Great Day

There are good days, and there are great days. Yesterday was the latter. I'll just tell you about it...

I was asked a couple of months ago if I would sing at the Cowboy Hall of Fame. I didn't ask questions, I just said yes. I knew it wouldn't be just me, but out of my choir of 400 women, I thought there would be more than 20 of us. NOPE. I don't know what the selection process was. Out of 400 women, I'm certainly not in the top 20 most talented. Alphabetically, there are more that 20 women ahead of even my Czajkoski. Did they draw names? Couldn't be. I never win stuff. So who knows? God just wanted to surprise me with a really amazing once in a lifetime experience.

I arrived at the time and place I was supposed to. There were a few people at the cash bar, but not very many. Most everyone was in formal attire. My uniform for this group is black dress and jacket, so I noticed that I fit in. I wandered around until I found the banquet hall with 20 other women dressed exactly like me, and was shocked to see that this was no small gathering...there were about 3000 chairs around the white-linen draped tables. There was a formal waitstaff placing salads and desserts on the tables, and lots of Chardonnay and Cabernet. Although I don't drink, it felt very sophisticated and important. So I asked our director what was this? (I'm quite the cracker) and he said that it was the Oklahoma Sports Hall of Fame induction ceremony, or the Jim Thorpe awards. My eyes glazed over...stars were shooting out my ears, and I thought, every guy I know will be SO jealous!!!!

It was a type of heaven for me. I love sports, and knew that this was an honor like few I'll ever have. I found out that this was a $150 a plate shindig, which is a lot for a cracker. I mean, I'm the cracker. For $150 we didn't get crackers. We got rolls. You don't choose between steak and chicken at these affairs...you get both. Well, anyway, we warmed up our voices and did mic checks, and then were seated at the back (we were guests, not patrons, after all) and then the people watching began.

There were many older men between 6 and 7 feet tall, and as it turned out they were former inductees. I knew the names, but the faces were older than you see in their pictures. Former OSU b-ball coach Eddie Sutton walked in. The Mayor (voted best dressed by GQ or Esquire or something), the Governor, the Lieut. Gov., a state Senator, many sports writers, newscasters, and such filed in. Beautiful people (whom I don't really like, but that's judgemental of me) were everywhere, none of whom were getting awards because beauty is apparently its own reward. Then these old men came, who turned out to be the Frederick, Oklahoma Bombers High School football team of 1956-the first integrated football team in Oklahoma, 10 years before integration was required. They were really enjoying getting together again!

Two inductees were there-B-baller Jim Shipp (what a story!!) and golfer Doug Tewell (a man for whom I have a great deal of respect). The third, Waddy Young, had been shot down in war years ago, but had fam there to accept. I had so much fun watching them, and staring at the people. I sat a few tables over from Jim Thorpe's granddaughter (WOW!) and was in direct eye contact with Bob Barry, Jr. So cool.

We sang about half way through. We sang America, The Beautiful and The Salute to the Armed Forces, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. We had the best standing ovation ever. We don't often get the opportunity to sing in secular venues in our state, so it was really special to me. Our choir travels all over the world, and then we get an opportunity to serve and to sing in large concert halls. The last concert was in Romania and Hungary. The men have been to Australia where they sang as a group in the Sydney Opera House, and in small groups in tiny areas all over Australia. They have been to Brazil, China, Russia...many places. But I digress.

The whole program was about 4 hours long. It seemed like mere minutes. I got some souvenirs (not the alcohol...) and had the most wonderful dinner, good conversation with sports figures, and not one single photo. If only I had known!!!!! Oh, well. It was a night I will not soon forget.

As I walked out in the parking lot, a familiar voice called out to me. "You ladies sang WONDERFULLY!!!!" I turned in awe. I already knew sho it was...it was the voice of an angel-the voice of Your OOOOKlahoma Sooners, BOB BARRY!!!! And he was talking to ME!!! I turned to him, and yelled back thanks, and he said, "I'm an old Air Force boy, you know!" So I thanked him again, and yelled something stupid because clever travels out of the mouth so much slower. I watched him get into his car, and we smiled, and I walked away.

Wow. What a special night I had. I wish Brian Bosworth and Barry Switzer were there. I guess you can't have everything...but it was close.

Getting Over It

I have mad days, and I'll lash out at things, people. And after I have a moment to think about it, I realize I'm soothing a tender spot on my soul.

You know that feeling, that God is speaking in that small voice, so you yell a little to drown it out? Maybe it's that. I know I want to go, I know I want to teach. I wonder, though, how to do it. I want to find that obedience in me, and I guess I mistakenly expect my church to magically bestow it on me. The thing is, our churches aren't there for any other reason than to corporately praise God, taking time out of our busy week to worship Him, and then to equip ourselves and each other to go out that week and reach others. But we find ourselves unwilling to bring people with real problems into our self-serving churches. I don't think our churches mean to be self-serving. I think they are full of people who love the Lord. Our love just gets selfish. We will go and reach out, but only if those we reach are actually deemed by us to be worthy of our love and charity. Do they have the potential to become contributing members, or will they be leeches, sucking away at our resources, just to move on? Is my ability to reach out and love people that greedy? Apparently. I have long lost the ability to love, expecting nothing in return, as if by loving someone unlovale I fear encouraging their bad behavior.

