Long Island Iced Teas and Shut Up Pleas!

Sometimes I enjoy basking in my extreme holiness.

I was on a two day vacay at Port Aransas, courtesy of my mother, and although I couldn't/didn't bring my bible, and my phone wouldn't work for YouVersion, I still managed to eek a few moments with God via quiet time and Sarah Young's Jesus Calling.

It mentioned resting and snuggling.
Did I mention I love resting and snuggling?

It talked about how important it is that we don't compare ourselves with others and urged us not to disguise our weaknesses, for it is in them, that God is able to work.

Holy, holy am I.

Did I mention I was on vacation?

So, as I was sunning myself by the pool, in my Most Highly modest swimsuit, I struck up a conversation with a woman nearby, even though she was wearing a super skinny bikini.

Over the top of my Nicholas Sparks, so romantic, but also holy book, "True Believer", I witnessed her daughter piggy backing her brother, holding him under the water for a frightening length of time.

When he finally came up for air, he was very upset.

"You almost drowned me!"

Being held down in the deep end for long periods of time is never fun.

I think the little girl must have realized how badly she scared her brother, because by the time she made it to the 4' mark,  she was swimming with kindness.

"Are they brother and sister?" I asked.
"Yes."

Not mentioning the near drowning, "They seem to get along pretty well."

"They have their moments."
"I have two younger brothers myself, I get it."

Over the next several minutes we bonded about family and church and I overshared that I was hiding from a daughter who was being completely disrespectful, but still wanted me to drive her to the store.

"Have you heard of Beth Moore?"

"Of course! I love her!" I refrained from mentioning that I aspire to be a rock star for God like Beth someday.
"I think she has a book out about boundaries."

We agreed how hard it can be to hang out with family when you're not always on the same page, spiritually speaking, of course.

"I'm the Jesus freak in the family, so I get a lot of flak."

She nodded her understanding and a few minutes later my glass beer bottle carrying, you can't have glass bottles at the beach, daughter and her boyfriend, and the daughter I was hiding from, all came and sat beside me.

I was thirsty, so Zach offered me a drink of Pepsi from his oversized Styrofoam cup.

After nearly spit taking on my granddaughter's head, I yelled, "YUk! What is that?"

"Beer."

Chelsea chimed in with, "Yeah, she only likes Long Island Iced Teas. Oh! And margaritas!"
So much for her sea of forgetfulness, I thought, as she went on.

"Yeah, on my graduation cruise, she bought all the cab drivers in Jamaica drinks, got super drunk, slid down the ocean slide at Margaritaville and lost my bracelet on the giant bouncy."

Dear God, please shut her up.

"Then, she plopped herself down on the gangway to get back on the ship 'cause she couldn't find her ID and held up a long line of people while she pulled every single item out of her purse."
Please. Make it stop.

"Then, she starts calling out every item...'Lipstick', 'eyeliner,' 'maxi-pad.' It was hysterical."

I was horrified.

Not because it didn't happen, it totally did.

How snuggly that we can all enjoy my screw ups as a family.

Hoping to end the saga I say, "Yeah. I like that Facebook post that says, 'No good story every starts with, 'I was eating a salad and...."

Is it over yet?

"And then you made out with that guy that was like 32!"

Oh dear God.

Just own it. Why try to disguise.

"He was 34. And he was hot," I smiled.

My holy halo came crashing down on the concrete. Hard.

They all laughed.

My new friend got up and walked away.

What did I just read that morning?

"Let us not compare ourselves to others."

My journey is not your journey.

That was my journey to Jamaica in 2008.

"Oh, don't worry; we wouldn't dare say we are as wonderful as these other men who tell you how important they are! But they are only comparing themselves with each other, using themselves as the standard of measurement. How ignorant!" 2 Cor. 10:12 NLT

I despise the disguise.

"Rather than struggling to disguise or deny your weakness, allow Me to bless you richly through it." -
August 12th, "Jesus Calling"

Permission granted. Please do so.

Shark Week is Over...But the Legend of the Shark's Tooth...Lives On!!

                                                                               (photo courtesy whisperfortheheart.wordpress.com)

Prayer works. I truly believe that.

Meal time prayers are especially special at our house.
Okay, that’s not exactly true.

I shoot for special, but am usually given the eye roll.

Recently at a family gathering, I was immediately interrupted.
“Lord, bless this food…”
Someone else chimed in, ”Blah blah blah. Let’s eat.”

Families are fun, aren’t they?

Even when it’s just Natalie and I at the dinner table, sometimes a few bites are gobbled before a blessing is given.

Last night though, over a deliciously economical, comfort meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, the spirit of the Lord showed up.

Sort of.

It had been a particularly hard day for Natalie, but I asked anyway.

“Would you like to say the blessing?”

She gave me the look that said, “I’m not really in a blessing saying kind of mood here, in case you didn’t notice,” but then, instead, smiled enthusiastically, “Sure!”

And with all the sincerity she could muster, “Thank you God for everything you do for us. Bless the thieves and the liars and the stealers. Amen.”

“The steelers? Like the Pittsburgh Steelers? Is it football season already?”

“No. The stealers that stole my Iphone.”

“Oh. Okay. Well you already said, thieves, so I was confused. Stealers and thieves are the same thing.”

There is absolutely nothing you can do or say to cheer up an almost 16 year old, who’s Iphone 5 was stolen, when she accidentally set it down in a skater store at the mall.

“We should pray that God moves on the heart of whoever took it, to return it. Or at least turn it on so we can use the locator service.”

The “pray for your enemies,” Polly Anna perspective was less than helpful.

What to say? What to say? What to say?

“I’m so sorry. I really can’t imagine how you feel. I know your whole life is in that phone. It’s terrible. It really is. Right now, I can’t buy another one. I’m sorry.”

“It’s probably like the equivalent of someone stealing our Atari when I was a kid.”

“No,” she said, “It’s not like that.”
“It would be more like someone stealing your laptop so you can’t write your blogs.”

Hobby blogs, she called them. Nice.

Hobby Lobby? Holly Hobby. Holy hobby? Whatever.

The eye roll doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Well he sees everything. That’s all I’m saying.”

Lately, for my own purposes, I’ve been trying to recall the many times God has come through for us.

“Oh! Remember that time when you were in 4th or 5th grade? And you had just gotten your brand new LL Bean corduroy coat? The pink one with the fur on the collar and the shark tooth buttons?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Remember how much you really, really wanted that coat? And then, like the first week of wearing it to school, you went down the metal slide sideways and one of the shark tooths (teeth?) broke in half?”

