Lukewarm

Lukewarm…

I don’t know anyone who likes that word. Who would? Who would like something that’s too cold to be hot, and too hot to be cold? Although some dishes taste just fine lukewarm, many don’t. I know my mother is a STICKLER for food temperature, and has no qualms about sending something back to the kitchen to be “warmed up in the microwave for a few seconds.”

True story.

One morning recently, I was in a condition I can only describe as “bleary-eyed.” As in, I hadn’t rested well the night before, and I could barely hold my eyes open. My usual morning routine includes reading a few verses out of the Bible, and then having some prayer. But I knew that this morning, I was not going to get much out of a DIY study. Ever have one of those times, when you’re so tired (or distracted…) that you get to the end of a passage – whether in the Bible or a magazine article – and think, “What did I just read?”

Well, that’s where I found myself that morning.

I turned on my computer, and logged on to the Proverbs 31 Ministries website. I read the devotion for that day, but I didn’t think the verse applied to me. The title of the post was “The Unsaved Christian.”

Nope, doesn’t sound like me.

The verse was found in Isaiah 29:13, “The Lord says: ‘These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men.’”

No, not me either.

I had to go into work early to set up for a meeting, and I was flipping stations on the radio and came across the now-deceased pastor of a very, very large congregation in our area. I stopped on the broadcast, and heard the SAME verse from Isaiah as I’d read earlier in the morning, but used in a different context. He coupled it with the passages out of Revelation about churches being lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – and a different word immediately sprang to mind.

Room temperature.

It’s basically the same thing, isn’t it? It isn’t hot. It isn’t cold. It’s just room temperature.

How does something get to that state we call “room temperature?” By adjusting to the environment around it.

You heard me.

That’s how we become room temperature in our relationship with God – lukewarm, if you will – by not affecting the environment around us, but by letting it affect us.

As I listened to that pastor that morning, his words rang in my ears.

“You don’t commit adultery, but you laugh at raunchy jokes.”
Ouch.

“You don’t tell big lies, but you tell little white lies like telling someone you can’t stand that you’re glad to see them.”

Yowza.

Lord, don’t let me become like that room temperature coffee in my cup this morning, that when I topped it off with hot liquid turned that into a tepid mess. Don’t let those “little things” that I think don’t mean much eat away at my passion for You, making me think that good enough is good enough.

Because it isn’t.

Not hot. Not cold. Just lukewarm.

Room temperature.

The lies we're told

I find myself wondering sometimes, many times...

Does Satan lie to men, as much as he does women? Or are we just more gullible and buy into his deceit more easily?

I am constantly amazed when I hear what he's been telling us women, and at how much we'd rather believe that about ourselves than the truth. Although, I don't know why - it's not like I haven't fallen prey to it myself.

I worked a women's event once, and I was just appalled at what those precious women shared - not because it was scandalous, but because I was struck by the lies. Horrible, horrible lies about who we are, who we aren't and what other people are thinking about us.

All lies.

He tells us that we aren't good enough, that our efforts for ourselves, our families, and the Kingdom are never enough. He tells us that other people are judging us, talking about us, and keeping score of our every mistake.

Sometimes, they are. More often than not, they aren't

Relationships are broken, or never formed in the first place. Homes are hindered. Women never reach their full, God-given potential because we're so bogged down by the lies.

It's an amazing, empowering thing to watch the scales fall off. I know - it's happened to me, and I've seen it happen to others. I've seen the lies of the enemy be destroyed by the light of God's truth, and it's beautiful. It's freeing. When we throw off the shackles of defeat and despair that have been clamped down on us, we feel like we could run a marathon.

Ok, well, maybe a half-marathon. Or a 5K. Perhaps just once around our house.

Ladies (and men, if you're still reading this far) it's time for the lies to end. It's time to see ourselves as God created us, to confront the lies with the truth, and to stop living bound up by that voice whispering in our ear.

What lies will you stop believing today?

A person without self-control...

...is like a city with broken-down walls. (Prov. 25:27-28)

It's our custom on Sunday afternoons during lunch to ask Anna Marie what she learned in Kids Church that morning. Sometimes, her memory is right on, and she can tell me the verse right off the bat.

Sometimes, we have to extrapolate what the lesson was about because all she can remember is the object lesson.

One Sunday a few months ago was one of those "steel trap" days. She quoted the verse with no problem.

"A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls."

Oooh. That's a good one. We talked about what the verse means: how that, just like a city (in Biblical times, at least) was left open to all sorts of calamities when its walls were in disrepair, so too we open ourselves up to problems when we don't exercise self-control.

No self-control in the eating department = bigger pants.

No self-control with our tongues = hurt feelings and misunderstandings.

No self-control with our finances = overspending, debt, and sometimes bankruptcy.

No self-control at school = lost recess.

She told me a few nights ago that this verse has really stuck with her, and that it helped her curb her unnecessary talking in the classroom.

I was thinking about this verse on the way to work this morning. I'd actually been thinking about it in relation to several things I'd been exposed to lately, and then I heard a news report about a woman who, as a child, developed a habit for eating foam from couch cushions.

Yes, you read that right. Couch cushions.

She has been eating foam daily for over 20 years, and recently had to be hospitalized because she had a grapefruit-sized blockage in her digestive track. Made of foam.

"A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls."

I see it nearly every day in the media - on the internet - and on Facebook.

Especially on Facebook.

If you are one of my Facebook friends, you might notice that I go several days at a time without updating my status. It isn't that I don't have anything to say - but I would rather not say anything at all, than to post something (just for the sake of posting) which could be misconstrued or hurt someone.