God said love. He meant love. I must follow His lead, because He loved me, the most unlovely of all. Of all the ones He could have invested His life in, I probably have the least potential for great return. And yet He not only loves me, but FIERCELY pursues me.

If I say I have love, but hate my brother, I lie, and there is no truth in me.

I will let go of my self-serving disgust with everyone who isn't enabling my agenda, and I will get over it, and get on with the work I'm supposed to do. Whatever, today, that may be.

Good Read

I am almost finished with a book that I started on Monday. If I had more time, I'd have finished Tuesday. It's called "Searching For God Knows What" by this guy named Donald Miller. I'm having trouble putting my finger on my feelings. I don't want this to be one of those situations where, I'm mad at the way things are going in my church so I'll subscribe to anything that's anti-what-my-church-does, but I have to admit it has me reeling.

I feel like we've lost it. We're repeating the sins of the Sanhedrin and expecting God to work within all of the legal boundaries we've set for Him. We see the crazy list of rules the Jews came up with in the early church, and then God shows up and they want to tell Him He's doing it wrong. But we do the same. We're waiting for Him to free us of the world we live in, but we don't want to be obedient and do what He sent us to do. We want to condemn sin and cry foul and blame it on contemporary music and homosexuals and insist we can't have church in chairs, we need proper pews, and if we don't have three hymns and a sermon with three points, and an offertory, then we haven't worshipped. (Don't get me wrong, I love hymns, and I think you can crank some real emotion out of the more somber ones...)

Have you ever been so excited about something that you couldn't raise your voice enough to cheer like you really really wanted to? Like a goal line stand in a crucial football game, or a 90 yard touchdown against Texas? Have you ever shown that kind of excitement in church? Yeah, me neither.

I cannot put enough emphasis to show the emotion I feel behind these words: WHY NOT????!!!! Where is the passion? Where is the intensity? Don't give me that crap about how sometimes God just speaks in a quiet voice...I already know that. But sometimes He doesn't. Sometimes He's in the thunder. Sometimes a flaming bush. I feel intensity in my marriage, and certainly a passionate love for my kids. Have I failed in not showing God that kind of love? Doesn't He deserve a last-second national championship touchdown kind of love? How much would it suck if, on a beach, one lover raced across the sand to the other, while the other just stood there waiting?

You think I'm confusing sensational excitement with love. No, I'm not. I am comfortable in the Abba Father warm affectionate love. But sometimes I feel like I just want to express myself louder, as one victim of The Fall who occasionally feels really excited about the fact that I've been saved from paying for it. I fear I have been holding back, not accepting the fact that God is PURSUING me and wants a relationship with me. One of the points of this book is that God doesn't act within formulas, but more in a relational way. Take a marriage for instance: signing a piece of paper and going thru some steps will make you legally married. But some things have got to change about my singleness if I want that marriage to work. It's not like signing an insurance form and then driving like I want. It's about focusing on the marriage and working at it. Giving myself up daily and enjoying the love of my husband. Working out my salvation.

Yes, I'm familiar with grace. That doesn't give me permission to "not worry about screwing up." Paul said that we don't test grace and use it frequently because it's there. Instead we try, we make an effort to love Him back. All He asks is our obedience, and He desires our love. Like we hope that some day, our kids who require our love will one day return it, free of selfish need. ( I don't care what you think...your kids have to learn to love you apart from just being a parent, and it means more that way...) When did you realize, if you have by now, that you would love your parents if they weren't your parents??

So this is how I "stew". My whole outlook may change tomorrow, and I may find peace. But I hope that soon I understand how to wrap my brain around how much God loves me. I don't have to understand it, I know. I just want Him to know that sometimes my heart is full of love for Him, and I feel helpless to express it, and wish that I would do what I know He wants me to do: to free that love up for someone who needs it.

Sigh. This is why people with ADD take Ritalin.

My doc said I didn't have to....

Serving the world on and off for...a few minutes now...

I'm back!!

I need an outlet. When I write to my friends, I write with a message in mind. But I need a journal, a place where I can get what's happening in my head out onto a tangible plane. That makes no sense, I know. But being clear to YOU is not going to be my goal today. Today it's going to be a little closer to free flow. What's that called? I don't know. Flight of thought or something. Mental diarrhea. Yes, that's spelled right.

Today I know that God has a plan for my life. But lately I'm so discouraged. I'm afraid I took the liberty to envision what God was going to do, and then sort of started "taking necessary steps" to make said dream come true. Here's the rub: (a phrase I'm so sick of...) I'm doing it by myself with little or no results, getting frustrated, and wondering what's taking God so long. Wait, it gets worse. I know that I am leaving God out, promising to make time, and then I just can't get it together to let Him take control. Too busy.

God wants some ME time. He doesn't want it for Himself, He wants it for me. He doesn't NEED me. He knows that I need Him, and He loves me so much that He keeps trying to impress on me that I can't do this alone. God says, "Look what I can do for you," and like Peter, I look down at my feet. Ever get that sinking feeling...yeah, me too.

