September Wind

I can feel the September winds blowing in, filled with intoxicating memories that swirl around me, pulling me to that place of remembering moments I ache to experience once more and moments I never want to revisit.

Her birthday was in September. She turned fifty in a hospital bed, smiling as she ate a piece of my famous peanut butter cream pie...laughing carelessly with Pastor James (who incidentally, if I recall is among the two people in the whole world that did not profess my pie as the most wonderful thing in all the land!!). I was wishing she didn't have to endure the treatments much longer. She was determined to continue fighting.

I remember the day they said the word cancer. Actually, the oncologist spouted off a thousand other unrecognizable words. The kind of words that doctors use when they don't really want to tell you the findings. Words are easy to hide behind.

So, I finally said, "Are you saying she does not have cancer?"

"No," he said. "I am saying she most certainly does have cancer."

We walked out of the room, after she promptly told him that she would make him famous when she beat this cancer. He pulled me aside and said, "I need you to understand. It's not good. What we're dealing with...It's very serious...it's bad."

I guess it was easier to tell me than to look into her determined, beautiful eyes and say those horrible words. I appreciated his honesty, though. From the places I've walked, I'd rather know what I'm dealing with head-on. Once you know that you are not invincible...once you know that it's possible to lose someone you love...it's kind of always with you. That possibility.

I acted strong, nodding to the doctor, smiling at my mother. I felt the room start to spin, as I struggled to steady myself. I thought, "If I could just get to the bathroom before anyone notices." I barely made it inside the door, when I collapsed against the wall, my body shaking with the sobs of a helpless little girl...not the strong woman of faith who had been carried more than once through the sea of grief by her loving Savior. But, a little girl...whose mother was filled with a hideous disease that would steal her health, her body, her mind, and her life...but couldn't kill her spirit. The sea of grief swirled around me, taking me captive with swells of images from other times when death's darkness stood mocking me...as he threatened to steal the ones I love. I resisted crying "NO" from the depths of my soul as the memories washed over me, "I'm sorry there are no heartbeats...they're gone"..."a condition known as Potter's Syndrome"..."incompatible with life"...and, now..."cancer...it's not good...very bad". I cried out to God, begging him to spare her...to spare all of us. The sorrow had it's way with me in that oncology office bathroom. Then I wiped my tears and walked out, stunned to face a life that held that ugly word.

She had "cancer of unknown origin" that they think possibly started in her lungs. It had spread to her lymph nodes, her brain, her bones...it was everywhere! They said she had two weeks to six months. Two weeks? I couldn't even process that. Thirteen months and tons of chemo and radiation treatments later, she sat in that hospital bed on her fiftieth birthday, lighting the room with her smile.

Growing up, we had a tumultuous relationship. I was so head strong...always wanting to establish my independence. I spent most of her life missing all of her gifts and her beauty...all of the things about her that made almost everyone who knew her fall in love with her. She had that kind of gift about her. She was so beautiful that people were held captive by her, even after the cancer treatments left her bald and thin as a rail. Didn't matter. She glowed with beauty. I spent most of her life missing it...but when that word was spoken, everything between us disappeared. All I could see when I looked at her was the person God created her to be. All of the barriers between us tumbled helplessly when that word was spoken, and we could hug and laugh and share our hearts. As often happens, there were precious gifts, even in the face of such hideousness.

A few weeks after her birthday, we made the trip we had taken so many times down river road...the one with all the big beautiful, extravagant houses. She had one picked out on that road. Only, hers was a little cottage with some hanging baskets on the porch. She always did prefer the simple things in life. The leaves were a myriad of colors, exploding with the majesty of fall as we drove the winding path to the hospital for a visit to the ER to help manage her pain. It was just a "routine" pain management visit. We should have gone home later that day. We made jokes in the ER and giggled. I looked over and she was out cold...resting from the medicine they had given her. I felt the relief a mother feels when her baby is resting, knowing that she was not in pain at that moment.

They decided to keep her in the hospital over night. But it soon became clear that this time was not like all the others. She wasn't making sense and could barely wake up. When she did, she seemed like a little girl. I realized that I couldn't leave her in the hospital when I saw the condition she was in the next morning. She stayed for three days, and our very large family surrounded us as we tried to make sense of what was happening to our mother. In and out of consciousness...barely coherent. Where had she gone? I was just talking to her hours before. I can't describe to you what transpired next. The memories overwhelm me.

