And this is what keeps me away.........

Sophie Joy

Born: June 23, 2009

1:51 p.m.

7 lbs. 10 oz.

21 inches

PROUD MIMI -- That would be ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my. Life is so good.

Today is this one's birthday. Since it took me 3 weeks to post Katie's Happy Birthday memories it just wouldn't do to post memories of Matt on time. I'm pondering on what I'll write about you. This is the first time you've had a birthday and not been somewhere at least CLOSE. I know you are celebrating in China. So...Happy Birthday, Son.

We love you and we miss you.

Forgive my late posting of this....

May 9, 1988

Twenty one years ago this morning I awoke thinking I had wet the bed. It took only a few moments to realize that I was having a baby that day! Excitement!! You were due on May 8 - Mother's Day. What a Mother's Day gift! But, you wanted to come in your time not anyone else's so you made me wait a day to get that precious gift. I learned in September of the previous year that I was going to receive the gift of all gifts. It was so unexpected -- we had finally laid to rest any dreams of enlarging our family. The pain that sent me to the doctor that day in September had me fully expecting I would have a hysterectomy before the day was over. Instead the doctor came into the room with a big smile on his face and said "You are going to have a baby!" After giving up on all the drugs, temperature charts, and calendar watching. I was having a baby. This was long before sonograms were routine and parents just waited along with everyone else to learn the sex of their baby. I knew though. I knew almost from the beginning that the baby that I was carrying inside was a little girl. I planned for that certainty. The nursery was decorated based on that certainty. The name was picked based on that certainty. (How glad we are there is not a 21 year old boy on this earth named Katie!) So I wasn't a bit surprised when Dr. Hands asked me at 10:00 the evening of May 9 - "Now what were you wanting?" and then "Well, you've got a baby girl!" I had a much improved situation as far as birthing goes between your oldest brother and you so I was fully aware of all that was going on and I remember so well your little face looking up at me when he laid you on my chest a few minutes later. At that very moment our lives were entertwined in that magically blessed way that moms and daughters grow and I assure you my life has not been the same. You were very nearly born talking in full sentences and singing. Oh, my baby, you had a song for everything. Then the great sadness. The singing stopped. For you, the mourning. The confusion. The pain. For me, the guilt, the engulfing tide of guilt that I had failed at keeping my baby safe. The fear of knowing that the pain was destroying you. The helplessness because I couldn't stop it from happening.

Your growing up years were hard. Hard for you. Hard for everyone who loved you. Oh, there were many wonderfully bright and funny times. But the sadness and the pain was never very far from your eyes. Never very far from my heart. The years brought lots of changes in your young life. Divorce. Single parenthood. You had to share your momma - something you weren't quite prepared to do - with 12 other little kids as I supported us with by opening the daycare center. Then remarriage. I chuckle to this day at how readily you took to Thomas ("Tommy" to you and ONLY you). You even changed your name before I changed mine. Yep - you were Katie Collard before I became Michelle Collard. That's just the way you are -- see what you want and then go after it. Katie Collard was a happy little girl. There still wasn't a song, but there were glimpses of the happy baby you began life as. There were so many nights I walked the floor, crying out to God for your rescue, wondering if I'd said goodbye for the last time. Praying, pleading for someone, somehow to reach through the pain and help you to see what was so evident to me. I look at you and see a magnficient creation of my Father's - a beautiful blonde haired girl with eyes that change color with your mood and the clothes you wear. You smile with your whole face and it's impossible not to smile back - regardless of how hard I would try not to. You have a beautiful voice and one that should be used often -- I love hearing you sing and some of my most meaningful memories are those where we stood side by side and sang on the praise team together.

I know I failed you many a time, Kate - I'm a flawed and fallen old woman in a flawed and fallen world. But I did and I do love you with my whole heart and am grateful and humble and proud that of all the little girls born on May 9, 1988 it was you that God loaned to me. Now in a few short weeks your life is changing in ways you can't possibly imagine. It's hard for me to accept that my baby is all grown up and is going to have a baby -- where did the time go? Little Sophie will come and you'll discover the joys of motherhood first hand. You are going to be a wonderful mother. It is quite true that God brings blessings in all sorts of unexpected ways and this little life growing inside of you is such a big one. It's because of her that you've discovered the will and the determination to be all that you were created to be. It's because of her that you will sing again. You have such a powerful testimony and so many lives are going to be reached and forever changed because of that story. The work He began in you is being perfected. In your honor I close with this Word from God....it's your song...your future...

He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD. Psalm 40:3.

Now I'm sad.

