The God Of All Comfort

My husband and I just returned from a ten day trip to Eastern Europe.  We spent time in three nations, four hotels, and seven airplanes.  An exhausting, but glorious adventure.  Exhausting because we're getting older and felt the intense schedule a little more than we used to.  Glorious because we spent those ten days encouraging church leaders who are quietly doing the work of the Kingdom day in and day out, in nations where they are not only few in number, but often persecuted.

I was humbled to sit across table after table, drinking coffee after coffee, listening to their stories.

The band of brothers who met Jesus from reading a Bible after communism fell, with no one to help them in their new-found faith.  They are now four churches strong, each a vibrant fellowship.

The seaman who drove us to the airport who found the Lord when an elderly man asked him what he was looking for in life, and then proceeded to share with him life's greatest treasure.

The smiling pastor and his brilliant wife who have launched the only Bible school in their nation, pioneered three churches, and built a pre-school to minister to gypsy cast-offs.  They have now once again handed their work over to someone who will take it with care, and are starting over from scratch in yet another un-reached area.

The shoe maker who drove us over the mountains who has shared his faith at great personal cost, introducing everyone he meets to the love of his Jesus, even if that person happens to be an influential mafia leader.

The teenage girl who still loves Jesus, despite being often mocked as the only Christian in her entire high school.

The earnest church leader who prays with his teenage sons every morning for three hours for God to open up Heaven and rain down grace on his city.

The young woman who just married a pastor, whose face glowed as she told me they will travel to a new region to lead the only church in the city as they begin their lives together.  She is absorbing every teaching she can sit under and asking every question she can think of, just to be ready to love people and love them well.

The person after person who told us how they first heard of the name of Jesus, most of them late in life, a testament to how rarely His truth has been proclaimed there since the grip of communism first clenched the life out of their countries.

I was humbled because these people are heroes, living out their faith in a reality I have never had to walk in. 

I was humbled because they do so with joy and hope that what they are doing will make a difference in their nations. 

And I was humbled the most because they thanked me for sharing myself with them.

And when I returned home and faced the problems I had left on my desk and the new ones that had accumulated while I was gone, they didn't seem as impossible as they might have before.  In fact, they seemed quite possible.

So today, as I think of my new friends in the far-reaches of the earth, I pray Paul's thousands year old prayer,

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too."  (2 Corinthians 1:3-5)

May those who suffer for His name be filled with all measure of comfort and joy.  May they never lose sight of the great reward of seeing the lost come to faith.  And may I, when I face suffering, be as courageous as these.  Amen.

The Joy of Respite

I always love to turn a calendar page, but I can not remember a time I have been so excitedly anticipating turning my weekly planner from one week to the next.  It's not that this week has been terrible, it's just that next week holds something precious---a respite.

It was my husband's idea.  After a season of intense labor in our ministry, he felt we both needed to take some time away on our own.  A time for each of us to get away from daily life to recharge, refuel and be re-envisioned.

He went first, driving a couple hours away to hole up in a borrowed cabin and plan out the church's vision for the new year, away from all distractions.  I could tell when he returned that he came back stronger and ready to impart what he had received.

And next week, it's my turn.  I was thrilled to see the cottage he chose for me to stay in has the beautiful word "respite" in its name.

Respite: a delay or cessation for a time, especially of anything distressing or trying; an interval of relief

And yes, I have some goals I would like to accomplish while I'm away.  Some things that have needed my attention, but are hard to devote mental energy to when I'm in the midst of daily urgencies.

But, on the top of my goal page is written a word with several lines drawn underneath it.  It's the same word I have displayed above my office door, where only I can see it and be reminded:  REST.

How long has it been since you've had a respite--just you, God, and your conversations with each other in a place away from home?  If you never have, or it's been years since you've done it, pray today and ask God if it's time.  I promise He's the best road trip friend imaginable.

Sometimes Healing Comes From Strange Places

For several years now, my husband and I have carried around a large burden of guilt and shame.  And it all stemmed from owning a dog. 

We had paid good money for an adorable puppy, even traveling to an airport three hours away to pick her up.  We had brought her home, introduced her to the eager children who had been begging for a dog, and bought all kinds of doggie supplies.  And then our lives had promptly fallen apart.