All of her doctors agreed that the next step was to take her to the Hospice Center or a nursing home. The cancer had spread throughout her body and it was only a matter of time. They said, "Maybe 48 hours." We had promised her that we would not put her in a nursing home, so we reluctantly chose the Hospice Center, thinking that it would probably only be a few days. We decided right away that we wouldn't leave her alone. So, we stayed there with her...sometimes all together, sometimes taking shifts. The Hospice people were amazing...and we are so grateful for their compassionate care.

Forty-eight hours turned into four weeks. For four agonizing weeks, she suffered in a way I never knew it was possible for a human being to suffer. We didn't sleep, except for a couple hours here and there when we would collapse out of exhaustion and then we would awaken in a panic. I sang to her, prayed over her, read scriptures...as I've described before. What I haven't described is the depth of suffering she endured. And I won't...I can't. Only the ones who were there can understand what it was like. All I can say, is that it shook me to the core...trembling the very foundation of my faith. There were, of course, glimpses of joy in the midst of sorrow and gifts...even in the pain. She would awaken sometimes and we hung on every word, when she was able to speak. We never wanted to leave...desperate to soak in every moment we were given with her...and wanting to be there, when she was finally carried Home.

I won't lie...I begged God to take her Home. The suffering was so much...and I couldn't bear to see her in such agony. But the moment she left us, I realized that her leaving left us without her. And, the missing came. The missing was like nothing I ever thought possible, either. And, if anything, it has intensified with time. Every September - October, when the leaves change and start to fall, and the fall winds blow...the missing washes over me anew...and the memories flood my mind. I even resist sometimes...wanting to just keep my eyes on Jesus and rest in His comfort...wanting to just enjoy the land of the living. But, almost involuntarily, my body reacts. I can't sleep in September and my heart aches with the missing of her so deeply, I am overcome. The memories flood my mind. The sights and smells and feelings of fall all bring with it that time.

I walked into her house this afternoon to let out her dog (which we do for my stepfather every afternoon), and the ache was stronger that I could contain. I felt suddenly so desperate to see her sitting on her couch. It's been three years, and I don't know when I'll be able to walk into her house and not feel disappointed that she isn't laying on her couch. I walked through the house, stopping in the kitchen as I remembered the feeling of "home" when we would stand there, laughing about when we were kids and the silly things we did. We would tell stories in the kitchen. I washed countless dishes in that kitchen (those who have known me a long time always laugh, because it seems I'm always doing the dishes...and have been since they've known me!) I thought about how if she were here, she would laugh at my "teaching Timothy to drive" stories and annoy me as she told him the stories of "teaching me to drive when I was 16"! I can't explain to you the bittersweetness of those memories or the depth of the ache. I can't explain how it feels to stand in the kitchen of your childhood home and feel like your "home" is no longer. It disappeared with her. But, if you have felt that kind of missing...if you have lost someone you love like that...someone who was your constant...your definition of family, you know.

There are so many things that a mother fills in our lives. Sometimes I wonder where she begins and I end. So much of our mothers are part of the person we become. You know, you can't really brag about your kids to anyone but your mother. No one else gets it, cares, or loves them like she does...like you do. She would love to hear about Timothy going to the Homecoming Dance, and James scoring a goal in soccer. She would be excited to hear her grandson's name on the radio for having the lowest round of golf. She would relish it and wallow in it like Grandma's do.

For the rest of the time I walk this earth, something...someone will be missing. Several someones. Eventually that is true for all of us, and I know that. We will all lose someone we love. I also know that there is comfort in the arms of our heavenly Father...that one day, we will see them again. One day, I'll laugh with my mother and hold my babies. I know, until that day, His grace is sufficient and He will carry me...I know all of that. But, right now...I'm just aching with missing...swept into the memories of a September wind.

For the Joy Set Before Us

Thank you for joining us this week for Walking With You. This group was created to offer comfort, encouragement, and hope to grieving families who have lost a child. This week, we are sharing what it will be like the day we are reunited with our precious babies in heaven. This will be the last weekly Walking With You. I have decided to make this a once a month post. It will be the first Thursday of each month. And the focus will be on encouraging one another as we walk this walk from various places. I have been thoroughly blessed to read your stories, and look forward to continuing to walk with each of you. As always, you may visit all the Walking With You posts by clicking on the Walking With You button on the sidebar.