As you've surely gathered, the humongo corporation I work for was acquired by another humongo corporation and now we are one conglomerated double humongo corporation. Many changes, many lay-offs, much tears and sadness. I used to love my job, love coming to work. I am struggling now. Struggling to understand why I'm here when so many extremely qualified (9certainly more than me) are not. Struggling because my two sisters in Christ that got me the job in the first place are no longer here. It's been an experience - this working in a non-Christian environment. An eye-opening one. A couple of things have happened that make it so clear to me how I am in enemy territory and that scares me a bit and makes me sad at the same time. I love many of these people. That they don't know Jesus breaks my heart. I suppose that is why I'm here. I keep a Bible on my desk. It's just there. Has been since the beginning. One day an attorney came by and needed my help on something and he came around my desk so that he could see my computer screen. He saw my Bible and said "What's that?" and I said "My Bible." and he backed up and said "oh" and quickly left -- it felt as though he were worried it would jump out and bite him. Today that same guy was in the office of another attorney who sits by my desk. I have no idea what they were discussing but I heard one say in a very sarcastic tone, "Well, I guess we could go to that EDS National Prayer Event." Then they laughed and remembered I was there and quickly shut the door and began talking in low whispers.

It made me sad for Jesus. It made me sad for them. I'm having a hard time understanding this old world I live in. I'm worried about the world I'm leaving for my baby granddaughter.

Now I'm just sad. Too sad to make an interesting post. Or a literate one.

Check in

For goodness sake I'm meeting myself coming and going. To borrow from a talented author, it's been the busiest of times, it's been the boringest of times. At least boring to report on. Mostly we are knee deep in baby preparations around here. Katie is not having an easy pregnancy and she is longing for the end of it to come. On the other hand since we are not at all ready for Sophie to arrive just yet it would be most fortunate should we be allowed those last 7 or so weeks. My Waterloo may well be this stinking chair we are attempting to reupholster. Actually what we are currently attempting is just getting the current fabric OFF. There are approximately 5 staples per square inch. Staples that are about 14 inches long. I may or I may not be exaggerating a tad bit. Once we get the fabric off and the new material cut it should go together pretty quickly. It's going to be SO CUTE. In my mind's eye anyway.

Speaking of my mind's eye, I'm young and skinny there. Just saying. I'm also poised, cool, calm and collected. If only. Perhaps then I would have been able to articulate to the Customer UNservice representative at Target exactly how frustrating their return policies are. When presented with the undeniable fact that indeed, this playpen, bumbo seat, dishwasher basket and 5 new born outfits were all purchased from Katie's baby registry you would assume they would be willing to accept them back, give us STORE CREDIT, mind you -- not cash, and allow us to go back and spend almost twice what the credit was for a car seat. One would think that. One would be dreadfully wrong. Hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman scorned by a snippity store clerk. As much money as we spend in that store you would think they would greet us at the door with tea and crumpets.

Book club meets tonight. This month we read Blue Like Jazz. I'm really looking forward to the discussion. That book would qualify as an Ebenezer in my life. (I just googled "Ebenezer" to see what I could find in the way of explanation in case someone was puzzled. I found a great article here from someone I'd never read before but believe I'll be going back.) It was very, very challenging to my status quo, middle-class, card-carrying Republican, conservative Bible thumping Christian living right smack dab in the Belt Buckle of the Bible Belt self. It was painful at times. It was joyous too. I'll be righteously indignant if the other ladies aren't as complimentary.

This post is all over the place....just like my mind. I'm going to do better. Some day.

Ministry

Yesterday began a three week emphasis on missions. We had a guest speaker who has planted a church in downtown Lubbock TX to minister to the homeless. What a work of pure love (James 1). I know from our own experiences with addiction that it's a hard, grueling journey. If you feel called to work with those whose appetites of one sort or another have derailed them from the mainstream you have got to know you are entering a work where the successes are few and far between. It's a one step forward, three steps backward affair. It's rewarding, it's filled with unique joys and it's hard. He didn't talk about his ministry at all -- these were just thoughts that were going through my head as I prepared to listen to him. Because a very unwelcome thought came to my mind and I spent the next however many hours trying vainly to squash it right down into the black hole of my memory.

I don't want to be called to a hard ministry. I want to take a cake to my neighbors. I want to invite my children's friends to Vacation Bible School. I want to donate money so someone else can go. I want to donate some more money. What I don't want is to get down in the trenches. I am ashamed of that. But I'm not sure I'm ashamed enough. I've been down in the trenches before. I know what it's like. What is it in me that has allowed me to think I've done my time and I don't want to do it anymore? Where did I see an example of that in Jesus' life?

