Cry Ye Sarahs Unto the Lord

I held one child in my arms, year after year — he grew — and month after month, I grieved. 48 months, 48 “No’s.” Desolation snowballed into a downward spiral that drained me physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Secondary infertility was my diagnosis: the inability to conceive after the first child. Sarah, Rebekkah, Elizabeth, Rachael, Hannah, the barren woman — they became my soul sisters. I understood their cry — and I rejoiced in their answered prayers. I sat at their feet, looking for behavior solutions in their stories.

Sarah and Abraham encouraged accountability in their relationship — story after story of each enabling the other’s weakness drove that home. That the only time Isaac is shown taking his problems directly to God was when he asked God for Rebekkah to conceive shows the mighty power of a praying husband. Hannah unabashedly spilled her heart out in front of everyone, so passionate was she in emptying it for her God. Elizabeth, having grown reconciled to her barrenness, showed us how to rejoice in God’s surprises. Rachael cried out for a child to make her look good. Leah wanted to win her husband’s love by giving him sons — and found God’s mighty, fulfilling love. And, the barren woman’s house was filled, probably because she opened herself up to love more others than she could ever possibly conceive.

I mined these stories for clues to solve my problem. Because God had not given me what I asked for, I assumed it was a conditional behavior issue. God was waiting for me to behave a certain way before He would grant my request. I was like the mouse trying to find the magic button that releases the cheese — and none of the buttons I pushed released my cheese.

To compound that, I was an obsessive thinker, constantly searching for solutions. Obsessive thinking starts on the outside — can I work harder, eat healthier, study more, be skinnier, find a new theory, a new treatment — all the solutions are outside based. Outside solution failure turns the obsessive thinker inside — maybe I am not good enough, do not pray enough, believe enough, or am not important enough to God.

But God does not work like that. God does not love conditionally. I am not the mouse to his cheese. God wants a heart connection. Those bible stories? Meaningless without a God relationship. I knew what I thought I wanted, but without relationship with my Father, I could not know what He wanted for me. I had to take my mind off the plot and seek to know the author.

“Commit your way to the Lord, and trust in him, and he will do it.” (Psalm 25: 5, New Advent Bible)

A Christian friend, who was more intimate with God at that time, during a particular moment of emotional crisis advised me, “Ask Him to take the desire away if having another child is not His will.” I had to everything off the table, so to speak — my dream, my desire.

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42)

And, I did — I asked my Father to take the desire away — if this dream was not His dream for my life. Like Abraham’s willingness to give up Isaac, I needed to be more committed to His plan for my life, than my plan, my desire, my dream. Though at that time I did not realize how much He loved me, who I really was to Him, I gave Him my heart’s desire.

And He gave it back — abundantly.

There have been big dreams and little dreams in my life — that I have asked God to help me fulfill. Sometimes my plan is not His plan — and I let go. Sometimes, His plan unfolds in His time, not my time — so there is a lot of waiting. Sometimes, I just need more experience so that I have what it takes to handle what I have asked for.

“The angel of the LORD called to Abraham from heaven a second time 16 and said, “I swear by myself, declares the LORD, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, 17 I will surely bless you.”(Genesis 22:15-17)

When a big dream bursts into a heart’s desire, instead of dashing off to grasp it — I whisper to my Father, “If it’s not what you want, please take away the desire to do it.”

And, He does.

Punching Urges and Other Blessings

“I’m gonna punch you,” the teen tells his younger brothers – whether it is their silly songs, their loud talking, or actions designed to provoke. I’m not really worried about the “I’m-gonna-punch-you” threat.

That’s brothers building boundaries, uncomfortably building boundaries (for post on Types of Brotherly Physical Contact, click here) – and, often, code for “I need quiet time”  – brothers communicate holisticly with an arsenal of choices: humor, story telling, warnings, helping, encouraging, praying, directions, messages, and back-off words.

In school, though – in school it’s different.

“I was thisclose to punching someone today,” I’ve heard all of my boys say. The provacation is usually someone disrupting class, someone bullying another classmate, possibly bullying them. The girl in me, that God put there to nurture, to comfort, to hug – it rebels against those words, those actions.

Don’t get me wrong – if someone ever punch my son, I’d want them to defend themselves. Sometimes I think that if the good-guys could defend, there’d be fewer discipline problems in school – but, the good-guys get suspended for defending themselves these days.

When my sons say, “I was thisclose to punching someone,” I realize they have reached the end of their rope, their buttons are being pushed, their boundaries overrun – or, maybe, someone sitting behind them tapped a pencil to a staccato beat during an entire class.

Frustration, though, is really no reason for punching.

We drove, this teen and I, to pick up his brothers. “I was thisclose to punching someone” – and I remembered a youth who wanted to hurt another son ( click here to read: Unoffical Day of Prayer to Stop School Violence), threatened to stab him in the back and kill him. At first, I wanted law-and-order justice – until God whispered what he really needed: someone praying for him.

Looking at the road in front of us, I told this son what I thought was really going on:

“The urge to punch someone is really a call from God to pray the person you want to punch – except that call has been hijacked by the devil.”

He wasn’t buying it . . . but I was.

But if I say it over and over again, he might one day live it and believe it.

Joining Ann at A Holy Experience by counting 1,000 Gifts:

1. pinking rotary cutters
2. a mother-in-law who has open-heartedly and with grace helped me cut out the pieces for my very first quilt – helped and taught, handling with dexterity and acceptance the way I learn new things.
3. blue polka dots on white cotton material
4. material with a vintage feel, prints mixing yellow, pinks, and blues
5. courage that pushed me from the safety of ignorance into the midst of a color challenge to finally make my blue cotton quilt
6. I’ve read all the Jane Austen Books, the Bronte sisters books, seen all the I Love Lucy’s – but the realization I haven’t read, seen or done all – starting my quilt showed me that – and seeing the movie the movie “Love Letters” with Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotton, and holding grandbaby girl.
7. Walking up 3 concrete steps, walking toward restoration, choosing to leave behind a broken moment, refusing to let that brokenness break anything more than a moment.
8. the dinner blessing that included, “and bless the hands that prepared our dinner.”
9. My oldest son giving father words to his new daughter, kissing her before handing her over to his wife.
10. A little crease in baby girl’s cheek, between her nose and mouth
11. My husband, holding baby girl for the first time,
12. telling his son a story filled with laughter – baby girl furrowing her brow at the new sound before falling asleep in this new Papaw’s arms, her Papaw.
13. a grocery store green pepper and summertime canned tomatoes in soup.
14. a blue ottoman beside a son’s bed that allows me to lean comfortably and listen during bedtime conversation.
15. “Did you count your freckles today? Did you come home with 10 toes? What’s it like without the bully in the bathroom” –serious and silly questions to fill my question-quota my son demands at bedtime.
16. not having the boys rack up squats on the way to church on Sunday
17. a phone call about a job interview on Friday- Yeah!
18. my soldier son calling me in mistake: “Sorry, mom – I didn’t mean to call” he said. “Never tell your mom you didn’t mean to call – just say, “Love you , Mom,” I laughed. “Love you, mom,” he said.
19. sitting, knitting with a group of women at Sweet Sallie’s Bakery and coffee shop, with a sugar-free caramel macchioato, sharing a morning, knitting words and making friends.
20. going places, like the World Foods shop, ordering 2 Rueben sandwiches and a lb of pancetta, the owner, friends with my DIL’s family, asking about sweet baby girl and  saying nice words about my son who had come in earlier to pick up lunch for he and his sweet wife. Community roots digging deep – relationships grow from knowing, knowing, and knowing, loving like the Father loves.
21. the wind, though it tormented me tonight, wouldn’t let me cook my steaks on the grill, rib-eye steaks that I’d been saving for a celebration moment, when life’s ordinary sweetness was the celebration – and I turned to the wind and said, “God, can you turn it off for 5 minutes. It’s blowing out my grill.” In retrospect,  I sounded like one of my sons tattling on another son. The wind, it kept blowing – and the steaks, they kept not cooking. Stove-top steaks don’t do rib-eye steaks justice – but God has been wanting me to learn to jump tracks lately, to soften for His changes without breaking – and the wind, well, it tossled my hair, blew out the burners like a Crosby and Hope absurd scene, and I chose joy instead of pouting because I did not getting my way. Plans blown amuck is how it could have ended. My plans were for blessing – so I focused on blessing and not grilled steaks.
22. clouds that fall from the sky, cocooning my home – and me. Driving home from school, up the hill into the mists,  like the world is left behind and it is just us, a cottage in the clouds.
23. My little guy helping me carry the tall Kitchen Christmas Tree to the basement where we discovered it fit perfectly between the rafters so we wouldn’t have to hang it horizontally from the ceiling.
24. My little guy coming up behind me, as I’m typing this, sitting on the couch. He wraps his arms around my neck, saying, “Hug” – and I stop and savor!

Congress Shall Make No Law Respecting Tebowing and other Such Religious Behavior

A group of men braved much to bring us the United States Constitution. That document, the foundation of our country that allowed our history to soar, promised this in Article 1:

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof”
Legal language requires clarity, saying what you mean.
“Congress shall make NO LAW”
NO LAW means not one, not two, not any – ever.
“Respecting an establishment of religion”
Which is why we have Christianity and an assortment of other world religions being practiced in our country.
“or PROHIBITING the FREE EXERCISE THEREOF”
let me say that again:
“or PROHIBITING the FREE EXERCISE THEREOF”
Prohibiting means the following:
close down,
constrain,
declare illegal,
disallow,
exclude,
halt,
illegalize,
inhibit,
outlaw,
restrict,
shut out,
suppress,
suspend

Prayer suppression in schools, students suspended for Tebowing, churches shut out from renting school space on Sundays, crosses disallowed on city property, history lessons/truth constrained in mentioning the effects faith on our country’s development, Catholic hospitals suspended for refusing to commit actions that are against their faith – and the list could go on for pages and pages

Why was Article 1 created in the first place?

Article 1 was created because of Henry VIII – and his 2 daughters – one created a state religion (denomination), one instituted a different state religion(denomination) and one re-instated her father’s religion(denomination).

Henry wanted a new wife and the Catholic Church just wouldn’t cooperate – so he chucked out Catholicism and created The Church of England. Henry took his anger out on those who didn’t support him (Catholics), confiscated their property and killed Catholics.

When his daughter, Mary, inherited the crown, she re-instated Catholicism, confiscating property of Church of England adherents and, yes, killing many who didn’t support “the crown.”

When she died, Elizabeth inherited the crown, re-instated the Church of England – you get the picture. The people were at the whim of the ruler. Freedom of religion? There is no Freedom of Religion when government makes rules about it.

NPR recently did a piece on Tim Tebow. One commenter said our country ought to have “Freedom from Religion.”  Another suggested he should be penalized 15 yards for making unbelievers uncomfortable – that football should be a “religi-osity”-free zone.

Yet, that is not what is in our Constitution says – and words have meaning, legal meaning. The U.S. Constitution is a Contract with U.S. people.

Everywhere you hear, “Separation from church and state” – yet, nowhere in our Constitution is that phrase issued.
Thomas Jefferson wrote it in a letter – which produced the words “separation of church and state” –which leads to the question, “Does a phrase in a letter over-rule our Constitution?”

A phrase has no verb.
A phrase makes no point.
A phrase is a part of a whole
how many people know the whole?

“To messers Nehemiah Dodge, Ephraim Robbins, & Stephen S. Nelson, a committee of the Danbury Baptist association in the state of Connecticut.