“I know the story mom.”

My mouth, as big as JAWS, cannot shut up.

Sherriff Brody couldn’t stop me with a high voltage, underground electric cable.

“I know. But how awesome was that? We prayed it would be found. You thought it was lost forever in a trillion million thousand grains of sand.”

The whole Girl Scout Troop prayed for the finding of that broken tooth button.

“And then what happened? Huh? What happened then?”

“I know what happened, mom.”

She wasn’t exactly giving me her seal of approval.

I was trying to build momentum, but the moment felt more like the Shark Week commercial featuring Snuffy the Seal.

Ignoring her pleas to stop, and with great enthusiasm, I finished the story for her.

“Three days later, after many recesses and running feet, Erin Haley was playing in the sand, and found it! That teeny, tiny piece of button, found, in all that stirred up sand.”

I can still see Natalie’s smiling face as she got in the car that day after school, sharing with me the amazing story of the recess miracle, “She yelled out at me, like Erin always does, “Natalie! Is this your shark tooth button? I’m like, Oh my gosh! It is! It is!!”

“Can you believe it mom?”
“Yes, baby girl. Of course I believe it.”

I believed it then.

I believe it now.

We weren’t able to glue the button back onto the coat. For some reason, the Super Glue wouldn’t stick.

But, I know that story did.

It was a faith builder for myself, and a lot of little girls that day.

And I kept that shark tooth button.

For times just like these.
When we so desperately need to remember, that prayer works.

Life Lessons from Lepers

                                                                                                              (courtesy of mochadad.com)

I know the importance of giving.

So, I'm going to GIVE one of the greatest tips I know.

It is especially helpful on days I decide to apply it.

BE THANKFUL!

I keep reading how important it is to GIVE good content to your readers and not make the blog all about you.

Sometimes, it may come off as, "all about me," because I am most comfortable with just telling stories.

I have a hard time "shoulding" people.

Well, unless we are related or I was married to you once.

It's much easier for me to illustrate life points through stories of personal failures and successes.

Then I don't feel like I'm pointing fingers and saying, "You should do this. You should not do that."

One thing I know, I know for sure....be thankful.

Want to know God's will for your life?

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thess 5:18

I love that!

A few weeks ago, I was reading to some kids at Samm's Ministries and it occurred to me how much they were sort of like little lepers. 

Except...their thankfulness ratios were much, much higher!

I think there were about 25-30 kids in attendance to make pretty pigs crafts and then listen to my story, "Pig's Big Adventure".

About 5 or so of them, came back to say, "Thanks!" before they left.

And man did that curl my tail!

"Ooohhh! You are so totally going places with manners like that!" I squealed.

And their faces lit up.

Just like the bible man that came back to give thanks after he was miraculously healed. Have you heard the story?

There were 10 lepers that Jesus healed, but only one came back to give thanks.

One!

I can't imagine having terribly painful lesions and sores all over my whole body for years and years and not saying, "Thanks!" to the one who relieved me of the pain.

If a person had Leprosy, they were basically cast out from the general population.

The story is in Luke 17.

Jesus came across 10 lepers on his way to Jerusalem.

"He traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

What is peculiar is, if you had leprosy, and you thought you were healed, or in remission, then you had to go do a sort of show and tell, for the priests, so they could then give their permission to be populated back into society.

As they went...they were healed. As they went?

Obviously the guys had enough faith they were going to be healed, right?

Otherwise, wouldn't they have waited to go until they were, for sure, healed?

'Cause I don't know about you, but I'm thinking it would be really, really embarrassing to just show up and stand before some priests in fancy hats, with a bunch of pus and fistules saying, "Wait for it...wait for it...."

I'm sorry. I just got that visual in my head and I can't stop laughing.

"One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. 

Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

I'd like to think I'd have been thankful enough to at least send a pretty Hallmark card!

Seriously though, for that kind of healing, I'd opt to make a special trip back, just so I could flash my new flesh before Jesus.

"Thank you!! Thank you! OMG! You are soooo the G! Look at me!Thank you! Thank you!"

One of the verses I've been really letting sink in lately is, "Don't worry about anything, but pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. (click that link for sure) Then, you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:6 

Tell somebody thank you today. Or send them a pretty card.

Practice Does Not Make You Perfect!

I've been thinking about Mrs. Rodewald a lot lately.

She was the journalism teacher who told me I could write.

Not only did she tell me I could write, without my knowledge, she nominated me for the Quill and Scroll Honor Society for Young Journalists.

And based on some writings, including a music review of a Prince concert I saw in Dallas, I was accepted.

I think it started out like this, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life...."
Electric word, life.

Some life lessons come easier than others.

I should have known there would be a test.

There's always a test.

Just as soon as I think I have some wonderful, victorious living, quality down pat, I get tested.
And fail.

This week, I will not be Jesus The Teacher's pet.

Knowing I would be with about 14 other family members for several days in a row, I tried to get all prayed up.

I used to refer to my brothers as the Spawns of Satan, and I regret that now.

The word says to practice hospitality.

Sadly, I'm just not always good at it, especially with the people closest to me.

"Okay. Today Lord, help my speech be gracious and attractive."

I walked happily through my mom's front door with every intention of being loving and kind.
"Hey Lurch!" yelled my brother.

What goes around, really does come around doesn't it?
It's the reaping and sowing thing.
And it was pretty much down hill from there.

Down, down, down....down on my knees I went after I got home, total crybaby on the carpet style.
All because I continue to let things people say get under my skin.

And I failed to remain gracious, and the speech in my head, was not loving at all.

I thought I was ready. I thought I was prepared.
I thought I would respond to criticism with love and peace.
Nope. Not so much.

This week I was going to write about not letting stuff get to you.
But now I won't.

Because I have not practiced it enough to be victorious, and I really don't want to be like the guys in Matthew 23.

Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, ".........But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach."

Holy do-overs!!

I've hung out on Hypocrite Hill. Again.

I just had a flashback to the fourth grade, and I think I understand the lesson.

Even though I studied the chapter and I memorized the material, I got the test handed back to me, and it was wrong.

It is possible to have done the book work, but my actual field application needs some work.
Because my relational reactions this week, really sucked.

When I'm feeling particularly brave I will ask God, "Please reveal to me if I have done something or said something that was offensive to you or not the way you would have responded in a situation."

And then he does.
And I pray He's grading on a curve.