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
~Hebrews 12:1-2

We are living in earthly vessels, but this life is not forever. We are mothers who have said goodbye to our sweet babies, but that goodbye is not forever. We who walk with Jesus, pick up our crosses daily to follow Him as we walk this earth. Why do we do it? For the joy set before us, of course...just like our great Teacher. His joy is our salvation...the promise of restoration...the promise of eternal life with Him...the promise of the sweetest reunion. That's where I fix my eyes when they grow too weary from looking at what this world has to offer.

There are many verses that speak of the promise we have in heaven. Unfortunately, I do not have the time this evening to look all of them up. One verse speaks of knowing one another as we are known. We will know one another when we get to heaven, just like we know each other here. Faith and Grace will probably have their long piano-player fingers and button noses. They will probably have the same dainty little lips, and I'm sure brown eyes just like their daddy and brothers. Thomas will have the same nose shared by all of our children along with the same brown eyes. He will probably have the same auburn hair that made me smile so for the short time he spent in my arms. What they will not have is a sign of the brokenness that this earth held for them. They will be complete...perfect...knowing none of earth's sorrows. What must that be like?

One of my favorite books is called Mommy, Please Don't Cry. It is written from the perspective of a child in heaven to his/her mommy, as he shares all of the fun things happening in heaven. I know that we cannot imagine all that He has prepared for us. But, I know that He promises to prepare a place for each of us...and it is sure to be wonderful...better than anything we could imagine or dream of.

When I think of that day, Jesus is the first person on my mind. I suppose the experience of finally beholding and standing in the presence of my Savior will probably overshadow anything else for a time. But, beyond Him I imagine they are waiting for me. It means so much to me, I can barely type the words through my tears. Truly, no words can describe the picture of my mother standing there without the pain that this life held for her, without the disappointments of this life, without the effects of cancer etched on her beautiful face. And in her arms and dancing around her feet...my babies. My little girls and my sweet, sweet boy. Full of joy overflowing...shining on their faces. For some reason I can't explain, I see Faith and Grace as little girls instead of babies. They have long brown, wavy hair with ribbons streaming down their backs and pink dresses. They are lively and precious and full of personality. Faith is a little more reserved than Grace, just as she was in my womb. Grace is full of energy and light. They both giggle and embrace me with delight shining in their eyes. Thomas is in the arms of my mother...still a baby in my mind. A roly-poly picture of health and baby-boy sweetness. Sometimes I picture him as a baby...and sometimes a very young boy. He is a little shy and full of wisdom for one so small. In an instant, these little ones I have longed for fill my waiting arms...arms that will never again know emptiness. Every tear I've cried for them is dried by the hand of my Beloved Savior...every ounce of sorrow gives way to unspeakable joy that I have never fully known.

Can I describe how it may feel to hold them in my arms on that day? Can I even allow myself to think of what that may feel like? I cannot. The ache is too deep to allow myself to fully visit that notion. Recently, our teen youth group at church did a breath-taking skit to a song about heaven's reunion (the title slips my mind right now, of course...but I will see if I can find out the name of the song.). The skit was very powerful. In the beginning, it showed a mother who lost a child and various people at funerals grieving for loved ones...mothers, wives, fathers, babies. Then, it switched to show the families reunited with their loved ones in heaven. When the little child ran to the arms of the mother, I melted into sobs into my husband's arms and couldn't watch anymore. It means too much to me...that promise, that hope. It is a desperate hope I place in the Lord...so desperate I couldn't even watch the re-enactment. You see, my hope isn't just some words on a page. It really means something when you have something at stake. Believing and hoping is easy when there isn't anything attached. It is a different belief when you're asked to let go and trust that He will carry not only you, but the children you hold so dear.

There will be singing and rejoicing...a celebration the likes of which I've never seen. I cannot imagine the beauty of worshipping with the multitudes unknown...the choirs of angels singing. Some sweet day, I'll sing up there...the song of victory...I'll walk the streets of gold...I'll keep telling that old redemption story...and I will dwell forever in the place that my Lord has prepared for me, surrounded by the ones I love...the treasures waiting for me, even now.