As Anna Marie's second grade teacher admonished, we need to ask ourselves three questions before we say (or write, or post to our Facebook wall) something: Is it true, is it kind, and is it necessary? If it fails any of these three tests, we might need to think twice.

"A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls."

How are your walls holding up today?

You just THOUGHT I was back from the Bloggy Wasteland

Instead, I continue to take long, unscheduled breaks from Melz World.

Heh. Guess I showed you.

In the past couple of weeks, we've finished up our One Month to Live challenge, and, as a result, I'm thinking a lot more deeply about some things than I might have otherwise.

And, last weekend, Jason went to Discipleship Walk, the life-changing retreat I went on last fall. And, well, it was life-changing for him as well.

And now, I've been thinking a lot (since yesterday, anyway), about self-control.

I thought I had self-control. Most of the time, anyway. I've never been a binge eater, unless you count the whole bags of Vinegar and Salt Lays I'd inhale in college. (And really, since their slogan is "You can't eat just one, I seriously think that doesn't count.)

I've never gone out partying, and I've never blown $1,000 on a mall-wide shopping spree.

I've lost 90 pounds. I think that speaks to some measure of self-control, don't you?

But lately, I've been letting that self-control slip. And my waistline is starting to show it.

And then yesterday after church, Anna Marie told us what their verse was in Children's Church: "A person with no self-control is like a city with broken down walls (Proverbs 25:28)"

Man. That hit me as very profound. We spent a good bit of time at lunch talking about what that verse meant. I explained to her that in Bible days, cities had walls to guard their residents, but a broken down wall let all sorts of things in.

In modern language, I broke it down even further. Lack self-control in your spending? That can let in massive debt. No self-control in your eating? Sign me up for bigger pants, please! Need to control your mouth at school? That'll cost you recess.

A lack of self-control can let all sorts of ugly things into our lives. And make no mistake, you can lack self-control in some good areas too. Too much exercise can be just as bad for you as none at all, and you can eat too much of the right things just like too much of the right ones.

Not that I've ever been accused of either of those. It's just, you know, an example.

So, I'm looking at my self-control today. I am exhibiting a major amount of it, because one of my co-workers keeps putting snack-sized Snickers on her desk. And she isn't even there a lot of the time, so no one would know it was me getting one every time I walk past.

But I would. And eventually, so will my pants.

And I'm looking at my self-control when it comes to wasting time. Instead of getting caught up in watching TV when I got back from the gym this morning, I sat and ate my breakfast quietly, enjoying the short solitude before my people-filled day began.

So, today, take a little time to look at areas when you need to exercise a little self-control. Let's build up those city walls, instead of letting them be broken down.

Your pants, and probably your sanity, will thank you.

If Valerie can come back to Blogland, guess I can too.

When last we met, Anna Marie was surprising us all with her sudden interest in wearing things that FIT and did not involve baggy jeans and one-size-too-big T-shirts.

There's a little of that still going on - she wore a dress to school yesterday - but there's something much deeper going on in my life than that.

On Easter, our church started this study called the One Month to Live challenge.

And what a challenge it is.

The premise is this: if you had just one month to live, what would you do differently? We each had the opportunity to purchase the book of the same name for a discounted price, which has 30 days worth of chapters in it. (Thankfully, the chapters are only about five pages long!) Each week, our pastor's sermon takes its theme from the upcoming week's readings: Love Completely, Learn Humbly, etc. Then, each day we read a short chapter comparing life to something - a hurricane, or a roller coaster, or GPS.

Our pastor joined Facebook about this time, and he posts his thoughts on the chapter each day. We can then discuss them in the comments.

It's very, very, practical stuff. And very thought-provoking.

We're also wearing some nifty green wristbands to remind us of the challenge. Several people have commented that they've had "green wristband moments," where they've stopped what they were "busy" doing (usually watching TV, or, I don't know, maybe Farmville) and spent quality time with their families.

Because really, no offense to the Farmville folks, but if you only had a month to live, would you want to spend it feeding imaginary farm animals? Or would you want your kids to remember you spent time with them?

We're a little over halfway through the book, and each day I'm made more aware of how I'm spending the most precious commodity I have: my time.

So, I'll leave you with this challenge today: if you had just one month to live, what would you change?

II Cor. 4:8-9

I have a friend at church named Holley who has a pretty neat thing she does every morning: she has an enormous list of text message contacts, and she sends everyone a Bible verse every day, about the same time of morning.

More often than not, it's kinda eerie how well the verse lines up with what I'm experiencing. Today was no exception.

I started to have trouble with my car last week, and yesterday, it actually ran hot - despite the fact that it was about 40 degrees out, and we were headed down the interstate at about 75 miles an hour.

Turns out, it was completely out of coolant, which is odd - it's leaving the system somewhere, but we haven't figured out where.

This morning, though, I think I figured out where it's going.


As I went to the gym, I noticed that not only did the "check engine" light BLINK, and continue to BLINK, the whole way there, the amount of white smoke pouring from my exhaust pipe was just not normal. The car wasn't running well at all.

For those of you who don't know, there are basically two places that coolant could be going - either onto the ground (which we couldn't find any evidence of) or through the engine and out the tailpipe, as the result of a problem with one of the heads, like a leaky gasket or - GASP - a blown head.

I tried to work out (thank God for my iPod, not only for the uplifting music it provided, but also because I could turn it up and drown out the 98 lb. guy grunting on one of the weight machines) and headed home. I noticed the "smoke" had an odd smell.

After I summoned Jason from a warm bed to check on the situation, he said, "It doesn't smell like coolant, it smells like oil."