Because don't we all look at our own stuff and measure it against the rest of the class?

Aren't we pretty sure we don't deserve as bad of a grade as some of the others?

Maybe we are guilty of C behavior, but not a flat out F!

Sin is sin. Period.

And although it is an easy Spelling Bee word, it's not a very popular one.

"Those who have been born into God’s family do not make a practice of sinning, because God’s life is in them...." 1 John 3:9

I don't want to make sinning a practice, but, it happens.

"Everyone wants to be on a winning team, but no one wants to come to practice."  - Bobby Knight

As a believer, I don't expect that I'm going to be perfect, but I do want to practice being better at this thing called life.

Doing the book work is important.

And so is putting it into practice.

But, as a former teacher's pet, I'm very aware that I've just been asked to help pass out the papers, not actually grade them.

"And if the elevator tries to break ya down, go crazy.....punch a higher floor!'

It's Getting Hot in Here!!!!

                                                                                                  (image courtesy of theendtimecall.com)
Hot! Hot! Hot! Can you feel it?
Hot! Hot! Hot!

I woke up this morning burning up.

And opened up my bible to Daniel.

I haven't been able to get him, the two shacks and nego out of my head for the last few days.

So I figured I better revisit the man from the Lion's Den.

Ridiculously awesome bible story to follow:

(INSERT: "I'M NOT A BIBLE SCHOLAR" DISCLAIMER HERE)

I never attended seminary and am not a certified bible teacher.

Though I gotta tell you, I would really love to do this fiery furnace craft I found on the web earlier....too fun!

Exactly how do you get a gig working in Bibleland anyway?

I'm sure they have gatekeepers.

Anyway, back to the story...

So, King Nebuchadnezzar, who we will refer to from here on out as...The Nebster, ordered his soldiers to go to Judah, a place they just pummeled, and gather up the strongest, smartest, most handsome men and bring them back to Babylon for training.

Many of those men were from royal, well off families, and included in that gathered group was Daniel and three of his friends who would later be named, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.

There's a ton more to the story, but they ended up becoming great men that excelled at everything and The Nebster put them in charge of many things.

But, reigning over kingdoms had its ups and downs I guess and King Nebster had a terribly disturbing dream.

It's pretty hilarious because, he first called in his sort of Psychic Friend Network guys, and asked them to interpret the dream.

They said, "Well, tell us your dream first and then we'll tell you what it meant."

This really ticked the King off 'cause he thought they were trying to scam him...and they probably were.

I lol'd reading it this morning.

They're response was so similar to one I had when I called Dell Computers several years back.

Me: "I'm locked out of my computer. I lost my password. Can you please tell me my password?"

Guy from India in his sweetest Indian voice, but a little sarcastic: "How can I possibly know what you would choose for a password? I am not in your head, and I cannot be in your head, therefore, I would not know what you would  choose for a password. So, no...I cannot."

I hope to go to India soon. And I really, really hope to run into him so I can give him a big hug, "Psst. The password was password."

So basically they told the king, "We can't possibly know the meaning if we don't know what you dreamt?"

Super annoyed, as we can be when we don't get our way, he ordered all the smart guys to be killed, including, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

But Daniel was always thinking fast on his feet and said, "What happened to make him so mad?"

So, one of Nebster's right hand guys who favored Daniel, told him what had happened.

Favor is good. Thank you God for favor!

Daniel said, "Let me tell him what his dream meant."

Then, in preparation for seeing the king, he prayed with the guys and asked God to reveal both what the dream was and what it meant.

God did.

So Daniel did.

And blew King Nebster's mind.

Initially, he was super grateful about it.

But then he let his equally super ego and pride get in the way and he thought he could just build a
bigger, stronger more awesome 90' statue of gold.

If there was ever an occasion to have Solid Gold Dancers on stand by, this was it!

Then he ordered everyone to immediately bow down to the statue when they heard the music ...but Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, would not.

They could have given many legit excuses and done it anyway, but they trusted God and believed He would have their backs.

Basically they told Nebster, "Our God is able and will save us. But...even if he doesn't...."

Even if he doesn't???

"We will not bow down to another God or your idol."

That's faith in action!

Even if he doesn't?

Being a Christian does not guarantee that the relationships, the healing, the finances or the breakthrough will ever come.

If faith always worked, the footnotes say, Christianity would just be good insurance for everyone.

No faith would be required if it were a guarantee.

"Faith is being sure of what we hope for, even when not evidenced by what we see." Hebrews 11.

Those guys had some seriously solid gold faith!

And that gets me so totally fired up!

And King Nebby too...
He got really, really, mad and ordered the fiery furnace to be stoked up seven times hotter than usual so the three rebels would plummet into the flames and die.

 They got fired up alright.

But then they walked out not even smelling like smoke!

Let's get fired up! Clap, clap...clap, clap, clap!!!!

 

Can we make the craft now?

You're a Glitch Girl...And You've Gone Too Far...

(courtesy of deviantart)

Vanellope von Schweetz: [after a trial run] So how'd I do?

Wreck-It Ralph: Uh... well, you almost blew up the whole mountain...

Vanellope von Schweetz: Right, right. That's a good note.

Sometimes it takes a cartoon character to lead us to a breakthrough.

For me, the lesson came in the form of spunky and spectacular, Vanellope von Schweetz in the movie, Wreck it Ralph.

During one of our neighborhood nights out, we set up the big screen  borrowed from Oak Hills Church, and had a great night with friends and family watching it by the pool.

I was completely enveloped by Vanellope.

Her story is my story.

And maybe yours too?

"Everyone here thinks I'm a mistake," she told Ralph.
And I understand that feeling.

And I know it's not true.

Deep down, Vanellope knew she was a racer.

And she believed she was a winner.

Despite the fact that she occasionally, "glitched," she knew she wasn't a Glitch.

King Candy: If Vanellope races, Ralph, she'll be in the game roster. When that happens, anyone who plays her in the game will see she's a glitch. We'll be put out of order for good.
And then Ralph sold her out.

I hated that part the most.

"I'm not a Glitch! I just have Pixlexia!"

Vanellope was very much aware of her issues, but she didn't focus on them. She focused on crossing the finish line.

She knew those issues didn't define her and she also knew she wasn't like the other Sugar Rush girls.

She was created different.

And unique.

Aren't we all just a bunch of characters who glitch on occasion?

I glitch this way, you glitch that way.

Give me grace for my glitching, I'll give you some back.