I won't lie to you. I have faced moments when I questioned the certainty of those promises that I cling to so desperately. I was always so certain...until I watched my dear mother suffer greatly and die after a valiant battle with cancer. She suffered in a way I didn't know was possible. I felt the Lord's presence when He carried Thomas home...felt His comfort in the days after we said good-bye to Faith and Grace. But, I sat beside my mother's bed, crying out to Him, longing to see...longing to feel Him....singing of His truth...searching His Word...praying tearful prayers. Even as I reassured her, I longed for Him to reassure me. Would He really come for her like He promised? Did He really prepare a place for her...for me? I can't explain why I wondered this...why the questions even entered my heart. Perhaps it came from looking into the face of such suffering. Perhaps it was just the fact that it meant so much to me, to know His promises were true. I had never tasted the bitterness of death so closely.

Time and time again, He has reassured me with these words...the same words He spoke to my heart and hers as her earthly life waned and we felt surrounded by the darkness of death:

Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know."

Thomas said to Him, "Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?"

Jesus said to him, " I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." ~ John 14:1-6

For now, I will daily pick up my cross to follow Him...fixing my eyes on the joy set before me...the glorious promise of a sweet reunion with the treasures that are already laid up for us in heaven's glory.

For now, I dream my dreams of them...until we meet again.

Our First House and a Walking With You Update

I have so missed participating in Lynnette's Wednesdays Walk down memory lane, which is now called So We Don't Forget. If you haven't noticed, I haven't been much of a blogger lately. I'm falling behind on ministry work, and adjusting to our school/work schedule as I've returned to my full time school year job. So, this morning, I was delighted to awaken to fog and the subsequent two-hour delay that has filled my heart with joy this morning. So, here I am...graced with an extra two hours.

Today, Lynnette has instructed us to share about our first house after we were married. More than fifteen years ago, Tim and I stood together...two starry-eyed teenagers making big vows before God and a couple friends...shaking under the weight of such promises. We lived in a one bedroom apartment on the edge of our tiny town, with our baby boy. His crib was in our room. The apartment complex was newly built. And we were the first people to live there. It was clean and simple. The kitchen was small, but big enough for a little table and chairs and a high chair. There was a tiny living room, our bedroom, and a very large bathroom. The bathroom was big enough to house a small washer and dryer, which was added later. I think it raised our rent to $25 more per month...but it was definitely money well spent. Prior to that, I was carting our laundry to the laundromat. So, the washer and dryer were a welcome gift!

As a matter of fact, our current dryer (2 dryers after the aforementioned dryer) recently broke down. We ordered a new one, but it hasn't arrived yet. I, sadly, do not have a clothesline. So, wet clothes were hanging throughout our house. I just did not want to go to the laundromat...ugg. I stubbornly stuck it out for a few days, but laundry is a daily issue here with athletes, a hard-working husband (the kind who gets very dirty and sweaty), and myself...having to wear actual clothes everyday to go to work instead of shorts and sweat pants. (Oh...how I love my sweat pants.) So, this weekend, I found myself back at the laundromat to dry some of our clothes (as we wait for our dryer). Nothing has changed there in the past fifteen years, but I was reminded of a time when everything was new and exciting. It was a time when I didn't really mind going to the laundromat. Tim and I were so young and full of life and possibility. We were just so glad to be on our own and doing things our own way. You know how desperately you want to get out from under your parents' wings and prove that you can live life on your own? Well, at least that's how we felt. Funny how I'd give anything to be back in my mother's arms now that she is gone. But back then, I was stubborn and full of vinegar. Enough to go to the laundromat and live in a one-bedroom apartment and work as a waitress to help my young husband who was himself trying to finish school and working at a machine shop, support our little family. I suppose vinegar can work for good, too. I'll try and remember that when I see the vinegar in my own teenage son.

My favorite thing about that time, besides the sheer joy of having our own place to live, was going to the grocery store. It was so much fun to buy what we wanted to eat. My mom was pretty health conscious and also needed to be frugal. So, we rarely had junk food in our house. Never pop and few chips. Well, I've never met a Dorito I didn't like, and I love Pepsi. So, it was on. I was like a kid in a candy store (well...actually, at 18, I pretty much WAS a kid in a candy store!). Hawaiian punch, Chips Ahoy Cookies, pizza, pop, Doritos, spaghetti...along with diapers and baby food of course...filled our cart. And my eyes danced with glee at the festival of junk food! Good times! Of course, I gained weight and learned that it's not all gold that glitters...but, it was a sweet time of simple joys. And, it makes me smile to think back on it. We lived there less than a year before we moved to a larger two bedroom duplex with an attached garage and a laundry room. That laundry room was glorious! At the tender age of nineteen, we built our first house...a little three bedroom where we still live today.