The minister spoke on John 4 and the Samaritan woman. He said something that opened my eyes to something I'd not noticed before. You know the story -- the disciples go to town to buy food, Jesus stays behind, the woman comes out to draw water and Jesus engages her in a conversation. At one point she says (paraphrase) "I know that the Messiah is coming and he will explain all this religion stuff." and Jesus says "It's me. I'm the One." I missed it all these times of reading. This is the first time that Jesus publicly declares He is the One and he does so not in fanfare, not in a huge crowd and not even to his friends. He does it to a woman that no one wanted to be seen with. Likely a prostitute. Certainly a "bad woman". She turned around and became the first missionary because she brought the town out to see what she had discovered. Jesus entrusted his identity and his mission to someone I, in my middle class, white, suburb spend my days trying to avoid. I think singing "O To Be Like Thee" would be a bit blasphemous right about now.

I'm pretty sure that's not the right response.

These times, they are a changin'

Okay. I’m going to blog about it finally. I wanted to be really ready to tell the story but I decided I wasn’t sure I would recognize what “ready” looked like. So in true characteristic Michelle fashion I’m just going to leap in with both feet.

In just a little over two months I am going to become a grandmother. Seeing those words in black and white haven’t ceased to amaze and awe me yet. Me. A grandmother! It’s just shocking, isn’t it? I feel no older and scarcely any wiser than I did 35 years ago – how is it possible I am old enough to be a grandmother? Truth be told I’m nearly the last one of my peers to make the transition so obviously I’m plenty old enough but only in physical years.

It’s been a stretching, leaning-on-Jesus time because the situation is not ideal. Not the way it’s “supposed to” happen. My precious, beautiful, but unmarried baby girl is going to be a mother very soon. She will be a wonderful mother. She’s as ready as any single 21 year old could be. She’s got a support system in place that is walking beside her in love and acceptance. I’m sure there is judgment out there too, but she’s been spared from it for the most part and I’m grateful for that blessing. It’s hard for me, the mom, to not be a little sad for my baby because I know how hard it will be. Sophie’s daddy didn’t want the responsibility of his actions and so Katie will be starting this parenthood journey alone. I know the things and the times she will forfeit because she’s a mom now. I also know the joys indescribable that are in store for her as she marvels at the wondrous miracle of birth, as she holds that tiny life in her hands, as she experiences the blessed gift of hearing a tiny voice say “mommy” for the first time.

Once again I’m being reminded of God’s indescribable love for me. I mess up. I get my priorities out of order. I want things when I want them whether they are good for me or the timing is right or not. I make judgments when I don’t know the whole story. I shun when I should embrace. He still keeps blessing me. In the storms, in the days of calm and peace, when I deserve it and when I don’t. Blessings.

One of those is my very first granddaughter, Sophie Joy Scott, expected to arrive the latter part of June.

Wow.

Control

During worship this past Sunday morning I experienced one of those moments that was a cross between awe, worship and doubt-ridden angst. I am nothing if not complex! As usual it was wrapped up in music. The worship leader began the song…

My heart, my mind, my body, my soul.
I give to you, take control….

I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder to see if I could see Pam. It was a story from her that has forever highlighted this song in my mind. I wrote about her here. She and I sing on the same praise team and early one morning before worship began she shared the most precious story about the Sunday morning soon after her dad received his diagnosis. I knew from his many visits that he was as much a singer as his daughter was. It was no surprise to learn he led the singing in the church where he also served as an elder. When a person so loved gets a terminal diagnosis it’s devastating reality touches many lives. I have no doubt that he stood before a congregation of people that morning who were shell-shocked, saddened, confused and maybe even angry. I don’t know what he said about the tumor that invaded his brain and would rob him of his mind and his body. I do know he then stepped to the microphone and began singing

My heart, my mind, my body, my soul.
I give to you, take control.
I give my body a living sacrifice.
Lord, take control, take control.

Incredible. I can’t help but be humbled – I’m not sure that would be my response. So the words have taken on a much deeper meaning now but I wonder…do I really want the Lord to take control of it all? Would I be eating these M&M’s (that I clearly do not need in light of my recent cholesterol screening) if the Lord had control of my body? Do I want to give my appetite to him? I say I do, but I don’t eat like I do. I say I want to give him control of my mind, but I play computer games like I want control.

The illusion of control is a hard thing to let go. Silly isn't it? It's just an illusion - why hang on so tightly? But I do. I want to be able to sing with the same intensity and love for the Lord that my friend's dad did that Sunday morning a year and a half ago.

And so, I press on.

Copied.......

