Field of Dreams

Since the tickets were a gift, we weren't sure exactly what to expect. We could tell by the row and seat numbers that we would be sitting pretty close to home plate, so we were super excited for the 1:30 first pitch.

While Philip checked locations for parking options, I made sure to read up on guidelines and restrictions concerning food and handbags. We decided to grab a couple sausage biscuits from a drive through and quickly eat them in the rented parking spot before walking to the stadium toting our carefully packed almonds and cashews. Our plan was to splurge for a refillable souvenir cup in order to remain hydrated without spending a fortune.

We were dutiful in our efforts toward ensuring we had what we would need. You know: "So we can relax and enjoy the game."

Once we arrived at our seats and sat down, an usher greeted us. "May I interest you in a beer or soda?" Philip and I replied with a tidy, unified, "No, thanks." After a few seconds of pause, the usher said, "You don't even know what your ticket includes, do you?"

He proceeded to escort us down a private staircase which opened into an enormous restaurant housing a grand buffet of roast beef, coconut-crusted talapia, arugula salad, cheese cake, made-to-order crepes, and a full service of unlimited beverages. He clarified that we were welcome to come and go as we please throughout the entire game. Additionally, we had the option of simply requesting items to be brought to our seats. Back on our row just behind the on-deck circle, a server passed by our aisle every few minutes offering more drinks and snacks.

Everything we needed was already provided - more than we could have ever consumed. 

I must have looked ridiculous arriving to my plush seat with our regulation tote of assorted tree nuts. And those sausage biscuits gobbled down in the front seat of our car? Also ridiculous.

So because Philip doesn'tchat when the Rangers are playing, I had time to listen to what God was saying to me. How often do I scrounge and scarf to supply my perceived needs? So much energy is spent hashing out the guidelines - I scurry and skimp and cram stuff into compartments of my life hoping my provisions are compliant and sufficient. In the scope of eternity, my anxious posture is ridiculous. 

God promises to meet our needs, not according to limitations and regulations, but according to his riches! He has unlimited nourishment, boundless access and extravagant grace, and it is mine. I didn't pay for it. It is simply a marvelous gift. 

Wisdom, joy and peace come as I stop worrying about what I'll eat or drink (or where I'll park) like it depends on me, and begin again to walk humbly and confidently into His invitations fully aware that everything I need is ready to go.

Will I need to offer forgiveness? Got it. How will that work out? No idea, but He has a way. What if someone needs my patience? Not a problem. How will we be able to serve that person when we're already weary? He is able. Will there be enough? Always. The answer is yes and amen.

Do I need to worry about __________? Not at all. It has been taken care of.

You know what we can do? Receive it and enjoy.

Philippians 4:19 "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus."

How NOT To Drown

How NOT to drown when life gets drifty and dark and deep.

1. Admit to yourself that you are grieving and afraid. This helps make so much sense of your feelings and reactions. 

2. Tether yourself to the truth that God is good and kind and wise … which means we grieve with hope and we shall not fear. *This doesn't necessarily change one single thing in the dark and drifty deepness, but it keeps you afloat for sure.

3. Tell a trusted friend or two about your overwhelm, and ask them to pray over you. You will recognize the Holy relief - like floating hip-high in the ocean, breathing in several seconds of fresh, relaxed air before plunging back down to  resume the position of neck-deep, splashy-faced water-treading.

4. Say no. Be careful not to isolate, but carefully carve out respites of time for yourself and God and maybe a choice human. A 5-minute pause can preserve your peace. A 50-minute break from perceived obligation can preserve your life.

5. Say yes. God knows your situation and I would imagine He has good stuff (glory type stuff) that He wants to help you be and do … even before there is rescue or resolution. So get golden and look for ways you can treat people in the way you need it most: reach out, pray, encourage, help.

6. Keep talking to your counselor/therapist. Objective listening, expert insight and practical strategies for growth and healing are WAY more valuable than anything else you were going to spend that money and time toward. WAY.

7. Keep moving. (Like literally stretch or take a walk even when you don't feel like it.) But also, keep going. This can't possibly last forever. Mark your calendar for 90 days from now, and call me. Even if circumstances still seem unchanged, we'll be able to look back and find more than one benefit emerging from this difficult and draining season. One blessing I would bet and bank on is that we'll know even more deeply than we do today that God never leaves and His love simply cannot fail.

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper; 

the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

and he guided them to their desired haven.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.

Psalm 107:27b-31

Heavenly Mercies

We live an unbearable distance from the nearest Torchy's, and I love their queso more than I should. These are the facts.

After lunch, I ordered chips and queso to go. 