My brain is noisy. Why won't it be still? Why can't I stop long enough to dwell on God, to seek out His goodness and who He is? I recently read something that asked if I had faith in God because of what He's done, or Who He Is? And only now am I seeing that when God is silent, I lose faith. I want only to be faithful, and I'm seeing how weak I really am. God doesn't need my agenda. He's sick of my arrogant self-sufficiency, and my pride is just getting in the way of seeing Him in everthing, every day.

He's silent because He wants me to seek, and to ask, and knock, and know. And I can't sit still long enough to let that happen. My heart is deceitful. While I know that it lies to me, I also know in my head that God is faithful and true, that He is there, and it would be so much nicer if I came along willingly as He is accomplishing His purpose in me.

My head is cluttered with the things that I can't fix. My church and my world aren't perfect. So what? Am I going to try to fix them anyway, or am I going to start praising God out loud, not caring if anyone follows my example? I need for a revival to take place in my heart. I need a renewed passion and zeal, and I need to get out there and start doing the work that I feel that we need to be doing.

I'm so convicted because one of my daughter's friends, about 20 years old, struck out on her own and went to Cambodia to serve in an orphanage. I'm a little envious. She had some valuable things stolen, but when we talk about it, I can almost see it in her eyes-"don't dwell on that. Those are just things. Ask me about how I spoke of God to people who didn't understand English. Ask about the work I did while I was there. Ask me about my passion for sharing the Lord in a real and needed way." I want to go, too. I want to stand on foreign soil and try to muddle my way thru a foreign language, and see a tiny spark in someone's eye. And then I want to come back saying I was far more blessed by God's work that they.

I think I do, anyway.

A friend of mine is teaching me spanish. I can tell you to shut up, and I can tell you when it's time to go. I can tell you if you're bleeding and ask you how many beers you've had. That should bring people to God.

Enough mental diarrhea.

It's been how long?

It's been awhile, I guess. I don't have anything to post, really. I'm just shocked it's been this long. All's well on the home front. I'm teaching a class on Sunday Nights on Extreme Makeover:Heart Edition. It's fun. I may be thinking about considering teaching college and career for awhile. We have a need there. I am going to speak at a women's conference in the fall...that's all I got. I wish I had more opportunity to speak and teach, and I wish I could do it full time. This nursing thing is for the birds. I gotta write a book and somehow fund my true love-teaching and more writing. Derek said if I'd become a millionaire, he'd be my wife. I can't think of anything I need more.

All Better Now

Wow. I hate being mad. I don't like who I become. I don't know how I fly past righteous anger about something done wrong into self-righteous anger where I'm determined to stew in my own juices. Maybe just the idea of being right, I don't know. So how do I get thru a crisis without letting the redhead free? I wish I had that answer. I know the Bible says that a soft answer turns away wrath, but I WANTED wrath. I halfway wished that he would have thrown some verbal punches and we could just have it all out right there, and in the end he would change from a pitiful, neglectful absentee father into a responsible, respectable man willing to make up for the years of emotional abuse and neglect and bla, bla, bla.

Maybe that's my motivation. To fix something that is so far out of my control that it would be a miracle if I pulled it off. I. Me. So arrogant. When do I drop it and walk away, and let God heal my hurts and the hurts of my kids, and why does this sort of emotion show up when I think everything is fine? I have a wonderful marriage. My husband is loving, faithful, fun, and outdoorsy. He loves God and wants his family to do the same. We worship together. So why would a mistake of my youth come back in my adulthood to haunt me? Because, this is the natural effects of sin and poor choices and a desire to be the "commander of my own life."

God lovingly warns us of making bad decisions not based on His will for our lives. There are consequences. Not punishments, but natural cause and effect type stuff. So am I forgiven of my past? Of course. I've offered it up to God and come to terms with it, and have patiently trained my kids to look to Him for answers. But our world's present circumstances are the way they are because of the poor choices Father Abe made thousands of years ago. And further back to Adam. Our sin effects are far-reaching, and even when a loving God forgives, we have to deal with what we ourselves set into motion.

Do I feel guilt and shame for this? No, I finally dealt with that head on a couple years ago. That's why I'm able to freely talk about a crisis pregnancy and badly failed marriage of my youth. I hope someone is able to learn from my mistakes. But until I lay down my anger it will come back and bite me frequently. I've learned that our only motivation for holding onto anger is to use it against the offender as revenge. So my forgiveness in incomplete. Which makes it not forgiveness at all.

What's my next step? Put away my anger. Let it go. Truly forgive. In the meantime, protect my children's hearts and minds and teach them the right way, so that I'm not instilling in them a cycle of self-righteous anger. As long as teach them that it's ok to be mad, they'll carry that with them. Then it's my fault they don't heal, not his. No matter how badly he behaves.

So thank you for sticking with me this far. The redhead is under control. For now.

Rage, unfiltered

Last night, my children's dad, my ex-husband, called to wish our son a happy birthday.

IT'S NOWHERE CLOSE TO HIS BIRTHDAY.

You want to find out how strong a woman is, take a threatening step toward her child.

