Not a normal day.

I hear the squeals of delight from my children in the backyard as they run and jump through the sprinkler. Thomas is enjoying his water table. He's enjoying being outside. It's beautiful today. It feels like a normal day. I'm convicted that it feels like a normal day. It shouldn't. There are people so close to me that have lost everything. I have begun to seek efforts to help provide some relief and I'm frozen as I read the needs of this moment.

Drop off tonight at church between 8-11pm. New undergarments for children, youth, and adults. Diapers and water.

I begin to cry.

Underwear.

I never think about needing underwear. I never think about buying it. I never think about it. I never think about diapers. I never appreciate that I have them. Now I think about it.

What if WE were in the rubble right now? What do people do with their babies? Where do they sleep? Where do FAMILIES stay when no one has a home?

Oh my heart is weeping. God, may I not forget how you spared us. May I NOT forget those hurting. May I DO SOMETHING, Lord.

It's not a normal day. It won't be normal for a long time. And some may never find their normal again.

Please pray for these people and let me know how a mom of four small children can get involved in aide. I'd LOVE your input. I WANT to get involved in relief efforts.

"Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, Be strong, do not fear, you God will come......he will come to save you." Isaiah 35:3-4

Weakened by the Storm

He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" Mark 4:40

It's the silence after the storm. The tornadoes have gone for now. I am listening to the hum of my laptop. I faintly hear a man reporting the weather from the television in my bedroom. Still, it's silent. What a storm we had today.

As I survey my den, it seems as if a tornado touched down inside our home. There are piles and piles of coats and jackets lying on our dining room table from the coat closet. Tons of game boxes and bins of books are outlining our staircase. We pulled everything out because the closet under our stairs is our make-shift "safe place"; a term I've come to understand since moving to Alabama. I'm not used to these severe weather storms. I'm not used to having a "tornado season". But the tornadoes don't care. They continue to come whether I like it or not; whether I'm used to it or not. And today was no exception.

My precious husband had to work. My selfish heart complained. He is ALWAYS working during these things... always. Then, I was reminded by a dear friend tonight what a gift he must be to someone injured in a crisis like this--to a child... to a fearful parent. He is so gracious and compassionate. Perhaps the Lord assigns him these evenings. To minister to those hurting. Selfishly, I want him, here, ministering to ME during the stress.

So as the five of us huddled in our tiny coat closet praying for protection for "daddy" and those out in this storm, I was moved to tears as I listened to the simple, faithful prayers of our children.

Will: "Lord, keep Daddy safe and the people hurt in this storm."
Josh: "Jesus, please stop this storm and say, quiet."

Please stop this storm and say, "quiet".

I had not handled this evening well at all. I thought about those disciples on that boat....Teacher, don't you care if we drown? I had operated in complete fear during the entire thing. Feeling alone and responsible for four little innocent children, I responded to everyone and everything in panic mode. Placed in my very own hands was now an opportunity to exemplify faith amidst fear. What it means to trust when terrified. Instead, I cowered and lacked courage. The storm inside of me was raging and overflowed out of my mouth. Not just three days ago, I had celebrated Jesus's resurrection. I celebrated His life among us. I celebrated the veil torn. I celebrated His being with me now and always... every minute... through every circumstance. I celebrated His victory in all things. I felt like Peter once the rooster crowed that third time. I denied who Christ claims to be; my protector, my Savior, my comforter, my Prince of Peace. I sit here humiliated by my hypocrisy. I feel rebuked by the Lord as the disciples were.

Do you still have no faith?

I wish I had this great response to this question. I don't. I don't know why I am so easily frightened. Maybe because I'm a sinner saved by grace. Because I need Jesus for every second.. I can't NOT be afraid on my own. It's so hard for me not to assume Jesus is snoozing when crisis occurs in my life. That He's forgotten. That He doesn't care if I drown or not? Yet, it is His grace that causes me to "wake him up"--to look for him in the storm-- and it's His grace that forgives me when I feared He wasn't there. I'm clinging to that tonight. I stood upon those promises as I repented to my children on behalf of my behavior.

I am from South Carolina. We appreciate the hurricanes--those horrible storm systems notified a week in advance. The storms in which we pack up all of our belongings and escape...flee the fear.... avoid the panic. But Life is full of tornadoes. Unexpected storms. Unexplainable paths. Unpredictable damage. As believers of Christ, Jesus is always in our boat! As celebrators of our Risen Lord, He is NEVER asleep! He sees us. Always. The Christ whose power rebukes the winds and the waves with, "Quiet! Be still!" is able to speak the same over our raging, fearful, faithless hearts.