Chapel, Fort Jackson

Gentlemen

The affectionate sentiments of esteem & approbation which you are so good as to express towards me, on behalf of the Danbury Baptist association, give me the highest satisfaction. my duties dictate a faithful & zealous pursuit of the interests of my constituents, and, in proportion as they are persuaded of my fidelity to those duties, the discharge of them becomes more & more pleasing.
Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man & his god, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legitimate powers of government reach actions only and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should “make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;” thus building a wall of eternal separation between Church & State. Congress thus inhibited from acts respecting religion, and the Executive authorised only to execute their acts, I have refrained from prescribing even those occasional performances of devotion, practiced indeed by the Executive of another nation as the legal head of its church, but subject here, as religious exercises only to the voluntary regulations and discipline of each respective sect,
[Jefferson first wrote: "confining myself therefore to the duties of my station, which are merely temporal, be assured that your religious rights shall never be infringed by any act of mine and that." These lines he crossed out and then wrote: "concurring with"; having crossed out these two words, he wrote: "Adhering to this great act of national legislation in behalf of the rights of conscience"; next he crossed out these words and wrote: "Adhering to this expression of the supreme will of the nation in behalf of the rights of conscience I shall see with friendly dispositions the progress of those sentiments which tend to restore to man all his natural rights, convinced that he has no natural rights in opposition to his social duties."]
I reciprocate your kind prayers for the protection & blessing of the common father and creator of man, and tender you for yourselves & the Danbury Baptist [your religious] association assurances of my high respect & esteem.

Th Jefferson
Jan. 1. 1802.” (Jefferson’s unedited letter to the Danbury Baptist Association)

Duty is defined as “That which a person owes to another; that which a person is bound, by any natural, moral or legal obligation, to pay, do or perform. Obedience to princes, magistrates and the laws is the duty of every citizen and subject; obedience, respect and kindness to parents are duties of children; fidelity to friends is a duty; reverence, obedience and prayer to God are indispensable duties; the government and religious instruction of children are duties of parents which they cannot neglect without guilt”(Webster’s 1828 Dictionary).

Moral is defined as “Relating to the practice, manners or conduct of men as social beings in relation to each other, and with reference to right and wrong. The word moral is applicable to actions that are good or evil, virtuous or vicious, and has reference to the law of God as the standard by which their character is to be determined” (Webster’s 1828 Dictionary)

What incited this history lesson?

Health and Human Services mandating religious employers cover contraception cost. This decision, this quote, the ruling, the hijacking of Congress’s role of lawmaking, of protecting our religious freedom:

“’I believe this proposal strikes the appropriate balance between respecting religious freedom and increasing access to important preventive services,’ Sebelius said in a statement” (Kathleen Sebelius, Secretary of Health and Human Services) in a response to requiring all “church-affiliated hospitals, colleges and social service agencies” to provide contraception, whether it is against their faith or not (“Obama Administration Mandates Religous Employers Cover Contraception Cost”) .

Political agendas trumping religious freedom. Henry would feel right at home. He would probably just take over the hospitals that disagreed with him.

How hard is it to understand these words:
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof” (Article 1, United States Constitution)

See also Neglecting History Erodes Freedom,

The Celebration of God and Capitalism,

Waiting on a Nation: Socialism or Freedom

From Glory to Glory Challenge by Challenge

A few days later, life going on with an additional heart-beat to our family, I stand behind my kitchen counter, reaching to this amazing heavenly Father again. Challenges don’t stop rolling just because a prayer was answered, especially with a house full of boys to men growing into independence.

I see the challenge, like a barreling stone, bigger than me. I don’t chastise myself that I didn’t see it sooner, or solve the rolling of it sooner. It is what it is. Don’t think I’m flippant or irresponsible. I used to beat myself up for not knowing things before I knew them – until God took the baseball bat I was beating myself up with out of my figurative hands.

Life just burps up challenges from likely and unlikely places.

But God isn’t just interested in turning baby girl for a safe delivery (see previous post) – He’s interested in a teen boy struggling to find his place in a new school, though we had only moved away 2 years before returning.

God is not surprised by any of these challenges. He’s just waiting for us to turn these challenges over to him.

This teen son with an innate joyful spirit is not feeling joyful lately. Once I asked, “Have you prayed about it?”

He responded, “God knows what I need.”

“But God’s not like your mama who bursts into your problems unasked. God’s not like that. He waits for your invitation,” I answered.

“Now I know that the Lord saves his anointed;
he will answer him from his holy heaven
with the saving might of his right hand.
Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.
They collapse and fall,
but we rise and stand upright.
O Lord, save the king!
May he answer us when we call” (Psalm 20: 6-9).

And so I ask and I pray, interceding through prayer, asking our Father, once again, trusting in His name, that He knows what is needed in this challenge and has already set the answer rolling from His throne, the saving might of His right hand moving to protect one of His beloved children, whether it is turning a head, pointing to an opportunity, turning an attitude, or holding us to stand. It only waits for the asking.

I am awed that He, God, the King, Emmanuel, Jehovah, I am – wants me to ask

Father, I didn’t have a parent who knew how to intercede, that they could come to you in prayer for their children in their growing-up struggles. I found you at 7, held on tight and didn’t let go. But even I didn’t know I could come to you for help, that you were there to pick me up, comfort me  – for the big and Little things, little and Big- though I reached out for you I didn’t realize I was the King’s daughter because of Jesus.

But I know now, Father, – who I am to you and who my son is to you. I know that you want me to come to you – to intercede for this son who is struggling, who feels isolated, no connections, no place here – no real home – and I intercede, stand in the gap for him, beseech you to bring him friendships that will lift him up when he is down – and open his eyes to see that friendship, that in this next 1.5 years until he graduates – that home is restored in his heart, that he recognize comfort, belonging and warmth here.

You know what he needs, Lord. You know what is really going on in his heart – and, as the daughter of the King, your daughter – not the fatherless orphan I was growing up – I ask you to work in my son’s life, restoring that which was lost.

The challenges – do they ever really stop? Have they ever really stopped – big and Little, little and Big? If you chronicled all those challenges from today backwards – what would you find?

“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit” (Corinthians 3:18).

Maybe we are transformed from glory to glory challenge by challenge.

The Believer’s Champion

“If she doesn’t turn in an hour, we’ll have to do a c-section,” my son explained to us, 2 sets of grandparents-in-waiting, a great grandmother, and a gaggle of friends.

He was exhausted – labor had been long, even before they’d come to the hospital.

So we circled around him and prayed. He returned to his wife.

Her mother and I both took a walk, separately. We didn’t say anything – but we were both praying. I wound my way to the chapel and knelt – the bible was open to Psalm 20

“May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble!
May the name of the God of Jacob protect you!
May he send you help from the sanctuary
and give you support from Zion!” (Psalm 20: 1-2)

And I prayed for baby girl, for an uncomplicated, safe entrance into the world. For our Lord to protect her in this moment of trouble. To send help and support to her and her mother and father.

“May he remember all your offerings
and regard with favor your burnt sacrifices!” (3)

And, I thought of their faith, trying to set their feet towards their Lord, seeking Him in each step of their relationship, honoring each other and the Father.

Then St. Augustine’s words came to mind: both the pagan and the Christian face the same challenges – the only difference is how they handle those challenges (City of God, St. Augustine, Chapter 8).

For a moment, I almost faltered. The same challenges . . . . 2 people wanting a natural birth, 2 people getting a c-section – and how they handle the disappointment of not having the natural birth.

. . . . . the only difference is how they handle those challenges as though the challenge wins in some way, the challenge rolls on and over us and we just have to deal with it, no overcoming the challenge, just dealing with the aftermath of the challenge.

God made me back up

the only difference is how they handle those challenges

The unbeliever has not God

The believer has God

who has the power, desire and love to either lift the challenge or lift the challenged out . . . .

“May he grant you your heart’s desire
and fulfill all your plans!
May we shout for joy over your salvation,
and in the name of our God set up our banners!”(4,5)

Babygirl’s other grandmother-in-waiting and I met in our walking, reached out, hand-to-hand, praying, setting up our banners in His name, praying that He grant these parent’s their heart’s desire.

And babygirl turned, turned and was pushed into the world, healthy, whole with thick, dark hair an inch long.

Standing, lining the hallway outside the waiting area, grandmothers and grandfather’s-in-waiting, fraunts and fruncles, a great grandmother, their cell phones beeped, and opened, revealing a picture of baby girl – and joyful shouts were heard from the corridor to the delivery room. Joy over her deliverance because of Him.

God is never late. Maybe sometimes He is uninvited, but never late.

The Little Blessings fell like snowflakes in the midst of the Big Blessing this week:

27) hiding places, like the space behind book-shelve books where you can tuck a few diet dr. peppers.
28) words like, “All is forgotten” said by my son when he walked through the doors to tell us about the delivery.
29) a salted caramel mocha from Starbucks to take to the hospital
30) Poetry by John Keats read in the waiting
31) a bible turned to Psalms 20
32) listening to my littlest’s bedtime prayers, asking God to bless baby girl
33) a husband who made the boy’s school lunch when I went to the hospital at 6 a.m. because that’s when my son and daughter-in-law went.
34) opening my phone to see a picture of a beautiful, newborn babygirl.
35) homemade pepperoni roles for after school
36) my mother-in-law teaching me to cut out material for a quilt.
37) fiskas rotary cutters that make my sewing skill look better than it really is.
38) sharing a quilt on the couch while watching a movie with the little guy.
39) making coffee every morning for my sweet mother-in-law while she was here – I usually don’t manage to achieve that
40) homemade bread turned into pepperoni rolls for after school
41) a texted picture showing us the wait was over
42) sitting in a hospital lobby because the waiting room had been turned to a nursery. Waiting not alone.
43) a clean, straight laundry room, compliments of my mother-in-law who came for the week to meet baby girl.
44) buckets of rain morphing into snow on a late afternoon
45) that nature isn’t always girly flowers, that God created nature to do things for boys, too, like making an ice-like stalactite that broke in the shape of a gun.
46) directions are true and the quilt pieces do fit together
47) antibiotics and meds healing my soldier son of double pneumonia
48) a friend who turned to me after church, took my hands and prayed that a Holy Spirit bubble would encase my son when he entered his mold-infested barracks, protecting his lungs, keeping them free from contamination.
49) 2 new lemons on my counter for my water
50) ingredients for a Taco Soup recipe
51) thawed out pumpkin for chocolate chip pumpkin bread
52) hot chocolate cups filled with my special Hot Chocolate
53) waiting, not wigging out, believing that God is never late for what we need.
54) a bouquet of flowers for becoming a grandmother, from a friend I bumped into at the grocery store.

“Wherefore, though good and bad men suffer alike, we must not suppose that there is no difference between the men themselves, because there is no difference in what they both suffer. For even in the likeness of the sufferings, there remains an unlikeness in the sufferers; and though exposed to the same anguish, virtue and vice are not the same thing. For as the same fire causes gold to glow brightly, and chaff to smoke; and under the same flail the straw is beaten small, while the grain is cleansed; and as the lees are not mixed with the oil, though squeezed out of the vat by the same pressure, so the same violence of affliction proves, purges, clarifies the good, but damns, ruins, exterminates the wicked. And thus it is that in the same affliction the wicked detest God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise. So material a difference does it make, not what ills are suffered, but what kind of man suffers them. For, stirred up with the same movement, mud exhales a horrible stench, and ointment emits a fragrant odor.”(City of God, St. Augustine, Chapter 8)

Blessing for a Granddaughter

I became a grandmother today. My oldest son became a father and my lovely daughter-in-law became a mother – and this sweet precious baby girl, well, she came – with much rejoicing and cheering. “A Seed Bag, Water Bucket and Harvest Basket” was written for my granddaughter to share at a Blessing Shower. I wanted to share it with you in celebration.
Open your heart and hear
Sweet little girl
The voice of the Father
calling to
the Harvest Field
far and near.

Gather you
your water bucket,
seed bags
and harvest basket
gather and carry them
to the field,
Ripe
for harvest,

Little feet walking between
the furrows
Toes digging in,
breaking through the soul
With a laborer’s prayers

Little hands growing,
Working in opened-handed sowing,
releasing
Faith,
Hope,
and Love
seeds

Pouring out God’s
Holy Spirit Water
Sometimes awkward, sometimes grace-filled
sometimes rushing like a river
othertimes like the slow drip off a leaf
your water bucket pouring God
into thirsty seeds

Little feet at home in the field
Sometimes falling
But lifted up
By labor-field companions.
Little girl,
Raise your voice, growing praise
Singing, praying, encouraging
Bringing down a Holy Spirit Rain
To Miracle Grow the Harvest

Fill the Father’s baskets
Fill them to over-flowing
Neglect not a seed planted,
A vine reaching, a soul crying
To be gathered into the Harvest basket.