I can tell you that if I would have been in physical proximity to him last night, I could have done some damage. My rage was so intense that when I picked up the phone to call him, my own husband, whom I love, vacated the area. Unfortunately, he answered on the first ring, and what happened next is shameful. I used words like "hate", and I told him he was worthless. I may have asked if he was on satan's advisory panel. It got uglier, to the point that I was "shouting in whispers" so the kids wouldn't hear me. I dissolved into bitter, angry tears. What scares me most is my TOTAL LACK OF DESIRE TO LET GO OF THIS HATE. Why do I cling to this emotion? Is it an emotion, or a symptom of something deeper?

I'm sorry if you're reading this now. I'd like to be able to come up with a spiritual point, but the truth is, I need to sift thru my feelings right now, to get them out while they're fresh. I sort of thought the fire would die down when I woke today, when it was light. Maybe a Jekel and Hyde thing. If anything, I feel more determined to hang on to the adrenaline and intesity. I feel like I need a physical outlet. It used to be a batting cage. Now I almost feel like I could hit one out of Fenway park.

Hatred is ugly. I'm ashamed that I don't want to let it go. I would rather it smolder awhile. Almost like if I let it go I've been disloyal to my kids. I don't know. I'm going to go simmer. This time next week I hope to feel better.

Crossroads

What gives? Can I not learn humility some other way than thru my car?

I finally get a great little sports car. Not just once, but twice I get hit. One a hit and run in the night and one a woman in a mini van with no insurance. Then I finish it off myself, narrowly escaping death(let me be a little indulgent, ok?). Well, I bought my parent's crappy car. CRAPPY. Yes, I know. Jonah under the tree whining. Whatever. It's my blog, leave me alone. I'm aware I should be grateful. About a month after I buy it the exhaust system gets a...noise. Not just a little noise, but people on Harleys telling me to keep it down. Jetplane pilots giving me dirty looks. THEN I'm at a special event in my life with strangers and as I opened the car door to leave...the door handle flies off. That's not all. Then I'm getting in the back seat to open my front door, like a week later, and that handle falls off. And I can't seem to open the trunk now. COME ON!!!!

All I want is a pretty car. Why? Why not? They're pretty. At least if it's beat up I want one with character, like an old Jeep Wagoneer with wood panels, or a VW Van.

To tell you the truth at this point in my life I could very easily take all I have and give it to the poor.

And just maybe that's the point.

Never a lost cause

There are many days when I think, that's it. My shooting star has burned out, and my nursing career is over. Burn out is a big problem in the health industry with the nursing shortage. It gets exhausting taking care of all of those patients alone, wishing you had a way out, a break, a respite from it all. I labour in vain, I sometimes think. I see all of these people come in, but many never leave alive. I see them get worse instead of better despite our best efforts, and it gets frustrating. It just gets old. I know that this is what happens when you have a very sick person come in. They aren't all older people. They are sometimes young. My age.

Then I think of the crazy Scottish patient we had who came in kicking and screaming. She was anxious, combative, pulling out every line we put into her, over and over again. She was confused-a true psych patient-with whom I have no training. She wore me out. When we signed in each morning, we'd groan if we were assigned to her. She was a full days work all on her own. But today she left. She walked out on her own power (after the wheel chair ride) and went to a place where she'd continue more intensive rehab. And I was sad, as I rarely ever am with patients. Amazing, I thought, that a few weeks ago she was a total drain, and now had become a complete joy. She was getting better. She was alert, motivated, and full of hope for a new tomorrow. I had grown to love her. When I pulled her old restraints out of the dresser and ceremoniously threw them out, I asked her if she wanted to take them with, just in case. "You take 'em home," she said, "and see how much fun they are." Um...thanks...but...no.

And now her room is silent. Not silent with death. But a quiet hope that she'd be better and home again soon. Her call light isn't going to buzz any longer. What did I gain from her? A reminder not to give up on people, even if theirs seems a lost cause.

I must look like a lost cause. Jesus didn't think so, even though the world would give up on me. He believed that so much that He died for me. To date, He is the only One to ever do that. I don't expect any more takers before my death or rapture. Did Jesus ever want to give up? No. It says in the Bible that He got tired, and He went away to rest. But when He got to where He was going, the crowd intercepted Him, crying "Feed me! Minister to my needs!" And you know what? He did. He loved them, even though He was mourning the loss of John and was looking closely into the face of death Himself. How can I strive to be more like Him? How can I be faithful in my frustration and weariness?

I can't. But I can give it to Him. He is my refuge, my rest. My respite. My Redeemer.

Date of rememberance

I said I could pinpoint an exact date that God began dealing with me in regards to the television. I found the date(s). One day was on January 18 between 10:15 and 11:00am. So it only took me 4 months to obey. It took Abe way longer, so I don't feel as guilty as I once did. Although for those of you who care I know I'm not suppopsed to measure myself against Abe. Only Jesus. But last night came the first test. Night one without satellite or network television. I pouted. I told Derek I was like Jonah, crawling under the fig tree and pouting, and I just needed time to grieve. It's a process. Derek pointed out that Jonah didn't crawl under a fig tree, he built himself a shelter, and then God grew a vine to comfort him, and then sent a worm to eat it. Whatever. Let me grieve without the criticism.