We then find our rest. Better yet, we find forgiveness for allowing our faith to be weakened by the storm.

My friend, we are deeply and dearly loved.

When I remember, Christ is able to redeem

I had just put a chicken in the crockpot.
-There, dinner.--

The weather outside looked stormy. It was dark. The perfect day to get things done around the house. I had read a story to Emma Faye. I painted with Josh. I played on the floor with Thomas. I just put Thomas down for a nap. The house was quiet.

"Everyone, Mommy is going to get some of her things done on her list while Thomas sleeps. Emma Faye, you may watch a TV show. Josh if you want to play your Leapster, you can."

I thumbed through my itunes library and found my newly downloaded Laura Story "Blessings" album. Her music and annointed words of truth began to permeate my home. I began worshipping. My heart held fast to her song, Remember.

this is the body that was torn for us
this is the blood that was spilt
points to the pain you endured for us
points to the shame the blame the guilt

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit come
Move our hearts to remember

With eyes almost closed I began to embrace and remind myself of what my Savior had done for me. I began to remember. But... then.. there was this leapster blasting in the background.

"Josh, can you please turn that down."

He walked out of the room.

The music swelled....Move our hearts to remember

I silently began to pray this for my own heart. But.. there it was again.. that dang leapster. Josh was back in the kitchen.

And then it came.

"Josh, get out of here with that thing! I can't hear my music. Mommy doesn't want to hear that. I want to hear MY music!"

He looked at me and walked out and upstairs. I turned back to... my moment?

What? Really? After that?

I felt the Lord whisper, "Why are you remembering? Let me tell you why I ask you to remember Me.... so you may go and do likewise."

Here was my worship. My home. My moments and interactions with my children and my husband. Here is my act of worship. Why would I long to shut out the ones I love from encountering Christ in me?

Oh how easy it is for me to lift my hands in abandonment within the walls of our sanctuary on Sunday mornings with all of my children tucked away downstairs in nurseries and Sunday School classes. How difficult to worship amidst the chaos. Yet on the eve of Christ's Crucifixion, He broke bread and gave thanks. He asked us to remember.

So I want to remember more than what He did for me at the cross. I want to remember how He lived. How he asks me to live. I want to live openly inviting Him to grow fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control. I want to live in such a way everyone knows CHRIST as my gardener. I want to live in such a way my fruit is irresistible. That my children would LONG to taste. That they would long to produce that same fruit. As a gardener searches after fertilizer to better his crop, so they would inquire and seek after that which was enriching my soil. My soul. And I could tell them, Christ.

I want to take my impatience and unkindness and break it in two, offer it up to Christ and give thanks to Him who redeems my failures. I want to remember the body He gave... not just physically, but spiritually. The example He gave by how He lived. This dying to ourselves. This willingly becoming Isaacs and climbing up on our altars and laying down because He asked us. The altars HE has assigned us. Allowing our arms to be tied by our loving Father.. as bizarre as it may seem... yet trusting all the while.

So today, I remembered... finally. When I remember, Christ is able to redeem. You, Lord, can now come and restore.

I repented to Josh and I worshipped. I experienced my heart moved . I am learning more and more each day how to allow Christ to take me beyond my failures and embrace His freedom. After all, my children learn more from my failures, than my perfection--or the illusion of such perfection.

Jesus, help me remember to remember.

Random Reflections

The sun was shinning through a cooling breeze as I watered my patio flowers. It was a beautiful morning. It had been a most awesome Easter. The kids were off from school again today. Thank you, Lord, for an extra day to absorb the weekend.

It was a first Easter for Thomas. It was a first birthday celebration for him as well. An entire year had passed. Where were we today a year ago? Coming out of a horrible year.

I had undergone my worst pregnancy. We were trying to move and God was keeping us here. It was quite a battle of obstacles and stresses until we surrendered and died to our dream of living close to the beach and family. It was a death for me. Even though I knew all along this was what we were being called to, I died to my wanting everything. Wanting it all. Wanting both. His plan and mine. So we surrendered. We stayed.