Little girl
With a bare, open-handed spirit,
Praising a Loving God
Calling your brothers and sisters
To the Harvest Field

Don’t forget to
Sit in the shade
Drinking your fill of living water
Finding refreshment, peace and contentment
At the feet of the Father who
created you,
Fitted you
For carrying your water bucket, seed bag and harvest basket.

A Crow’s Message

Driving through town, feeling frazzled, a little pinched by the world over temporary challenges, I forced myself to refocus. Pulling myself out of my bottled up concerns, I looked for my Father’s gifts – and saw . . .

13)Shiny Christmas ornaments hanging from a dogwood tree
14) White latticed window panes in a church
15) beneath the window, I had seen a bush – and suddenly, the red berries in that bush popped and splashed color – as though someone had hit the contrast button on my computer photos.

“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29: 13).

When I paused, when I refocused, when I looked for blessing over wrestling things that tried to steal my peace – I found blessing He set aside for me, blessing that spilled joy into my days.

16) 5 cupcakes for an after-school treat.
17) A pot of hot coffee and laughter with friends for an hour.
18) The repetition of lining up our business shipping labels on the cutting board, calming, orderly, methodical, productive.
19) Standing at the packing table, sharing a scale with my husband, weighing, waiting, juggling our responsibilities so that we run more smoothly than the machinery.
20)In the midst of a very trying afternoon, I searched for God’s blessing. Life had wrung me out. I kept staring at a tennis court, white benches and black shade cloth hanging from the fence.  No hidden blessing in the benches. No hidden blessing in the shade cloth.

Suddenly, a flock of crows soared and dipped to soar again. My eyes latched onto the scene unfolding – and I thought – wow, if God finds joy in those mean old crows – surely He will take care of me in my very struggling day!  Then God showed He had a sense of humor – a flock of tiny birds chased after them. Maybe He was showing  me that my challenges might seem big, might seem over-powering – but they really weren’t – those challenges could easily be routed, like a crow being chased away by a smaller bird.
21) Completed knitting a pair of baby leggings for a little baby girl fashionably late who will turn me into a grandmother any hour now.
22) Narcissus Paperwhite candles in my bedroom.
23) Sitting at the dinner table on my husband’s birthday, with a Chocolate Celebration Cake topped with a Chocolate Ganache.
24) Sitting at the dinner table with 4 of my 5 sons, a lovely daughter-in-law and talking – about history, politics, current events and a baby.
25) My little guy, his head on my shoulder during a movie.
26) My Christmas Tree Sparkling late tonight on glass snowmen, frosted fruit, Santas, Christmas Balls and ribbons. I finally found a quiet moment to soak in its beauty, its sparkly, silent beauty.

When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul” (Psalm 94: 19)

Thank you, Father, for these consolations that cheer my soul. Thank you for the blessings I found that you’d placed in my life for me this week!

BTW – Renee at Always a Southern Girl stopped by my blog asking for prayer for a 15 year old boy diagnosed with cancer. Please keep Harrison in your prayers. Praying that God is to Harrison’s cancer what the little birds were to the flock of crows.

The Year of the Little Blessings

This blue-skied New Years Eve morning, the cardinal outside my window greeted me with a familiar call. The same call I used to hear outside the window at my grandmother’s house on those fresh summer mornings when my dreams and hopes were young and limited. When I was just a girl.

Cardinal Nest near my Door

The cardinal has always symbolized God’s comfort to me. At various moments in my life, the cardinal has darted from the roadside greenery to soar ahead of me. I can tell you today what I was thinking at those moments, the challenges that simmered within – and the Father’s comfort that seared into my heart, coaxing a smile and hope surged.

Too often lately, immersed in the big challenges, I have neglected to turn my eyes to the little blessings. That has nagged at me this year. At times, I have felt clumsy about spotting the blessings woven through my day.

I can rattle off the big blessings: God holding one son in the palm of His hand on the day he was born, saving his life; the answer to a prayer – our second son; the diagnosis for a son’s stomach ailment; my husband – these are all some of the BIG blessings, some very miraculous.

But, you know, it is in the everyday living, the mundane living where our spirits are shaped, where thankfulness springs up. Not that I am ungrateful or unthankful. Too often I spout thanks, with a sweeping arm and an unseeing eye – not taking the time to truly savor, not truly receiving the full blessing of God’s little gifts.

Being worn out with challenges, sometimes when just making it to the end of the day still holding on to my faith, hope and love is a huge achievement – worn out with the challenges, I fail to see the detail in what God has set at my doorstep.

My Father, He’s been chiding me about not seeing the sweet things He leaves for me, telling me to take better care of my heart and open my eyes to these things He has provided to comfort me whether it’s within the challenges, the refreshing or the walking.

My father doesn’t just give one-dimensionally. He doesn’t just give the BIG gifts.
He leaves little packages of blessing hidden in the shrubs,
tucked in my mailbox,
in a blustery wind wrapping around me,
in the fingers of my 11-year-old son making art to welcome his very first niece,
in the smile of my son eating my hot wings across the blue cotton counter as I cook dozens more,
in the neighbor children laughing and playing outside my door,
in all the wonderful places my cat finds to nap and soak up restfulness,
in the lemons sitting on my counter for my water,
in little and big boys wrapped in warm blankets
in Chocolate Celebrate cupcakes topped with Chocolate Ganache a friend asked me to make.

He wants me to seek those little blessings He drops off in my day,
see them, then pause and soak in their
color, their sound, their smell, their touch
a heartbeat wrapped in skin wrapped in a t-shirt
wrapped in a blanket
to savor
these Father gifts
little and big,
big and little.

This year is not The  Year of the Great Challenge, though there may be challenges. Nor is it The Year of Standing, though there are times when that might be all I can do. While it is not The Year of Refreshing, there will be moments of refreshing – and this last year,  The Year of Walking – I so needed that – but this year, this year is The Year of Seeing and Savoring the Little Blessings – and in the seeing and savoring living Thankfulness, living joy.

When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul” (Psalm 94: 19)

This year, I will savor these blessings, these consolations to cheer my soul. I will not neglect them, these gifts from the Father.

Wishing you a Happy 2012,
filled
with the joy of the Lord
Soaked
in His Saving Grace and
Wrung out
among the lives you touch

Blue Cotton Mom’s Most Memorable Moment of 2011

Brothers come into the world welcomed, hugged, kissed and cared for greatly by their oldest brothers.  This adoration and nobleness quickly become territorial lessons in healthy boundary development – usually through first enacting unhealthy responses.

Brothers throw much about – angry words, carelessness and punches – as they find how they fit not only in the brotherhood, but in the family and then in the world.

As a mother watching the evolution of these boys to men and how their brotherhood fits into their growing-up world, well, I have put my faith in the goodness of God’s plan for each life, learning to live faith in a “substance of things hoped for, not seen” way.

My most memorable moment of 2011?

Watching my oldest son, a father-to-be any day, pull his soldier brother into a hug, before his soldier brother drove away.

“If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, you will ask what you desire, and it shall be done for you” (John 15:7).

Just a hug?

I don’t think so.

The Time for Finding Windwho o o o s

One wild winter day while the North winds
blustered,
a boywind sat
in the weak sun
suffering a childhood case
of the wind-who o o s
as all little winds
suffer
one day or another.

I’ve looked
in the rivers and streams,
but I can’t see me,”
cried
the little boywind.
“Tell me, great motherly, southerly Mama,
do the bears, bunnies, and birds
look
like me?”

bunny, bunny
hopping along,
Do you see a bunny wind
whistling his song?

growl, growl
grumbles grizzly bear
does he look and see a cub wind
howl and shake berries to the ground
for dear old honey bear?

cackle, cackle honk the geese
flying to the east
did they see a gosling wind
chasing after them?

And the boyman, Mama, he sees me
doesn’t he
or does he see himself
in the wind?”

What do I look like, mama,
What is me?”

“Wind-who o o, Wind-who o o,
who can you be?
For sure, a wind can’t be seen,
my little boywind, for all the bluster and breeze,”
said the gentle motherly wind.
“but a wind you feel
and in your heart you see
a wind can embrace even a snake,
The bunny feels you blow
fur
the bear feels you cool
hotness
the geese feel you
lift them high in the sky
the boyman feels all
in the spring summer, winter fall
and so they walk with you
run with you
stop and pause
at your caress
and smile at the touch.

how you make bears, bunnies, birds,
boymen feel
is how they see you

“There have been big dreams and little dreams in my life — that I have asked God to help me fulfill. Sometimes my plan is not His plan — and I let go. Sometimes, His plan unfolds in His time, not my time — so there is a lot of waiting. Sometimes, I just need more experience so that I have what it takes to handle what I have asked for” (Cry Ye Sarah’s Unto the Lord, Sanctified Together).

“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps” (Proverbs 16:9).

Dreams walked out are God’s design, God’s gift. Not always in the way I plan – but for every step in every dream walked out, God prepared in advance for that step.

“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago” (Ephesians 2:10).

When I prayed for God to bless me with a second child, a 3 to 4 year prayer – He prepared for that child, started equipping me ahead of time to overcome the challenges of dreams born and lived out.

God doesn’t give you a gift you are not ready to handle.

 Where the Wild Winds Blow led to The Secret of Finding Windwho  o o s which I thought initially was a fun, little story of a little boywind who can’t see himself trying to “picture” himself. Those stories that roll around within me become skeins of ideas that eventually are knitted into a scarf of a story – when I am in relationship with the Father, those whisps of ideas are blown into my mind, into my heart from Him – and there is much more to their making than I realize.

“Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass … Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him” (Psalm 37: 4,7).

My son, born a few years after my windy stories were written down, was diagnosed with CAPD (Central Auditory Processing Disorder) in the 3^rd grade.  This dream walked out proved to come with a challenge. The mama grizzly within me knew there was a communication processing snafu (thank you graduate linguistics classes) – and, well, I just didn’t give up trying to figure out what was going on (the challenge).

For a child who couldn’t hear tone, who heard 1 out of every 3 words correctly if he wasn’t looking at your mouth, whose hearing was reduced from 95% to 25% with the addition of background noise . . . . The message within the story was a tool that prepared me to deal with communication needs:

There’s more to communication than words. How do you respond to “You’re a pig?”

Literally, “You’re a pig” says you are a dirty, filthy animal.

If you add other communication context, like a teasing, friendly tone,

those words might mean, “You’re my bud.”

If you can’t hear tone, though, you might try reading facial expression to determine the correct context of “You’re a Pig”

A smile? Quivering Chin? A Shouting Expression on your Face? Eyes slid to the right? Each facial expression gives the phrase a different meaning.

But, what if someone shows no emotion? You know, there are people who do that – Don’t show emotion. When they speak, you don’t know if they’re speaking in camaraderie, aggression, love, hate, frustration, anger, hurt

And, that’s where body language comes in, followed by context clues.

When you have a child who struggles with interpreting communication, who feels frustrated, hurt and all torn up inside, you not only deal with communication coming at him – you also deal with communication returned from your child.

How do you teach a child to respond to the mine field of communication – when at least half of communication has the ability to provoke immense anger and hurt?

The underlying theme of loving your neighbors as yourself, as treating others as you want to be treated, that no matter how someone makes you feel, respond how you want to be treated.

Understand the cause/effect of your communication.

The one interpretation you should never have to doubt – is the interpretation of your actions:

how you make bears, bunnies, birds,
boymen feel
is how they see you

God knows the needs of each of our children – and He has prepared in advance for the challenges of those needs. Do not doubt for a moment that God is not surprised. You might be – but He is not.

“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps” (Proverbs 16: 9).

Are you in the midst of a challenge? Are you looking for a solution?

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10).

God started working on your challenges before you even started dreaming dreams, praying prayers.

Look back at the challenge you are standing in the midst of right now. Do you see clues that God knew about that challenge before you did? Clues that He has been working on the solution?

What an awesome gift!

A ChristDay EveryDay gift!

Where the Wild Winds Blow: A Gentle, Southerly Mama takes her Little Wind to Work Day

Where the Wild Wind Blows: Part 2

The little boywind, rustling into a windsome sleep,
asked,
“Sweet, warm, sunny mama,
may tomorrow I fly with you
and learn the ways
of Springtime
and warm Summershine.

