Momentarily

That early morning phone call disturbed the peace I thought was mine. It was a Friday in spring in 1995 when I was 23. My dad had suffered a "fatal cardiac event", and first responders were unsuccessful in their attempts to bring him back.

My world was muted in stunned silence while tremors of sadness and insecurity roared and vibrated uncontrollably at my core.

Through belief in God and faith in his plans, I was able to rebound and redirect, but Dad's death changed the way I lived. I was so grateful for the brightness and fullness with which my dad lived, and yet his sudden departure seemed to cloud my joy and hollow my hope.

No matter the complexities of my motivations, I like to think I've lived my adult life with intentional diligence, not taking anything for granted.

With grace, and also to a fault, I've spoken the truth. Likewise, with grace, and also to a  fault, I've opted to withhold it. But I've never lost consciousness that our days are vaporous and moments are fleeting.

One Friday morning this past spring, a mid-morning phone call disrupted the easy-going day I thought was mine. My co-worker had suffered a "fatal cardiac event", but first responders  successfully resuscitated him after several minutes had passed.

My day was paused as frenzied concern and critical priorities forced actions to fast-forward and caused thoughts to rewind.

I sat in the waiting room with his daughter in her twenties and pondered the parallels ... realizing it was only in those dreadful few moments of heart attack and cardiopulmonary resuscitation that our stories were similar. I never got another word with my dad, and she had already been back with hers to exchange several words and a few hugs. Their story was different. But the same.

I am 47 - the age my dad was when he died. This timely juxtaposition is not easily dismissed.
I consider fatal cardiac events, and I contemplate the resuscitation of heart and lungs.
Revival.

Over the past six months, I've watched as my co-worker - through wise choices and skilled therapy - has been rehabilitated and restored to an even better life than before. His body is strong and healthy. His mind is miraculously unharmed. His spirit is beautifully reformed with a humbly bold approach to his work and relationships.

For years I've lived as if the next breath were my last.
Perpetually processing the potential of  passing away.

Today I choose to live as though this breath is my first.
Recently resurrected.
Revived once again.

I want more than to merely survive another blip in the linear advance. I want to live renewed - thriving in breaths of purpose and rhythms of praise. Hopeful and unafraid that life is mist. Determined that the riches of wisdom won't be missed.

For these last 23 years I have lived with a sense that my time was borrowed ... burdened by the notion that things are uncertain, circumstances can change in an instant, and death is just around the corner. More fear than faith, honestly.

As I begin my third set of 23 years, I choose life: resurrection and abundance ... realizing things on earth are still uncertain, circumstances still change in an instant, but death is in the past. Less fear, more faith. Honestly.

Galatians 2:20 - "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Parched or Pretty

 A meditation on Jeremiah 17.

Thus says the Lord:
“Cursed is the man who trusts in man
and makes flesh his strength...

Hopeless is the woman...
... who demands her own way for happiness.
... who must rely upon her own comfort for peace.
... who depends upon the approval of others for her validation.
... who strives in her own energy to accomplish her goals and succeed.

 ... whose heart turns away from the Lord.

Doomed is she ...
... whose heart turns away from the Lord.
... whose mind is distracted by self-centered negativity.
... whose body is weary from restless busyness.
... whose soul searches for satisfaction apart from God.

He is like a shrub in the desert,
and shall not see any good come.

Her life is brittle and rigid,
rough and dry,
stiff, abrasive and empty.
She will bear no fruit.

 He shall dwell in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land.

She'll continue to abide and seek sustenance from sources that ultimately cannot provide.
In futility, she'll give everything she has to a lifestyle that will render her
withered, waterless, and alone.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
whose trust is the Lord.

Happy is the woman...
... who denies herself to find joy.
... who relies upon her Heavenly Father for peace and comfort.
... who depends upon the truth of her adoption in Christ for her validation.
... who treasures her weaknesses - knowing God will accomplish His goals in His strength.

He is like a tree planted by water,
that sends out its roots by the stream ...

Her life is supple and secure,
resiliently grounded,
sensitive, sweet and strong,
refreshingly pleasant.
. 
She'll continue to abide and seek sustenance from the One True Source of Life.