Such sweet memories!

Better is a little with the fear of the Lord,
Than great treasure with trouble.
Better is a dinner of herbs where love is,
Than a fatted calf with hatred.
~Proverbs 15:16-17
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Walking With You Update: Participation is down on Walking With You (and, I even lost a follower this week!). I will be doing a Walking With You post tomorrow about what it will be like to meet our children in heaven one day, and hope you are able to participate...as we focus on the joy set before us. Then, I am thinking of revamping our format a little. Maybe we could do a study on heaven, maybe just post a comforting verse, with a little commentary to encourage those who grieve. I also thought of switching it to once a month. My desire for Walking With You is to reach out in love and encouragement to grieving families....that they may know they are not walking alone. I hope it has and is ministering to the needs of those families. I know I have been blessed to walk with each of you. But, with participation dwindling, I am considering whether to continue what we are doing...or change it up a little. I don't want to stop it all together, because I know from emails that people are reading even if they don't participate. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

Walking With You

This week, we are sharing ways that we incorporate the memories of our children into our lives and family. We can also share any ministries, outreaches, or just beautiful ways that our children's lives have impacted the lives of others. I so wish I had more time to devote to this post. I'm writing it before work this morning, so please be understanding of this thrown together post.

Faith and Grace went home to heaven in November, so Christmas was not far behind. Many people sent us Christmas ornaments in memory of our girls. Over the years, we have added ornaments for each of our children. After Thomas' passing in July of 1998, ornaments were added for him, as well. They are scattered throughout the tree along with the ornaments that our boys make in school that remind us of the way they are growing as they walk this earth.

Another Christmas-related thing we do: Each Christmas, the boys help me pick out gifts to fill shoe-boxes for Samaritan's Purse. We do one in memory of each child. So, our family sends two girl boxes and one boy box. It has always been a blessing to us to remember our children in this simple way. We enjoy shopping for little gifts that we would give them if they were with us, and we are grateful that those gifts will be given to children in need.

In the early years, we had a birthday celebration. My friend Ginny and her children even shared a few with us. She made pink frosted cookies for Faith and Grace's celebration. And we had cupcakes one year. We did this for Thomas' special day, too (although not pink, of course!). Timothy and I would sing "Happy Birthday" and he would blow out the candle. He always wondered when he was little if they could see us celebrating. Then we would talk about what they may be doing. He would talk about what he would give them if they were here.

For many years, we did not have pictures of our heavenly babies on the shelves. But, they are there now...blended among pictures of our children who are with us. Faith and Grace's tiny, delicate footprints and Thomas' angelic little face both sit on our shelf, along with memorabilia that remind us of their lives. For they ARE living...in heaven's glory.

As you know, our family has been blessed to begin a ministry for grieving families. We established Sufficient Grace Ministries for Women (and Families) in 2004. I created the Dreams of You Memory Book a few months after publishing a short story about our sweet Faith, Grace, and Thomas and the gift of God's grace. The greatest gift we have received from the lives of our heavenly children has been to know the sufficiency of God's grace and His ability to make beauty from ashes in our lives. He comforted us in our desperate grief. And, it is the desire of our hearts to reach out to offer that same comfort to other grieving families. Hundreds of lives have been touched through this ministry. People have been comforted in their grief. Souls in our family have been saved as people turned to Jesus for comfort. Our marriage has been blessed with a lasting love...although it was tested by fire. Restoration is a beautiful, amazing gift to behold...the restoration of lives, souls, marriages. Thousands have read and know the names of these precious little babies through this blog and our ministry. Every time we are able to give a family a Dreams of You Memory Book or a Comfort Bear, or just to pray for them and reassure them that we understand their pain....our children are remembered, and we are humbled to know that God values and uses every precious life. You know the feeling you get when you watch your child hit a baseball and slide into home plate or ride his bike for the first time or just anything to spread his wings and soar? Seeing another person's life impacted by the lives of my Faith, Grace, and Thomas gives me that same feeling. It isn't the reason I serve in this ministry...but it is certainly a blessing that comes from it. God's purpose for their lives is evident to us, and more is being revealed as time goes on...and that is a great gift.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort that we ourselves have received from God. ~ 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Please click on the links within this post to learn more about our ministry and our journey. For now, I am off to work. But, I hope you will link up and join us this week to share the ways that you remember your little ones.

