today that I know everything will be OK.

Time to circle the wagons.

I am angry.

I'm hurt and feeling defensive of my family and I wish I could tell you all about it but now isn't the right time, so could I just ask you to pray for us?

Know that my marriage is strong and that in itself will sustain us through much. We are healthy (well, OK, some might question my mental state but that's nothing new) and our children are fine. We have hit a roadblock but we will push through it together. And, God willing, we'll come out stronger on the other side.

 Today? Some inspiration. Turn it up, baby.



When the darkness tries to get me
There's a light that just won't let me
It might take my pride, tears may fill my eyes
But I'll stand back up.

Increasing our (God-given) talents.

I usually reserve my Sunday writing until later in the day, but I had to sit down and make note of this before it slips my mind.

With Sam doing his man thing hanging out with the guys at deer camp, and Rachel having spent the night at Nana's last night (and me too battle weary to want to force her to get up and be ready) I went to church alone this morning. My preference is always to have my family beside me, but these occasional days when I attend worship by myself are a bit of a treat, too. (Shhh! Don't tell the kids.) I'm able to listen without distraction and focus on my own actions rather than always pointing out where we are in the hymns or coaxing tired kiddos to stand when appropriate.

As it turned out, this morning was the perfect time for me to be able to soak it all in because I really needed to hear the Gospel lesson for today.

In the book of Matthew, chapter 25, verses 14-30 we read the parable of talents. In short, three slaves were given unequal portions of their master's money. While the master was away, two of the slaves increased what they were given and when the master returned he praised them for increasing his wealth. The third slave didn't fair so well.

"And the one also who had received the one talent came up and said, 'Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you scattered no seed. And I was afraid, and went away and hid your talent in the ground. See, you have what is yours.'" (v. 24-25)

Because the third did nothing with what he was given - except bury it - the master called him wicked and lazy, suggested he could have at least invested that money to earn some interest, and took back from the slave the little he had been given.

"For to everyone who has, more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but from the one who does not have, even what he does have shall be taken away. Throw out the worthless slave into the outer darkness; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (v. 29-30)

"Fear robbed him of his potential," our pastor said.

Fear robbed him of his potential.

Something to think about: what "talent" is planted in you? Are you allowing it to grow, or is fear causing you to bury it?

We as Christians are all blessed with the gift of faith. We are not all equally blessed with talents (or money or beauty or children or fill-in-the-blank). It is our responsibility to nurture the talent (or money, etc.) we are given to make it thrive and to honor God. So that when our Father does the final tally we can say, "See? You gave me this and I turned it into this."

And He will respond, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

'Pleasant words' in life's stormy times.

If I wanted to write all about me I'd lay it out for the world to see like the open book I am, but when it comes to others I try not to get too personal. So I tread lightly today.

Steve's dad is sick. Not a I should make him some chicken noodle soup kind of sick. It's not something extra rest and a few aspirin can conquer. No, we're talking more like a team of doctors and a pretty risky, yet potentially life-saving surgery. On his brain.

My father-in-law has had his share of health struggles this year and we have weathered them as a family, each one of us offering support and encouragement in our own way. We live next door to Steve's parents and our children see them nearly every day, so they are hyper sensitive to any break in routine or disruption of their time with Nana and Papa. That means I am, too, because when their grandparents aren't around I get drilled with questions about where they are and what they're doing.

Oh, it's not like we watch for Nana's car to pull in the driveway after work.

Wait. Yes they do.

Well, not in a stalker-ish kind of way, anyway.

And yes, I suppose the kids do wander over there some afternoons just to see if Papa has filled his candy jars with lemon drops and Tootsie Roll pops. Hey, they're kids after all. But the sweet treats and the always-stocked pantry are just a bonus to spending time with two people who adore them like only grandparents can.

So the thought of something being seriously wrong with their Papa is scary. And to their many questions I can offer few answers. We're all shaken. Nobody really wants to think about how fragile life is.

But today I am reminded through my little book of daily devotions that sometimes all it takes is a few kind words to lift someone up when the world has knocked them down. (OK, and sometimes it takes medical intervention, but then kind words wouldn't hurt, either.)

Proverbs 16:24
"Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body."

I've never been one to sugar-coat the truth for my children, but I can certainly comfort them - with my words and lots of extra hugs and kisses - in the midst of a crisis. They look to the adults in their lives for safety, for a sign that it's OK to be scared and hopeful at the same time. This week I have encouraged them to take their worries to God, and to do their best to focus on all the good in their lives.

And I'm doing my best to take my own advice.

Father-in-law's surgery is planned for Friday. He's hanging out in the hospital being waited on and keeping up with his soap operas and bantering back and forth with the nurses until then. Afterward? I guess we won't know until the time comes. Maybe life will eventually get back to normal ... whatever that is. Or maybe we'll have to learn a new normal.

One thing is for sure: we'll face it together, this extended family of friends and neighbors and ... well, extended family. We'll lean on each other. We'll pray. And I will make a point to speak "from God's honeycomb" to each of my loved ones.