... and does not fear when heat comes ...

Even when the trials come, she doesn't worry.
When pain lingers,
and problems persist,
she is not ruined - she finds courage and hope.

...  for its leaves remain green,

For His Life flows through her.
She abides in Him. And He abides in Her.
His Word dwells richly within her and she keeps in step with His Spirit.

... and is not anxious in the year of drought,

So she has nothing to fear. No worries.
She puts no faith in circumstances.
She is patient and does not grow weary.

... for it does not cease to bear fruit.”
With passionate purpose, she'll give everything she has
to this beautifully sacrificial life that will render her
fertile, flourishing and fruitful.

Your Attention Please

It’s a pain to maintain, right?

I cook. Folks eat. I clean.

I wash. Folks live. I wash  again.

I buy. Folks consume. I buy more.

Sometimes I just want to push pause: “Everyone just have a seat, and stop needing food and shelter!”

Many tasks I prefer to avoid, or at best, delegate to others. Toilet cleaning, yard work, stain soaking, gardening, sweeping the crumbs – every hour on the hour hello. Ultimately, these things are my responsibility, though. And it is to my gain to maintain.

But it just seems like so much. Don’t we all contribute to the mess? Couldn’t it be everyone’s job? Nasty pots, overgrown lawns, ruined garments, thorny weeds, cluttered spaces. This is the result of it being “everyone’s job”.

Because “every one’s job” becomes no one’s job.  The only way to work effectively as a team is to divide the labor and complete the joy.

In our church, the people who have been doing the “job” of ministering to young adults have moved on to their next assignment. And yet our task remains … to be maintained by those ultimately responsible.

It’s unrealistic to push pause on all youth ministry until the next leader is discovered. Ministering to young adults has now become “every one’s job” -which, if we’re not careful – will become no one’s job. No one has to do it all, or even a large part of it. But if everyone contributes a little something, the young folks won’t miss a beat, and we can all find fulfillment in a job well done.

The most selfish part of me wishes we could just toss some cash around, and check it off.

But we don’t need money. We need investors.

You may need to choose Sunday mornings. You can encourage meaningful conversations. You can serve the breakfast and take out the trash. You can give side hugs and happily listen to the lives.

Perhaps you will choose monthly Sunday evening fellowships. You can offer snacks and a safe place. You can enjoy watching the fun. You can engage with enthusiasm.

Maybe you can provide food for these activities. Munching facilitates mingling. Mingling builds community. You can change the world with cinnamon rolls and pizza.

You might invest a week at summer camp. Sharing life with these amazing young adults will inspire great things for years and lifetimes to come.

You can pray. Pray for the leaders God is raising up, calling out, and sending our way. Pray for these precious young people who’ve been entrusted to us. Pray for a hunger for the Lord, protection against the enemy’s schemes, and courage to stand firm.

It can feel like a pain to maintain, but it is for our gain to maintain!

Unlike the chores around my house, every single one of these tasks is ENJOYABLE.  And instead of being UNdone the minute they are done, these efforts have lasting, eternal value!

Undoubtedly, God is leading you to do something. Step up. Raise your hand. Push Play.

Be a part of the blessing today.

Special Dedication

Mother: to care for or protect; to act maternally toward.

Motherhood: the qualities or spirit of a mother.

I am a mother.

I've birthed a child or two.

I've miscarried a tiny precious baby.

I've had more C-sections than wisdom would advise.

I've adopted a child. 

I am the full embodiment of the noun mother.

The world is filled with noun-mothers. Their kids play at my house. Their kids are in my choir. Their kids teach my kids. Their kids are in class with my kids. In some cases their kids are lonely or uneducated or fending for themselves because life is hard.

This fallen world allows noun-mothers to exist and be honored to some extent without always being verb-mothers.
And God's creative providence allows for women to be verb-mothers without actually being noun-mothers.

Common Ground

I am a griper and complainer. I’m sorry. I try hard not to be, but critical commentary seems to just leap off my tongue if I’m not careful. 

But there are a couple topics you will seldom hear me complain about in public. 

At the top of the list is my husband. And here’s why. Out of all the men in the world, I chose him. No one forced me to marry him. I did that all by my big-girl self.  