Updated: I was not able to get this posted as I wanted before work. I'm so sorry it's so late...please forgive me. I hope you are all able to join and share with us the ways you remember your precious children. Please share a comment and link your post below.

Another Update: I wanted to let you know that my sweet blog-friend, Holly is listing all of her angel friends and their babies who have gone to heaven on her blog. If you would like to include your baby's name, please stop and add it to the list here. Thanks so much for thinking of this, Holly. We will be doing something in October for pregnancy loss month. You are always so thoughtful and compassionate.

Timothy's Golf Skills, Stuff That Makes Me Happy...and a Giveaway

Yes...I am a little proud of my oldest son's mad golf skills! How cool is this video he made in the backyard? I thought you might like it!

I don't have much to say that's earth-shattering here...but I thought I'd keep it simple and maybe do something fun and random if you're up for it. That's about as deep as I can get right now.

It's been on my heart lately to find joy in the little things. So, here's the deal: I'm going to list five things that "make me happy". They have to be in the simple, little things category. I'd love to hear what makes you happy, too. So, if you'd like to play along, list five things that make you happy in the comments below...and you will be entered to win a signed copy of Lynnette Kraft's wonderful book, In Faithfulness, He Afflicted Me. For a chance at a second entry, become a follower of this blog...or let me know in the comments if you already are a follower! I love a good giveaway! Giveaways make me happy!! =)

What Makes Me Happy (this week)?

1. Fresh tomatoes...mmmm, mmmm...good.
2. The smell of my kitchen after I've baked cookies all day (and the satisfied tummies of my family after they sink their teeth into the goodies!).
3. Cleveland Browns football (Even more so in the rare event that we win! And triple if we beat the Steelers...sorry September! Quadruple if Brady's playing!)
4. New school supplies (especially pink post its).
5. Laughing with friends.

O.K....your turn...What makes you happy?

Stopping to Pick the Dandelions

Often, I learn from the students I work with...probably much more than I teach. This week, we returned to school. Our oldest son returned to high school as a sophomore, with his driver's permit and a position on the varsity golf team. Our "baby" climbed the steps of the school bus for the first time to travel almost 20 miles away to the school in our district that houses the third and fourth grades. And, I returned to my position working with special needs students. This year, I have moved up to second grade to begin my third year working with a delightful young man who often brings a smile to my face and inspires my spirit.

So, I thought I would share this week's lesson from my dear student to his teacher. We were in a hurry, as we often are, rushing to go inside for recess so that we could squeeze in a quick drink and restroom break before returning to class. Suddenly, he stopped in mid-stride. I turned to encourage him to walk quickly, and realized his reason for stopping. While keeping one hand on his walker, he bent down reaching with the other hand to pick a bright yellow dandelion, standing tall in the green grass. He rose slowly, dandelion in hand, and smiled at me with a second grade grin as he proudly offered me the treasure in his outstretched hand.

I smiled and thanked him for the gift, nodding my head as the humbling lesson soaked in. You see, life is full of dandelions (not my yard, mind you, because I am married to the Lawn King!). We've all heard the saying reminding us to "Stop and Smell the Roses". But, life isn't always full of roses. Things don't often go just as they should or come in the packages we would desire or expect. It's dandelions that often cover our path. Some may look at them as weeds...hardly worth noticing...a nuisance at best. Some may try to uproot them and get rid of every trace. But, some embrace the dandelions as a gift...accepting them and even seeing beauty in these durable, plentiful, proud yellow plants. Some take the time to see the gift in what others would see as a useless weed. Some are even willing to slow down and go to great lengths to appreciate the gift, and share it with someone else. It was a gift from his heart...a beautiful offering.

We can learn a lot from the heart of a child...and the glorious perspective they have. Here's to taking the time to "Stop and Pick the Dandelions".

Saturday With the Band

Thank you to everyone who listed name ideas for our band. We still haven't chosen one. Although you guys had some great ideas...nothing really seemed to be THE ONE yet. (I especially loved the ones with the word grace in them...and "Falling on Faith" was an awesome one! Thanks Holly!) I will keep praying and seeking on this. For now, I will just refer to our little group as "The Band".