Wow. What would it be like if I had to lay down something big? What if God called me to sacrifice my kid like He did Abraham? Would I go willingly, knowing that God doesn't require human sacrifice, and that He is faithful to protect and provide? I don't know. The t.v. seems so trivial. Yet here I am, two blogs in one week.

I wasn't doing anything else.

I cast down my Idols. It was harder than I thought...

God deals with us in different ways. Sometimes so audibly you would dare to believe He actually spoke. And didn't He? Such was the case several weeks ago (I can actually pinpoint this in notes, but my notes aren't on me...) I was doing a Bible study on Abraham and Isaac, and God began to impress on me that I had things in my life that I put before Him. How ironic that my particular idol was...Idol. American Idol to be precise. I'm ashamed that it took me so long to obey and turn off my tv, which I knew was exactly what I was supposed to do. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a guilt feeling or a thought that I needed to just "get away" from the tv awhile. I felt like that would be taking the golden calf in my life and throwing a prayer cloth over its head, or turning it towards the wall.

For all you Idol watchers, I don't think you need to turn off your tv. I don't think that anything is "bad" about American Idol. In fact, it's pretty wholesome, which is unusual on tv these days. But an idol doesn't have to be bad or evil in its nature to become a bad thing in our lives. When God impresses on our hearts to stop something, whether it's good or bad, we shouldn't question, but obey.

I'm a little slow, but several weeks later I did it. It was so difficult. First of all, just try to cut off your satellite or cable service. They have so many enticing deals that would make it easy to justify keeping "partial service", telling you how much cheaper it will be if you should decide to turn it back on. ETC. After all I have been a valuable customer for...much too long. Plus the emotional drain of turning it off...I will miss it, truly. I still have network television and that's ok, but I turned off the portion of it that was draining my time and taking my focus off of Christ.

I want Elliott Yamin to win American Idol. But he'll have to do it without me. (I wasn't actually voting...) Maybe someday I'll own his CDs. Even the whole boxed set. But until then, I know where I have to turn my eyes and my heart, and I know that God will bless even my smallest efforts.

God, I cast down my smallest idols. Amen.

So close!

It almost happened. I look back at the split second where a silly mistake could have turned into humiliation infamy, and I smile. It was a near miss.

I am a lip balm addict and usually carry it around in my pocket, frequently pulling it out and slicking it on, and going about my day. I was very tired (as usual) today at work, and for whatever reason I switched the lip gloss in my right pocket with the little tiny permanent marker in my left. You can see it coming...I reached into my pocket and pulled off the cap, and moments before adding a permanent lip line, I caught myself.

It wouldn't have made my entire lips purple. I would have figured it out after one short "line", but still, to have to walk around with a small dark purple lip line or swollen red lips from trying to scrub off the mark, I would have been embarrassed either way!

In our sin lives we sometimes bear the dark marks of sin. Maybe just a small mark, but a mark all the same. What we do with that mark is even more important. Do we try to cover it up ourselves, leaving behind further evidence of the spot we bore, or do we take it up with the Father who cleanses the darkest, ugliest marks, making them invisible? I know what my first instinct is...try and hide it myself! But I usually just make it worse.

Today, make an effort to carry your problems to Jesus. The dark marks, the hint of filth, the sadness, the hurt and the shame, and let Him take care of it. And if you have already tried to remove it yourself...He takes care of those spots, too!

CATapult

More proof...cats are dumb. Didn't take us long to convince Bo to let the kids splat him on the wall.

Poor guy. He chases mice, but now he doesn't catch them. But he stays off the furniture!

Turns out, I'm NOT crazy!

I work in an ICU that happens to be a floor above a psych hospital. A whole floor of crazy. So I hear everyone say "Better be careful, they may not let you out!" Of course, I have to go thru the first floor to get to the parking lot from the second floor, so it seemed plausible that some day, it just might happen.

Apparently, I am not mental health material. (I must not have any mental health...). Here's my story: I'm on #15 1/2 of a 16 hour shift. 12 ounces of caffeine would do me good right about now, I thought. Someone told me that the first floor vending machine is colder than the second floor vending machine, so I decided to check that out. And I decided to take a route I'd never taken before in my life. Cause I'm adventurous. And stupid. But apparently not crazy. I found the stairwell, and I went down the stairs knowing that once you're in you can't get back out, except on ground level. It's a chance I needed to take for a really cold can of DP.

As I exited the stairwell, I found myself in an alcove between said stairwell which is now locked, a glass door that leads outside, and a locked door that leads to the mental health unit. It was glass, and inside about 25 yards away sat psych nurses (a rare bunch) who thought I was a ghost. That's all I can come up with, because they just stopped and looked at me, all deer-in-the-headlights-like. I thought, maybe I'm not moving enough, so I started waving them toward me, and still they sat and stared. So I made bigger motions, and finally one of them headed my way. Verrryyy slllloooowwwly. When she got within hearing distance, I told her my name and where I was coming from. She tried, to her credit, (the only credit she gets) to let me in, but the door was locked. "Go outside to the north door, and I'll let you in there." Which seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, it had gotten up to 20 degrees! The wind was 10mph out of the north. I could handle the quick 30 yard jog. So outside I went, where I was struck by a biting wind, and hustled myself to the north door. There they all sat, at the nurse's station, heads down, not looking at me. Not coming to let me in. I waved. I jumped. After a minute I started pounding and kicking the doors. Nothing. They were ignoring me. And it was cold.