Horrifically, my daughters interrupted the last 10 minutes of the movie and I was devastated.
I just had to know what happened to that little girl!

So, a few days later, I solo rented it on U-Verse...with no one else home, and bawled my eyes out.

I determined to not let my glitching define me as a person, but instead, allow me to recognize and reboot in the places I keep short circuiting.

Fix it Felix can't do it.

Only my creator can fix those glitches.

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize." 1 Corinthians 9:24

Sometimes I struggle to see the finish line or the prize.
And solely focus on the lies.

You are a mistake.

You are A Glitch.

No. I'm not.

I was created in the image of God.

Set apart for a purpose.

"Our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them."
                                                                                                                                            - Walt Disney

Keep Calm and Glitch On Girls!

I Bless the Rains Down in Africa...

So in the middle of my ark building activities and constant questioning, I've been really wondering.

"Am I really hearing God's voice?"

"Is He hearing me?"

"Can you hear me, Lord?"

"Can ya?"

I explain my reasons for doubting, "Well that doesn't make any sense."
Immediately back, "My ways are higher than your ways. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge me and I will direct you your paths."

I have to provide for my family.
"I am your provider."

It can be very scary charting unknown territories.
"My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest."

I'm still scared.
"Fear not. I am with you."

But, I don't know what I'm suppose to be doing right now.
"Be still and know that I am God. Just trust. I will give you rest."

But I feel like I should be doing something.

I struggle with resting. I really do.

I'm a doer.

So I I've been trying to just seek and rest in peace.

Well, not that kind of RIP.

I've also been sleeping a little later than usually and feeling pretty guilty about it.

Also, I'm really having to force myself to not move in, 'make something happen,' mode.

That's what I usually do.

I try to fix it or figure it out myself with logical thinking.

Resting right now is okay?? Really?

So when I pray, "What do you want me to do today Lord?" and he replies back, "Do whatever you want. But do it with excellence."

It raises the bar on scrubbing the bathtub.

Or getting along with my family.

Or people who were probably well meaning with words, but to hear them out loud in my ears, they just sounded mean.

Some topics still sting.

Substantially.

"Can ya hear me Lord? Can ya see me?"

"Can ya?"

And then He told me he could.

From Kenya.

"It's the song of the redeemed, rising from the African plains."

He reigns.

After hearing more things I didn't want to hear and wiping away the twenty million thousandth tear, I decided to let it go and just be excellent.

These are the situations when we are called to just shake off the dust, get on with the day and go through the mail.

In God's perfect timing, I received minutes later, a  heartfelt letter of thanks from my Child Fund sponsored child.

My sweet Syprian is three years old.

Her mother Lilian took the time to write a letter and send her thanks for a card I sent a while back.
She wanted to let me know they are doing well and praying for my family as well.

She included in her letter a picture that Syprian had drawn for me.

I'm crying as I type this because God is just so always totally blowing me away with His awesomeness!

He is the creator of heaven and earth, the alpha, the omega...the one who set the moon and the stars and told the ocean where to stop..and still, still....takes the time to position people in Africa to send a perfect message at the perfect time.

Just for me.

Next to Syprian's adorable pencil drawing were the words, handwritten by her mother,

"Baby Sleeping."

"He makes me lie down in green pastures and plants me beside still waters."

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

Africa! Are you kidding me?

Kenya?

" I can."

Hungry I Come to You...SA Food Bank

I had to do something.

Once we were done sorting and organizing the back packs, I was finally able to get the Dora the Explorer, "Backpack, Backpack," song out of my head, and move onto helping with the canned food distribution.

Just as a friendly FYI, it is not a good idea to volunteer at The San Antonio Food Bank if you dashed out the door, therefore, skipping the most important meal of the day, deciding to just drive and claim that, 'man does not live on bread alone,' on the way there.

Trust me. You may get hungry.

And then, half way through your scheduled time, you will totally be tempted to play out your own version of, The Hunger Games, while hiding in secrecy under the stainless steel sorting table, victoriously holding a pull tab can of Chef Boyardee Raviolis.

I didn't do it. But I can see how it could happen.

Our volunteer coordinator had several big guys bring out huge bins with massive amounts of donated food.

San Antonio is a generous city!

And the needs here are just as great as the generosity.

The San Antonio Food Bank actually feeds about 58,000 people a week.

That is amazing to me!

Once the plastic bins were in front of us, it was our job to take the food out of  their plastic bags and then organize them into one of the following five main categories; protein, veggies, dry pasta, fruit and cereal.

There were also a few subcategories like drinks, condiments, pet food, etc...

I don't think I've ever seen that much food in one place and I kept thinking about how many people they serve and the generosity of the donors.

And then it happened.

I had a revelation and had to go all, "Fifty Second Sermon," on a few of the other volunteers.

"I just thought of something hilarious!"

They just looked at me. We'd only known each other a little over an hour.

So maybe it was a little over zealous.

I took their silence as my cue to run with it.

So I did.

"I sort of feel like maybe I've been a stingy canned food giver!"

" You know that verse...the one says something like, 'you will get, by the measure in which you
give?' I gotta tell ya....True story...

When I was younger and new to God stuff, if someone asked me to bring canned food to church or participate in a food drive, I totally scoured my pantry for something, like beets...ya know? Or okra maybe?

I think I even checked the expiration date on a 4 oz. can of sweetened condensed milk.

Looking over everything I had in my cupboard, I would think, 'Well there's no way I'm giving up my cream corn!'

But....now, I get it.
I want to be a joyful and generous giver.

Not giving to get, but knowing that God sees my vegetable stinginess....and He's measuring.

Here! Take my cut asparagus. Oh! And my Green Giant Cream Corn!
Hey! Want some potted meat?
I've got  Vienna Sausages too!"

I think a few laughed.

A few others gave me 'the look', because I'm pretty sure, they thought I was kind of bossy.

I didn't mean to be.

It just seemed the fastest way to get the job done was to start setting all the cans up on the counter, then have us fill the designated boxes for each category.

I made a few suggestions.

I can't help it. I tried to stop myself.
Truly, I did. I thought I was being kind.

And one of them took my banana box lid!

Hey!
Swiper, no swiping!

They need those too by the way. Banana boxes. At the food bank. Just in case you have some laying around.

And fruit. There wasn't enough canned fruit! Send it with the box of love, joy, peace and kindness.
What are the fruits again? Mandarin? Gentleness. Peaches? Self-control. Pears? Patience. Oh, yeah.