I've been pulling out toys and unpacking all of the things we had packed for our move this past week. We've been sorting through what we need and what we could do without. What we treasure. I've been packing up baby clothes and sorting through blankets and stuffed animals and smocked dresses. Sifting through boxes after boxes of pictures from years ago. The memories overwhelming. Heartwarming. The photographs reveal the blessings over and over again. What a full life I live. Full of blessing. Overflowing. The pictures don't carry the daily stress. Pictures are the memory. The captured moments of the good of our lives. I am going to surround my mind with these thoughts... with these images when my days begin to run together.

I laugh as I move on to water my backyard roses and potted vegetables. I see the hearty, healthy mum I threw out of a pot when I "thought" it was dead to replace it with another my first fall in Birmingham. It took root right where I threw it and is thriving. I chuckle as I pass these (I still don't know what they are called) plants that bloom this lettuce looking leaf through much of Spring and then bud a garnet color flower during the summer. I pulled all five of those suckers up my first year here because I didn't like them and they ALL came back... they come back every year. I don't despise them so much anymore. (Not like they are going anywhere.)

When I came to Alabama I felt much like that mum. Discarded. A little dry. Brittle. I felt forgotten. I felt thrown in the bushes and left. But on His own, He gave me roots that grew from where I was dropped. He showered in raindrops of amazing friends and real church community and incredible neighbors. He saturated my ground with them. Really He did. Everytime I tried to uproot myself, by His grace and merciful love, He grew a better me in it's place. He budded a stronger blossom. It has been amazing.

As the years have passed, that mum has grown three times it's size. And now that I think about it, it totally rests in a perfect spot, as if someone planted it there on purpose. Someone did. And that Someone continues to till the ground and nurture that plant as He continues to pursue hard after my own life.

Praise to Him, the Love that will not let me go. The Risen King. He is Risen INDEED!

Waiting at the Doorway

Other than music, love of animals was a passion of mine while growing up. My parents were so gracious to us by giving us the gift of being surrounded by them. I always remember a cat being around. Dogs came in and out of our lives. There was a time when my brother went through a hamster stage. My sister had hermit crabs. I had cages and cages of rabbits and at one time two aquariums of tropical fish were set up in my room, all at the same time. My passion for horses and riding was such that on my 13th birthday, I will never forget turning the corner in the stables and seeing my name written as owner outside my favorite horse's stall. Yes, I even had a horse.

When I moved into my first apartment after college, I got a kitten. For our first wedding anniversary gift, Chris got me a beautiful yellow lab. I worked at an animal hospital for three years. I love animals. But there are no animals right now sharing our household. There are, however, three little people in this household that are begging for a dog. I sit the fence. My husband is coming around.

In the meantime, I give into my joy of learning about animals. I secretly am addicted to the television show, "The Dog Whisperer." Cesar Millan amazes me in his knowledge and in his abilities to help a dog get in that "balanced" state, as he calls it. This "calm submissive" state of being. He talks about being the pack leader; how dogs are healthiest knowing who that leader is and are more secure knowing the leader can be trusted. They were born to follow.

One of the first steps he does to instil this state of being is have the dog wait before entering his house. "You are pack leader. You own this house. The dog must wait for you to enter first. Then he must be invited in. It is your space." Then, he makes the dog wait at the doorway until his owner invites him in. This gives the dog boundary. This gives the dog his place. This begins building the trust.

Blessed is the man who listens to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway. Proverbs 8:34

I couldn't help but see this parallel this morning as I read from God's word. Christ is owner of my life. My house is His. Psalm 31:15 says, "My times are in your hands." My seasons. My days. My hours. My minutes. The moments are His. I have an enormous pack leader. I, too, was created to be a follower. All too often, I fight to be the Alpha dog. I wrestle with my role to dominate my territory. I wrestle with my pack to maintain leadership. I am most definately not balanced. Calm submissive? Rarely. Perhaps calm submissive is the state of trusting. Could this be that peace that passes all understanding? Perhaps Cesar's techniques are applicable to more than dogs.

What would my day look like if I viewed everything in light of Christ's ownership. If I entered into my home... into the sickness... into the battles as first realizing all these belonged to Christ. They are His. I look to Him for the invitation to come in. I look to Him as to how I should respond. I accepted my food at the time He gives it. I stay in my crate because He asked me to. I take my walks with Him when He takes me. I rest at His feet while He is home. I am calm. I am at peace. Because I trust Him. Because I know He loves me and He knows best. Because I know it's best to follow Him and I am perfectly content in my role. Hmm.... I ponder this.