He’s not perfect, but he’s mine. So when an issue arises, my response matters. Very little is accomplished by verbally dogging him. It might make me feel better in that tiny warped moment, but it certainly doesn’t lead to a solution. 

I must embrace the idea that the solution to our problem likely involves me.
(I mean he totally needs to change his ways, but …)

What Not to Say

When Landen was 5, we were shopping and he saw a woman whose torso indicated she may or may not have been expecting a baby.

With no social filters in place, he pointed and exclaimed, "Wow! Look how big her belly is!"

Heavens to sunshine, I was mortified. One minute later and two aisles over - in hushed tones - I tried to explain that we never, ever point our fingers at people. And we only say words that encourage.

Cut to the following week's grocery run. Cue extra-large person numero two.

Landen smiles up at me with a self-imposed sense of skill-mastery and finesse. He extends his closed fist toward our fellow shopper of girth, and cheers: "His belly is AWESOME!!"

Just Please.

I know.

Don't.

Anyway ...

Compare and Contrast

There are so many folks who drink health shakes. I know this because they post about it constantly. They post photos, statistics and earnest proclamations of success and happiness.

Some "friends" have even sent invitations to shake parties, and announcements of shake specials.

Gut honest: (pun intended) I find this mildly annoying.

Book Review: Atonement Child

If you know me, you've heard me talk about "my Kathy". I use this possessive modifier as a term of endearment. I plan to love her forever and even though she knows me through and through, she still loves me well. She is smart and thoughtful and quick to laugh. She is a bridge-builder ... constantly connecting people and resources to encourage and inspire.

Welcome my dear friend, Kathy, as she shares her response to her most recent read. -cdj

In the past months, while trying to avoid the details of the Gosnell trial, I've prayed with someone who had an abortion, I've watched the 180 Movie, and have read Atonement Child.  God speaks in themes, doesn't He?

Have you ever really thought about abortion?

Thirteen

I'm thankful for family road trips ... opportunities to be a helper in the car:)

 

Recipe Rut

In the past several days, half a dozen women have mentioned to me that they are in a menu rut.

"Me too!  Me too!"

Perhaps you are trying to stick more closely to a budget, or as one lady put it, "If I make spaghetti one more time, I think I'll just die."

Last week I tried some new recipes, but they found less than enthusiastic review from my family. Either I'm boring and fix quesadillas and taco soup every other day, or I try new things and despite the energy and time, few folks are thrilled. I'm tired of coming up with the menu and falling short.

So this week, I canvased the 7 oldest members of my family. They each chose a main dish, two vegetables (or a vegetable and a salad), and an optional fruit. Here's what they came up with.

Flashback Friday

GIVING CREDIT WHERE IT'S DUE

(Originally posted April 2008)

I was at a meeting this week where we were asked to list our favorite physical feature and favorite personality trait ... concerning ourselves.

Long pause.

Women all across the room were groaning with hesitancy. One poor woman spoke sheepishly about her hands. "I guess...if I HAVE to pick something I like..." she started. The same spirit of obligated humility embodied most of the remarks. A few of my fellow funsters implemented our tried and true defense mechanism. "I'll say my eyes...or any body part that doesn't gain weight!"

Flashback Friday

(Originally posted Summer, 2008)



If you feel swamped when it's time to come up with a menu or grocery list, you will rejoice in this resource. (The cost is just $1.25 a week!) I usually love coming up with menus and shopping lists, but I was feeling like a I was cooking the same several dishes over and over again. And my food started tasting the same. My spaghetti sauce was only about two clicks off my chili. You know?

This site allows you to download pdf files that you can use as your weekly menu/shopping list. Two pages: one with seven meals & simple directions; the other lists ingredients by aisle with approximate cost -also includes necessary staples.

Out of the seven meals, 1 or 2 are what I would consider "snoozers". Like DiGiorno Pizza or Eggo Waffles with scrambled eggs. 3 of the recipes are usually run'o'the mill kid-friendly fare. The other 2 or 3 will strike me as main dishes I would never, ever prepare. But without fail, the kids gobble them up. Also, Landen can cook almost any of the recipes. He is THAT talented and they are THAT simple.