Later, when we were just about finished, Kyle, a rockin' awesome, O'Connor High School junior who was just there to help, came up to me with a big smile on his face and said,

"Here. I found your can of beets."

I laughed.

And then immediately I eyeballed the box of Swiss Miss Rolls and looked up at the ceiling.

To another volunteer, it may have looked like I was checking to see if the coast was clear.

In all actuality, I was just glancing around, hoping to spot some of God's good measure coming my way.

Hungry I come to you, for I know you satisfy...

Oh, and the actual verse is Luke 6:38, "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

I Will Remember You

 

 

 

 (image by pixelmuttz)

Remembering to stay laser focused is hard for me.

I really, really, really need a plan.

“Be still and know that I am God,” just seems so super, Welcome to Slacker Town-ish.

So I thought I’d help God out today with a step by step guide for designing the life I’ve always wanted….as if he doesn’t already know.

Duh.

But, I like to be helpful at times and started working on Michael Hyatt’s, “Creating Your Personal Life Plan,” that I downloaded months ago.

God, Michael…..Michael, God.

Thank you both for being with me today to help me get back on track.

I’m sure that God has a plan for my life. He says he does and I believe it.
Mostly.

He also says his plans are good.
If goodness is good, wouldn’t greatness be even better?

I cannot have my story end with a fiery plane crash.

And according to Stephen Covey, The 7 Habits of Successful People guy, when you are planning the plan….you have to start with the end in mind.

That is today’s assignment.

Write down how you want to be remembered.

Not like bathroom stall wall remembered, but, you know, remembered…at the end of it.

How do I want to be remembered when I die?
So here is what I wrote.

One day when I’m gone, I hope people gather together to happily celebrate my life and  the hallelujah, high fiving Jesus moment I will be having in heaven.

I have not been, but I hear it’s ‘for real’.

There are many qualities I would like for them to remember about me.

Things that are sweet. Things that are nice.

Mostly, I hope and pray that I have lived a life worthy of even remembering at all.

Of course, I will want them to say that I was kind. I was generous.

I will want them to say that I was compassionate and caring.

And hilarious.

I won’t want them to, but they will remember that I sucked at times.
I was selfish.
I was rude and mean. Ungrateful and ungracious.

Some will remember the time I got Silly Putty stuck in Dee’s carpet. Again, my apologies. 

I hope they will also remember that I tried my best to persevere when life wasn’t always lovely or good.

Sometimes I did that well, sometimes, not so much.

I hope they will remember I lived the happiest by embracing the little things in life, like a beautiful bird landing on the balcony, a gorgeously streaked sunset, a special song, or a grandbaby’s giggle.

I hope people will remember my life and that it is possible to rise out of ashes and brokenness, one day finally discovering something beautiful in the mess.

I hope they learned as they watched me fail, over and over again, sometimes it’s actually the mistakes that make up the marvelous-ness of it all.

I hope those who cared about me also remember, through it all, I smiled big and laughed…
….a lot.

In between the tears, there was joy.

And childlike wonder.

I hope they will say that I was authentic and real.

And I loved people. Not always the right way, just the best I knew how.

I hope they most remember the way I loved all people, from every possible walk of life, and that kind of love, was something……worthy of remembering.

And celebrating.

I Will Remember You



 
 

Oh Can't You See? You Belong to Me.

Okay, busted!

I have a girl crush on Sandra Bullock.

Lately I've watched a lot of her movies and am feeling a little like George Costanza during his Marisa Tomei obsession.

It is my long time love of Sandra that kept me in my seat to watch The Heat last weekend.

Well, my love for her, the price of admission and the super buttery, movie theatre popcorn.

My spirit said walk out, my flesh said, "Quit being such a fuddy duddy and eat the flippin' Twizzlers."

I made the wrong choice.

I made the wrong call. And I'm sorry.

I stayed in my seat to watch The Heat and I lol'd at a tiny balls joke.
Again, I'm sorry.

If I said testes would that make it any less offensive?
Nut sack? Probably not.

I was wrong and I've already been read my Miranda rights.
By Movie Monitoring Jesus.

I'll just move in another direction with this little life lesson.

Natalie, my almost 16 year old, just got her driving permit and I am absolutely not the best parent for the job of, "Let's Practice Not Dying on Interstate Highway 10 Today."

Only half-jokingly I told her, "I'm much better driving with you than I was with your two sisters. Of course, back then, I actually cared about surviving. Eight, ten years ago, I still had hope. Now I'm just kind of like well, if Jesus takes your wheel and it happens to take me to him, so be it."

Inappropriate and twisted humor goes over well in our family.

My greatest fear for Natalie driving is that she will not see the "Do Not Enter," and go the wrong way. Like I did.

Not just while out practicing her driving skills on the open road, but in life, in general.

I am more than aware of the dangers when going the wrong way.

The other night there were tons of police out and she said, "I hate it when they get behind me. It makes me so nervous."

"Well, it should only make you nervous if you're doing something wrong."

Very Andy Andrews like, if I do say so myself.

And then, in that very teachable moment, I chose to NOT share about the road trip when

I unexpectedly came upon a border patrol stop, squad car lights flashing in my rear view mirror.
Immediately, I was panic stricken when I saw the red and blue lights because I smuggled a pin joint in a coffee can in the trunk, and I was sure I was about to go to Mexican prison.

Once I saw lights flashing in my rear view mirror, I had my own flash of genius inspiration, reached into my purse and began slathering massive amounts of Bengay all over, every area of exposed skin.

When they opened my car to further inspect, the border dogs took one wiff, shook their large German Shepherd heads quickly back and forth, and retreated from the vehicle immediately.

Border patrol waved me through.
And I swore I would never smoke pot again.
I lied.

Thank you good Shepherd.
Your mercy and grace has not gone unnoticed.

The morning of Natalie's driving instruction, I happened to read Romans 13.
It talks about obeying authorities that are placed over us.

It says in chapter 3, "rulers hold no terror for those who do right, but for those who do wrong. Do you want to be free from fear of the one in authority? Then do what is right."

I'm not getting into a legalistic/law thing here. It's just funny how life is always presenting opportunities for me to reflect on what I've learned.

"They are called to serve and protect," I remind her.

"Who?"

"The Police."

"Every breath you take, And every move you make.....I'll be watching you...
Every  single day, every word you say..every game you play, every night you stay...I'll be watching  you...'   --The Police

Kind of like God.

Psalm 121:7 says, "The Lord will keep you from all harm, he will watch over your life; he will watch over your coming and going."
Watch over me, watch over my family, and those I love.