I so often am the dog who runs in claiming the sofa, the food dish, the bed.. all as mine. I growl and snarl at those with whom I live. Mine, I say. Mine, I claim. I'm the dog that needs to be flipped over and "shht" hundreds and hundreds of times until I get it. Until I finally rest... calm and submissive. Allowing myself to surrender and trust. Allowing myself to be led; looking to Him for permission. Allowing Him to enter, first. Some days it's by force, others it's by choice. Either way, I'm waiting at the doorway.

Joy in the Unfinished Laundry

It was nearly 4:00 in the afternoon and my husband would soon be coming home. It would be his first night in a week of arriving home early enough to have dinner with us. To spend time with us before the kids all went to bed. To spend time with me before we both collapsed. The day before, I had such dreams of this evening. Such expectations.

However, I surveyed the remains of my day. My house was in such chaos. Separate piles of laundry in my den. Some clean and folded. Some clean and needing to be folded. Some stain-treated and needing to be washed. Some stained and needing to be treated. There were cheerios all over my den floor. I then remembered, this was my attempt to occupy my 11 month old while I tried to "do the laundry." Which clearly was a fail. My kitchen had dishes in the sink still from lunch. A dirty highchair tray was resting on our table filled with smashed peas and crumbs of Ritz crackers. There's a dirty bib on the floor. Finished homework sheets lined my counters.... and I was overwhelmed.

What have I done all day?

I was so exhausted. I knew I had been busy doing stuff all day. But what? What did I have to show for it? My husband would be coming home... and coming home to THIS.

Failure.

There's that ugly word that begins to chew at my heart and my self-worth. The tears begin to load. They drop. The sprinkle becomes a shower and I bath in my own feelings of worthlessness and unimportance. I'm so horrible at this, God. I'm the worst. I waste Your days.

The silence of my heartache is interrupted by children laughter. My attention is turned toward our backyard and I gaze out the kitchen window. Will and Josh are sword fighting. One is trying to rescue Emma Faye from the clubhouse, yet everyone is laughing. And there came my answer.....

Write down everything you did today.

I got out a pencil and found the back of some junk mail envelope and began writing down what I did from the time my feet hit the floor this morning, until present.

1. Woke up at 4:45am. Thomas was crying. Lost his paci. Rocked him back to sleep.
2. 5:15am. Couldn't go back to sleep, so made some coffee and had a quiet time.
3. 6:20am. Josh woke up. As I sipped on coffee, he sipped on apple juice and we talked about robots and outer space.
4. 6:45am. Will wakes. I have no cereal or bagels for breakfast (because I forgot to go to the grocery store the day before) so I offer eggs. Because it's so early, and we have time, I teach him how to crack open the eggs. We cook breakfast together.
5. 7:20am. Thomas wakes, feed him breakfast
6. 7:30am. Wake Emma Faye. We get in the car and take Will to school.
7. 8:15am. Make breakfast for Emma Faye and take Josh to preschool.
8. 9:15am. Rock Thomas and place in crib for nap.
9. 9:30am. Emma Faye helps bring laundry downstairs to wash. I sort piles while she colors a picture for her Papa.
10. 10:30am. We go outside and mail her picture. We smell flowers. I tell her the names of flowers. She wants to pet a cat. I teach her how to bend down and hold out her hand. The cat comes over and I teach her how to pet the kitty gently.
11. 11:00am. We find sunflowers and sun "fuzzies" in the grass. I twirl Emma Faye around. She squeals and says, "Do it again!" I do.
12. 11:15am. I hear Thomas waking up. I change out a load of laundry and put a new one in.
13. 11:30am. I feed Thomas and Emma Faye lunch. We talk about how God made the world and it is SOOOOO big. We sing a song about it and it makes Thomas laugh. We keep singing. He keeps laughing. He makes us laugh.
14. 12:00noon. I bring dry clothes and try to fold them. Emma Faye wants to help. I give her a pile and she works very hard.
15. 12:20pm. We leave to pick up the boys from school.
16. 1:15pm. It's beautiful weather so we all go outside and have a snack. I talk with the boys about their day at school. I stain treat a dirty pile of laundry.
17. 1:45pm. I do homework with Will.
18. 2:00pm. I give Thomas a bottle and put him down for a nap.
19. 2:30pm. We are done with homework and Will and Josh want me to play Monopoly Junior.
20. 2:45pm. I get dinner prepared.
21. 3:00pm. We all sit down and play the board game.
22. 4:00pm. Will, Josh, and Emma Faye run outside to play in the backyard and I decide to hurry and get the laundry together while Thomas is still asleep. I suddenly hear him on the monitor.