One of the blogs I try to read faithfully is Stuff Christians Like . He makes me laugh, he challenges me, he teaches me. Today I read something that spoke so powerfully to me I shot off an email to him begging for permission to copy it here. He generously gave it and so I'm sharing with you. I hope it blesses you as it has me.

Thinking You Are Naked....by The Prodigal Jon

I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty awesome at applying band-aids. And make no mistake, there is an art. Because if you go too quickly and unpeel them the wrong way, they stick to themselves and you end up with a wadded up useless mess instead of the Little Mermaid festooned bandage your daughter so desperately wants to apply to a boo boo that may in fact be 100% fictional.

Half of the injuries I treat at the Acuff house are invisible or simply wounds of sympathy. My oldest daughter will scrape her knee and my 3-year old, realizing the band aid box is open will say, "Yo dad, I'd like to get in on that too. What do you say we put one on, I don't know, my ankle. Yeah, my ankle, let's pretend that's hurt."

But sometimes the cuts are real, like the day my 5-year old got a scrape on her face playing in the front yard. I rushed in the house and returned with a princess bandage. As I bent down to apply it to her forehead, her eyes filled up with tears and she shrunk back from me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I don't want to wear that band-aid." She replied.
"Why? You have a cut, you need a band-aid." I said.
"I'll look silly." She answered.

Other than her sister and her mom, there was no one else in the yard. None of her friends were over, cars were not streaming passed our house and watching us play, the world was pretty empty at that moment. But for the first time I can remember, she felt shame. She had discovered shame. Somewhere, some how, this little 5 year old had learned to be afraid of looking silly. If I was smarter, if I had been better prepared for the transition from little toddler to little girl, I might have asked her this:

"Who told you that you were silly?"

I didn't though. That question didn't bloom in my head until much later and I didn't understand it until I saw God ask a similar question in Genesis 3:11. To me, this is one of the saddest and most profoundly beautiful verses in the entire Bible. Adam and Eve have fallen. The apple is a core. The snake has spoken. The dream appears crushed. As they hide from God under clothes they've hastily sewn together, He appears and asks them a simple question:

"Who told you that you were naked?"

There is hurt in God's voice as He asks this question, but there is also a deep sadness, the sense of a father holding a daughter that has for the first time ever, wrapped herself in shame.

Who told you that you were not enough?
Who told you that I didn't love you?
Who told you that there was something outside of me you needed?
Who told you that you were ugly?
Who told you that your dream was foolish?
Who told you that you would never have a child?
Who told you that you would never be a father?
Who told you that you weren't a good mother?
Who told you that without a job you aren't worth anything?
Who told you that you'll never know love again?
Who told you that this was all there is?
Who told you that you were naked?

I don't know when you discovered shame. I don’t know when you discovered that there were people that might think you are silly or dumb or not a good writer or a husband or a friend. I don't know what lies you've been told by other people or maybe even by yourself.

But in response to what you are hearing from everyone else, God is still asking the question, "Who told you that you were naked?"

And He's still asking us that question because we are not.

In Christ we are not worthless.
In Christ we are not hopeless.
In Christ we are not dumb or ugly or forgotten.
In Christ we are not naked.

Isaiah 61:10 it says: For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.

The world may try to tell you a thousand different things today. You might close this post and hear a million declarations of what you are or who you'll always be, but know this. As unbelievable as it sounds and as much as I never expected to type this sentence on this blog:

You are not naked.

Polished grace, she strikes again

How is it possible it's been almost two weeks since I posted last? I'm afraid this is indicative of my will power in most anything constructive. Great starter, but not so hot on the follow through. I submit this evidence before the court: at this very moment I have a room that needs the baseboard and trim painted, an afghan that is about 4 rows long, a tea towel that has the body of one chicken embroidered, an embarrassing array of scrapbooking supplies and pictures piled in the corner and oh so much more. However the prosecution will rest it's case here.

My friends I confess, I've met the enemy and it is Facebook.

I'm not even going to get into all the good things I've been reading and thinking about because I need to meditate and pray some more. So for your reading pleasure I will give to you the latest offering for the grace files.

Here at my place of employment there is always a big push for March of Dimes, JDR and the United Way. Each time one of those events come around one of the money raising things we do is buy stickers that will allow us to wear blue jeans for the day or week. I volunteered to be a "Blue Jeans for Babies" coordinator for my department meaning I take money and hand out stickers. Not hard, right? I did such an excellent job of nagging, soliciting, harassing,accepting donations that we ran out of stickers. So I made a quick trip downstairs to pick up some more. From the basement to the 3rd floor you obviously have 3 choices to travel - stairs (are you kidding?), elevator (ach - closed in spaces and me -- not good) or the escalator. It's easy to see which one I chose. As I rounded the corner to the escalator I glanced up to see that there were two maintenance men a little more than half way up. Then I stepped on and began looking down at the stickers, counting them, figuring up whether I had enough....and mindlessly climbing the stairs at the same time.