Keep us from going the wrong way on the one way.

Grocery Store Confessions: Wake me, Shake me...

Standing in the check out line at HEB the other day, I saw this amazing magazine!

Snuggled right up next to all the other literary works, like 50 Ways to Look Hotter and How To Last Longer in Bed, was the most practical and proven, true life application of real change.

"The Bible: 50 Ways it Can Change Your Life"

How cool is that?

I love my HEB!

One of the things I love most, besides their outstanding customer service, (Shout out to Richard!) they always have great music playing.

Standing in line, I immediately recognized the familiar tune.
"Mony, Mony."
"Wake me, shake me mony, mony......Hey!"

Yep. That one.

I'm sure Tommy James and The Shondells never anticipated the vileness in which that song would later be sung.

One I personally sang at the top of my lungs.

The song makes me cringe now.

I announced to the others in lane 8, "I hate this song. Well, strongly dislike anyway."

They stopped putting stuff on the conveyor belt and looked up to listen, because, well, you can hear better when you're looking up.

After receiving smiles and visual confirmation in front of the Snickers bars and Tic Tacs, the woman behind me squealed with delight, "I love this song!"

Okay. Not on the same page. Duly noted.

But, I decided I was not going to miss this opportunity to share with the grocery buying public, the depths of my former depravity.

"I used to love this song too," I smiled back. "But now when I hear it, it just reminds me of being super drunk on a dance floor, acting like an idiot and shouting verbal obscenities while wearing see through shirts and mini-skirts."

She laughed.

I'm no angel, believe me. And I'm really not trying to sound all holier than thou here, for real. I'm just very surprised by the length and progress of my journey and the jacked up roads I've been down and survived.

Amazed and humbled.

Drinking and drugging and partying are all fun.

Until the consequences kick in.

I love that line from the movie Crazy Heart, "Funny how falling feels like flying, for a little while." And it does.
For a little while.

I used to despise all things, "religious," and felt very free to do whatever I wanted to do.

The greatest thing I've probably learned along the way is, just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

Now, I am the girl in the grocery store, totally excited to go home and make a delicious soup I saw Giada prepare on Food Network.
With kale.

Now, I am the girl, ecstatic and grateful to Time Home Entertainment for putting this beautiful publication in my check out isle.
Just in time.

Thank you, Time.

Thank you for time to grow up, time to change, time to realize what's really important in life and what's not worth chasing.

Thank you time and time again, for forgiveness.

Thank you for the time I had with friends I love who may not see or agree with me.

Thank you for time to reflect on past mistakes and time to pray I don't repeat them.

Thank you for time to repent when I know I probably will.

Funny how I used to love that song and felt no shame whatsoever in yelling, "Get L---, Get F-----!"

Asking God to come into my life and into all of the dark places has undeniably changed me.

In more than 50 ways.

"Do not conform to the ways of this world, but be transformed, by the renewing of your mind." - Romans 12:2 

I've so needed to be renewed.

It goes on to say, "Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is...his good, pleasing and perfect will."

I will if you will!

The woman behind me went on to tell her own story as her teenage daughter stood quietly behind, "I was just at a party a few weeks ago and we were all out on the dance floor yelling, "Get Laid, Get F.... "

I interrupted with my most sincere and loving smile, "I get it."
Because, I do.

Free Fallin into the Great Wide Open

Cliff diving always seemed to be an attractive adventure sport.

I just didn't think Jesus was going to call me to do it.

When I say things like, "But I'm really scared," he whispers back, "Fear not, for I am with you."

When I say, "It sounds really crazy. I need a word," he says, "I've given you several, but if you want just one....Obey."

The Big O. And not the fun one either.

Super scary stuff, going deep.

It's a lot like that feeling you get when you're a kid, standing at the edge of the high dive and you look down.

And then you look back at all the people on the ladder who wish you'd just hurry up and jump already!

So, you act brave and curl your toes over the edge and maybe even start to bounce the board a little like you're really gonna go for it.

But then, the second you start to feel the vibration under your feet, you stop bouncing and just start backing up. Or maybe even turn completely around.

I've felt the vibrations. And I don't care.

The thought of having to crawl down that ladder again is so much more worse than just swan diving into the deep end!

I pray to God I am not going to belly flop. I've done it before and it hurts like hell.

My girls and I have all played "The Trust" game at some point in our lives.

It's a youth group and recess favorite.

This is the game where your "buddy" stands behind you and promises to catch you when you fall backwards.

But then they don't.

And you hit the ground.....hard!

The next time someone asks you to join in the fun, you're not really ready to play that faith building game again.

Especially if you've fallen as far and hard as I have.

But the constant tugging in my spirit says to me daily, "This is all you. When you're ready to do it my way, let me know. I've been telling you to stop, you don't listen. So, if you wanna strive to survive a little longer, okay. Let me know when you're really ready to give up your life, your way."

But I don't understand. And I want to know the plan.

Have I really surrendered ALL?
ALL minus 'this' or 'that' = NOT ALL.

When I sing, "I Surrender All," he reminds me of what I haven't really surrendered....at all.
"What about ____________?"

I think if we're honest...we are almost always holding something back. Some thing that we are not quite ready to give up.

Something we don't trust him to handle correctly maybe?
Name your thing.

Maybe it popped into your head, just now.

That "thing" we want to keep to ourselves, tucked away in the, "Don't Touch This Yet...I've Got This Lord," drawer.

Just yet anyway.

And that's the enemy's best play. Later, Tomorrow, Not Yet.

I quit. I give up. Take my life.
 
The more I seek Him, the more I find Him. The more I find Him, the more I love Him.

And it's that love that he has for me, that makes it a little bit easier to just let go, free fallin' into the arms of my father.

Even when I've slammed into the concrete so many times before, left hurting.

We're not born with that distrust.

My granddaughter, Saydee Grace, loves to do "Row, Row, Row the Boat." At first, we just kind of swayed back and forth, back and forth. Then I started to gently slide her backwards down my legs.

She loves it!

Now, when we are finished with the, "life is but a dream," she joyfully and expectantly thrusts herself backwards, giggling all the way down!

Saydee trusts that I'm not going to let her fall.

And the confidence she has in me, makes me smile!

I imagine it does the same thing to God's heart when his children just trust.

"Obey me in this, and you will see the glory of the Lord."

Trusting that his plans are good, the beauty of obedience, suddenly surrendered to unity and the freedom of free falling.