I looked over this list and really felt a holy presence in my kitchen. I saw the treasures hidden in between the lines. More tears, but these were good. These were from a fully, accomplished heart; not one of failure. I heard His words. In your kingdom, you probably didn't accomplish much, but in Mine your day was very productive.

I am VERY quick to not write illustrations as these because I never want to give the impression that I did something better than someone else. I am ALWAYS one step from completely blowing it and often I do. No, I decided to journal this day because I think more mothers need to be reminded whom we serve. I know the laundry must get done. I know our houses should get cleaned. There is GREAT value and worship in these tasks. But so often, our greatest work can not be measured by nor seen with the naked eye. Some of our greatest accomplishments are weighed in our hearts. Only Jesus owns those scales.

I know I have had days where all of my "to do" lists have been completed. I can't remember any of them. But I can still see Will's grin when he cracked that egg for the first time and didn't get any shells in the bowl. I can still hear Emma Faye's laughter as I twirled her around. I still see her crazy hair blowing in the breeze. I remember the "robots conversation" with Josh and I remember smelling the remains of baby lotion on Thomas's neck as I rocked him back to sleep. And I remember reading about God's mercy in my quiet time that morning. How His mercies are new every morning.

It's 4:30 now. I've gathered myself and entered into the world of my little joys. They were sitting around our patio table. Josh asked," Mommy, God is so big and he holds everything, right?"

"That's right, Josh." I didn't even have time to let my heart absorb that precious thought before Josh quickly added...

"So, Jesus is holding us right now?"

Ah, what a drop of Your mercy on this day.... in my moment of failure. Lord, you came to my rescue and brought encouragement to a tired, unworthy, mom. You didn't have to do that. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to care. But you do, Lord. You care, Jesus.

"Yes, Josh. He is holding us RIGHT NOW."

And right then, I found great satisfaction and joy in my unfinished laundry and my messy house.

You can put away the mirror.

"Mommy look. Look again." Emma Faye whined to me. Her pout was VERY impressive this time. I have no idea how she can make this face. Really, quite impressive.

"Look again."

She was referring to this horrible bruise that was on her bottom. While twirling and whirling in utter delight throughout our downstairs one morning, she slipped and fell. Her back slammed against a rectangular column near our dinning room. Fortunately, she was okay. Unfortunately, her bottom clipped the corner of that column leaving a nasty bruise.

I let her see it one day in the mirror and ever since, she's been fixated on it; wanting to know when it will disappear.

"I just wish Jesus would heal my boo-boo," she sighed.

I looked at it again. Being that we have to look at this thing almost everyday (per her request), I'm well studied in the "twirling whirling bruise of February '10." I've seen that thing turn from a bright, raw red, to an ugly blood purple color, to blue, and then to blue and green. This morning it was green and yellow. It was fading.

"But Emma Faye, Jesus IS healing it. He's been healing it all along. It's changing color. You can't see it, but I can."

I paused. I looked into her inquisitive eyes and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

"Emma Faye, some boo-boos take longer to heal. It doesn't mean that Jesus has forgotten about it, or that He isn't healing it. It just means that this boo-boo will take longer. He's always healing, sweetheart."

She gave me a little smirk, followed by an "okay" and skipped out of the bedroom. I was left alone sitting on the floor with those few sentences I had just spoken. Where that bruise was located, there was no possible way for Emma Faye to be able to see it on her own. She had to either use the help of a mirror, or trust my description of it. But she knew it was there, because it was still sore. She still felt it.

How often, because we continue to feel the pain of our own wounds, do we think Jesus isn't bringing healing? How much of our deep-rooted pain are we able to completely see on our own? We must trust in the One who can see. Who, over time, mends the tear and fades the bruise. Who reconnects the bone and scabs the scrape. As believers in Christ, our lives are constantly being made new; our bodies, healed. He is ALWAYS healing. We can't see it. We still feel the pain. It's still there, but take heart, my friends. It's color is changing. He has promised! There is no pain too great for our Lord. There is no sickness, He cannot restore to health. There are no scars too great for Him to remove.

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)

He took ALL of our scars, and placed them on his hands and feet when he went to the cross and gave up His life for our salvation. Our bodies are left without blemish in His sight.

My heart is full. God, you are so great and awesome. Awesome! Thank you, Lord. I trust you, Lord. You can put away the mirror, I trust you.