When it arrived, I promptly spilled the entire cup all over the table. I told Philip this was the saddest thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life. Somehow he doubted it.

Just as I was attempting to process my grief (which looked like sliding wads of napkins around to form a pitiful pond of queso in the middle of our table), a waitress stepped forward with a neat and tidy to-go bag and cheerfully inquired, "You need chips and queso to go?"

I stuttered words admitting I had already received [and squandered] my order. She listened like, "Cool, cool. But since there is nowhere to set this down (table is queso lava), can one of you take it?" Philip smiled, took the bag, and said, "Thank you so much."

I know God loves me. Every day, I know this to be true. But sometimes when the remedy to my [ridiculous] situation arrives immediately as I'm mourning the mistaken mess ... my soul feels the divine comfort of a God who sees me and who is more than capable to meet my every [real] need.

❤

The Unrest of the Story

This photo was taken nine years ago in Orlando. Ten minutes before this selfie, I had been bawling my eyes out at lunch, trying to hash out all my big feelings about life and calling and joy. 

I was overwhelmed by mediocrity and status quo. I wanted more. I wanted freedom and beauty, but when your life is intertwined in covenant with another human, you can only do so much inner pining.  You have to find a way to let them in on your upheaval. 

*And that might look like blubbering over a basket of fried shrimp across a noisy table at Bubba Gump's. "Waitress, can we have a few more napkins [again]?"

Philip heard me out, shared his own thoughts, and we walked away feeling emptied, filled, and unified. I didn't want to take this picture. But it was like the other thousand opportunities he has offered me over the years to get.over.myself. so I am grateful to have it.

One year later we were back in Orlando eating at that Hard Rock in the distance, looking at photos of baby Asa for the first time, surrendering everything in the hope of gaining something more.

I am learning to no longer fear the unrest. (Still not a fan of selfies in real time ha.)

The tilling turmoil of holy discontent is often a necessary preparation for the growth of something grand.

Memorable Days

Two decades separate my little brother's wedding from my own, but

they share the same building, 

same pews, same aisles, and many of the same people ... even the same pianist. 

But, the old ring bearer ...is the new groom.

The new groomsman ... is the old groom.

The old groomsman ...

... is the new pastor.

And the old pastor is ... missing ... and missed.

Dad died the year after he walked me down the aisle. James was seven.

Life moved on from there ... 

... and then sort of returned again. 

During the weekend of James's wedding, bits of dad's handsome character permeated the places of our togetherness:

All three of my brothers were in the same room with me several times. 

Bliss.

I could see traces of Dad.

Tim's individuality and passion for the Kingdom, 

and his ability to tell the perfect story - 

"enhanced" in just the right places to pique interest and produce laughter.

Josh's mannerisms - the way he looks through his glasses at you with kind sincerity; 

and his humility - 

he knows so much and is so very smart, 

but he is quick to listen and slow to speak, choosing to respond with more questions than answers.

James' confident smile that brightens rooms and lightens moods; 

and his love for people - 

he consistently chooses to put others first with generous grace and subtle style.

There were other reminders, too.

During the ceremony, my oldest son was an usher - and wore my dad's black Rockport dress shoes. 

The symbolism was sobering and sweet ... of filling shoes and walking paths ... legacy, heritage, and honor.

The day before the rehearsal, I looked in my closet and found Dad's black silk bow tie.
I rushed it through the dry cleaners, boxed it up, and sent it with the groomsmen on Saturday
to offer James as he dressed for the big day.
James wore it so well! There were no big acknowledgements ... it was our quiet, happy secret. 

Dad's signature touch was sweetly in our midst.

As the service concluded, the pastor blessed us with a wonderful gift. He said:

"James, twenty years ago I stood on this stage in your sister's wedding. 

In that ceremony your father shared some words that touched me so deeply. 

In fact, they had such an impact on my life,

 that I have shared his words in every wedding I've officiated over the last twenty years. 

I want to share his words with you now. 

In the few moments we've shared together tonight, 

you've made some very sincere and challenging promises to each other. 

But every day after today - you must choose to fill up your words with Christ-like actions. 

As you make your words come true each new day, in each new way, 

God will be honored and you will be blessed."

Mom couldn't have Dad by her side at James' wedding.

But how precious to have [almost] half of his grandkids on every side!

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord! 

I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever;
    with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known
    through all generations.

Job 1:21, Psalm 89:1-2

God is with us and He is for us.

And He promises as we journey through happiness and sorrow,

that not a tear is wasted. In time we'll understand.

He's painting beauty with the ashes.