“Come and see,
a day’s work with me,”
his gentle, southerly mama answered.

Morning rose sunny and bright,
The little wind shook himself awake
asking,
“What’ll we do today, Mama?”
What’ll we do today?”

“There is Spring to clean,” answered the motherly
wind,
forever bending,
picking
stray cirrus threads,
rolling great skeins
and yarn balls,
then tucking them
into blue and white checkered
apron pockets.

“Will we do Big and little things,
Little and big?”
he asked.

Flapping white apron clouds,
the great motherly wind
sent
grey, cold winter clouds
to sit
in another corner
of the world:
“Shoo winds shoo,”
she called
and called again,
the call of Spring.
thunder Clapped
and Barked
to a spring time beat
calling idle winds
to work

Spring began
twirling,
whirling,
swirling
finishing jobs,
beginning jobs
Spring cleaning jobs
whispering,
“Listen and Hear
Watch and see
what the wild winds of the world be.”

moving snow clouds out,
carrying rain bales in
washing dusty,
dirty,
brown grass green
in backyards, interstate, and neighboring seams

Flowers Marched to the beat
of an unruly wind
as the earth danced
and doseydooed
a May Day promenade:

Spring breezes toting
water droplets
bustled and bumped
into the wild winds
that grumbled and shook
Spring skies to thunder sounds.

The breezes fluttered
and shuddered
spilling
droplets
of water.
For a moment
rain poured

sending them to the Summer corner of the world
Settling her little wind in a backyard maze

his motherly wind
let him blow to dry
cotton colors on clothes lines.
tangling, teasing,
the clothes twitched,
flapped, and pitched
as little winds tagged and tangled
clothesline rainbows
of shirts, pants, sheets,
socks, and other clothing what-knots.

His mother rolled away her yarn balls
coaxing the sun to shine
so man could grow the hay
then she held the rains at bay
for a day
so man could cut and bale
rolls and squares of gold

sweetly the little boywind smelled
until winding through dusty, dry
summer hay fields
hearing
a different melody
a motherly melody
she called her dusty little boywind
to wash clean of Spring dust
and Summer sweat
off the beaches of Holiday

finished winding her cirrus strings
into great white skeins,
grey ones, too,
Homeward they blew, talking
about big and Little things,
Little and big.

“Mama, must we forever roll
the rain bales and tug the shade?”
asked her little boywind.

The gentle mother wind answered,
“The winds blow clouds
which hold all weather:
rain, snow, hail, clear.
we blow water clouds
to dry, thirsty land.
and dry, thirsty clouds
to wet land.
we shade the scorching sun
and move the seasons:
summer, winter, fall spring
We sweep water from walkways,
streets, cowpaths and forest trails
We feel and are felt
with our . . .”

The little wind interrupted, whistling happily, “Big and little things,
Little and big”

22+ Years ago, when I wrote Where the Wild Winds Blow, I loved the Father, but I didn’t realize I was a beloved daughter of The King. I didn’t realize that He would make whole my brokenness, or that all my quirky ways were designed by Him. I especially did not understand that He created a life plan that would unfold each day, each step closer to Him – and that plan meant that being a southerly mama was part of being holistically me, along with the writer, the wife, the homemaker, the teacher.

Below are some phrases from the text that have become more enriched, more meaningful to me in the last 22 years. It’s not so much the story behind the story, but the story after the story.

“We feel and are felt
with our big and Little things
Little and big”

“The Purpose in a man’s heart is like deep water, but a man of understanding will draw it out” (Proverbs 20:5)

Springtime, Summershine, Coldly Winter Weeks, the Fall Corner

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Ecc. 3:1)

tiny seeds that slept and burrowed deep

Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand. Do not grumble against one another, brothers, so that you may not be judged; behold, the Judge is standing at the door. As an example of suffering and patience, brothers, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. Behold, we consider those blessed who remained steadfast. You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful” (James 5: 7-12)

as father and son wind walked quietly,
sometimes loudly,
whistling, groaning,

“My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you,
turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding,
and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding,
and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure,
then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God.
For the Lord gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding” (Proverbs 2: 1-6)

rolling great skeins

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19)

hearing a different melody . . . .coaxing the sun to shine

“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them” (Isaiah 42:16)

finishing jobs, beginning jobs

“The LORD will fulfill [his purpose] for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever–do not abandon the works of your hands” (Psalm 138:8)

We feel and are felt
with our big and Little things
Little and big

Thursday come discover The Time for Finding Windwho o o o s – a story to help children understand how their actions tell people who they are.

Where The Wild Winds Blow: The Great North Wind takes his Little Wind to Work Day

I am resposting my children’s stories this week in case you missed them in the busy-ness of Merry Christmas!

Where the Wild Winds Blow: Part 1

One spring day when the little winds
danced and dipped
and made mischief
in the sunny shine,

a little boywind
blew along
the great sky path
with his father,
the great North wind.

It was time
for the little wind
to see
what a wind does.

“What’ll we do today, Papa?”
the little wind,asked
his great, burly-winded father.
“Will we roll the world ‘round, Papa?”

The great North Wind laughed,
and the wild winds whirled,
“Listen and hear
Watch and See,
What the wild winds of the world be.”

Holding a list of chores,
the father took
his son’s hand
to do Big and little things
Little and big
at the Fall corner of the world
where green tree leaves flamed
red, yellow, orange.

Marking his list,
the great North Wind
bent and picked
s e e d s
tree seeds, flower seeds,
apple and green bean seeds
from the earth’s floor.

The little boywind watched,
then smiling,
held out his hands
for filling
with windfalls of seeds.
palms filled,
he blew
seeds
while the wild winds
covered them
with dirt and decomposing
leaves

“Now we must water them
with rain,” said the papa wind,
shaking rain onto
tiny seeds that slept and burrowed
deep

The little boywind
watched
his father roll
bales of rain
into the cloud fields

great, gusty cloud bales
rolled
rumbled
flushing birdly feathers
from beneath fiery boughs of
autumn leaves.

“cackle cackle,” cried the geese.
buzzards angrily circled
and cranes whooped away
for there was little to eat.
even mallards ducked
Some Other Where.

Some birds stayed,
Red Robin, Sally Sparrow,
Mr. Crow,
but even their calls
and songs
hushed.

Finding themselves in the Winter corner of the World,
Father and Son blew
Winter
with huffing, blowing puffs of gusts
at
a lone little boyman
building a snowman.
swirling gently down
they rubbed red into cheeks and tousle hair
on many a day
and for many a coldly week.

Hurley, burley winds
breathed a bare stick beat
against window pane drums:
clackity, clackity, clack
cold North Winds go back
clackity, clackity, clack
take with you your great
chill and snow clouds black
clackity, clackity, clack

The world sighed and slept
as father and son wind walked quietly,
sometimes loudly,
whistling, groaning,
tucking the world
beneath blankets of snow

“See my breath, Papa,
see it roll
over the valley floor?”
the little wind laughed,
puffing, blowing,
rolling mists and fogs
through mountain hollows and tops.
“Is it for the boyman, we do this?”
he puffed.

His father stopped and thought,
“We walk with man.
We talk with man,
and sometimes
he hears us
as we do him.
By our noise,
he recognizes the seasons:
Spring by our thunder, bark, clap, kiss.
He knows to plant
after we blow grass
to grasscicles
one last time.”

Rounding up their mists and fog,
they flew
home
to a sycamore treetop
where motherwind brewed warmness
as gentle, southerly winds do.

I remember meeting my mom and step-dad for dinner at Boone Tavern in Berea, Ky quite a few years ago. My husband wasn’t allowed to enter the restaurant without a jacket. Fortunately, they had a ready supply for their male guests.

How many times in our daily life do we set up “Keep Out” signs in our lives with others because they don’t use the right language, wear jeans without holes, have hair the right length, have the right life plans – and, like the jacket, without the “jacket” we don’t allow them entrance into our conversations, our activities, our lives, our hearts.

These jacket-less people who aren’t allowed in are kind of like Jesus – He wasn’t born in the right place, raised by the right people, and didn’t have the right job. The world didn’t know He was anybody – but God knew him, knew what was on the inside, knew the Word within him – knew this young man was created to save the world.

How many times do we judge by the jacket of a person’s life?

How many time do we judge ourselves that way?  Hide our gifts because we don’t have the world’s stamp of approval?

How many times do we have gifts to offer others that we hold back – hold back because we worry they are not good enough? How often I have looked at my gifts as paltry while the Father looks at them with delight? And, because they seem paltry, I hold the gift back.

I’m trying to look at my gifts this season as God sees them. Gifts, little and Big, big and Little are meant to be shared – no matter how imperfect or perfect they are – and I am going out on a limb and sharing a gift I created to be given. It spent 22 years being held back – but, today, I am releasing that gift to you.

Where the Wild Wind Blows is a jacket-less storybook. It’s a picture book without pictures. But it belongs to me – and I love it whether it has a jacket or not. Can you love it without a jacket?  Are you ready for a little wind in the blogahood?

The Story without a Jacket

I am resposting my children’s stories this week in case you missed them in the busy-ness of Merry Christmas!

A story without a jacket – a picture book without pictures.

Stored in a file on my desk are two stories. This file is over 22 years old.

I’ve pulled it out twice and shared it others.

22 years ago, an editor at Incentive Publications said the following: “[Where the Wild Winds Blow]  contains a beautiful idea, and the quality of your writing is excellent.  We found the story to be even more charming on reading it a second time.  Unfortunately, delightful as your work is, we do not publish works of this nature.”

I had mistakenly researched publishers in trade market (school books). Rejected, I filed these stories away. We moved, I had 4 more sons and life was very busy.

Never once did I pull those stories out to read with my children. We read “Run Away Bunny,” “The Brave Cowboy,” “Wait ‘Till the Moon is Full” and bookshelves full of bedtime books, afternoon books, standing-on-your-head books, children’s books.

But my stories, they didn’t have a publishing house to live in. Just a file in a desk. Until my book had a nice publishing house, well, it just wasn’t good enough. I was scared my children, my audience would think it wasn’t good enough if it wasn’t all dressed up in a jacket.

Maybe I was just scared, deep inside, what it would mean to this dream inside me, if this group of book lovers rejected my stories.

One day, though, I placed my dream in the hands of my Father.

Then, for my 45th birthday, I pulled out this file on my desk, and prayed. Prayed that God would find this book a house, dress it in a jacket. I researched again. I bought the Children’s Writer’s Market and sent out 50 letters. My aunt helped me address the envelopes.

And a response came, 6 months later.

“We love it. Send us everything you have,” wrote the editor at Tricycle Press.

Wow! It was a priceless moment, a priceless day. Yes, I danced on graceless feet. I danced joy and praise to God. I sent everything I had. Eight months later, I called to follow up. Tricycle Press was in transition. Random House had just bought them. Project reviews would start soon.

Six months later,  I learned my file would remain homeless, just a file tucked away in a desk.  They were no longer interested: wind was just too difficult to illustrate, they explained.

“My dreams are just shadows of God’s plans for my life”  (Blue Cotton Memory)

A year before I received that final rejection, I had started Blue Cotton Memory. Maybe, just maybe, if the little file in my desk had ever been dressed up with a jacket – just maybe, I would never have started Blue Cotton Memory – maybe I would never would have placed this dream in The Father’s hands, this dream that had been a part of my marrow since I was a 6-year-old little girl trying to sell my father a book I wrote for 5 cents. He wouldn’t give me 5 cents for my book.

I gave every book, every word within me to the Father in between the first rejection and the second.

My dream might not be much compared to what He did for me, but for me, it was as much a part of me as my heart, my feet, my green eyes . . I had already given my husband and sons to the Father. Like the widow’s mite, this dream was all I had left to give.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm, plans to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call upon and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart“ (Jeremiah 29:11-13, NIV).

God gave the world His son so that I might be called His daughter – and, you know what? Because of that Christmas over 2,000 years ago, I have a Father who values my dream. It is worth something to Him. He placed it in me before I was born. He paid for that dream with His son.

I gave Him my dream, my writing – and He gave it right back to me, leading me to this Blue Cotton Place and saying, “Go, write to your children about me.”