We couldn't train her to go outside to go potty.

We couldn't train her not to chew everything up.

We couldn't train her not to bite the kids.

We couldn't train her not to jump the fence and run away....every single day.

We were complete failures as dog owners.

And a year later, by the time I dreaded going home every day because I had to deal with her, I knew we were beat.  We shame-facedly gave her away.  And a few months later heard her new owners had trained her well and she was now a perfect little angel.

We were not only complete failures.  We were complete failures who had funded someone else's dream dog.

And so, we believed that was the end of the story.  We gave away all our doggie supplies.  We bought a fish.  We said never again.

But, there's something amazing about God's redemptiveness.  He doesn't do "never agains" real well.  He has a way of taking our vows and turning them upside down and bringing everything full circle.  He has a way of making us forget our shame (Isaiah 54:4) and bringing us to new tables of joy.

Enter the angel of mercy who found her way into our carport one cold winter night, now over a month ago.  We tried to find an owner, but without a collar and no one to answer our internet queries, we decided she was probably dumped in the pasture just a bit down the road from our house.

My heart was hard where her kind were concerned, but she was not deterred.  She wore down my defenses with her soft velvet fur, her huge, kind eyes, and her ability to go potty outside.  She made me love her further with her snuggles in the morning, her snuggles on my lunch break, and her snuggles on the couch at bedtime.  She entwined herself around my heart with her kindness to my children.

We now own all new doggie supplies, along with a collar that reads "Sugar."  And oh, how sweet she is.  She has removed the shame in our house from past dog failures, and healed our hearts by becoming the member of the family we didn't know we were missing. 

I'll need to remember that the next time I'm tempted to say "never again."  Maybe failure isn't always the end.  Maybe it's just a longer walk to the finish line.

A Thankfulness Perspective

10,487 days have passed since I asked Jesus Christ to be my Savior...I am thankful for every day that He has made me more like Him.

6,040 days have passed since I said "I do" to the man who makes my soul complete...I am thankful for every day that has made me love him more.

5, 582 days have passed since I became a mother...I am thankful for every day that has seen children grow under my care.

Just 1,285 days will pass before our oldest will graduate from high school...I am thankful for every day he spends under this roof.

Just 3,476 days will pass before our youngest will graduate from high school...I am thankful for every day there are birds in this nest.

I am thankful for now.  For this moment.  For this good day.


"This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."  - Psalm 118:24



Author's Note:  To calculate your own days of thankfulness, click here.

10 Things I Want My Daughter-In-Law To Know About My Son

Dear Beautiful One,

I don't know you yet, but I look forward to meeting you.  I have been working hard for years to prepare for your entrance into our family.  You have been in my prayers for going on two decades now, and always will be.

I've told my son so many times that choosing you would be the single most important decision of his life, apart from choosing to follow Jesus.  He giggled when he was little when I would talk about these things, but he's begun to be aware enough of the passage of time that he nods his head now, listening.

There are so many things I wish you could see, right here, in this time and place.  I wish you could see them because I've longed to see the same things in my own husband's life.  To see him as an infant, looking so much like his big brother.  To see him as a child, running free.  To see him as a teenager, figuring out this whole thing called life.

But, you can't see them.  You'll have to trust me.

He's the most amazing young man you'd ever be privileged to know.

He's incredible.

Not to say he doesn't have some quirks we're working on (who doesn't?), but even those are adorable, at least to this mama.

And there are some things being this boy's mom has taught me that I want to share, things that would have been helpful to know about a man when I said, "I do," but somehow didn't come clear until I was responsible for nurturing a boy.

I hope you can receive them from my heart to yours, with love and tender hope that you and this child of mine can make your home a place of peace and a jungle of joy.

1.  You won't ever completely figure out how a man thinks.  You were created differently.  Just embrace that.

2.  The longer you're with him, the more grateful you'll be that he thinks differently than you.  It's the balance that makes marriage work.

3.  Guys are messy.  They don't mean it to be extra work for you, they just don't see the mess the way you do.  When you need his help to clean up, ask him.  He knows how, I've seen to that---so just smile and ask for the help.  And when he helps, thank him sincerely.  No, he might not always notice what you do to thank you for it in return, but he does appreciate you.