Thanks be to the angels watching over me I remembered where I was when there was 1/38th of an inch between my head and the maintenance man's right buttock cheek. He was blissfully unaware that I nearly headbutted him in the behind straight into kingdom come.

How would one go about explaining that?

Going first

It's happened enough that it's pretty hard to deny (to myself) that God is wanting to teach me something. Does it happen for you that way too? All of a sudden, everywhere you turn there is some event, some song, some book, some scripture that keeps coming up with a common theme? It's usually one that causes you to wince a little. You just know this is gonna hurt a bit.

Several times lately I've come across the concept of giving the people in my realm of influence the gift of going second. The first time I heard that phrase I was intrigued because after all, making my friends go second doesn't seem all that good a thing to do, right? When I investigated and figured out what was being said I knew I'd be much more comfortable with my previous definition of "good" -- that being, my friends can go first.

It's like this. Have you ever sat in a small group situation when someone confesses they need to share something with the group and they need your forgiveness, help, etc....and then they say "I just haven't been reading my Bible daily." I don't want to minimize the importance of daily Bible study -- this isn't what that's all about at all. Essentially they have 'set the bar' now for confession for your group. Someone else steps up and mournfully shares they haven't been praying as they should. Again, I'm not mocking that. But where does that leave you? Sitting in the group knowing how ugly your heart is....knowing that you have outright lied to your boss at work -- knowingly and willfully lied. Or the niggling little voice in the back of your mind that says you are becoming too fond of that glass of wine every evening that has beome two and three glasses, starting earlier and earlier. Or the fact that you have multiple prescriptions at multiple pharmacies from multiple doctors for pain relievers. Or you're trapped in the voracious monster of internet porn. You're tempted to have an affair. You don't love your spouse. All those real things that people struggle with every single day and yet we live as though we are above it all and would never ever have those feelings. Is it realistic to expect that someone is going to follow up "I've not been praying enough." with "I've been having dinner with someone other than my mate." ???

I am reminded of a song "Stained Glass Masquerade" by Casting Crowns.

Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small
Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they'll soon discover
That I don't belong
So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the part again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them
Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain

AUTHENTICITY. That's become somewhat of a buzz word in the religious sector today. It doesn't diminish the need for it. And that is where the challenge comes in - giving your group the gift of going first. If I go first and share the real Michelle and the real Michelle's struggles, you are freed to share the real you. THEN community develops. Healing begins. Churches grow. God is glorified.

I'm not sure I'm ready to go first. But if not me, then who?

It's a new week

and I got nothin'.

I would like to be able to tell you about my weekend. The weekend in which we packed up the remainder of Matt's extensive library, moved excess furniture to the attic, painted a very dark blue bedroom a very soft pastel pink. I would like to tell you about driving all over Collin County in our search for just the right bed. About my weekend cooking for the upcoming week's dinners. About the gigantic mound of dog hair that I swept up from a dog that by all rights should be bald now. About my "okay it's time to break out the sandals" pedicure. About how I was early to 7:15 AM praise team warm ups on Sunday morning. About all the laundry that I got not only washed but folded and put away.

Those are all the things I would like to tell you about. Fortunately (for you) and unfortunately (for me) I cannot tell you about those things because they didn't happen. Those were on the to-do list. I wish my to-do list and my just-did list would match up. Just once. It's not a lot to ask is it?

Apparently.

Maybe my memory is faulty but it sure seems to me that I was more organized and got more accomplished when my kids were little than I do now when they are all grown. Apparently, along with the kids growing up and leaving, one's stamina and memory goes right along behind them.

Sigh.

Growing old is not for sissies.

P.S. To be absolutely fair to myself I did accomplish a shockingly low number of the above mentioned tasks. I wasn't a complete slouch.