In my journey to this blog, though, I have slighted that little jacket-less file on my desk. I regret not having the confidence to pull my story out and read it with the same excitement I did all those other favorites that still stuff my bookshelves, waiting for a new generation to read to. I regret thinking it was not good enough without that jacket.

In this giving season, where we are reminded of the Father giving us the Son, of celebration when Salvation was Born in a Manger, I want to share with you a gift God gave to me over 22 years ago, these jacket-less stories that need a home.

Throughout December, on Mondays, I will post a Christmas Devotional – and on Thursdays, I am going to practice sharing these stories. Practicing because on New Years Eve, my oldest son and his lovely wife are expecting a precious baby girl. Yes, I am going to practice sharing these among friends here before I face maybe the toughest audience I will ever have.

But I am not going to back away this next go-round. I’m going to read this to baby girl – all 3 Wild Wind stories, while I sing her Blue Cotton Songs, talk to her about the Three Graces, the Crocodile under the Bed, and the Scarlet Urn.

Don’t make the mistake I did. Maybe my dream was jacket-less – not embraced by our cultural leaders – but that didn’t mean I had to file it away. I should have read it every night with the same confidence I read all those other children’s  books. Even though my dream took a different path than I anticipated, that didn’t mean I couldn’t share the fruit along the way.

Faith is a living, daring confidence in God’s grace, so sure and certain that a man could stake his life on it a thousand time (Martin Luther).

A Merry Christmas Wish

Living Christmas Out of the Box

“Dead branches, Mom?” my joyful son asked. “Really?”

Then the 3 youngest sons tossed around a dialogue orchestrated to love me in a tormenting kind of way that boys do so gracefully.

Yes, dead branches. But these dead branches have infused a new life, a new spirit into our Christmas.  Hanging from each branch is the History of God’s plan.

Creation,  Adam and Eve, the Fall of Man, Noah.

I almost allowed my imperfect desire to do things perfectly to cause me to miss something wonderful.

Abraham,  Isaac, Jacob, Joseph

Early last week, I stumbled across Elizabeth at Just Following Jesus and her post entitled, “A Jesse Branch . . . an Advent Idea.” I’d never had a Jesse Tree before or used an Advent Calendar – lots of reasons. By the time the semester ended and my students essays were graded and recorded – well, we were already into December. Advent had started before I was ready. Having a huge age difference between 5 sons seemingly limited the art projects to just the little ones – nullifying the family-ness of the project. Then, one day, my boys had outgrown Jesse Tree activities – and I thought in my imperfection, I missed it.

Moses, Samuel, Jesse, David

Elizabeth’s Jesse Branch encouraged me to act in my imperfection – and, by the end of last week, I had a Jesse Branch, an unconventional Jesse Branch.

Solomon, Joseph, Mary, John the Baptist

We can’t manage one a day since we started late – and instead of being behind – we have been blessed in the catching up.

Jesus is Wisdom, Jesus is Lord

The first night, the now 5 of us shared the reading of the first 4, hanging the tags and coordinating scripture on a branch. The next day was frazzling and the day after something special happened.

Jesus is the Flower of Jesse

The oldest son stopped by, and I pulled 4 out – one for each of the boys to read. And each shared a story of  Jesus’ family tree, a bit of Christmas written into the afternoon.

Jesus is the Key of David

A few hours later, my husband arrived home with our soldier son, having spent 12 hours traveling to pick him up and bring him home for “Christmas Exodus.” Before this broken and rebuilt son left the house to see his sweetheart, I pulled father and son over to the Jesse Branch, handing each a tag and scripture. Before this son left, he added to the story of Christmas, then hung the tags and scripture on those dead branches.

Jesus is the Radiant Dawn

Allowing God’s story to find a way despite my imperfections, despite not doing it “by the book.”

Jesus is King of the Gentiles

My imperfections allowed all my children, big and small, to breath, speak, and hear Scriptures written on tags telling a story. More than ornaments on a tree. The Living Word – hung on dead branches.

Jesus is Emmanuel

While the ornaments on my Christmas Tree are limited to my family story – these tags on these dead branches tell the most important family story of this Christmas Season – the family story I was adopted into.

Jesus is Light of the World

The tags and scriptures on these dead branches tell of God’s plan to save me, to save my husband, to save each of my sons, to save baby girl due New Years Eve – these tags and scriptures are the plot out-line and promises of that plan lived out.

“‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,’ declares the LORD” (Isaiah 55:8)

I was willing to try despite my imperfection. In the trying I found blessing – and that blessing spilled over to my sons.

“In the Messiah, in Christ, God leads us from place to place in one perpetual victory parade. Through us, he brings knowledge of Christ. Everywhere we go, people breathe in the exquisite fragrance. Because of Christ, we give off a sweet scent rising to God, which is recognized by those on the way of salvation—an aroma redolent with life” (2 Corinthians: 14-15).

Live Christmas out of the box!

Thank you, Elizabeth!

Jesse Branch Scriptures:

1) Creation: Gen. 1:1-31; 2:1-4

2) Adam and Eve: Gen. 2:7-9, 18-24

3) Fall of Man: Gen. 3:1-7 and 23-24

4) Noah: Gen. 6:5-8, 13-22; 7:17, 23, 24; 8:1, 6-22

5)  Abraham: Gen. 12:1-3

6) Isaac: Gen. 22:1-14

7) Jacob: Gen. 25:1-34; 28:10-15

8) Joseph: Gen. 37:23-28; 45:3-15

9) Moses: Ex. 2:1-10

10) Samuel: 1 Sam. 3:1-18

11) Jesse: 1 Sam. 16:1-13

12) David: 1 Sam. 17:12-51

13) Solomon: 1 Kings 3:5-14, 16-28

14) Joseph: Matt. 1:18-25

15) Mary: Matt. 1:18-25; Luke 1:26-38

16) John the Baptist: Mark 1:1-8

17) Jesus is Wisdom: Sirach (or Ecclesiasticus in old Bibles) 24:2; Wisdom 8:1

18) Jesus is Lord: Ex. 3:2; 20:1

19) Jesus is Flower of Jesse: Isaiah 11:1-3

20) Jesus is Key of David: Isaiah 22:22

21) Jesus is the Radiant Dawn: Psalm 19:6-7

22) Jesus is King of the Gentiles: Psalm 2:7-8; Ephesians 2:14-20

23) Jesus is Emmanuel: Isaiah 7:14; 33:22

24) Jesus is Light of the World: John 1:1-14

 

The Christmas Tree from Root to Seed

People moan, “People give too much at Christmas.”
Others echo, “It’s too materialistic.”
“A Christmas Tree? Christmas was really co-opted by early Christians to stamp out Paganism,” argues another.

If you take the joy of giving out of Christmas,
you take Christ out of Christmas.

People are so busy complaining; they’re missing the connection. Let’s get to the root of Christmas by following today’s seed hanging on the edge of a leaf to the source.

Seed
The gifts – the coffee cake, wreathes, smiles, homemade candy, Savior songs, wrapped boxes full of surprises, – to my children, family, friends, teachers, strangers – each gift a reminder of our Savior’s birth, a Merry Christmas gift because how un-Merry, how Un-ChristDay everyday would be without Him.

Dropping those giving seeds grows new ChristDay roots.

Leaf
“Santa doesn’t exist,” a childhood friend said to me years ago. I marched home, opened my grandmother’s dictionary, a tome-sized book – and found the definition of Santa Clause: a person who gives.

Psssst. . . . every person with a desire to give can be Santa Clause – a person who gives.

St. Nicholas, a rich man renowned for loving our Savior, sneaked into a poor man’s home to anonymously leave dowries for a poor father’s 3 daughters who would have to be sold into prostitution without such generosity of spirit.

Christmas encourages the joy of giving, the joy of dreams full-filled – sometimes fulfilled by others – because sometimes we cannot achieve them on our own

And the story of St. Nicholas’ giving left the poor man’s house, traveled door to door, town to town, down through history, until a creative writer took that generosity of spirit down every chimney, into every house, every December 25.

“He who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).

2,000 years of un-named Christian’s have done the same thing, lived generosity of spirit in the name of Jesus Christ – and since we don’t know all the names, all the stories, we hang those memories on the stockings of St. Nicholas or Santa Clause – all those un-named people who lived out Christ’s gospel.

How many heart doors have been opened to the Gospel of Love because doors opened to Santa Clause?

Stem
And many went into all the world, preached the gospel of love to every creature. (Mark 16:15)
As they went into all the world, they gave a great gift: Salvation to All who Believe that Jesus, the Christ, died to save us -

not just say I believe but to to walk and talk I believe.

And when I believe, I pass the gift of Salvation forward through words, service, hugs, time, gifts – all wrapped with Jesus love.

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us” (1 John 4: 7-11)

So the stem branches out, leaves bloom, and seeds ready to drop.

Tree Trunk
The piece of wood, the cross on which the Savior gave His life that I might be called a child of God.

He didn’t just give himself to us once, but twice, the second time on the cross:

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24)

“the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29)

crucified on a tree

gave his life for you and for me.

Root
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16)

The Father, the creator of the universe gave us His son. I believe His son had a choice – and His son loved us so much that he wanted to be born to a carpenter and his wife, that he loved us so much, he put aside his glory, his power, his seat at the right hand of God.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6)

So he gave the first gift – him, born man, helpless, needing his mama, needed to learn to walk, to talk, to be a carpenter.

The Original Generosity of Spirit

Yes, our gift giving is a shabby reproduction of His gift.
Yes, we don’t always give with perfectly.
Yes, the Christmas Tree wasn’t there over 2,000 years ago.

We are created in God’s image. Within us is the desire give back. Our gifts can never equal the gifts of the Father and the Son. Yet, it is in the heart of giving, the practicing of giving that we share the Father and the son.

I suspect that someone wanted to make Christmas a bright gift celebrating our Lord’s birthday. To celebrate, to give our best, our prettiest – and spend a season giving and decorating to honor our Savior.  On the outside, sometimes a sparkly Christmas Tree is the closest I can get, and, if you peer closely, you might see it as a symbol of belief walked out, from the root to the seed.

Simply ChristDay EveryDay

Morgan Weistling.com

My Savior, entered the world a baby, needing a mother’s love, strength and nurturing.  His mother held His hands to steady Him as He learned to walk.  She taught Him how to break the bread at supper. This carpenter’s wife, Joseph’s wife, encouraged His first words, helped him build his vocabulary with words He would use to teach about living water, forgiving a brother 70 X 70, and the beatitudes that included these words: “Blessed are the clean of heart: for they will see God” (Matt 5:8).

The Son of God made into a helpless baby, a wobbly toddler who needed a mother so that His Father God could be the Father to all men who believed in Him to enter the kingdom through Him and know that these promises were for every man, every ethnicity, every culture.

The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit
made available to the whole world
offering to
“Strengthen the feeble hands,
Steady the knees that give way,
Say to those with fearful hearts,’Be strong,
do not fear,
your God will come,
He will come with vengeance
With divine retribution
He will come to save you’”
(Isaiah 35:3-4).

Born a sweet, soft, baby to cuddle – the greatest Christmas gift of all – came to call me into His family so His Father would protect me with a vengance.

Saving me and then saving me again!

This great gift available every day, 24/7, all around the world

Simply ChristDay EveryDay

 

Christmas Wrapping at Lynn’s Place

I’ve heard lots of complaints about gift-giving at Christmas – that the real meaning of Christmas is buried beneath a bunch of colorfully wrapped presents.

But I think gift giving symbolizes what Christmas is all about – that God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son – and His son didn’t just do it because He had, too – He knew what birth was going to be like. He knew what being a regular Jewish boy in a regular family would feel like. He knew ahead of time friends would betray Him. He knew He was going to die a horrendous, grievous, shameful, excruciating death. Yet the Father and the Son gave to us Hope that Christmas morning over 2,000 years ago.

Each gift you pick out this year – compare it to the first Christmas gift, ponder that gift – and try to put as much Jesus love into that gift as possible – even if it is a note of hope, a scarf to keep cold fingers warm on the way to work, or a toy that brings joy to a little world.

At Christmas we practice giving because He first gave to us.

Find out more about the Hope within the Christmas Wrapping over at Lynn’s blog, “Heading Home,” where I am honored and excited to be a guest writer. Take a cup of coffee, spend time with her. She is a blessing!