She's a good girl, loves her mama, loves Jesus, and America too.
                                                                                                     --tom petty

What did you just call me?

 

I’ve been called a lot of names in my life.

Earthquake, Lurch, Bigfoot, Zit and Brace Face.

You name it, I’ve been called it.
Slut, whore, the B word. (I typed it out the first time.) It read a little harsh.

I needed a new name. Most of my life I’ve lived by a name not given to me by my father who loved me.

God gave new names to people all the time. Saul became Paul, Simon became Peter…Sarai became Sarah.

I bet Sarah smiled when that baby came.

Years ago, I read and related to, Much-Afraid, from the Fearing Family in the book, ”Hinds’ Feet on High Places.”
God promised to give her a new name.
She was crippled, she was lame.

A few weeks ago I stood in a courtroom and heard the judge say,
“You are now Tina Mollie Fisher.”

I choked out a squeaky, “Okay. Thank you,” and took my seat on the cold bench.

And I held back the tears as I sat, waiting for the official written declaration to be handed over to me.

Joy and sorrow saturated my heart simultaneously.

My new name.

The name I was given on the day I was born, innocent and untouched except by the hand of God that knitted me in my mother’s womb, with a plan and a purpose for my life.

Yes, yes…born with a sinful nature, but a baby girl brought into a world new and fresh, untouched and undamaged.

A name I was given before I was adopted, before the silly school yard name calling and before the divorces.

The name beautifully painted on my toy box.

Interestingly enough, the name I never got to use, my birth name, was Fisher.

I believe I have been called to be a fisher of men.

Sometimes I feel more like a bait fish.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the dreams God has placed in my heart and the sometimes uncertainty of my sanity, and I keep coming back to Simon.

Later named Peter, aka..the “Rock.”

I love that! Especially because I can totally see Peter walking along with Jesus proudly thinking to himself with a big smile on his face, “I rock. I so totally rock! Look at me, hanging with the miracle man himself! One of the first four he even chose! What can I say? I am soooo totally a rock star!”

Well, up until the whole rooster crowing thing. That had to hurt.
And his co-followers probably kicked sand in his face.

When Jesus first called Peter and the others to “follow” him, they didn’t just drop nets and go all out the first time he commanded. It took a while for him and the others to get out of the boat and stay out of the boat.

They took their time, watched his actions, heard his words, and saw the miracles.

It took time to build their faith.
It took time for them to trust that this man was really worthy of following.

How many demon-possessed, sight restored, lame walkers walking does it take to build that kind of faith?

A boat load!

Finally, one day when they were working, throwing a net into the water, Jesus called out to them again and said, “Come, follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people!” They left their nets at once and followed him. (Matthew 4:19)

The Tyndale study notes say, “Jesus called them away from their productive trade to be productive spiritually.”
Jesus are you calling?

All I want is the Holy Spirit on my caller ID right now.
I tried to be a water walker once.
I sank.

I don’t want to be irresponsible. I just want to be obedient.
I’m still Much Afraid.
And I know I'm lame.

But I trust you.
And I’d really, really love to go fishing.

I’m ready Lord to lay down my net if that’s you on the other end of the line.
My faith is so fully stretched, but I can’t wait to see the catch!!!
God help me.
Let the gates of hell, not prevail.
I’ll catch em’, you clean em’!
I’m in deep now.
Catch and release me to do your will, whatever that may be.
In Jesus’ precious, name above all names.
Amen.

Free at Last? Free at Last?

As I was driving to my mom's house for the fourth festivities, I heard Air1 play Dr. King's, "Free at Last," speech.

Man, I want that kind of freedom.
He had dreams that were noble and righteous.

Mine just take me to super fun places where I get to share the love.

The other night I dreamt I was boarding my Fisher Price airplane and hugging all of the little wooden headed people as I got ready to climb the flight of stairs.

A stairway to heaven perhaps?
"Take me now, Lord. Please. I'm begging you!"

But then my plane turned into a rocket ship. And I'm pretty sure I heard Elton John singing.
And then the rockets red glare woke me up and reminded me that Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays of the year.

My birthday follows just a few days later and my mom always plans a fabulous celebration, combining the birth of our great country with honoring her own Little Miss Independence.

Me.

Born July 8th, 1967
.
What did I wish for when I blew out my candles?
Freedom.

Jesus Christ can I just be free at last?

I admit it. I'm in a fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh of July funk for sure.

I feel pushed by an invisible force to live a life that smushes me and leaves me feeling suffocated and defeated.

I have also felt quite certain that God and I were tight, and I really was created for something more than the life I've actually been living.

Mediocrity messes with my head.

And then I start to mope around, crying and complaining like a whiney Israelite.

Can I just skip the wilderness adventure pack and go back?

There is some sick sense of security when you're living in bondage, you know?

"Get me out of here!" screams from the depth of my soul.
And I mean it.

Free me from the overwhelming guilt of my past. Free me from the financial hardship brought on by myself and others, Free me from the hurt of words, both spoken and heard. Free me from doubt and insecurity and a looming sense that nothing ever really changes.

I throw on the yoke, tie up the knots and totally ignore what was done on the cross for me. Continually measuring myself against how perfectly 'right' everyone else is doing it but me.

But it's wrong.

"It is for freedom, that Christ set us free! Therefore, do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery."

The entire 5th chapter of Galatians, begs me to understand the magnificence of this freedom!
It's just about Jesus.

But I'm still stuck anyway.

Some days I think I hear him say, "Quit."
Other days, "Be still and know that I am God."

I am still, just a little bit ticked off.

The weight of my regrets is so ridiculously unbearable and the do-over list gets longer every day.

In my life long pursuit of happiness, I've never, ever, been happy doing what every one else is doing.

There is something in me, that I cannot explain, and I really should stop trying to.

Recently, in one of my overly sharey moments, I confided in someone who told me my goals, "weren't very realistic."

And there it was again.
The old familiar, stinging zinger.

 I've heard various versions of it my whole life.
And I'm sure it's true.

No...it's not realistic.

Fortunately, I was created by the One who specializes in the miraculous.

Fortunately, I put my hope (even on days I feel frickin' hopeless) in the hands of the one who created me and set me apart and called me His.

I've been waiting over 40 years to see what he's put in my heart come to pass.

"I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry."
Plenty of that for sure.

Under a fake smile, I blew out my candles.
All of them at once.

Maybe this year, I'll finally be free at last.
Free to be a better version of me.
Free to live my life with more passion, in hopes of pursuing happiness and a greater purpose.