If you're doing e-mealz already, feel free to leave a comment whether positive or negative. We can handle it:)

Thank You, God, for e-mealz. Are You tired of hearing me say this? Thank You.

Song for Sunday

For Me

A Good Grief

Be honest.  How would you react?  Even if you could guard your facial expressions, what would go through your mind and heart?

What if I told you I struggled with alcoholism?  Would you think less of me?

What if I told you I had an abortion when I was younger?

What if I struggled with outbursts of anger?  Would you want me to keep your kids?

Today

My favorite day might be Thursday.

It seems to have a productive pace... in a "light at the end of the tunnel" way.

For years, I've often gathered with other women on Thursday evenings to learn and discuss Biblical truths.  So I look forward to this evening of purpose and focus.

AND my dear Kathy often posts "Thoughts for Thursday" on her blog.  She captures beauty with her camera, couples it with a verse of Scripture, and shares.  Generously genius:)

Feel free to pop over to her blog and enjoy the beauty for a moment.

Thank You, God, for today.  You are good in every way!

Stomp

Last week Philip and I attended STOMP in concert.  It was a great show.  Very impressive.  If you've never heard of them, here is a sampling.

STOMP video

This ensemble of shabbily clad musicians fill the auditorium with percussive rhythm...and ne'er once resort to conventional instruments.  Match boxes, brooms, paint cans, and inner tubes are fair game.  One particular selection was performed with the use of a large garbage bag, a plastic grocery bag, and a paper lunch sack.

One of the most impressively synchronized numbers of the night involved Zippo lighters.  Amazing.

As I marveled at the talent represented on stage, I wondered what disciplines - or combination of such - would lead an artist to THIS concert tour?  I would guess that dance (tap and modern), drum corps, and tumbling??  Perhaps even a study of history and tribal celebrations.  Such an intrigue.

It was wonderful to spectate for almost two hours at the seamless, continuous sputtering of precisely executed and artfully blended sounds.  But the music educator in me was thrilled by the lead performer's ability to involve the audience.  Hundreds of us echo clapped on his NON-verbal command.  He said nothing.  Just animated facial expressions accompanied by exaggerated body movements.  He clapped twice.  We clapped twice.  He clapped a passage of syncopation.  We echoed his line almost perfectly.  I was amazed.  With no spoken instruction or direction he was able to clearly communicate to a vast audience.  We collectively varied our volume, our tempo and rhythm...together...in one accord.

Pink Ribbons

Before October is over..... may I recommend this novel for you to enjoy in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

ReCONSTRUCTING Natalie

Laura Jensen Walker
Women of Faith 2006 Novel of the Year

A friend of mine offered me this book when she heard I hadn't read much fiction.  Her comment was, "Sometimes you just want to read before bed, instead of watching TV...this is an uplifting, entertaining, easy read that I really enjoyed."

Well.  She was right.  The chapters are subdivided so even the tiniest of reading opportunities can be concluded with a feeling of closure.  I will say, the plot was a little predictable, but I enjoyed getting to know the characters.   I was also intrigued by the author's tell-it-like-it-is approach to the sensitive subject of breast cancer.

:)

In the Club

This week I attended my first book club meeting.  Ever.                                                                                                                     There is a group of women here in town who have been meeting regularly for years, enjoying clever hospitality and rich discussion of classic literature.  Different ones have suggested I join them many times.  This time their invitation arrived during a season of less-than-saturated schedules and heightened hunger for good literature and meaningful discussion.  So I joined the club.

I was nervous, at first, about going.  I had read the book, and done a tiny bit of research about the author, and read a review or two.  But I knew these women to be intelligent, serious, and passionate.  I wondered if the discussion would branch into such complexities that I might not be able to navigate a response.   I wondered if I should get the cliff notes or see if there's a movie.  Silly girl.

Just in case, I prepared some open-ended, redirecting responses to offer if times got tough.  Lots of deep sighs, and dramatic nods of my head followed by "Yes...isn't that interesting....I'd love to hear your thoughts on that." (All of this would be delivered while cradling my chin with a bent pointer finger and thumb.)