Prayer for a Soldier Son

I have been praying this soldier’s prayer I adapted from Luke 7:1-10. It put into words what my heart couldn’t as I studied this breaking and rebuilding.

Prayer for My Soldier Son

I pray my son will become like the centurion who had such great faith in Jesus that Jesus marveled.

I want him to understand authority like the soldier, whose understanding enabled him to grasp the mighty power and authority of Jesus.

I want him to be humble like the soldier who said that he was not worthy of Jesus coming to his house – though Jesus was coming, thought him worthy of coming – this soldier who probably recognized the sin within him – it didn’t stop him from reaching out to God – I want my son to be like that soldier.

I want him to be a soldier, like this soldier, who loved the Jewish Nation, who helped build churches – because then my son will love both our country and Israel – and he will seek to build good things.

This son who I have called “Faithful” since he was littler than five, I want it said, “When Jesus heard these things, he marveled at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” ~ Adapted from Luke 7: 1-10

Click here for Scripture Collage for Soldier.

New Management takes over Development of Blue Cotton Product

“I’m almost holding my breath in anticipation, reminding myself that a journey is one step at a time”
~Blue Cotton Memory, Journal Notes before son’s military graduation.

As my son prepared for basic training graduation, I prepared my heart for meeting this young man, broken and rebuilt through military training.

How was I to greet this soldier, this young man, this son? How was the mother in me to respond? How did my role need to change? Was I to be released from the hard-core mothering?

As Manager of Small and Large Product Development of Blue Cotton Industries, I have had 5 product development-to-launch responsibilities. One product had already been successfully launched and, as a Blue Cotton insider, took over after-market responsibilities.

This second product had taken considerable team effort. Launch ability test results were about to be discovered – which would determine my future role.

The day-to-day responsibility-for-the-outcome  had included maintenance, operations, and support training, fulfillment of education services, and instructor activities, plus praying, encouraging and loving? Many of these responsibilities would be eliminated or phased out if product launch was successful.

If successful, I would no longer be responsible for collecting and analyzing job performance data against product release requirements. No more comparing individual knowledge and skills with job standards and arranging further training to meet launch requirements.

During this 10 week military training of this Blue Cotton Product, I had received one phone call  and 3 letters; letters with words like “changed man,” “facing my fears,” “going to church” were balm to my worn, cracked heart, worn through prayer, my inner voice murmuring Faith, Hope and Love some days until raw and hoarse. I wonder if my inside prayers ever sound worn and hoarse to God?

“Did I not tell you and promise you that if you would believe and rely on me, you would see the glory of God” (John 11:40)

“Are you here?” he texted from the meeting field from a friend’s phone because he didn’t have one.

“5 more minutes,” I texted back.

I prayed days and weeks before this meeting that God would prepare my heart, inoculate against unrealistic expectations, be the mother I needed to be for this meeting, this unveiling of the new man.

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Phil. 4: 11-13)/

In this reunion, the mother met her son, a man carrying the mantle of his own destiny, fully independent, contentment in his eyes, his soft manner of talking in the stories told of a self-control, a humbleness, a hope for his future. The rebellious boy had been broken down and rebuilt into a responsible man.

In this meeting were welcomed hugs. Photos with something previously rare and almost extinct,  a genuine, freely-given smile – a smile not filtered with ulterior motives. Just the smile of a man who has overcome to become someone he is proud to be.

We went to the PX, a small mall with a food court, where he bought his own work clothes, signed up for his own phone plan, and bought an iphone.

“Are you more confident?” I asked, knowing his achievements – earning a spot on a elite shooting squad, earning a sharpshooter badge, becoming a flag bearer because his Sgt. told his dad, “He’s the most squared soldier in the platoon.”

“Nahhh! Probably less,” he answered, no cocky bravado, no smartest-man-in-the-room attitude. The realization that you do not know it all is the beginning of wisdom.

“We rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given us us” (Romans 5: 2b-5).

He wasn’t used to crowds. I guess 10 weeks of isolation does that to you, so we took along a fellow private who didn’t have family that day to pick up Subway and took it to a playground on base. The playground was quiet and allowed the younger brothers to work off energy while we talked.

His friend had become a citizen that day. This only child of a one-child-only Chinese policy wished he’d had siblings. I think he even wished it after spending the day with our crew.

“They called our barracks the Taj Mahal,” our son said. Taj Mahal because they were so clean, so opposite of his bathroom at home. Everybody used ours because they didn’t want to put a toe in his, but in his barracks, he mopped voluntarily to work off frustration – and other times he would mop because he was told to – at 1 a.m., 2 a.m. – even if wake-up call was at 3:30 a.m.

During the quiet talking, the stories of challenges faced – the gas chamber, life saving classes that teach you how to save a battle buddy’s life, 3 weeks of casualty-risk activities, I realized that this Blue Cotton Product, this son, had launched himself successfully. He was battle-ready to take on management of one of my 5 most precious products – himself.

In that moment, I released my son. He was ready. He had successfully taken over after-launch responsibilities.

“No Matter what the storms of life bring we can walk without wavering, that is moving side to side; he really loves us and wants to be a part of our lives, all of it” (Hebrews 10:20)

God was right there beside me, in this letting go, knowing I loved my son so much that I wanted to let go just right.

This soldier-son handed his brother, the second youngest, the rule-monger with whom he’d butted heads for working hard, for his self-control – he pulled from his pocket prayer beads from church. “I thought you’d like these,” he said. I think a lot of the past was forgotten in that moment – a reaching out and receiving time.

Was he running home hard to God? The prodigal returning at a run, to fling his arms around the Father?

God whispered to my heart, “He’s coming. He’s turned. Coming to me is a journey – one-step-at-a-time. You wouldn’t expect a 7th grader to do doctoral-level work. There is saving in the journey – at the beginning and the end and in-between.”

I nodded – I’m still in the journey, one step at a time, I’m working my way there, too.

God meets both of us where we are in the journey – the PVT. Christian(figurative) is just as saved as those further in the journey – the  Sergeant, Colonel or General – all  just as important to God, just as loved, just pursued by God – as the newly enlisted, newly [re-]committed Christian.

“I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49: 15).

With God right beside me, rejoicing right with me, I was able “to find sweet contentment in those one steps at a time, to open-heartedly meet him where he is” (Blue Cotton Journal, before graduation).

Someone might say, “Well, he’s 19 – he was already in charge of his life; it didn’t matter if you released him or not.

I don’t think a mother feels her job is complete until her child grown is able to be self-sufficient, making good soul choices, hands solidly on the steering wheel of his future. The letting go of that developmental responsibility, whether it is a mother’s or not, is really what we mother for. There is peace in a job completed, amazing peace in the release – and rejoicing in their readiness.

The time had come to hand over the reigns of leadership and management of one of Blue Cotton’s God-Designed Products – to someone so ready to take the product to places I never could.

Thank you, Father, for being with both of us. Thank you, Father, that you are faithful to the promises you whispered in my heart, wrote in your Word. Thank you that you love my son more than I do.

Thanks to everyone who sent me scriptures that encouraged, blessed and sustained me in this journey! Scriptures used in this post are ones many of my friends in the blogahood sent to encourage me as I prayed and waited in this phase of the journey. They so blessed my heart . I created a scripture collage with them – and each time I turned on my computer (screen saver), opened my fridge – Scriptures of Hope and Faith helped me pray those promises of God. I also created a Prayer for My Soldier Son that I prayed over him. There are places I can no longer go – but my prayers can go anywhere.

Neglecting History Erodes Freedom

“Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past. Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you”(Deuteronomy 32:7 NIV).

If you want to change someone’s life, tell a story.” In this quote, Billy Graham simply states a truth we all know: stories help us comprehend and internalize life lessons in ways that can change our hearts.  Jesus knew he could reach people through stories.  He used parables to teach his followers complex spiritual dynamics through simple illustrations.  Stories play a vital role in many aspects of our culture: Aesop’s fables teach moral lessons; Fairy Tales exalt the virtues of good over evil; legends celebrate nobleness, self-sacrifice, and good deeds, but history tells the story of our past and our future.

“Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; he did not say anything to them without using a parable.” (Matthew 13:34 NIV)

The Story of a Nation

“For I will speak to you in a parable. I will teach you hidden lessons from our past—stories we have heard and known, stories our ancestors handed down to us. We will not hide these truths from our children; we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the Lord, about his power and his mighty wonders” (Psalm 78: 2-5, NLT)

The stories of our country’s foundation teach us about the courageous men and women who were moved by God to create a country where religious freedom could reign in the hearts of its citizens.  By following the Psalmist’s instructions, we can pass on our history to future generations and encourage them to secure our freedom. When someone asked Benjamin Franklin if we had a republic or a monarchy, he responded, “A republic, if you can keep it.” When we tell the stories of our nation and its spiritual heritage, we can, indeed, keep the republic our ancestor’s designed.

 Main Characters

“And in the future, your children will ask you, ‘What does all this mean?’ Then you will tell them, ‘With the power of his mighty hand, the LORD brought us out of Egypt, the place of our slavery” (Exodus 13:14).

Dynamic main characters build good stories.  The main characters in the story of our country were men who took risks, envisioned the impossible, and in the face of fear, accomplished their mission. In 1828, the definition of education included the belief that, “a religious education is indispensable; and an immense responsibility rests on parents and guardians who neglect these duties” (http://1828.mshaffer.com/d/word/education). However, in 1828, parents never imagined freedom’s faith foundation would suffer omission or re-construction in its children’s history books. As story keepers of our history, we need to re-acquaint ourselves with the men who preached freedom from churches, the men who formed our Constitution, and the men who fought on the battlefield for the freedom endowed by our Creator.

“The democracy will cease to exist when you take away from those who are willing to work and give to those who would not.” Thomas Jefferson

“I am for doing good to the poor, but I differ in opinion of the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it.”Benjamin Franklin, On the Price of Corn and Management of the Poor, November 1766

The Setting

A story’s setting gives the readers both time and place. The setting provides the readers with essential information which allows them to better understand the characters and their motivations. In essence, the Declaration of Independence is the setting for our country’s story.  If we read it one point at a time, not just as a communication to the King of England, but as a complaint written to the three branches of our government, this historical document becomes an empowering document. If we know the legal documentation of our history and freedom, then we can pass on the knowledge to our children, and they can keep the flame of freedom burning brightly. Let’s read the Declaration and re-discover the timelessness of it.

Supporting Characters

All good stories contain supporting characters. They help the reader to have a more vivid understanding of the main characters. The beliefs of our Founding Fathers and our historical documents are important, but they have more meaning when we understand where they came from. We can trace back the family tree of ideas in the letters, correspondence, and public record of the debates, sermons, speeches and conversations that led to the creation of the Declaration of Independence, the constitution and inspired the march to freedom. We can read each one separately or read them as a whole, but most importantly, we want to share the stories and talk about what they mean.

 “God well knew what a world of degenerate, ambitious and revengeful creatures this is – as He knew that innocence could not be protected, property and liberty secured, nor the lives of mankind preserved from the lawless hands of ambition, avarice and tyranny without the use of the sword – as He knew this would be the only method to preserve mankind from universal slavery” (Rev. Samuel Davies, 1755).

“Let us then. . .remember with reverential gratitude to our Supreme Benefactor all the wonderful things He has done for us in our miraculous deliverance from a second Egypt—another ‘house of bondage’ and thou shalt show thy son on this day. (Elias Boudinot, July 4^th, 1793, member of the Continental Congress)

Story telling is an educational tool as powerful as the sword. Jesus used parables to pierce his followers’ hearts and minds. God instructs us to tell our children the stories of him and his ways. Therefore, when we tell our children about God’s role in our nation’s foundation, we know we are building the future. Only by teaching our children to be our nation’s story keepers can we ensure our freedom and our faith will flourish.

“Tell your children about it in the years to come, and let your children tell their children. Pass the story down from generation to generation” (Joel 1:3, NLT)

 Boudinot, Elias. “Oration.” Celebrate Liberty: Famous Patriotic Speeches and Sermons. Ed.

David Barton. Aledo Texas. 2003. 237. Print.