Um, I'm just the daughter of a humble mechanic, but in my experience, OIL isn't any better smell for exhaust than COOLANT is.

Houston, as it is said, we have a problem.

I walked to work, as Jason took the only other automatic-transmission vehicle we have to Memphis to pick up supplies for the auction. I was feeling really, really down - I even cried when I was feeding the dogs - and then my office mate, Amber, placed a red velvet box on my desk.

It contained a really cute pair of pearl drop earrings - we had our office Christmas breakfast this morning, and we were supposed to give money to the animal shelter instead of buying gifts for each other, but Amber must have been feeling generous because there they were.

And something about her gesture just totally lifted my spirits. I'm ashamed to admit that, because somehow I should be able to get out of the dumps without jewelry, but hey, I'm human. I like shiny things! It wasn't just the jewelry that did it, though - I guess it was her thinking of me.

And then I remembered Holley's verse for today: II Cor. 4:8,9 -

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."

I may be hard pressed in the transportation department right now, but I'm not crushed. I may be perplexed because I'm having these difficulties, but I'm not in despair. I feel persecuted, but I'm not abandoned, and the weight of my circumstances may strike me down, but I'm not destroyed.

I've got the van-formerly-known-as-the-amazing-technicolor-dream-van to drive, and after Christmas, we'll see what kind of hook-up my dad can get me for a good deal on machining those heads.

And I'm going to look back on this day as a testament that even though not everything goes right all the time, God can still help us get through it.

Donut be sad, part deux

Y'all.

Y'all, y'all, y'all.

Those of you FB peeps already know this, but I had ANOTHER tire go flat on the interstate this week. Back passenger's side.

Wednesday night, to be exact. Just like last time. Except this time, it was dark, and getting cold, and Jason wasn't with me.

And instead of choir practice, I was on my way to Courtney's visitation.

Thankfully, I was able to pull off at an exit and into a well-lit gas station parking lot, and not have to sit on the side of the dark highway.

Let's be clear - I am not completely incapacitated when it comes to doing things on my car. I have had knowledge of how to change a tire, but since I've never had to actually do it, that lesson that was given nearly 18 years ago has tarnished a bit with age.

So, I call Jason, hoping to have him walk me through the process. No answer. His phone goes straight to voice mail.

I called my dad, and he said it would just be easier if he came up and helped me. We were about 15 minutes from where he was.

Since his stroke, his physical capabilities are not what they used to be. So, I tried to get the car jacked up and the lug nuts loosened before he got there.

Thanks to the inferior, factory-supplied tire iron, however, that was just not meant to be.

Thanks to a nice young man named Scott, though, it did get done - he and his wife and three kids were getting gas, and saw me, and he came over and changed my tire - before my dad even got there!

(Not to worry, though, it's a good thing he was coming, because we left the plastic lug nut covers there, and I remembered about the time he was getting of the exit to turn around, so they were not lost after all! Hooray!)

Anna Marie was crying about being late to her Missionettes class for the first time, but given the circumstances, they didn't even have a lesson - the teacher had the girls each make a card for Courtney's five-year-old daughter Madison, who isn't even in that class.

(Anna Marie's had horses. I have no idea why.)

Courtney's visitation was incredible. Pink flowers were everywhere. I stood in line for nearly half an hour to get to where she was, and instead of sorrow, I felt an incredible sense of peace once I got up there. This sounds so odd, but seeing how good she looked - and she really did look good - made me realize she was at peace, so I was too.

Jason and I went to the funeral yesterday, and I left both inspired and ashamed of how petty I can sometimes be.

Courtney was so sick over the past five years, yet she never wasted one minute asking "why me?" or getting bitter. She had a newborn when she was diagnosed, and she spent the next five years savoring every minute she had left and making sure Madison had good memories. I am so thankful she lasted this long, so that her daughter would be old enough to have some recollection of her. One of the most touching things I saw yesterday was at the end, when Courtney's husband Robert walked out of the sanctuary with a sleeping Madison on his shoulder. She was wearing the most beautiful pink poofy dress.

(Did I mention she's a red head too? Yeah, that makes me just a little more biased!)

Jason figured out yesterday upon closer inspection that I do indeed need a new tire. Not only am I thankful that Scott helped me, but I'm also thankful that we had that flat over the summer so that I knew what that awful sound was, and so that the spare (which had been flat the first time) would be in better shape.

I started to worry for about half a second yesterday. Do I have the funds for a new tire right now? In the words of that sage teacher Whitney Houston, "HECK to the NAW." But after witnessing Courtney's courage and faith over the past two years, how can I get upset about driving on a donut tire for another few days? If she can leave such a legacy that the pastor pulled out a pair of boxing gloves at her service, saying that they reminded him of her spirit, surely I can let God help me figure something out about a stupid tire.

I mean, really, y'all.

Farther along, we'll know more about it…

Tomorrow I'll post my Kroger Shakedown. But today, I'm feeling reflective.

We received word last night that a precious young woman at our church, Courtney, had (as my mother would say) "moved away to be with God."

Courtney was 30 years old, and had a five-year-old daughter. She died in her sweet husband's arms.

She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2005, after having her concerns unheard by her doctor. I suppose the doctor just thought she was too young, and didn't follow up, but by the time Courtney was treated, the disease was rather advanced.

She always sat on the front row, and no matter how sick she was, she always managed a smile. I have heard (but I wasn't there at the time) that when she was first diagnosed four years ago, the whole church showed up one Sunday - hundreds of people - wearing pink hats in support.