How I Will Get Nominated for The Suckiest Mom Award....

Sometimes I plan dinner parties in my head.

Even though I have about as much space in my kitchen as I do in my head, the invite list is getting longer and longer.

Congratulations Lysa Terkeurst, you’ve just been added to my imaginary shabby chic dining table.
I watched her on a Women of Faith webcast last night and was completely in awe.

Maybe because she has my dream job.

Maybe because she inspired me and made me laugh out loud.

She told a story about her daughter who wanted to take up pole vaulting. And I had to laugh out loud.
Trust me, Lysa, in my house, “See Ya at the Pole” has taken on a whole new meaning…

I will totally be buying, “Unglued,” this week!

It was powerful to hear her talk about the challenges of being a mother and a Proverbs 31 woman. In particular, verse 15 that says she, “gets up while it’s still night.”

But maybe, just maybe, instead of meaning ”getting up while it’s still dark”, maybe it means, she just gets up and keeps going…even when it’s dark?

Even when you can’t see the forest through the trees.

I woke up this morning without the alarm clock at 4:48 am.

Hawk Nelson was pumping through my head as I layed in bed, “If you wanna live out loud, throw your hands up…”

I’ve wanted to throw my hands up alright!!

This has been a Hall of Fame mom week for me and not in a good way.

I have a daughter I love very much and it is probably the most challenging relationship of my life.

Her name is Tara, it means, “Strong Tower,” and she is 24 years old.

This is my girl who would smile and sing with me at the top of our lungs, one worship song after another in the front seat of our suburban, while her sisters slept soundly in the back.

This is My Girl who would hear the word of God and feel his presence from head to toe.

This is My Girl who asked God into her life and wrote a song called, “God is Famous,” at 8 years old!

This is also the same girl who stole the communion wine from church, got drunk, and drove my suburban up onto the lawn while I was at Lowe’s buying paint for her bedroom.

This is the same girl who hid from the police and lived under my pier and beam house for days while they searched for her because she did some other ridiculous thing.

The same girl who got kicked out of school for snorting Lucas on the walking trail, threw water balloon condoms down the hallway and barfed all over the sheriff’s ostrich boots in the Short Stop parking lot for all to see.

Giant blue wad of gum on the boot toe and all.

I love this girl!

What I have to keep reminding myself is how much God loves this girl.

Still, as a mom, I beat myself up daily for all of the could have’s and should have’s.

This past week she came to my apartment after I’d already told her, “Sorry, No.”

There was a light tap on the door.

Sadly, my other daughter looked through the peep hole to confirm, ”Yep, it’s her.”

So….I did what every good, Jesus loving mother would do.

I turned down the t.v., turned off the lights…

And hid.

Nice, huh?

I always claim that God’s promises are for me and my children and my children’s children
It’s in Acts.

If that chapter has anything to do with drama, we’ve got that down pat.

In Psalms it says, I was young and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or my children begging bread.

I’ve seen it. It’s not pretty.

I am a child of God, and so is she.

THEREFORE, I will keep believing the promises God has given me.

He WILL restore the years the locusts have eaten and we will one day, serve Him, as a family.

Forgiven.

I love you, Tara.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a reply

 

 

Clean YOUR house? I'd Be Happy To!

(photo courtesy of picturesof.net)
I've apparently lost out on another million dollar, money making patent.

Scrubby slippers clean your floors...now your house work is not a bore!

Oh my gosh! Really? I saw them in the store and went, "Well, there ya go. It's happened again. I even grabbed another customer at HEB to show him."

He was less than impressed, but sort of amused, I could tell.

Just for the record, I invented scrubby slippers in the 70's. As a young teenager, I really wasn't a fan of mopping floors, but I was a huge fan of loud music and dancing.

So, I came up with the idea to Pinesol soak two wash rags in the sink, then place them semi-securely under my bare feet, put CCR on the turntable, turning  it up as loud as I could without blowing the fuzzy orange paneled speaker and went to town dancing and prancing my way to a clean floor.

It was perfect! Even my toes fit neatly under the cabinets where the runaway Cheerios inevitably landed every morning, because my brothers couldn't pour a bowl of cereal straight into the bowl to save their life.

My mother would come home and compliment my sparkly kitchen floors, "The floors look fantastic! Great job!"

I never owned up to doing it the barefoot/washrag way, because, well, my mom is a white glove inspector kind of mom and she'd already given me Mopping 101 class instructions.

Creedance Clearwater pumping "Proud Mary" was no where in that lesson.

Most teens do not like cleaning their house. Period.

Sometimes though, my mom gave me Golden Advice. One very important lesson came at 11 years old, just as I was heading out the door for my first official babysitting job.

She yelled from the kitchen, "If there are dishes in the sink...wash them!"

I took that to heart and also took it a step further.

After the kids were in bed, or while they were enjoying a bedtime snack I'd prepared, I would wash dishes, vacuum, quickly dust and pile all of their clutter into neat little piles...sometimes even labeling them.

While cleaning up yet another doggie tee tee accident in the kitchen the other day, and grumbling under my breath about a certain daughter who suddenly appeared at my doorstep, it suddenly occurred to me out of nowhere that lesson.

And how much easier it is to clean someone else's house.

In my head, mop in hand, I thought, "It's so much easier to clean other people's houses." Yes, that was repetitive, but I'm hoping you'll grab hold of the spiritual handle I just held out for you.

Because at that moment, God was all, "Exactly."

And then the egg timer/alarm bell went off in my head.

Isn't that the truth???

Physically and Spiritually, it is always easy to see the spots on someone else's mirror, clutter in their closets, or the dust on their dressers.

I can easily look to my daughter or whoever and see where they need to improve.

Well, if they'd just do this and not that. If they'd spend their time doing this instead of that. We can go on and on about those we know and love.

We know exactly how to clean up their messes.

We just have a hard time clearly seeing our own reflection, in our own spotty mirrors.

God is always reminding me to be merciful and loving by the measure of mercy and love that he has shown to me. And it's a trainload.

That's when I am reminded to put down my stinky scrub brush and I say, "Oh yeah."
Sorry.

I love, love, love how He speaks into my life daily with these little life lessons.

This week I read part of, The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch who had many great words of wisdom to offer including these;

• The best gift an educator can give is to get someone to become self reflective.
• The best way to teach somebody something is to have them think they're learning something else.

I always thought mom was teaching me how to mop floors.

All along, God was teaching me how to clean my own house.