O.K., let me just say that the past few weeks leading up to our little "gig" in the park have been filled with some of the most intense spiritual warfare and overwhelming feelings of weariness and struggle I have had in a long time. I spent a lot of time in prayer and in the Word. The struggles in the days leading up to our performance were really hard. Our family has been so very busy, running to and fro. Sometimes, even serving can be tough. It's hard to minister to others when we are feeling this way...hard to get in front of people and share or sing. We had little time to just be...as almost every moment was filled. Marthas...that's what we were...desperately needing to see the preciousness of sitting at the feet of Jesus, like Mary... but feeling burdened with the responsibility of the next thing on the list. Not that we are not grateful for the opportunity to serve. We are. So grateful. And, we know that there are times when you have to push through those feelings and persevere...trusting the Lord to equip us when we feel unable to take one more step. And...He is always faithful!

I felt like I was drowning beneath a list of unanswered emails, unshipped shipments, unwritten blog posts, unkept rooms in my neglected house, unsent bills, unwritten thank you notes, unanswered phone calls, unfilled-out paper work...the list goes on and on. And then there were golf tournaments to attend and band practice. Errands to run. School and work to return to. Children to spend time with. A marriage to nurture. A sense of unworthiness and condemnation settled over me in the last few weeks. And, it felt a little like our family was in a pressure cooker and the heat kept getting turned up a notch as each new commitment was heaped a top our pile.

It's like that sometimes. I would love to say that I always have it together and float through life peacefully. That I never grow weary and feel overwhelmed. That I always clean my house, never snap at my husband, never raise my voice at my children, and never feel completely exhausted. But, I would be lying.

As the days approached, I grew more and more overwhelmed. The morning of the performance, I prayed early in the morning. And, the Lord led me to this perfect, amazing psalm as He urged me to focus on praising Him, instead of looking at the giant before me. I want to share it with you, today...in hopes that you will find encouragement for whatever you face.

I will praise You with my whole heart;
Before the gods I will sing praises to You.
I will worship toward Your holy temple,
And praise Your name
For Your lovingkindness and Your truth;
For You have magnified Your word above all Your name.
In the day I cried out, You answered me,
And made me bold with strength in my soul.

All the kings of the earth shall praise You, O Lord,
When they hear the words of Your mouth.
Yes, they shall sing of the ways of the Lord,
For great is the glory of the Lord,
Though the Lord is on high,
Yet He regards the lowly;But the proud He knows from afar.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me;
You will stretch out Your hand
Against the wrath of my enemies,
And Your right hand will save me.
The Lord will perfect that which concerns me;
Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever;
Do not forsake the works of Your hands.

Psalm 138

Isn't that awesome?! His word so ministered to my weakened, weary, broken spirit. I shared the Psalm with the boys in the band and we prayed before practicing that morning. The "gig" turned out pretty well. There were plenty of little glitches, but it was a lot of fun and a blessing. I felt strengthened and encouraged. And, grateful for the opportunity. Tim and I are so thankful for Dave and Ryan for their willingness to join us for this. They did a great job! And, we are so thankful that we were invited to do this. Most of all...we are thankful for the faithfulness of our God who is able and willing to perfect that which concerns us. Because of His faithfulness...I want to praise Him with my whole heart...to sing of His ways...to praise Him with singing. And what a privilege it is to be allowed. Thank you for your prayers. They were felt and much appreciated!

Pastor James also had some encouraging words that I feel are valuable to share for those ministering to others in various ways. Sometimes, I struggle with the performance thing. I want to focus on the Lord and not my own performance or ability....to take comfort in His strength, not cower in my weakness. James wrote these words: "I always try to remind myself of what “success” means anytime I minister. So often we look at success as did a lot of people come, did it sound good or go good, were the people happy? When God has laid on my heart that success is simply being obedient to His will and letting Him take care of the fruit."

Well said, Pastor James...we love you!



Here are some pics of "The Band" from Saturday...We performed 17 praise and worship songs! (The most I've ever belted out at once!)

See the look on my husband's face...He is so ornery!



I won't even tell you what he just did with his guitar right before this picture was taken! Can you see my hand pushing it away? He is a stinker!






This picture made me smile, because Tim and Dave mastered "The Look" to cue each other on the endings and tempo changes...





I cracked up when I saw this pic. Dave and I both have the same "we're holding our breath" look on our faces!


Tim and I singing This Little Light of Mine...




Tim and I with Ryan "Sufficient Bass" Tackett...


May God get the glory...