On Halloween, nearly a HUGE group donned custom-made "Team Courtney" shirts and raised over $20,000 for her at the Race for the Cure. She had no idea the effort that was directed in her honor, until she was wheeled to the race site.

She was so ill that she slept in her wheelchair during the awards ceremony.

Courtney had been doing much better, but began to decline in the last few months. In addition to being treated for tumors in different parts of her body, two brain tumors were found at the end of last month. She had a gamma knife procedure at the beginning of this month, but it was unclear how effective it had been.

After the procedure, she began to lose short-term memory. In the past week, she has been delirious, and then unable to speak. The doctors said her tumor markers were "through the roof," and she was sent home with hospice. The family was told there was nothing else that modern medicine could do.

I knew how ill she was. I knew that an "open house" had taken place on Saturday, so that her friends could help lift her spirits. I knew that friends were organizing play dates for her daughter, so that she would have some sense of normalcy through all this. I had seen the look of concern on her mother-in-law's face, as she sat in the front row on Sunday and I sang on the stage, and knew the family was burdened beyond belief.

Still, hearing that news last night was a shock.

I have never been so thankful for Facebook. Most of the people at our church are on, and though we were separated by geography, we could all grieve together. It was like one big "party line" telephone conversation, except I was in my PJs sitting on my couch with a laptop.

The first thing that went through my heart was an old song:

Farther along we'll know all about it,
Farther along we'll understand why,
Cheer up my brother, live in the sunlight
We'll understand it, all by and by.

I don't know why Courtney didn't pull through this time. I know it wasn't for a lack of "trying" on our part - there were more prayers sent up for her than just about anyone I know. Jason said those prayers were probably what helped her hang on this long.

One thing I do know, is that Courtney is no longer in pain. And my prayer now is that that knowledge will comfort those who love her. As the Bible says, we do not grieve like those who have no hope - we know that we will see her again someday.

And we'll understand it, all by and by.

Legacy

You know where I'm going with this post, don't you?

There has been so much high-profile death in the past two weeks - Ed McMahon, MJ, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, Karl Malden, even our beloved Mrs. Slocombe, Mollie Sudgen, from Are You Being Served? - lots of famous people have died, y'all.

And, as I was thinking about Sudgen's death while I was at choir practice Wednesday night (don't judge me for not paying attention - all we did was listen to the Christmas musical he's picked) I started thinking about legacies.

My legacy, and that of my family as a whole.

What will people say about me, and about my family, when I'm gone? Will people think about the good things - like some have tried to do with MJ, remember how awesomely talented he was, and not the allegations of the 1990's and the abject creepiness of his adult years? Will they remember Jason and me as people who did what needed to be done, who could always be counted on?

The only people who really know what life is like in the Turner house are Jason, Anna Marie, and me. What is she going to remember about her parents, about our marriage and our life, when she's an adult and we're no longer here? Have we done a sufficient job of teaching her what is important to us as a family, and what we feel that the Bible teaches us is important in God's sight?

While it would be nice for my obit to include the words "Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist" that's probably not going to happen. And seriously, my career is not the most important thing in my life. It never has been, and I hope it never will be. The most important legacies that I'm crafting right now are in my marriage and how I'm raising my daughter. Those are the things we leave behind, even more than the words I write or the songs I sing, or the things I've collected over the years.

I want Anna Marie to be proud of her parents, to think of us as honorable, Godly people. I want to be the kind of person who can be depended on, not one who "talks a good game" but doesn't deliver.

I want to leave a positive, Godly legacy behind when I'm gone. What about you?

The circle of life

On Sunday night, I attended a baby shower honoring our youth pastor and his wife. They have been praying for a child for five years, and will welcome their daughter at the end of this month. There was enough pink in that room to sink a battleship, and two friends at my table trying to convince me to have another baby.

• • •

Yesterday at lunch, I ran in to a man I know in our community, whose wife had suffered a stroke over the weekend. I asked how she was doing, and he said that the end was near and the family was considering taking her off life support. They did so that afternoon, and she passed from one world into the next.

• • •

Later yesterday afternoon, I interviewed a woman on her 100th birthday. It was excruciatingly hot in her little house, but other than being cold natured and having knee problems, she was in remarkably good health. She had her wits about her, and said she didn't have very many fond childhood memories because she spent so much time working in the fields with her family.

• • •

Last night I attended a visitation at a local funeral home for a very prominent man. I don't think I ever met him, but I've known his wife for some time. In the 20 or so minutes that we were there, I counted at least three current or former judges, a bank president, and several city and county officials. Anyone who was anyone had come out to honor the life of service this gentleman had given to his community.

• • •

Maybe it's the start of the new year, or maybe it's all the time I've spent in funeral homes lately, but I've been thinking a lot about life and how it's lived. There is an old adage that says that life is what you do "in the dashes" - in that time period between the dates on your tombstone. As this new year dawns, some are just starting that life, some are seeing that life end, and some are trying to survive life the best they know how.

I, for one, am being just a little more mindful today of how I'm living "in the dash."

What is God hiding?

A few weeks ago, our pastor preached a sermon called "What is God hiding?"

The gist of it was the same as one of my college professors had said: if God told you ahead of time what you'd be doing (and facing) in the future, you'd run far, far away.

Instead, He lets us be prepared, little by little, for what He has for us to do - and the challenges life hands us.

Think about all the things that have happened in 2008. If I'd known at the beginning of the year that I'd lose two uncles in December, I'd have spent the whole year dreading that month.

If I'd known that Jason was going to take over operations of the cafeteria during the summer, I'd have been freaked out WAY longer than I already was.

How would I have handled knowing that my dad was going to suffer a stroke in January, and then all of the fallout from that - physical, emotional, and financial?