I took off to the front of the building, realizing my name tag was upstairs with my keys and any form of contact with the hospital. I tried to think of survival tactics. I looked for shelter. I was wearing scrubs. A very thin layer of cotton protected me from the elements. Could I fashion a lean-to out of...what? Rose bushes?? My mind began to numb. I knew my fingers were going to fall off soon. If I could only see my kids...one...more...time.....

Dramatic, I know. You will be relieved to know that I found security. It took some serious talking thru really blue lips, but I was able to convince him to let me in the hospital. The really cold cola no longer sounded like a good idea, and I opted for coffee instead.

Joshua 1:9 says "Have I not told you? Do not be anxious or afraid, for wherever you are, so will I be." Christ assures us that we go into no trial, no matter how serious or silly, alone. He protects us, guides and keeps us. Even when we do things that aren't smart, He doesn't shrug His Holy shoulders and cross His mighty arms and refuse to help. His grace and mercy wrap around us and comfort us, and lift us back up, healing, warming, and bringing peace and restoring joy.

So for those of you who ever wondered, I may be stupid, but even I can't get into a psych ward. Now that that's settled...I'm going HOME!!

I got nothing to say, but...

"Worship Style" is an oxymoron

I would love it if for once our service would run two hours over because we were bursting at the seams with love and praise for our God. Not so this time. We did run over two hours, but it was because the pastor uttered the words "contemporary services" and asked for opinions at the tail end of the business meeting. Never will you see passions ignite like they do in a Southern Baptist church where music style is involved. It's sad, really.

When did worship become about us and what we like? Why did we put God in a box and decide when and where we were able to worship? We say that we go to church to learn about God and praise Him. We are so concerned about packaging our religion to make it more attractive to a newer generation that "just isn't being reached by our old methods" that we don't realize He's attractive all by Himself without our help! If we have certain "worship methods" then we are so far off base. Can we, just for a second, admit that we've come to be entertained? Can we admit that our entire Sunday morning is spent concerning what we enjoy, and that if it goes beyond our particular tastes, then we call it "noise", or if we aren't getting the newest and best most popular music, then we say that it's tired and overdone?

In Genesis, Abraham was sitting at his tent when he had unexpected visitors. The Lord and two angels showed up. Actually, they just appeared. Abe got excited, since he's spent time with the Lord and recognized Him, and he and Sarai prepared dinner for the guests. They didn't microwave lasagna or throw burgers on the grill. In fact, he told Sarai to "hurry up! Get some flour and make bread!" and then had a calf killed and prepared. Abe apparently expected the Lord to hang out for awhile! Anyway, when it was all said and done, Abe had fed the Lord veal and fresh, homemade bread, and who knows how many varieties of fresh veggies from the garden. And then they discussed the issue at hand.

My point is this: Abe spent much time in prayer before God appeared in human form to him. When God showed up, Abe knew who He was, even in bodily form. I learned this week that it's called a "Theophany," or a physical pre-appearance of the Lord before His birth in the New Testament. Abe recognized God, and he rushed to create an atmosphere that was conducive to their meeting. Do we eagerly prepare an atmosphere of worship on Sundays, our appointed time for corporate worship? Or more importantly, did we do so before showing up at church that day? Do we spend time in private worship with God, so that when He shows up, we recognize Him? Can we, in fact, worship (WORSHIP!!!) when God reveals Himself in unexpected places? Or would we rather race to put on the right outfit, arrive at church annoyed and breathless, and then let everyone know that "we just didn't worship with that kind of music."

I'm so sick to death of hearing "worship style" from people who think that we are there to put on a show. If we are coming to church on Sunday mornings to win the lost, we are going for the wrong reasons. Yes, you heard me right. If you think I'm wrong, then research a little and find out why we are commanded to assemble together. It's to worship the Lord, to gain strength for the week ahead in order to be able to fight the good fight and share Christ with others. If we come for any other reason we are wasting God's time. Of course people can be saved on Sunday in our churches! If they come on a Sunday morning and see us truly worship, then it's up to God to change them! But if we are so arrogant as to say that WE need to create an atmosphere that will attract the lost, and WE need to make God look better to the world, and WE need to affect change in the hearts of people who don't know Him, WE are missing the boat, big time. God doesn't need our earthly makeover. We can't liposuction the unattractive parts of His word, tighten up loose skin, and highlight the good parts. We've only succeeded in presenting God as an all-accepting lovable hippie who just wants to love us all. So what's the point of trying then, if He just loves us all unconditionally? What of the God of Justice who HATES sin and will destroy it? What of the God our Creator who demands that we approach Him on our faces, as Holy and right?