Rumba

I hope this link stays around for a long, long time. This is a complete delight! It is also a goal to shoot for. Enjoy!!

http://www.dallasnews.com/video/index.html?nvid=340840&shu=1

Broken

"If my life is broken when I give it to Jesus it is because pieces will feed a whole multitude while a loaf will satisfy only a little lad." Ruth Stull

For the first three decades of my life I lived in a fairy tale world where heartbreak and sorrow had no place. My sister would tell you that it was indeed a fairy-tale world that had nothing to do with reality but the truth is I saw the world largely as a friendly nice place to be. There had never been any shocking tragedies. My parents, with all their human failings, never once caused me to doubt their sacrificial love for me or my siblings. We didn't live in the best part of town, we didn't have a ton of money but we always had enough. We ate well, dressed well - each of us got a car when we turned 16. Well, except for one of my sisters who refused to drive until she was 18. I went to school, got good grades without ever once really trying, had boyfriends, had girlfriends. I was very active in my youth group at church, I had a part time job as the church secretary so was very close to the minister. Looking back I just see it as a mostly positive experience. I confess that I have some sort of insane (my sis would testify) ability to look at the world and see it as I want it to be rather than what it is. And yet, I was largely sheltered from the evil and pain that is a part of life here in Satan's kingdom.

Then "real" life hit. It came in the form of tsunami, destroying every vestige of "normal", wiping every secure haven I had erected. I was devastated. Hadn't I always tried to do the "right" thing? Hadn't I tried to follow the rules? Why oh why was this happening??

Years later, though I'm still sifting through the damage of those earlier storms, I find myself not so afraid when the winds pick up. I've come to understand and accept that they are a part of life. They serve a greater purpose than to just shake up my world. I've been given a greater mission field than I would have had should I have been allowed to continue living in Beaver Cleaver's neighborhood. My brokenness makes me available to other's brokenness.

I don't like being reminded of the storms, I really don't like the scars they left. But if those scars bring one person to the healer of wounds I need to be willing to let them show. It's in my nature to want to hide them. Pray with me that I remember the loaf was enough for a boy but it was broken to feed the multitudes.

He looked at him and saw that he loved

I've read the story of "The Rich Young Ruler" many times. I've heard lessons on it, I've taught lessons on it. Seems to me as I reflect on it that the take away from each of those lessons was always focused on his failure. Failure to let go of his wealth. Failure to see Jesus as the prize. He loved money more than Jesus. And of course, "it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into heaven."

All true - all important lessons. Recently however, a verse jumped out at me that I hadn't ever considered before. One so important that I will go out on a limb here and say it could be the key verse of the section.

"And Jesus looked at him and loved him." Mk 10:21

Here's a young man approaching Jesus. I don't know, but I suspect by his dress and it his manner it was obvious he was a person of some importance. Maybe he had already begun to realize that he couldn't buy peace. We do know that he came to Jesus because he knew that Jesus had the answers he was seeking...quite possibly answers to questions he didn't know he had. Here's what I have always missed in my reading of this passage of scripture. Jesus looked at him and loved him. When the young man heard Jesus' answer he walked away sorrowful. Is it just maybe possible that part of the reason was he saw the love in Jesus eyes and he knew he was walking away from that?

I wonder. Do the people that I work with who deny even the deity of my Lord see love when I look at them? After listening yet again to another tale of woe brought about because of poor decisions do my eyes convey love? Or frustration? Judgement? Horror?

I suspect people might find it harder to walk away from our churches if we in the church looked at them with eyes that conveyed love.

What do you think?

Suffering

I am suffering from blog anxiety and Saharaian aridness (I'm not sure either of those are words, but if they are not they should be) of the brain. This happened the very day I started writing for anyone other than myself. So unfortunate, this quest of mine for Everybody. To. Like. Me.!! I need to return to my roots of writing my story for my children's amusement some day when I'm long gone and stop thinking that this is the bar stool in that drug store where whoever the actress was that got discovered there. I also apparently need to rediscover the wonders of grammar and reaquaint myself with the definition of run-on sentences and why they are not a good thing.

Movie time

I was looking backwards through my posts and came upon this one that I originally posted a year ago. I was reading the quotes and most of them were easily remembered but there were a few that I couldn't remember at all. So I decided to repost...this time with the answers so that in the near future when I have lost what is left of my mind I will be able to connect the dots at least. These all come from movies that I can see again and again and again. Most of the time movies are good for one showing --- and far too often I find even that was more than necessary. But occasionally there comes a movie that just thrills me.