Who could have known that in February our church would close down, and we'd find ourselves finding a new place to worship? If you'd have told me last New Years Eve that I'd have spent this New Year's Eve playing Wii with my Sunday School class, I would not have believed it.

2008 was the year that I covered my first murder trial, that Anna Marie got baptized and learned to tie her shoe, and that a raccoon took up residence in my attic.

Life is unexpected, and as we enter this new year, I can't wait to see what God is hiding - the good and the bad. We can't have the good without the bad, as the saying goes.

And I'm glad to know that I'll have all of you out there in Blogland as we watch this year unfold together.

Out of focus

Since I'll have no "Official Thursday Weigh-In" this week (Anna Marie has a school play and I can't make the meeting) you're getting a deeper, more philosophical post today.

You're welcome.

Is it just me, or is it more difficult to stay focused this Christmas season? And by focused, I mean on the real Reason we celebrate.

A couple of weeks ago I posted about being in a "blue funk" about Christmas. It got somewhat better, but this week it's back with a vengeance. Part of this is hormonal, I know - my "friend" came to visit yesterday. (For Christmas! And I forgot to get him anything! And I know it's a male, because only a man would make a woman feel this crappy!)

But part of it is situational. The same dynamics which normally cause turmoil in my family are still at play. The usual financial strains are there, but of course more pronounced because it is the holidays. And yet, there is so much more.

I won't go into detail, out of respect for those involved, but a member of my extended family passed away this past weekend. The sadness has been multiplied immeasurably by the manner of his death, and no one seems to know quite how to handle themselves. It has, quite literally, thrown the whole clan for a loop.

I've thought in the past few days what an odd mixture of emotions that grief truly is: anger, sadness, regret, loneliness, it's all there and more.

Tomorrow is the funeral, and I don't know how anyone is going to handle it.

His death has helped me put some things into perspective - for instance, we were in danger of bouncing a check over the weekend, because of an unexpected withdrawal, and I realized that really, while I didn't want it to happen (and apparently, it didn't) it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Inconvenient, yes, but we'd make it through.

I have so much to be thankful for! I have a roof over my head. I have plenty of food to eat. I have a healthy husband who treats me with respect and a beautiful, healthy, happy daughter. I have a job, and even though it gets stressful and frustrating, there are many these days who can't say that. I have a wonderful, Spirit-filled church with a true man of God as a pastor and people who care about me.

(Oh, and wonderful bloggy friends! Hello!)

But sometimes, all of that seems to not matter so much. We get out of focus.

We begin to focus on the wrong things - the economy, the cold weather, the infighting in our families.

I told Jason today that I wished sometimes that the holidays wouldn't come. It isn't because I don't have anything under the tree for my child - her new, candy-apple-red Nintendo DS Lite came in today! - it was more because the situations in my family are making the traditional Christmas celebration almost impossible.

(Oh lawd. Here come the tears.)

He looked at me, and told me that maybe I was focusing on the wrong part of the holidays.

And he was right.

Really, as much as family celebrations are a part of Christmas, that isn't really the most important thing. I have to remember that we celebrate Christ's birth, and I can do that in my very own heart, even without anyone around.

It saddens me to think that Christmas may just be the three of us, but if I have to pull away from others to be able to keep my heart focused on Christ, I just may have to do it. I have resolved that my home is going to be peaceful, in as much as I have control over that. And sometimes, that means keeping out the turmoil from without just as much as keeping the peace within.

I've got so many different thoughts and emotions swirling around in my heart right now - so many questions.

It's hard to keep focused on the most important things when you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. But if I don't keep that focus, this weight I carry might just pin me to the ground.

Told you I needed to be able to blog about other stuff

Man, am I ever glad I got those memes out of the way yesterday. Because today is a whole new chapter.

Remember the The Amazing Technicolor Dream Van?

(I was going to post a picture, but I guess I was so THANKFUL not to have to drive it anymore that I took it off my computer. You'll just have to click on the link to refresh your memory.)

(Back? Good.)

So, last spring I was blessed to procure the car I'd really always wanted, and put away the van. It was a good thing - there was no air conditioner, and I was slightly embarrassed to pull up to interviews and news stories, dripping with sweat, and exit a vehicle that looked like a box of Crayolas.

Man, am I ever shallow.

Anyway - the point is, I haven't had to drive that van in over a year. And, up until last summer, it was a "backup" vehicle. Amanda drove it for a while after she'd wrecked her car, and my mom borrowed it for I remember not what reason.

But, in the time of rising gas prices and not-rising salaries, both my mother and my sister repeatedly ran the gas tank VERY low. And so, one summer night last year, as my mom was using the van to ferry stuff to her storage room here in town, the fuel pump quit. My dad - the mechanic - said it was probably (at least partly) due to having to work so hard to get the last little bits of fuel out of the tank.

Not that I'm blaming anyone, mind you. That's my dad's job.

Thankfully, she was just around the corner, literally, from my house when it happened. So they pushed it to my backyard, where it has sat for the past year. Steadfast and unmovable.

Jason has mowed the grass around it.

But last week, my dad and Jason took a couple of parts off of another van he was about to send to the scrapyard, including a fuel pump and an air conditioner condenser. And Jason spent the past few days repairing The Amazing Technicolor Dream Van, which, since it has been immobile for a year, has now added "pollen green" to its list of colors.

And I was all, "Now we can sell it!" And Jason was all "We can sell my Jeep, and I can drive the van!"

It has been, shall we say, a bone of contention betwixt us.