Davis, Samuel. “Oration”. Celebrate Liberty: Famous Patriotic Speeches and Sermons. Ed.

David Barton. Aledo Texas. 2003. 237. Print.

Ellis Sandoz, editor. Political Sermons of the American Founding Era. Vol 1 (1730-1788) and

     Vol. 2 (1789-1805). The On-line Library of Liberty. 2011 (free-on-line historical sermons that shaped our constitution))

     http://oll.libertyfund.org/?option=com_staticxt&staticfile=show.php%3Ftitle=1878

A Treasury of Primary Documents.

http://www.constitution.org/primarysources/primarysources.html (contains sermons that helped shape our Constitution)

Two Treatises of Government. John Locke. The Law’s of Nature and Nature’s God. 2003. 5 June

      2011.  http://www.lonang.com/exlibris/locke/ (this allows you to read Locke’s work free on-line; however, it is readily available at any bookstore or possibly even library.

Thanksgiving: The Celebration of God and Capitalism

“The Lord is the Help of My Life”  – William Bradford

The first Pilgrims came to American so they could worship The God of Abraham, read The Gospel of Love and  experience the second Baptism without being drowned in a wine barrel, be burned alive boarded up in your own home, or have your entrails slowly pulled out of you in the town square as government officials attempted to turn you away from practicing your faith in the way you chose. At that time, the government determined how you practiced your faith – and if you disagreed, well, the government became disagreeable.

They came to America to be able to speak God’s name in the town square in the court house, on the public streets, in the school houses - to live and voice their belief without fear of persecution.

(As a matter of fact, public schools were created to teach children to read so they could read the bible)

In America, these early Plymouth settlers discovered the rationing of socialism and the plenty of capitalism through the work of their own hands – not their neighbors. They broke the glass ceiling of class restriction – like the cranberries we eat on Thanksgiving that float to the top in the harvest when water rushes through the cranberry fields, so does hard work, effort, talent – all based on individual gumption – not religion, not class, not government.

Today, the Thanksgiving Holiday is full of irony – a House and Senate have left Washington D.C. to celebrate a holiday founded on the success of Capitalism and faith in God, yet daily they work to strip God out of the very places Pilgrims sought to freely worship their God – the city streets, the court houses, the schools – they wanted God in every part of their lives, their community, and their government.

Some leadership have gone so far today as to remove a cross from outside a base chapel in Afghanistan .  This symbol of faith and hope sustains many of our military soldiers protecting not only us but these leaders.

Just like the flag bearers of old gave the hope, the courage to fight on in difficult situations to their the military men it represented, so too does the symbol of our faith. When these flag bearers fell, so too did the fighting soldiers’ morale, hope and survival statistics. These soldiers live in casualty-real situations, putting their life on the life for an America created and built with hands seeking God.

Yet daily, these government officials attempt to strip the foundations of Capitalism and reduce Americans to the once starving, frustrated, dying, struggling Pilgrims who started out in socialism – who died in socialism – hungry and frustrated.  Until the American Spirit at Plymouth through a capitalist contract  replaced the socialist creed to break the bonds of servitude unleashing individual potential resulting in the American Dream.

While Socialism binds the hands of flourishing enterprise, smothers the seeds of creativity from which inventions spring, and suffocates the very breath of freedom, Capitalism frees the hands of enterprise, allows individual creativity the independence to invent, and  gives freedom breath to speak without recourse.

How ironic that today our government officials celebrate an event so diametrically opposed to their actions. How ironic is it that protestors are calling for a return to the socialism that brought Plymouth settler’s to their knees.

These people calling themselves the 99% are missing a very important factor. A missionary man preached at our church a few weeks ago. He asked, “Do you have an in-door toilet? Do you have running water? Do you have electricity?. . . .If you do, you are in the top 10% of the world.”

Yes, the 99% are in the top 10% of the world.

The top 10% because of faith in God and capitalism.

William Bradford’s biography is sitting on my desk right now.  My sons know the history of our country, but not through classroom textbooks because the full, real history of the birth of our country not taught. Because God is not allowed in the story telling in today’s public school classroom.

Today as you thank God for His blessings, as you pull your family close, spend additional time discussing the start of our country, how we became that top 10%, what enabled us to achieve clean water, medicines that heal and prevent, homes with so much comfort, electricity and internet, a washer and dryer, an abundance of food to keep and share.

And pray for those soldiers whose crosses are being pulled down, who are fighting to keep America safe, to keep America free, to keep God in America.

~ Revised, Thanksgiving 2011

 

Like a Caterpillar in a Cocoon

My son’s graduation from basic training left me feeling like a caterpillar in a cocoon, just soaking up the nutrients where I am, not quite ready to emerge from this cocoon that is my family.

The journey to this graduation moment, my son, marching squared, bearing the Bravo Company flag with a sharpshooter badge on his chest – the journey to get here often felt like the memory of crossing my great-grandmother’s swinging bridge.

The journey to this graduation moment reminded me of the time my 6 or 7 year old self  plucked up enough courage to cross  that bridge up high, a swinging bridge with loose rope railing, slated inconsistently.

I made it half-way before a teen cousin preying upon my fear hurtled across, his thumping feet causing that bridge to swing, to bounce raucously.

Crouched down in fear, paralyzed, I stared at the wide empty slots

where the missing slates should be,

not knowing how he would pass

without me falling off.

shaking fear, tears fell

I don’t remember how I made it to the other side, to safety.

All I know is that I didn’t turn back.

I didn’t give up.

Somehow, one-step at a time, I journeyed forward and reached safety, knee-wobbly relief, peace, contentment.

Like that little girl who reached the safety of solid ground ,

today, I can’t figure out if I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon

or fragrant tea leaves steeping until just right

or an expectant mother nesting before birth

or a narcicuss paperwhite bulb waiting in the cool sun to bloom

or a question waiting for its answer

I just know that right now, I have pulled the blanket

of my family around myself

and burrowed, feet reaching to touch the toes of my children and husband

wanting the warm joy of my Lord to seep down into my soul

and raise up authentic laughter and smiles

that this faith journey, of seeing slates in empty slots,

has led to to the substance of things hoped for

walked out on a parade ground one cool November morning.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1)

 

 

 

A Crocodile Under the Bed

I dreamed
A crocodile
Was under the white wrought iron bed
In the children’s room

A crocodile who coughed
Up a clothes hair-ball
From under-the-bed stuffings
Of disorganized boys

“Do you see that?”
I asked, my boy-to-man son,
“Yeah, Mom,
There’s a crocodile
Under the brother’s bed.”

The children, the little ones,
They knew not the danger
Of a crocodile
Under their bed

How do you get rid
Of a crocodile
Under a bed?

Nanny didn’t know.
911 Didn’t know.
My neighbor’s didn’t know
Neither did my exercise instructor
The telephone operator couldn’t even tell me the number
Of the zoo

Nobody knew
What to do
About a crocodile under the bed

What to do!
What to do!

I didn’t want the crocodile to get hungry
And chew
More than
Under-the-bed stuffings
Of my little boys

Then, slapping my hand to my forehead,
I remembered who knew
How to get rid of crocodiles under the bed.

I dropped to my knees,
Fearless, faithful, full of hope and calm
And asked the Father

To forgive me for forgetting
For not coming to Him first

To protect the children
From the crocodile under the bed

To comfort them in the night
As His plan unfolds

To vanquish
This threat to the children
Who live in the room with the white wrought iron bed.

Last week, I really dreamed the crocodile under the boy’s bed, really called on everyone first but God – in this dream – called on people who had no clue about how to help me.

I wondered, after I woke, even after all these years of this faith walk, I wondered 3 things – why I still have to practice calling on God first. It is a skill that needs practice, needs sharpening daily – like playing tennis, running track and even writing. Maybe it’s like all the times I call a son by his brother’s name – I know it – I just get it wrong in life’s distractions.

The second thing I thought about were people who would question my right to take the crocodile under the bed to God – or question God’s “will” to take care of the crocodile under the bed: “If it is your will, God, please get rid of the crocodile threatening my children.”

Yes, God has plans for our lives. Yes, sometimes we need to align our plan with His. However, God’s will always ends in faithfulness to His promises – whether we see them now or later (Hebrews 11). It is vital that we equip ourselves with the knowledge of God’s promises, of what He says He will do for us if we fulfill our part of the covenant relationship (i.e. trying to love Him with all our heart and soul)

The Psalmist tells us God’s will, God’s promises. If there’s a crocodile under your bed or your children’s bed today, grab hold of these verses, plant them deep inside you, live on them.

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them.
Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.
Fear the Lord, you his saints,
for those who fear him lack nothing.
The lions [crocodilesl] may grow weak and hungry,
but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

  Come, O children, listen to me;
  I will teach you the fear of the LORD.
 What man is there who desires life
   and loves many days, that he may see good?
 Keep your tongue from evil
   and your lips from  speaking deceit.
Turn away from evil and do good;
   seek peace and pursue it.

  The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous
      and his ears toward their cry.
 The face of the LORD is against those who do evil,
   to cut off the memory of them from the earth.
 When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears
   and delivers them out of all their troubles.
The LORD is near to  the brokenhearted
   and saves the crushed in spirit.

  Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
    but the LORD delivers him out of them all.
  He keeps all his bones;
    not one of them is broken.
  Affliction will slay the wicked,
   and those who hate the righteous will be condemned.
 The LORD redeems the life of his servants;
   none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned” (Psalm 34: 4-22)

The third thing I pondered on after the dream was what God was trying to tell me. Are my children in danger? Are they being threatened? When God speaks to me in my dreams, it’s a call to prayer, a call to prepare – and having faith that God’s angels are encamped about my family, that we have taken refuge in His kingdom and my children will be delivered from this threat symbolized by the crocodile. Preparing for battle and resting in peace at the same time.

Thank you, Father

that you are faithful to your promises, that you do not leave us defenseless, that you are a God of refuge and protection. I thank you that I am not alone, nor are my children. I thank you that your angels guard us from trouble, delivering from harm. I am thankful that while I do not know what the crocodile under the bed symbolizes, you do – and you have already formulated a plan, enacted when I called out to you.

I pray that you will give us discernment and wisdom when dealing with the crocodiles in our life

I understand that we face troubles Father, but I thank you that we overcome those troubles, that we know the outcome of those troubles, we know the end of the story

I pray that my household seeks and pursues peace, sees good in the journey to the end of the story, that we speak faith of the happy ending, loving our journeymen we share the story with.

 I thank you Father that through your son Jesus I am righteous, though I might falter. I pray that I cry not only for help but for relationship with you.

I also thank you Father for those moments where my heart has broken, that you made it whole again, when I cried for help for me, my husband or my sons, you heard and delivered us from the crocodiles surround us.

I thank you that you have restored my crushed spirit, that you have filled it with your Holy Spirit breath and renewed my strength, my desire to continue onward.

 Thank you that your will is to always be with me, to bring me and mine to your home, that you pursue us, even when we miss it

That you will take care of the crocodile under the bed.

<center><a href=”http://www.chrysaliscafe.com/2010/06/introduction-to-marriage-monday.html”><img src=”http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h79/chrysaliscom/MarriageMondayGraphic2.jpg” border=”0″ title=”First & Third Monday of every month” /></a></center>

Freedom’s Heroes – America’s Soldiers!

 

 

 

All we have of freedom, all we use or know – This our fathers bought for us long and long ago.
~Rudyard Kipling, The Old Issue, 1899

Papaw

To all Veterans who have fought to sercure America’s freedom – thank you!
You are the truest example of a hero.

They say that a boy mimicks his dad’s walk – I pray that it may be a heroe’s walk!

My Step-Father

“Nothing makes a man more aware of his capabilities and of his limitations than those moments when he must push aside all the familiar defenses of ego and vanity, and accept reality by staring, with the fear that is normal to a man in combat, into the face of Death”
Major Robert S. Johnson, USAAF
 
“Fighting spirit one must have. Even if a man lacks some of the other qualifications, he can often make up for it in fighting spirit”
— Brigadier General Robin Olds, USA

“Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigue of supporting it” 
Thomas Paine

“Be convinced that to be happy means to be free and that to be free means to be brave. Therefore do not take lightly the perils of war.”
Thucydide 

And this year, that thank you also goes out to my son who is currently in training in the U.S. Army, a young man walking his grandfather’s walk of courage to protect our nation’s freedom.