How flippantly we walk into His house, and call it "our church" as if we have some sort of seniority there. How arrogantly we try to manipulate Him and present Him in a more attractive light. How phariseical we proclaim the "right way" of worship as in according to our particular mood that day, while calling someone else wrong. We will stand before Him one day. We will be forced to our knees in holy reverence. We will never ever approach Him casually. He is God. He Is.

This week, tithe 10% of your time to God in order to get to know Him. (2.4 hours a day...) Know what He looks like, and Sunday show up to praise Him. When we all get this right, it won't matter if they play Skynard or Bach or no music at all. We will know Him, and He will come to us in order to bring us a message. And then (and ONLY then) will we WORSHIP.

Worship is like water on the seed of our hearts. It causes it to blossom until all around can see its beauty and long to experience its pleasing aroma.

More Like Him

As big a fuss as I made over waiting for autumn, football, and winter, I can't believe it's over. This has been the longest season ever, and I'm just glad it's over. I was busier than I ever remember being. My husband and I hardly saw each other. We worked, were in different programs, running the kids all over...it was crazy. January brings with it a kind of post football season depression. February brings on the serious depression because it's totally post season (I'm not a big pro fan, but I love the Super Bowl.)

Now what? New Year's Resolutions? I don't have that sort of attention span. I resolve something new every day. I have been in my Bible more this last week than usual. I'm studying Old Testament, particularly Genesis and presently Father Abraham. I'm inspired by the promises God made to Abraham, and how against all logic and odds, He fulfilled Abraham's deepest desire for a son of his own, even in his old age when his body was "as good as dead". I'm encouraged by the fact that God made promises to Abraham, and that God makes promises to us today and always keeps His promises, regardless of our failures and feeble attemts at doing right. I also am encouraged that when God says to be righteous and perfect, He is talking about the act of striving to be more like Him. I'm not righteous. I'm not even sorta good. I'm perfect, though, in that God is Righteousness in and thru me, even when I fall. I have perfected the falling routine!

When you have an impossible dream, be INTENTIONAL in pursuing God's will for your life. God gave us dreams and desires for a reason. They point us in the general area we're supposed to go, assuming that we are focused on Him and our desires serve to advance the Kingdom. By the way, God's Kingdom will be, with or without me. But my obedience draws me closer in my relationship to Him and as I am faithful, more of His will is revealed, and I find true joy in being like Him. God doesn't want or need me to like Him more. He wants me to be more like Him.

Our Focus

People tease me a lot for my difficulty in focusing. Whether it be on the conversation, planning something, organizing...I just don't have that focus trait that some people have. Then I fly into this thing called "HYPER FOCUS" where I'm completely and totally fixated on one thing. This is what many people call "tunnel vision" and it doesn't happen often. The good thing about hyper focus is that it served me well in trauma, and does today in the ICU when I have medical emergencies. It also is a great thing to have when I'm writing, as it keeps me on task. I don't get hyper focus in matters of the home, except maybe once or twice a year. The result is my house gets cleaned (more so than the usual laundry and vaccuum) and you may find me two days later exhausted and covered in dust from the vents or the attic. Not kidding. I clean the heck out of the place. And heck really builds up after a few months, let me tell you.

This is really not getting me to my subject, which is another hallmark sign of ADD, so I will just get to it and not bother with trying to sound poetic or finding the right segue. My subject, is of course, our focus. Mine. Ours. Yours. Where is it this Christmas? Is it on musicals and presentations, concerts and plays? If they center on Christ, that's a fine thing to be sure, but what of the Christ? Is it easy to give Him honour and glory and praise when we are focused on performance? Of course, Christ expects our best. I truly want to sing my best for Him. But does it sap my energy, and take away from the wonderful, solemn moments I spend with Him in quiet awe, in study, in prayer? The sad fact is, it does. An old song, "I Miss My Time With You" has these lyrics: "I miss my time with you / those moments together / I need to be with you each day / and it hurts to hear you say / you're too busy / busy trying to serve Me / but how can you serve me / when your spirit's empty?"

Sometimes we're so busy "being about our Father's business" that we don't take the time to find out exactly what it is He wants us to do. Do we spend time with Him, recognizing Him as our King? Do we spend private, personal time with Him? It isn't enough to show up at His house on Sundays and Wednesdays and do "the church thing". It isn't enough to "do good and charitable things" in the name of God. If you think so, try spending twice a week with you spouse, and make an occasional gesture in your spouse's honour, and see how that flies. This will not a marriage make. How much more so should we spend quiet, private, personal time with Him who loves us more that anything, looking into His face, praising Him, dancing with Him?

This Christmas is a time we have set aside for the purpose of honouring Christ and His gift to us. Besides the gift of His birth and death on the cross for our salvation, is the gift of Loved Ones. He loves for us to take pleasure in the things, and the relationships He blesses us with! It's our responsibility to love each other, which after love for God is the greatest command.

2000 years ago, Our Saviour left His Kingdom to live on this pile of rubbish called earth, to save filthy ignorant sinners and take us home with Him some day. He wasn't recognized as Saviour. He wasn't recognized as King. He wasn't even recognized by His own people. Make it your soul purpose to get to know Our Lord in a personal way, so when He comes again...you'll know His voice!