Because I feel it would be slightly "emasculating" for Jason to drive the van. The Jeep is cool! It's macho! And it's all one color!

Like I said. Shallow.

Well, Jason seems to be getting his wish. Because yesterday as he pulled into the driveway after a trip to Memphis (wherein he found that all the stuff in the freezer at the auction was ruined, thanks to a tripped breaker) all manner of steam started spewing from beneath his hood.

Because it seems that one of the pulleys on the engine (you know, the round things that hold on the belt) had bent, and, in addition to freeing the one belt from its important place in engine operations, cut into the metal pipe attached to the water pump.

So, now we're down a belt. And a pulley. And most likely a water pump. And hopefully nothing else. Because, remember, we just spent a couple hundred dollars on that Jeep, replacing the alternator and its bracket when he was in South Carolina.

Unfortunately, the van wasn't quite ready for Jason to drive it this morning. The tags had expired in February, and by the time he got home, the tag office was closed.

(He also tried the "We haven't charged the air conditioner" ploy with me, but I reminded him that I'd driven PLENTY of miles in that van with no AC. Don't even start that junk!)

My parents came to get Anna Marie last night, and my dad drove the van back to his house to put a vacuum on the AC system to make sure it will hold the freon. And Jason said, "Do you mind if I take your car to work tomorrow?" And I responded, "Um, do I really have a choice?" Because why would he even ASK? I can walk to work. If I need to go somewhere while I'm here, I have use of a company car. And his workplace is 30 miles away. Ergo, common sense would dictate that I'm hoofing it for the next two days.

And so I did - down to the court house (oh, don't feel bad, it's only about 3/4 of a mile from my house) and to my office. And I'll be hoofing it home and back for lunch, and then doing the same thing (minus the tag trip) tomorrow.

But, I'm trying to look on the bright side. Yes, things are difficult right now. But we just fixed the van two days ago. And we didn't have to pay for those parts (which would've cost about $400) because they came off a van my dad was going to junk anyway. And Jason did the work himself, so there was no labor cost. And Jason can take my car to work, because I can very easily walk and since school hasn't started yet, I don't have to worry about getting Anna Marie there.

And it might be hot outside, but the sun is shining. And I can wear capris and flip flops to work, so it isn't like I have to walk over to my office in hose and heels.

And yes, school starts next week, but I've bought almost all of her supplies already. And she's been so blessed by a lady at Jason's job, that I don't have to buy her any new clothes!

Since we've been exposed to some new music at Cornerstone Church, Jason's gotten into the habit of finding the new songs on the 'net and loading them onto his Zune. But there's been one that I spent a good bit of time last night after he went to bed trying to find, with no luck. But today, as the lyrics run through my head, I can't help but think that my search was not totally in vain.

Because it talks about how God is able to do "exceedingly, abundantly above all that we could ask or think." And about His love washing over us. And right now, that's what I need to remember - that He's got everything under control, and He loves me very much.

Besides - I've been unable to stop my hand from entering the box of Lucky Charms and grabbing a few bites every time I've passed by the last few days (blame stress!) and all this exercise can't help but do me good.

On being proactive

Y'all, I have a confession to make.

I have a tendency to be reactive, not proactive.

Scratch that. I have a tendency to be procrastinative (is that even a word? I guess not, since spell check is going haywire over it). Basically, I procrastinate like crazy, which I learned a couple of years ago is a manifestation of my worry problem.

Except for a few instances (like when I started Weight Watchers nearly three years ago) I don't do something about a problem I see. I just wallow in it, and worry about it, and never get much accomplished with it.

But in the last few days, I've been taught a little something about being proactive.

I have a friend, we'll call her "M." (This is an actual friend, not like "a friend of mine would like to know blah, blah, blah," wherein the friend is actually me, thinly veiled.)

Anyway - in the last few days, M has been telling me about some things she's not satisfied with in her life. But instead of just complaining about it, she's doing something about it.

She feels like she needs to lose a few pounds, so she got out the exercise bike and treadmill, and started watching her portions, and she's lost some of it. Her present employment situation is becoming unacceptable, for a myriad of reasons, so she's working on her resume.

And I am so proud of her - and so ashamed of myself.

Because there are some things in my life which I need to accomplish, but my worry causes me to procrastinate and continue to suffer on.

But M has inspired me. Instead of just worrying that I didn't have enough time to get Jason and Anna Marie ready to go out of town, I got a head start on the packing and laundry this morning. On Wednesdays, I have a staff meeting where I have to tell my publisher what I'm putting on the front page next week. Instead of waiting until the last minute (about 20 minutes before the meeting) to get my list together, I've already started on it and begun organizing my information.

Instead of being disappointed that my husband took me out for an early anniversary date last night, and treated a special year - our 10th - just like almost every other date we've ever had (dinner at Chili's, a trip to an electronics store, a trip to Walmart, and home) I'm going to find a - nice - way to tell him that when he gets back from his trip, I'm going to have a proper celebration planned.

(Because really, as much as I'd like to believe that my husband is going to plan something special, let's face it, he isn't. I've had that illusion since 1995, and it has happened about once. And that involved him surprising me by flying to Memphis on my 21st birthday to present me with an engagement ring. And he didn't have any plan beyond booking the flight, and just gave me the ring in the parking lot of the mall I had taken him to. So I gave it back to him and drove to a park, and made him get on one knee. Because did you know how he originally asked me to marry him? Over the phone, when we were in our dorms, and he said he had been wondering what I'd say if he asked me to marry him.)

(Seriously.)

(No, I'm not bitter. Not at all.)

So, that's the new me - proactive. It won't happen overnight. Old habits are hard to break. But, with the help of the good Lord, I'm going to start taking charge of more things in my life.