4.  He also may not notice every time you do something new or different to your hair.  If he doesn't, stand in front of him and cough several times.  I've trained him to pay attention when he hears coughing. 

5.  He won't parent the way you do.  It's important for you to have the same basic plan, but allow him to be the dad.  Kids need both.

6.  He thrives on affirmation.  Respect who he is and tell him often why you respect him.  You'll be happier married to a man who is secure in your respect than one you've torn down with criticism.

7.  Don't expect him to know how to handle your tears.  He'll probably always feel a little awkward about them.  Don't worry about it.  He'll get over it.

8.  When he buys you something, don't take it back, even if it's not your favorite.  A gift is like a love note; you don't hand them back, you treasure them.

9.  Men need spontaneity and fun in their lives, in every area.  Make sure you don't take yourself too seriously--joy can be found in the tiny spaces of life if you'll let it.

10.  You are his greatest treasure, a costly jewel above all price.  He adores you.  Live your life assuming that everything he does is with the intention of blessing you.


With all my love and yet another prayer,

Your Future Mother-In-Law

Setting the Atmosphere

Last Saturday, the kids were grouchy.  It just happens sometimes.  

Daddy was out of town. 

 They had to do chores.  

My daughter told me she needed to cry and didn't know why.  I told her sometimes girls just need a good cry, to which she responded, "Does that ever happen to you, Mama?"

The boys had been looking forward to watching their favorite football team play, only to watch them get beaten so soundly the punter needed an ice bath after the game.

The youngest two argued over something trivial.

The oldest two couldn't seem to get interested in anything other than video games.

It didn't take a genius to see that the atmosphere in my home needed to change.  And I realized I'm responsible for that.  Parents are the CEOs of the home when it comes to setting atmosphere.  If we don't like what's going on in our children, it's our responsibility to find out where the negativity is coming in and close that door.  If there is nothing positive happening, it's our responsibility to open the doors of change.

So, I told the kids to get their shoes on.   We were leaving.  And we backed out of the driveway and drove off into adventure.

We got a treat.

We ate it at the park.

We rode bikes.

We played football.

We got the makings of a cheap picnic dinner at the supermarket.

We ate it at the lake.

We fed ducks.

We found shells.

We laughed.

We came home only after it was dark.

And as all four of my children got ready for bed, they each found a moment on their own to thank me for taking the time together.

I went to bed so grateful for the joy in my house, but as I crawled under the covers, I was humbled by the realization of the influence I have in my own home.  No, I can't always take my children out for a fun adventure every time they're grumpy.  And I might not always be able to "fix" their problems, when life throws curve balls a whole lot worse than disappointment over a lost game.

But, I can pay attention. 

I can "know the state of my flock" (Proverbs 27:23) and realize when change is needed.  

I can pray.  

I can encourage.  

I can open those doors of new opportunity. 

I can look beyond my own to-do list and minister to the heart needs in my home.

I can engage.

And I know there will be times that the atmosphere doesn't change right away.  But, it can change. 

And I can be the one who initiates it, with the occasional help of a duck.

 

 

 

A Dream Fulfilled

All my life, I've dreamed of owning a cottage nestled into a grove of beautiful trees--aspen trees, with a weeping willow thrown in for artistic measure.  And a stream running behind it, and an arbor leading into my flower garden.  The cottage would be a creamy yellow, with stone and ivy and a picket fence and flower baskets and...

And I live in West Texas.

It's where we're supposed to be, and I don't begrudge it for a moment.  But, I do occasionally peruse pictures on Pinterest of the perfect cottage and sigh.  A sigh for a dream that seems impossibly out of reach among mesquite trees and cotton fields.

And there are so many other dreams.  Bigger dreams.  Dreams that my heart still races after, even after the years have come and gone.  Even after the dreams have grown past the newborn stage, marched right through the teenage angst, and are now still seemingly unfulfilled as they approach middle-age.

New dreams are thrilling, because anything seems possible when a dream is born.  But, old dreams can hurt when "hope deferred makes the heart sick."  (Proverbs 13:12)

And that's why there are tears in my eyes as I pore over paint samples this week.