Sweet Encouragement & Stolen Change in the Offering

If you were a neighbor, I might drop by with this

or this

or even this

I have long since decided that instead of bringing by pies, cupcakes and cookies, friends in the blogahood give awards. What a sweet, southern kind of thing! What deliciously wonderful gifts! And, just like my mama taught me, the neighborly gifts are returned. Yes, they take a little time to prepare. Good things usually do. But it is part of what keeps the community cohesive, friendly and feeling like home.

Amy at Sunshine Sentiments stopped by and gave me The Versatile Blogger Award. Thank you Amy for your hospitality! Your thoughtfulness blessed me at a time when I really needed blessing!

And, like any good thing, there are, sigh, rules!

The Rules:

1. Thank the person who gave you this award.

2. Share 7 things about yourself.

3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers who you have recently discovered and who you think are fantastic!

4. Contact the bloggers you’ve picked and let them know about the award.

And, like any good southerner,

when you stop by,

your’re served a story or two with your slice of pie

washed down with a nice glass of iced tea or a scalding hot cup of coffee.

 

Seven Things to Share About Myself:

1. Once a year, at Christmas, my husband and I go on a shopping date where we lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. Over a Club Sandwich, a cup of coffee and fries, we read the Wall Street Journal, talk and take our time. It’s one of my very favorite times of the year.

 

2. When I was little, one of my favorite reading places was on a limb in a pine tree.

 

3. All our animals are named after literary characters. Dickens (Charles), Cozette (Les Miserable), Cleo (Cleopatra), Figaro (Pinocchio), Copper (Fox and Hound), Nana (Peter Pan) – the name of the dog we had for 3 weeks, that my teen “bought for free” from a lady at the hospital? Layla – Eric Clapton’s song. Sadly, it looks like the history of our literary names for pets are devolving from classical to pop culture. Sigh. . .

 

4. Suspense torments me. I read the ends of books first. However, raising my sons, I am learning not only to have faith in the endings but to find peace and joy in the unfolding journey. I guess that is patience – learning to find joy and contentment in each chapter of the waiting – and that it is in the waiting where the most important living is.

 

5.  I am so loving my sons right now by doing a Family Read and Discussion of Ethics: An Early American Handbook, a reprint of an 1890 original. The first chapter was Truth; we’re in the middle of Obedience now. We add scripture stories to drive the points home. Everybody reads. It has been a real eye-opener to the boys, has made them squirm and confront real truth and real obedience. They classify levels of each ethic, providing exceptional down-to-earth examples. I recommend it as a must-have for the family library. My boys would concur that sometimes love is not comfortable! LOL

 

6. When I was little, one Sunday morning, I found a bag of change. It was tucked down in the back of my grandmother’s white Lazy Boy. I was so excited. I thought God had just put it right there for me to find. I now had a jangly bag of change to give God during offering. I stuffed it in my winter coat pocket, and waited. Anticipation welled up during Mass. When the offering basket went by me, I pulled my bag of change out of my coat pocket and plopped it in the basket. The heads of my mom, my aunt, my grandmother and my brother all turn toward me – kind of like the wave but with heads – all surprised, all assessing, one stewing. Believing in fairy tales and miracles didn’t persuade my brother that I was innocent of putting his money stash in the offering. I think he’s still miffed about it today. I felt guilty for years, until I realized that the $14+ dollars I had to spend to fix my bicycle he took apart a few years later when he decided he wanted to be an engineer and couldn’t quite put back together probably evened our unintentional sins out.

 

7. I Love Cherry Cordial M&Ms.

 

Please stop by and visit some of my new and old friends in the blogahood that I’m passing this award along to. You will be blessed!

Nacole at Sixinthesticks

Ma What’s for Dinner

Melanie at The Folly of My Youth and the Mid Life Crisis

Beth at  My Destiny: Sharing the Hope of Christ

Nan at LBD Diaries

A Sheltering Tree

Brandee at Smooth Stones

Jessica at Adjusting to the World

Love Covers a Multitude of . . . Sons

Kelly at My Front Porch

Laura at Beholding Glory

Happy Girl at Being Happy

Kerry at A Lamp, A Light and A Writer

Andrea at Multiple Mama

Helene at Living Proof that God has a Sense of Humor

Lisa at Lisa Notes

Sanctified Together: Cry Ye Sarahs Unto The Lord

Christina and Alisa have just released Sanctified Together’s  November publication. The theme – Life’s Lessons – encourages others through storytelling.

Instead of forgetting the wondrous things God has done in our lives, we need to shout them from the mountain tops (i.e. homes, blogs, churches, neighborhoods, work place, etc.” (Christina and Alisa, Sanctified Together).

God needs us to be story tellers, whether one-on-one or to a group.

“For I will speak to you in a parable. I will teach you hidden lessons from our past—stories we have heard and known, stories our ancestors handed down to us. We will not hide these truths from our children; we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the Lord, about his power and his mighty wonders” (Psalm 78: 2-5, NLT).

Even if it’s not your gift. Even if you’re uncomfortable. When God whispers, “Tell them what I’ve done for you, about my faithfulness – so that they can know I am the most excellent Father, that I am all-sufficient to all their needs, that I am the best comforter, that I am the master designer of their destiny, that I am the sanctifier who makes them pure and holy, that I am the whole-maker who will heal their wounds both self-inflicted and inflicted, I am the way back home”. . . tell them what He has done for you, big and little, little and big.

When someone asks, “Why do you believe?”

All the theology, all the logic in the world won’t persuade them our Father is a mighty God . . . but your story will . . .

Bill Graham said, “If you want to change someone’s life, tell a story.”

If you need a little encouragement or a lot of encouragement to your Monday, please stop by and visit all the guest story tellers of our mighty and wondrous Father at Sanctified Together: Life Lessons. I am one of those storytellers. Maybe afterwards, you’ll stop back by and tell me one of your stories!

Cry Ye Sarahs Unto the Lord

I held one child in my arms, year after year — he grew — and month after month, I grieved. 48 months, 48 “No’s.” Desolation snowballed into a downward spiral that drained me physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Secondary infertility was my diagnosis: the inability to conceive after the first child. Sarah, Rebekah, Elizabeth, Rachael, Hannah, the barren woman — they became my soul sisters. I understood their cry — and I rejoiced in their answered prayers. I sat at their feet, looking for behavior solutions in their stories.

Sarah and Abraham encouraged accountability in their relationship — story after story of each enabling the other’s weakness drove that home. That the only time Isaac is shown taking his problems directly to God was when he asked God for Rebekah to conceive shows the mighty power of a praying husband. Hannah unabashedly spilled her heart out in front of everyone, so passionate was she in emptying it for her God. Elizabeth, having grown reconciled to her barrenness, showed us how to rejoice in God’s surprises. Rachael cried out for a child to make her look good. Leah wanted to win her husband’s love by giving him sons — and found God’s mighty, fulfilling love. And, the barren woman’s house was filled, probably because she opened herself up to love more others than she could ever possibly conceive. Click here to read the rest of the article: Cry Ye Sarahs Unto the Lord

My Lofty Podium

Grow where you are planted. Minister where your roots reach.

Don’t wait to go to China, to Uganda, to some other place than where you are.

Minister now, where you are planted. With a story, your story. Of what He has done for you.

“Tell of His glory among the nations, His wonderful deeds among all the peoples”  (Psalm 96:3).

Among the nations is also right where you are.

Some people might have a street corner. Some people might have a campus step. Some people might have a classroom podium or a sandy spot on a beach. My campus step, my street corner, my podium – is my kitchen counter. 5 boys x however many people they bring through my house – that is my mission field.

Trickle-down Faith-a-nomics.

I see my ministry grow where the boys bring people through the house. When you come through my door, you get good food and real conversation – across-the counter-conversation. Maybe my stories of what God has done for me will water a seed planted – and that seed planted will grow roots that will go to the nations – right in my town or across the world.

“As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God” (1 Peter 4:10).

You don’t have to go to far away places. You don’t have to lead a ministry team. It is about living your ministry that God fitted you for, planned you for, placed you - where you are.

Live Ministry – giving service, care, aid, comfort to the those who don’t know they are the long-lost children of God or to God’s children who are hurting or maybe even need to be budged to grow.

Instead of trying to weed myself out of where I am planted, I have come to understand God planted me there for a reason. This understanding drastically changed the expectations I had created of where I thought I ought to be.

Like a shade plant transplanted from the afternoon sun into a cool, shade spot,

or a desert plant removed from the long, drawn-out shadowed  corner of a house nestled next to a butterfly bush and placed in a dry rocky area to thrive,

I have thrived, bloomed riotously (I so love that word).

“Pray you therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest” (Matt 9: 38).

The harvest is from where you stand to as far as your heart can pray. Yes, pray for laborers but realize that you are a laborer of the harvest  and your field to harvest is where you are right now.

I need to tell those stories of what He has done from where I am, whether it is my kitchen counter or a podium in a church in Africa. It is just as important a work, loving God’s children here, pulling strangers into the family of God here. . . in my kitchen as it is in another country.

My counter, my root spot, my lofty podium is behind my kitchen counter.

Where’s yours?

What Kind of Shades are you Wearing?

Wearing the Shades of Judgementalism reduces vision into surrounding harvest fields.

The Shades of Judgmentalism provide deceptive comfortable vision while filtering and blocking undesirable truth.

The Shades of Judgementalism diminish not only the brightness of the light of your Salvation but the ability to reflect Salvation’s light onto the surrounding harvest fields.

“I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest” (John 4: 35b)

The whispers of judgement are designed to deflect a ministry call God wants you to make with the person you are judging. Maybe it is just a call to pray. Maybe it is a call to approach, to smile. It is always a call to brotherhood or sisterhood in the family of God. The next time you feel that judgement rile up inside you, tear off those Shades of Judgementalism and look your mission field straight in the eye.

What kind of shades are you wearing?

Tomorrow, I will see my second son who will be graduating Thursday from Basic Training – lots of thoughts going on in my heart and mind. Can’t wait to embrace this son who has been rebuilt into a man. To see where my hearts and prayers have been please stop by and read my heart: http://bluecottonmemory.wordpress.com/2011/09/08/breaking-and-rebuilding/ - and pray for me, that this mama, whose job is now to just love and pray for this son, speaks the right words and find joy and blessing in his journey of growing toward the Father.

♥ Halloween is . . . .

Halloween is digging down into the costume chest and pulling out something to dress up your imagination. It is a breast plate, shield and cape, with a worn grey sword that wilts more than jabs.  It is a cowboy vest, sherriff’s badge, and a frayed cowboy hat that has seen more than its fair share of fights.  It is a bumble bee, leopard or Peter Pan.  It is a dressed up witches hat or black cat ears, black smudged nose, and painted whiskers.

It is hot chili on a frosty night, sprinkled cheese, and grilled dogs.  Worms in the pumkin patch cupcakes sloshed down with hot apple cider or hot chocolate. It is fun games that make laughter, goose bumps, and adventure.

It is knocking on neighbor’s doors who brought your mama “Welcome to the neighborhod” cookies or the little red-headed girls house who has a crush on your brother.  It’s a door opening and friends spilling out of the dark dank, dreay night into the golden warmth of the Pumpkin House(which is what I called our old house because it was orange brick with black shutters). It is filling jack-o-lantern buckets with candy for your neighbor’s children who share school rooms, teachers with your children, who stop by for hot chocolate on fall afternoons.

It is laughing, teasing, savoring childhood – no presents, no pressure, no soporific lethargy. It is  fellowship, loving thy neighbor and generosity to strangers. Big and little pumpkins, Little and big. Halloween is a holiday from a too busy schedule, a moment to live joyously.

Then, after the pumpkin lights are blown out, the costumes tucked away, the candy stored out of reach, then it is time to thank God for the blessings of children, family, and fellowship, the joy of giving, laughter, and imagination, for a moment where the daily struggles dissipate in the steam of good food, respite from the world that figuratively buffetts each day.  Thank you for a moment to enjoy, refreshing myself in the gifts you have given me and the gifts given out.