(Really. Not bitter at all.)

A sobering perspective

So, I was all set to blog about how upset I was that yesterday, Kroger wouldn't take the coupons I'd so lovingly printed off the internet.

And how their short-sightedness had cost me an extra $5 on my grocery bill. And how that extra $5 I spent just made me sick to my stomach when I left the store, and so angry that I contacted three - yes, three! - different companies to complain when I got home.

And then, I found this story on the internet. And when I got finished reading it, I really was sick to my stomach. And even more so, when I closed the window, and saw on my desktop wallpaper the face of my beautiful, well-fed daughter in her ballerina costume.

I'm fussing about spending five dollars extra at the store - five dollars extra which didn't, thank God, mean the difference between eating or not eating - when I have so much else to be thankful for.

Did you know that when we first got married, sometimes all I had to spend at the store, in total, was $5 a week?

We ate lots of condensed soup and hot dogs back then.

Now, I don't have to worry so much about that. I send my kid to dance class. I paid pretty good money to send her to PRESS Camp for one day while we were at the beach. And my biggest worry when it comes to her nutrition is that she's eating too much, not that her growth is stunted because she's eating too little.

God help us all to be more thankful for what we take for granted - and help us to find practical ways to help those who need it the most.

This post brought to you by the letters G, O, and D.

And also lots of coffee, because I've been up since 4 a.m. Happy Monday to me!

So, the ever-challenging Heather has been brave enough to share her personal testimony over the past week, and now is challenging her readers to do likewise.

And, as one of her readers, I guess that means me. Yikes!

It isn't that I'm ashamed of God, or His place in my life. It's just I haven't thought that my testimony was "exciting" enough.

(Yeah, last time I thought I had no testimony, I was a teenager, and I totaled my car three days later and almost died. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson.)

Really, I've been in church since before I was born. My grandfather, several aunts, and mother are all ministers. I spent my childhood traveling all over the country, in one beaten-up vehicle after another, so my mom could fulfill her call as a "singing evangelist."

Then what do I grow up and do? Attend a Christian college, and marry an ordained minister.

I can't get away from this God stuff, even if I wanted.

But you know what I've learned in the past few months, especially? That just because I got saved at the age of five, sitting in the floor of my bedroom, with my mother and her object lesson involving construction paper hearts, doesn't mean I can't learn a thing or three from God.

My family, y'all, is pretty messed up. There are some folks right now, that are seriously acting a fool. I mean, seriously. They are taking an already not-ideal situation, and "stirring the pot" to make it more than it has to be. They can't deal with their own business, so they feel compelled to get into someone else's and see what they can do to make it more exciting - at least for themselves. They apparently don't care about what happens to those they leave in their wake when they move on to their next drama.

They're destroying themselves, and they don't even realize it.

I'll admit, it can be somewhat "fun" to sit around when a crisis is ongoing and go over and over it. I know, because I spent the entirety of my summer last year doing just that. In a morbid sort of way, it satisfies some need within us as humans. But it doesn't profit us one whit.

It's like our pastor said yesterday in Sunday School, some folks can't stand the quiet because it would cause them to stop and think about where their lives are now and where they are headed. And that's the predicament that a segment of my family is in right now.

There are folks in my family who operate solely out of fear, out of a need for affirmation, or out of a need for self-preservation. And really, aren't those all just about the same thing?

And if it wasn't for God, I'd be in the same boat they are.

As we were singing one of the songs during worship yesterday, a thought hit me. The lyrics talked about wandering aimlessly in the dark, before God led us into the light. Most of the time, people use that terminology to describe a life of sin and disobedience. You know what hit me? My darkness might not have been what most folks term "sin" - I've never used drugs, never been drunk, and I was a virgin when I got married.

(Yeah, let that last one sink in for a minute.)

My darkness is this legacy that my family has created.

My darkness would be following in the footsteps of some of my relatives, even those who claim to know the Truth, and choosing to live in fear and selfishness.

Self-preservation as a motivation is a natural instinct, but it denies God the chance to provide for us. Fear isn't in His will for us either - He wants us to live free from fear, dependent upon Him. Fear can't live in an atmosphere like that.

So that's where God met me this time. I wasn't out in the bars, or cheating on my husband, or even on my taxes. I was fighting against those things which some members of my family have chosen over The Way, The Truth, and The Life.

With God's help, I have chosen the "more excellent way" that Paul speaks of. I have chosen light over darkness. I have chosen to rely on God, and not my own schemes and manipulations, to help me make it through. And I have chosen to embrace the silence, and to let it force me to introspection and prayer, rather than creating a constant drama so that my soul's cry is drowned out by the noise.

These are conscious choices that I have to make every day.

Heather's challenge is to testify as to how God meets us where we are. We aren't always in the same place, but right now, right here is where I am. He's so good, He knows exactly where we are and how to get there.

She's even adding an incentive, in the form of surprises, because she knows that it sometimes takes a bribe to get us to do the right thing.

And now, I repeat that challenge to you: where has God met you? You don't have to have a "Damascus Road" conversion experience (although there's certainly nothing wrong with God meeting you there) but start to think about the more subtle ways that He meets you at the point of your need. Then share them with us! I don't know about y'all, but I need all the encouragement and strength I can get!

A meditation on mothers

Since we've just celebrated Mother's Day, let me leave you with a thought.

I was reading in the Old Testament recently, about the death of Moses. And I was thinking about how he started out life: the son of slaves, destined to be a slave himself, or worse, to be killed at the hands of their captors in his infancy.