In honor of our tenth year of pastoral ministry in our city, our church has paid to have our house painted.  It's something we couldn't have done on our own.  A gift so large, it awakened a dream.

For I hold in my hand a paint sample titled simply, "Cream Yellow."

And as I sit in my front yard and picture what my home will look like when it's painted, I have to laugh outloud at how good my Father is.  To answer dreams.

For my stucco house will be a creamy yellow-- nestled in a grove of pecan trees, with a pine thrown in for artistic measure.  And a dry creek running behind it, with an arbor set into my picket fence leading to my salsa garden and a zipline...

A dream realized.  Maybe a little different.  Maybe even better.

All Gathered Round

My birthday was last week, and it seems a little unreal that I am as old as I am.  I don't mind, it just takes me by surprise when I say the age outloud, like life is flashing by so that I can't get used to one number before it changes to another.  I have the most trouble comprehending my own age when I think about my childhood, which I do quite often, as my younger children are fond of asking me to tell them stories of my life when I was their age.  But when I reminisce, it doesn't seem possible that those memories are three decades old.  Those snapshots in my brain feel like they were taken just a month or two ago.

And I've discovered something.  When I play the memories like home movies in my mind, I usually find the ones that are the most vivid involve one of three things: celebrations, vacations, and food.

The first two I understand.  Those are the times the camera comes out, so the memories of the Christmases, the birthday parties, and the road trips to Colorado got rehearsed every time I looked at my scrapbook.

But, the third one.  That's interesting to me.  I don't have any pictures of food in my scrapbook, but I can remember every detail about quite a few dishes.

I can remember the way our house would fill with the smell of autumn when my mom baked applesauce cake. 

I can remember it wasn't really spring until we went to pick raspberries and she made the most delicious jam.

I can remember our Texas salsa lasting through the winter after she spent an entire day canning it, driving my brother out of the house with the hot smell of peppers.

And it's not just our own house, either.

I remember Grammie's icebox pie.  I can remember her explaining what an "icebox" was every time she made it.  And the macaroni salad with pimientos that was always in her "icebox," too.

I can remember Meme's dressing at Thanksgiving, hard to forget since she was a little fond of the sage and it turned out green every year.  And her biscuits with sausage cooked right into the top that were always waiting for us when we woke up at her house.

I can remember Grandma's broccolli rice casserole and the way we all fought over the last couple of spoonfulls.  And her pecan pies that were full of pecans shelled by my Papaw from their backyard.

I can remember my Dad's Sunday morning eggs and the way he would hide a slice of Velveeta cheese underneath for us to "find."  And the roast he made every Sunday after church, the roast he still teases me is the reason my husband married me.

So many memories centered around kitchens.  So much love and so much joy, all around a bunch of tables.

And I wonder what foods my own children will be telling their kids about some day.  What will they try to cook for my grandbabies, just because it reminds them of home and Mama and joy and warmth?

There's a lot of days I come home from the office and don't want to spend time hanging out at the stove.  There are plenty of times I'd rather give up on meal planning and the grocery shopping and just eat out.  But, even beyond the havoc that would wreak on our budget, there's another reason I keep at it day after day, week after week.  I believe in the family kitchen, in its ability to keep a group of people who are going so many different directions all day long centered in one place, in its power to make a boy look forward to walking in the front door after football practice, and in the way it can hold the treasures of memory.

That's why I've made a few choices about how I will serve my family in our family kitchen.  

1.  Unless we're traveling, we don't eat out for supper much.  That's our home time.
2.  I plan out meals for a week at a time to try to reduce the "what am I making" stress.
3.  I play music when I'm cooking.  Fun music.  Which leads to dancing.  Which makes me smile.  I cook better when I'm smiling.
4.  I do my best to try a new recipe every week.  Variety is the spice of life.
5.  I have posted the best kitchen quote ever on the wall above my stove.  And I read it often.

"There's no spectacle on earth as appealing as a woman making dinner for someone she loves."  - Thomas Wolfe

Seasonal Goal Posts

As the school year winds down, I can feel my thoughts moving towards the joys of summer.  I've always loved the season, but ever since my babies have all moved into their school years, I've felt even more fondly about it.  It's the only long stretch on the calendar when they're all mine.   