1. Time marches on and sooner or later you realize it is marchin' across your face.
2. I may be on the devil's hit-list, but I'm on God's mailing list.
3. I know a man who has a van and he will take you back to wherever you came from!
4. Sit down and shut up, will ya? Try not to live up to all my expectations.
5. I don't know what's worse, church or jail.
6. Face it, girls, I'm older and I have more insurance.
7. This is not a tragedy. A tragedy is three men trapped in a mine, or police dogs used in Birmingham.
8. In a good shoe, I wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, I buy a size eight.
9. Luther said I could learn some things from you. I already know how to drink.
10. If you mention my name, you'll be selling your kidneys to pay for your lawsuit. Cult.
11. I'm not as sweet as I used to be.
12. What did you ever do to change the world?
13. You remember the day I went out for cigarettes and didn't come back? You must have noticed.
14. I'm too old for this...
15. Not only are you a cheat, you're a gutless cheat as well.
16. I'm gonna get out of the car and drop you like third period French.
17. I wouldn't be afraid of death if I was you. I'd be more afraid of driving in rush hour traffic.
18. All right. Now I have complied with your every request, would you agree?
19. This is the best part of my day.
20. My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a self-destructive pattern. If released, is it likely you'd fall back into a similar pattern? She already left me once. I don't think she'd do it again just for kicks.
21. You're not trying to draw a psycho pension! You really are crazy!
22. Endo here has forgotten more about dispensing pain than you and I will ever know.

And the answers are:

Steel Magnolias is single handedly responsible for some of the best movie quotes of all time. I could not even begin to list all my favorite lines from that movie. I suppose I would vote it to be the greatest all time chick movie in the history of filmdom. It is responsible for #1, #8, #11.

Another great girl movie is Fried Green Tomatoes. It does such a great job of taking you through all the emotions and stages of womanhood - makes you laugh, makes you cry....it too is a keeper. It is responsible for #5, #6, #16.

My son taught me of the greatness of Christopher Guest. His movies are quirky, dry, ridiculous and hilarious. I love them all and they are just crazy enough to keep me laughing whether it's the 2nd or 20th time I've seen them. # 3 belongs to Best in Show.

The first movie that I ever saw that kept me riveted to the screen and immediately longing to go through the line and buy another ticket and sit through it again was Paul Newman and Robert Redford in The Sting. It is actually the first movie I ever purchased. It had action, adventure, love, mystery and a surprise ending -- just about sums up a perfect movie experience. Well, that and the beauty that was those two men in their prime. So what if they were old enough to be my dad -- they still were gorgeous. This classic is responsible for quotes #4, #9, & #15.

A sweet movie that I can't sit through nearly as much as the others but still rates high in my books was Pay it Forward. First of all I just love Helen Hunt. I think she is a great actress and I'll watch anything she is in. The whole hopeful premise that each of us can make a difference to the broader world makes this a feel-good but tear jerker of a movie. It is responsible for #10 & #12.

Newer to this movie line up is the movie responsible for #13, #16, #18, #19 & #20. The sequels haven't been nearly as good as the first one in my opinion but I'd be game if they wanted to come back with a fourth one --- I just love this band of boys. Ocean's Eleven is another movie I can watch over and over.

As a general rule, I prefer action and adventure, murder and mayhem to girl movies. There are some that I'll just go to because it's the next in sequels--even though they cease to be that great a movie. I like them and am not embarrassed to say I do. The Lethal Weapon movies are an example. I just like them. There's no explaining it.

That leaves us with two quotes. (DISCLAIMER: My children should immediately skip this paragraph. Do not continue reading or you will throw up.) #7 isn't nearly as famous a quote as another line in the movie. If I'd listed "nobody puts Baby in the corner" you would have immediately recognized it as Dirty Dancing. This movie is an excellent one to watch with the hubs. He may not immediately recognize that it would be to his advantage to watch it with you but he'll catch on. I'm just sayin...

And finally a movie that made such a small blip on the radar scale that I rarely find anyone who even saw the movie, but it connected and I just love it. First of all I think Robert Duvall is just greatness. I nearly always love whatever he is in. The movie The Apostle has stayed with me in a much deeper way than "oh I just loved that movie". Sonny was such a perfect personification of the struggle within us all to be the me we really want to be and the me we too often are. You see he really wants to be a man of God -- he's messed up, he's fallen, he's totally human but he still wants to glorify God. I so identify. I love that God doesn't depend on me to get it right and to be right and do right before he uses me. Final quote # 2 is from this movie.

Pride grows when it should just go...

Definitions of pride on the Web:

• a feeling of self-respect and personal worth
• satisfaction with your (or another's) achievements; "he takes pride in his son's success"
• the trait of being spurred on by a dislike of falling below your standards
• a group of lions
• be proud of; "He prides himself on making it into law school"
• unreasonable and inordinate self-esteem (personified as one of the deadly sins)

I'm sitting here at my desk at work. Clearly not working at the moment. It's my lunch break. I need to work through the anger and frustration I'm feeling that is making me want to organize a sit-in, over-throw the government, launch a protest.....or cry. Sadly, it would be far easier for me to attempt any of the first three rather than the last. I don't like that about me. I'm thinking about the situation that is causing me angst and the word "pride" keeps coming up. So I looked up the definition. Can you guess which definition would be the cause of my woes at the moment?