But his mother - she refused to stand back and let that happen. Even though all her neighbors were losing their baby boys to Pharaoh's edict, she did not believe that hers had to be one of them.

So, she did something that to us today (and I'm sure to the other Hebrew women at the time) to be a little cra-zazy. She put the baby in a basket, floated him downstream, and put his big sister in charge of looking after him.

Of course, we all know the plan God had - for him to become Pharaoh's grandson, but at the same time, to be raised in a Hebrew household. His upbringing brought him both extraordinary privilege, and extraordinary compassion for the suffering of his people.

But the thing that stood out to me the most was this thought: when his mom sent him off in the basket, she had no clue what his future would be. At least Mary had been forewarned that the baby she carried was God's son, and she knew that eventually he'd die for her sins and ours. But Moses' mom didn't have that insight. All she knew was that she loved her son, and she would do anything in the world to protect him - even if it meant that he'd grow up in someone else's arms.

So what's my point? That we have no idea the plans that lay ahead for our children. Anna Marie might grow up and be a great SAHM, raising a gaggle of Godly children. Or, she could become a great scientist who discovers the cure for cancer. We never know what lies down the road.

So what is our responsibility? Just like Moses' mom, we need to do everything in our power to raise them right - to instill in them a sense of right and wrong, to show them a good Godly example, and to fight for them whenever there is a need.

Because we never know what our child might be called upon to do.

A little something off my chest

(Subtitle: hit the deck. She's baring her soul again.)

Ok. So, it's late here. I need to be in bed. But I can't sleep. Because I'm writing a dang blog post in my head.

Better out than in, as Shrek would say.

Some people who know me personally might think I'm relieved that the church is closing. I've spent parts of the last few years discouraged about our lack of growth. I'm a VERY impatient person. I want things to happen, like, yesterday. And when they don't, I start doubting.

God. Myself. My husband's concern for our family's best interests.

In the last post, I commented that I was having to trust in God and in Jason's ability to hear from Him. Now, don't get me wrong - I don't think that God is any respecter of persons. I think I can hear from Him just as well as Jason can.

But, I also know that Jason isn't like me. He's calm. Oh my gosh, is he ever. He's the complete opposite of me. While I'm sitting at work today having an anxiety attack, wondering what we're going to do next, Jason isn't bothered. He knows that God will take care of us, and show us what we're going to do next.

I know that if I'm the one making this decision, not only am I likely to get impatient and make the wrong one, I'll end up second guessing it and driving myself and everyone around me up the wall.

And I wonder if this is all my fault. Did I have enough faith? Did I work hard enough to bring people into the church? Was I friendly enough to visitors when they came in?

It's just like 2002 all over again - that was the year Jason and I lost our jobs, both connected to the church, within three days of each other. In hindsight, I know that it wasn't our fault. There were, literally, people plotting to get us out of the way. (A conspiracy!)

And, I've spent lots of time second guessing our decision to come out here to live. Because Jason was so paralyzed with hurt over what had happened to us, he couldn't make any decision at all. He spent six weeks trying in vain to find a job. We even went and interviewed at a church, only to realize that what they wanted wasn't what we could offer. So I told him that I didn't know what he was going to do, but the baby and I were coming to Mississippi.

Did God take care of us after we got out here? Sure He did. Even when it came to church. For the first year, we attended a great church half an hour from here that helped us to heal and grow so that we could get past the hurt we'd suffered. Once I was once again under solid biblical teaching, I realized that in our old church situation, so much emphasis had been placed on the wrong things that I was starving spiritually. I was chasing after the wrong things, things that were temporary, because that's what the leadership at that church was doing. And Jason and I were part of that leadership.

When we were married, I thought I knew how our life was going to turn out. (Yeah, don't we all?) After four years, that life I thought I was going to have was gone - through no fault of our own.

Will we ever get back to that place where church is the ONLY thing in our lives? Where the ONLY people we know are in the church? I don't know. I don't know if Jason will ever be full-time staff at a church again. I don't know if I'll ever be identified as a minister's wife again. At this point, I can't even wrap my mind around starting over at a new church, with a new group of people. And having to explain to them how we ended up here.

Although Jason wouldn't agree with me on this point, I find it rather humiliating, like we've failed. I read our college alumni magazine, and see the great things that our schoolmates are doing for God, and I wonder - what did we do that was so wrong, that we've been denied success in that arena?

Maybe what I need to come to grips with is not just my concept of what "church" is - because "church as usual" isn't sounding real appealing to me right now. Maybe I need a new perspective on what "success" is too.

Don't worry - I don't expect to be on this train of thought any longer.

I just needed to get a few things off my chest.

Goodnight.

Naked to the world

My eating habits, at least.

I've taken up a challenge posted by The Amazing Shrinking Mom and posting my food intake on Fit Day for all the world to see.


My Fit Day Journal

Read it. I'll do the weeping.

It's helping keep me honest, and also helping me see a better breakdown of where I'm spending my POINTS. (And no, I don't know why they always write it in all caps. They just do.)

For instance, if you'd seen yesterday's journal, you'd now be keen to the fact that I ate half a chicken at a church cookout yesterday.

(Yes, you read right. Half a chicken. That's the problem with those leg quarters. Eat two of them, and you've downned half the bird. I'm not proud.)

Anyway, Mel (The Amazing Shrinking Mom herself) has challenged her readers to post to Fit Day for 10 days. We're on day 5. I can't believe I've stuck with it this long!

I'm also using Diet Facts to help me find nutritional info for some of the foods I'm eating. It's pretty awesome.

Maybe I'll do a little Melz World Challenge of my own - anyone game?