I listened to a wonderful speaker recenty who spoke of the importance of having shared goals in a marriage.  He explained that many couples flounder when the kids leave home because they haven't developed new goals that will take them beyond the child-raising years. 

As I've mulled that over, I've been impressed with the importance of also having shared goals with our children during the child-raising years.  What do we want to do together as a family this month...this season...this year...before the kids leave home?

And I've realized there won't be many more summer seasons for goal setting with the entire family. Our oldest turns fifteen this summer, which means we have four, maybe five summers left with all the baby birds in the nest.

Precious time to squeeze in so much joy.  Precious time for goals realized.  And I am determined not to let it slip by without savoring it.

This summer, we will:

• eat homemade breakfasts in our jammies several times a week, all together
• let the kids camp out in the tree house (often talked about, but not yet experienced)
• take overnight trips in an ancient travel trailer
• take a two week vacation in the same ancient travel trailer to as many state parks as we can handle
• learn to can salsa with my mother
• swim, in pools, lakes, and rivers
• let each child take a turn teaching family devotions
• watch all the kids go to church camp and come back filled with God
• grill out in our swimsuits with the sprinkler on full blast
• harvest our garden
• paint the fence
• eat a lot of watermelon in the backyard
• teach a teenage boy to drive a car
• teach a little girl how to ride her bike
• go to some dollar theater matinees
• host some BBQs
• learn to identify some constellations
• have a family worship night, complete with painting
• visit all the great-grandmothers
• celebrate three birthdays
• work on table manners
• create some photo albums
• dream new dreams together about a huge vacation up the East coast and pray it can happen next summer
• laugh more than we ever have

My Blue Eyed Treasure

My baby boy turns ten today. 

He's the youngest of the brothers.  The quickest to laugh.  The one who most often drives me to prayer.  His ability to make people smile is unparalleled.  He has not yet located the dirty clothes hamper.  He possesses incredible compassion for the hurting.  He's the only one of our children that has needed a trip to the emergency room--twice.  His imagination is astounding.   His teacher's phone number is on my speed dial.

I have realized he is the answer to my prayer to know what my husband was like as a child.  I would caution you to watch what you pray for, but really, it's a joy to have this desire fulfilled.  I just have to remind myself of that often, encouraging myself by thinking on how well his dad turned out.

And the whirlwind called my son is worth every smile, every anxious moment, and every howl in the dark after stepping on a lego.

Ten years old.  A decade of joy.  I cherish it.

This morning, I held him close and blessed the next decade of his life.  I blessed the choices he will make.  I blessed his ability to hear the voice of God.  I blessed his body, soul, and spirit.

May the next ten years see my baby "grow in wisdom, stature, and favor with God and man."  (Luke 2:52)  And may I, as his mother, remember to breathe every moment into the deep places of memory.  Even the legos.

When Life's A Little Messy

It snowed in West Texas this week, and the beautiful blanket of white lasted for two glorious days.  I know it must have been torture for my little ones to go all day in their school building, counting down the hours and then the minutes until they could get home and go out to play in it.  As kids who have been raised here all their lives, they understand you have to seize the moment when it comes to snow.  You may not see it again until next year, because it doesn't happen often.

We spent twenty minutes digging out in the garage for mittens and scarves and hats.  Another couple of minutes were spent actually putting them on.  Then, after all the shoes were tugged on and tied, we realized snow could still find a inch or two of skin to freeze between the shoes and the pant legs.  So, we took the shoes off, dug around some more for some old soccer socks, and put those on a lot of little legs, pulling them up over the pants to keep out the cold.  The shoes went back on, finally, and out all four of my children ran to play.

I snapped some pictures of the snowy football tosses and the attempts at a snowman.  I got out the coffee mugs and put some water in the kettle to boil for hot chocolate.  I sat down to listen to snow squeals of delight.

And the door opened as my frozen children came back inside.

All that work for one brief party in the backyard.  All that mess for ten minutes of joy.

And as I looked at the red faces drinking hot chocolate at the kitchen table, I couldn't be upset, because sometimes joy requires life to get a little messy. 

Sometimes joy means we have to put our expectations of perfection on hold for a little while. 

Sometimes joy asks us to put down the to-do list and set out on the path that wasn't on our map at all. 