It's a blessing that God's word speaks to us when we need it to -- even though I am not always immediately grateful when those words come to my conscious thought. In this case I hear the words, "Christ did not consider equality with God a thing to hold on to but rather emptied himself..." (Philippians 2). If ever there was someone whose very being demanded attention, reverence, awe, prestige, fame, it would surely be the Son of the living God. Yet, he said (in effect) "you know, living in a palace ain't all that" because he was loved me enough to let me have a shot at palace life too.

And I get myself all worked up because someone was disrespectful and brusque. Because I am all that, you know.

I'm pretty sure God is just shaking his head right now.

Winds of change blow through parenthood...

Each of my kids is special and precious in a unique way. The oldest was the "starter baby"...
He was the one whose every day was documented in the baby book and with the camera. Things were sterilized if I even thought he might put it in his mouth. Everything was new and we lived in fear we would irreparably harm him with our ineptitude. He had to blaze each new path and it was always long before we were ready. Consequently we also "knew" it was before he was ready .

Then # 2 came along...
We realized dirt wouldn't kill him. He was much tougher than we thought. We relaxed and enjoyed the stages and committed them to memory, but not necessarily to paper. In some ways I think this one got the best of what I had to offer as a parent. I wasn't nearly as paranoid. I trusted myself more and because I didn't have the time to devote my whole day and my whole life to entertaining him, he learned to be self-reliant and flexible. These were traits our first & last born didn't have to worry about developing since indeed, the world revolved around them.

Then baby brought up the rear... She was a bonus baby that I had been told time and again I couldn't & wouldn't have. She didn't get the sterilized pacifiers like her oldest brother got - she was allowed to cry herself to sleep long before he ever did. She wasn't pushed to achieve the next thing as much as her oldest brother was. Number 2 measured his progress by what Number 1 did so he was always in a hurry on his own accord. We weren't in a hurry for her to grow up. We did things for her that she could have done (and probably should have done) for herself. We didn't correct the baby talk, we didn't mind the rocking and the carrying because we knew it was the last.

Three kids who got three different mothers. It is a testimony to God's grace that somehow they managed to grow into three different, but precious adults who are on the cusp of their own life journey. I'm so very thankful that God made up the lack in me because in spite of all my goofs, these three are just pretty doggone amazing. I'm so grateful I was privileged enough to be in on the ground floor of their lives!!

Second Verse

He told me later that he finally decided to honestly look at people in rehab who were happy and doing well and wanted what they had. He finally admitted to himself that his life was not working and there had to be a better way. Most successful rehab programs are built around the Twelve Steps of AA. It is said to be a spiritual progam, not a religious program. They are told that alcoholism/addiction is a disease of the mind and the body and that it is a spiritual sickness. Matt had a very skewed vision of who God was by this time -- it was hard for that little boy to separate Dad and God and inside that grown man the little boy was still very much alive. I'm not sure who, or what his Higher Power was at the beginning but I knew that God promised if we would search for Him we would find Him. So I prayed. I had scores and scores of other people praying. I claimed a victory long before I really believed it would happen. God had as much work to do in my heart as he did Matt's.

God kept showing up where Matt was - isn't it cool how He does that?? I don't know when it happened because he is, after all, of the male species and does not talk about feelings (ewwww!). Somewhere along the way though the wall that he'd built between himself and God was blown to smithereens and he accepted God's amazing grace. He met Him for perhaps the first time really.

The transformation has been a thing of beauty to behold. The clear eyes are back, the quiet chuckle, the servant heart -- he's become the person God had in mind when He first created him. He stood in church a while back and gave his testimony and it was all I could do to sit in that pew and smile. I'm telling you what I wanted to do was stand up and shout God heard our prayers!! Glory to God in the Highest. Hallelujah! Preach it, brother! Oh yeah. Those are the thoughts that were running rampant in my brain.

HOWEVER, being of the "let all things be done decently and in order" and "let the women keep silent..." brotherhood I smiled through tears --- looked around that large crowd that morning and saw tears running down a whole lot of cheeks and thanked God for restoring my boy. On October 17 he celebrated four years of continuous sobriety.

And he decided he wanted to practice the gift that God so obviously blessed him with - he is a natural born teacher - in a foreign land. He wants to see the world, experience cultures far different than the southern born culture that I tried hard to teach him was the ONLY culture. Oh, I jest. But I did think being native Texans was something my children should embrace. Instead they move to far off corners of the earth. Just like my son came back to the Lord, I'm thinking they can come back to Texas too.

And the church says Amen.