Our life is in His Hands.
Casting Crowns, THRIVE

*Photo credit:

Jeannie Walker Gaut

Fitty Phil

Philip is FIFTY today.🎉

I wanted to write a bunch of wonderful words about him, but his life already speaks abundantly and clearly of generosity and joy . . .

Speechless. 😍

Except for how grateful I am to be his friend. 🙌🏼

Celebrating half a century of greatness.

That face. Cutie. Pie.

Colorado 2018

A random Sunday enjoying a full house.

The main man and his crew of kiddos.

For the love.

Night to Shine

His happy place.

"Mercy, we survived [covid &] 2020."

Fave.

Prayer for Families

Faithful Father, thank You for Your love that cannot fail.

With divine wisdom, You have carefully established the importance of family and belonging – themes of heritage, tribes, generations, and lineages drive Your story of sacrifice and promise.

And with divine grace, You have radically expanded the opportunities for family and belonging – themes of courage, commitment, adoption, and freedom blaze a trail through Your story toward a place where promises are sure, and sacrifice is an abundant way of life.

For those of us who happily know the safety, identity, and joy that are birthed in a family who is marked by Your presence, we thank You. We praise You for Your good gifts.

For those of us who have had to venture out, and move beyond our beginnings to know unconditional love and security, we thank You for never leaving us. We praise You for Your loving presence, and for the supreme sense of family made possible by Your Son, our Brother and Friend, Jesus.

We commit to seek Your face and to seek You first because Your grace is more than enough.

Over every home represented here, we ask Your blessing. For every marriage, for all kinship and friendship, and for every soul in need of acceptance and belonging, we ask that You fill us with Your Spirit and hold us fast. 

Turn and shine toward us, Lord. 

Hear our prayers, and give us peace. Amen.

Comfort of Home

*The following is the very first article I ever had published ... in our monthly church newsletter in 1998. My heart can't allow myself to make the edits my brain sees as necessary. It is the faith-filled little flagship in my fleet of developing essays, and I love it just the way it is.

It was a beautiful spring day. I loaded the little ones into the stroller and headed up the road. As we topped the hill, I decided to stop and visit with a friend. We approached her front door, and I heard what seemed to be her voice cheerfully saying, “Well, hello!” I waited for the door to open … nothing.

“Well, hello!” I heard once more.

“Good morning?” I called out – making sure to be heard. “We were just walking and …”

“Praise Jesus! … O Lord, do have mercy on us. … Praise Jesus! Glory!”

At this point, I felt as though we might have come at a bad time. I wasn’t comfortable posing as some sort of peeping-tom-eaves-drip-intruder during a sister’s devotion!

Just as we were turning to leave, my elderly friend came around the outside of her house from the side yard and greeted us. I looked at her, then at the front door, and then again at her. Not knowing whether to be amazed or frightened by her seeming ability to be two places at once. My thoughts were interrupted by the voice calling out again, “Well, hello!”

My dear friend rescued me from my confusion as she giggled, “Oh, that’s my parrot. He’s saying hello.”

“It sounds exactly like your voice!” I marveled.

“Yes, I know,” she replied. “He gave the delivery man fits last week. After I signed the receipt and closed the door, my bird just kept screaming, ‘Bah-bye! Bah-bye!’. That poor fella stopped every two steps to turn around and wave goodbye again!” She cackled at the memory.

We continued to chat as we made our way indoors. The kids loved seeing the enormous birdcage and hearing its very verbal tenant. “Pretty bird!” the parrot pronounced. In a playful reversal of roles, my kids squawked back, “Pretty bird!” My friend and I sipped some lemonade and caught up on all her recent gardening adventures. I soaked up her wisdom, slurped the last of my drink, and told the kids it was time to go.

We hugged our goodbyes and headed back out to the stroller. As I fastened the straps, my friend waved her weathered arm and wished, “Bah-bye!” I could already hear that silly bird with an identical voice bellowing, “Bah-bye! Bah-bye!”

We left her driveway and headed home. I kept shaking my head and smiling as I remembered my friend and her bird. What a testimony of Ephesians 4:29! “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”

That bird had enthusiastic praise sputtering out of its mouth. It was merely repeating the overflow of its owner’s heart. Greetings, well-wishes, and lots of Godly praise. I am ashamed to imagine the vocabulary of a strategically placed parrot in my home. All the critique and commentary that so often spew forth from my mouth would be exploited by a mimicking pet.