Sometimes joy invites us to stop listening to the ticking clock that wants us to be somewhere other than in this moment, holding everything that is precious.

Today, I choose to fling wide the door to joy and welcome it in.  

"Come in this house and stay awhile.  You can bring your mess in with you."

Joyful Always?

I hadn't felt well all day yesterday.  It was just a cold, but one that left my head and body aching.  I chose my clothes carefully, choosing to dress up for church a little more than usual.  I was trying to divert attention from my stuffiness, for I find I don't like to appear weak or answer the "Are you alright?" question too often.  I'm obviously still learning that in my weakness, He is made strong.

By His grace, I more than made it through the day of worship, I actually worshipped.  To worship is to take your eyes off yourself long enough to see Him for who He is and rejoice in His goodness.  Maybe it was through the act of worship that I left His house for mine actually feeling better, even though I crawled into my jammies the moment I got home.

It was at the end of the day after we had tucked in the children that I ran the hot bath and let myself sink into it, hoping it would ease the achiness.  Someone once told me that you know you are an introvert or extrovert based on how you recharge.  If you need to be around people to be renewed, you are definitely an extrovert.  If you need to be alone to refuel your soul, you are in introvert.  I believe my extreme fondness for a hot bath, candles, and a good book answers the question about which one I am.  

I must have been in there close to an hour when I heard it.  It was singing.  I at first thought my husband must have started a movie, but I could tell after a few moments that it was coming from my daughter's room.  Her little voice was soft, and I could only catch a word here or there at first.  Eventually, I realized she was singing a children's song from church.

"I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart, down in my heart to stay."

My own heart flooded with joy.  What kind of person sings this song to herself upon her bed?

"And I'm so happy, so very happy, I have the love of Jesus in my heart, down in my heart.  And I'm so happy, so very happy, I have the love of Jesus in my heart." 

A beautiful person.  A person who intuitively knows the real way to recharge is not with people or by being alone, but by being in His presence.  A person who knows how to worship.  A person who is joyful always because she has found the true source of joy.

I awoke to a full day and an even fuller week, still feeling some remnants of a cold. 

As I go over my calendar and try to figure out how I will be in all the needed places, ministering to all the right people, at just the right times this week, I feel the familiar tug of the overwhelming.  Is there enough of me to cover it all?  Is there enough love in me to meet these needs?

I find myself humming a tune.

"And I'm so happy, so very happy, I have the love of Jesus in my heart, down in my heart..."

Choosing Joy

I am grateful that everyday I have a choice.  On the days when the whole world turns as it should and there is not a cloud on my horizon, it's easy to choose joy.  It's on the days when my life seems to be spinning a little off its axis that it becomes harder.  It's in those moments that the choice is most important.


When the car is making a funny noise....I can choose joy.


When my son's teacher calls and wants to talk about his attention span....I can choose joy.


When I spend an hour with a hurting friend and do my best to comfort....I can choose joy.


When I have to have the hard conversation....I can choose joy.


When my night was too short for the long day ahead....I can choose joy.


When the prayer seems to go unanswered....I can choose joy.


And I'm grateful.  Grateful that the choice is always before me.


"I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth.  My soul will make its boast in the Lord; the humble will hear it and rejoice."  (Psalm 34:1-2)


And when my mouth begins to confess His praise and make its boast in Him, my world rights itself, for I am the prophet of my own life.  When I speak His praise, my heart hears and responds.  Self-pity fades, and joy is uncapped.


Thank you, Lord, for the car that is almost paid for, for the way it has blessed our family.


Thank you for what you are developing in my son, for the man he is becoming.


Thank you for the way you love my friend and for the comforting arms of the Holy Spirit.


Thank you that iron sharpens iron and that friendships are stronger for it.


Thank you that in my weakness, you are made strong.


Thank you that you are always, always good.


Choosing joy clears my vision, and I see things for what they really are.  Choosing joy lifts my head and transforms my face.  It causes me to relax my grip on that which I am trying to control and lift my hand instead to hold His.  It makes the world turn as it should as I turn in His arms and we dance the dance of grace.


"O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together.  I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.  They who look to Him are radiant, and their faces will never be covered in shame."  (Psalm 34:3-5)