The Broken Cookies

I spent much of the afternoon and this evening baking cookies. Every once in a great while, I just get a bug of some sort, and I want to bake. And bake I did. I made about 3 dozen peanut butter cookies, about 2 dozen no-bake (I guess I no-baked, too) and about 3 1/2 dozen Mocha Crinkles. I love to do that. I especially love mocha crinkles because not only are they yummy, they're just so darn cute! I'll add the recipe if you'd like-they're so easy! My husband came home late after running errands with our friend and minister to youth, Mark. The kids were with me, but they were getting ready to go see a movie with friends. So I listened to Christmas music on the satellite and had coffee. It was nice and peaceful, considering the normal chaos of Christmas.

Ashton and Brett came in while I was cooking and licked the bowls, and they wanted to sample the cookies. I told them to eat the ugly ones so that the ones that turned out pretty could be used in gift bags for friends, and for a Christmas Cookie exchange I'm going to on Sunday. They didn't complain. But now that they're at the movies and I long for family time, I wonder, why do we save all the best for people outside of our homes, and give our families what's left? I know my kids don't care if their cookies are shaped funny, or don't have enough powdered sugar. They taste the same, and they get to lick bowls and forks and beaters. (I sometimes even turn off the mixer first!)

I know that my family is a wonderful gift from God. I am glad that they are patient with me and don't worry too much when I give them my seconds. But I resolve to be a better wife and mom and from now on, I'll go to as much trouble making them pretty things-special things.

I'll just eat all of the broken ones myself.


Mocha Crinkles
1/12 c. firmly packed light brown sugar
1/2 c. vegetable oil
1/4 c. sour cream
1 egg
1 t. vanilla
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
3/4 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
2 t. instant espresso or coffee granules
1t. baking soda
1/4 t. salt
1/8 t. ground black pepper
1/2 c. powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350. Beat brown sugar and oil in a medium bowl with electric mixer. Mix in sour cream, egg, and vanilla. Set aside. In another medium bowl mix flour, cocoa, espresso, baking soda, salt and pepper. Add the two mixes together and mix well. Refrigerate dough for 3-4 hours or until firm. Pour powdered sugar into small bowl. Set aside. Cut dough into little pieces (about 1") and roll into balls. Roll balls in powdered sugar, pressing into dough slightly. Bake on ungreased cookie sheet about 10 minutes until cookies "crack". Do NOT overbake! Cool on wire racks. Makes about 3 1/2 dozen small cookies.

If my kids are band nerds, then...

I must be a momma nerd. I don't know exactly. Tonite was the Moore Band Christmas
Concert. This included three Jr Highs and two High Schools. My boys are one of the Jr High bands and they have improved over 200%. Amazing! The oldest boy plays french horn, the youngest plays trombone.

I had the pleasure of sitting next to another momma nerd who apparently just got her first cell phone. And she was happy to USE it. Repeatedly. Not only that, but she wanted to talk about her phone with the six-year-old sitting next to her. And she had long legs that she couldn't keep off of my side. She kept hitting me with her knees. My husband, on the other side of me, wanted to make cute comments about all the band kids. "Hey, that kid on the french horn looks like Sam the Shepherd from Looney Toons!" I got to enjoy some of it, though. There were very few lowlights from the concert.

I was a bundle of nerves, though. My daughter, driving alone for all of three weeks, including errands and back and forth to school and church, had her first wreck today. I was home lounging with a new suspense thriller, when I got the call. She was crying, and it took a second to make sense of what she was saying. When I realized she was fine, she said that someone hit her and took off, and she was calling me from the nearest parking lot, and wanted to know what to do. Derek, half an hour overdue, was not picking up his cell and since my daughter had my car, I was stuck. I tried to rack my brain for ways to get there. My neighbor was asleep already, and it didn't dawn on me that the preacher's son and daughter in law, a good friend of mine, lived around the corner, as did our church's minister to students. So I set off on foot-only 3/4 mile, but that's a long way when your baby is scared and it's getting to be close to 30 degrees out. I hardly noticed in my thin sweater and t-shirt. By the time I got there, the person who hit her had come back to the scene (she was actually turning around, not running, and had a special needs sister in her car, and was having trouble getting back to where the collision occured). My daughter had exchanged the proper info as the police on the phone told her to, and they were all waiting on me to drag my raggedy out of shape self there.

Turns out I have some serious rear-end problems. Me and my car. I will have to call the insurance people tomorrow and get it taken care of, which I really hate because there's no cosmetic damage that can't be wiped off with some bug-off, but the car isn't drivable. It sways when you drive. But all in all, the damages are few. Thank God for His protection! There's no such thing as a "little collision" when your kid is in it.

How much more, then, does our Father love us? As passionately and desperately as we love our children and want what's best, it doesn't begin to compare to God's love for us. He wants what is best. Even when it doesn't seem so at the time. As you go through hardships remember that they come to us lovingly thru God's filter. He loves us and is taking care of us, and gives His angels charge over us.

Thank you God, that I'm sitting in my warm house, safe with all my babies, sipping egg nog and reminiscing about the day, and looking forward to the snow tomorrow. Please continue to keep us safe, and help us to walk close to You always. Amen.