I do a decent job editing for church and company … but in the comfort of my own home? Do my words and tones of voice edify others and glorify God? A lot of the time, yes. But very often, my utterances are less than exemplary. I know this, because I’ve heard my own little parrots – these children I’ve born, with whom I live and breathe and speak every day. They can be heard huffing at one another with impatience. They bicker with one another without kindness or restraint. Sadly, they probably heard it first from me. I wonder if I possess comparable power to affect their words positively.

If I concentrated on filling my heart with Truth and focusing my mind on good things, would the overflow of my heart bring healing to those around? Would my little ones emulate my attitudes of praise? In the comfort of my own home, I must work toward consistently benefiting those who listen.

Due Honor

I believe Motherhood in its truest meaning is a glorious collective of bright and beautiful women who actively promote health and well-being in the lives of those around them.

It is the verb-mothers who deserve honor today. These women who - with or without children of their own - care deeply and pray tearfully and give graciously and invest selflessly in the lives of those around.

For example ...

The woman who invited me as a young girl on adventures and made the most delicious picnic lunches imaginable.

The woman who opened her heart and home to me when I was an immature, slightly obnoxious pre-teen.

The woman who listens as I process my crazy thoughts.

The woman who hosts huge lake days for my family with sunscreen and floaties and several sleeves of buttery crackers.

The woman who offers my kids yard work, the chance to earn some money, and loads of affirmation.

The woman who sends mobile updates and photos of my kid's game to me across town, because she's where I [also] need to be.

The woman who works the hardest and cheers the loudest for the ball team.

The woman who teaches my kids.

The woman who listens to their [super important] stories.

The woman who tells them their mom is doing the best she knows how, and encourages them toward honor.

The woman who makes much of them when my attention is spread too thin.

These nurturing, protective women indeed have children firmly placed within their care. To us, they are friends, teachers, aunts, and sisters who share the spirit of maternity.

And so on this Mother's Day weekend, let's broaden our span of attention and make a suitable fuss about (and send a thank-you to) these prized and precious souls!

Change It Up

Accept the Challenge HERE

Something had to change.

In January I took a break from social media. I wasn't sure how hooked I was, but I could sense an unhealthy preoccupation. Once I deleted the apps, out of habit I still slid one screen and tapped the top right app every time I opened my phone. Muscle memory glitched for a couple days. 

The noticeable hiccups were when I thought of something, or when my kids did something funny ... it was like a tree falling in a forest. If no one on social media saw it and laughed, was it really funny?

Without a daily alert of birthdays across the country,  I was limited to sending well-wishes to friends and family whose birthday was already in my calendar or consciousness.

All our January birthdays and our anniversary were celebrated in the quiet, undocumented vibrance of real life.

I started texting photos and some of my musings to individual friends. I enjoyed the chatting that resulted from my need to be heard.

I started asking people how they were doing and checking in with a wider array of friends. I enjoyed the connection that resulted from my desire to hear from others.

I read books and wrote essays, and organized my closet. I took walks and worked puzzles and wondered what I was missing. And, I started watching TV, which I do not enjoy, but it was an easy filler for those mindless moments of vegetative lounging.

I read the Bible every day. I was present with my kids. I'd like to say I began to floss, but that would be a lie. There is so little hope for me in that area.

Eventually, several weeks later, I reloaded the apps and enjoyed freshly appointed boundaries like "only on Friday night and saturday" or "not while kids are awake". 

One little taste of freedom helped me to reconsider the habits I had coasted into, and to recommit to better manage my media consumption. It seems like it may be time for another reset, so we've decided to host a 5-Day Change-It-Up Challenge: swapping our scrolling for a good bit of freedom. 

Freedom from preoccupation, comparison, approval-seeking, isolation (that masquerades as connection), and freedom from dull inactivity.

Who thinks a break sounds timely? It's five days. May 10-14. You can do anything for five days! Just a taste. It will be a challenge, but I promise it will be fun!

Everyone who agrees to the challenge will receive five daily emails filled with ideas and inspiration to help you along the way. You can also opt in to receiving a text each morning and evening for an extra boost of encouragement. Each person who accepts the challenge is encouraged to gather a few friends who know about the challenge ... so that whether or not they also join, they at least have fair warning that you may indeed blow up their inbox with silly photos of your pets for a couple days. At the end of the 5 days, we CELEBRATE!!

If scrolling has you bogged and you're ready to change it up, Accept the Five-Day Change-It-Up Challenge HERE to enjoy a tiny taste of freedom. We hope you'll join the fun!

*Sign-ups will close next Saturday. Then the day after Mother's Day is GO-Time!! Change-It-Up Challenge: M-F, May 10-14 with real life gathering on Saturday, May 15.

Join the Change-It-Up Challenge HERE