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.

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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.

There's No Water in the Hump!

 (camel snacks...courtesy of my mom)

Walking by the edge of the pool, dangerously close to the splash zone, I spotted a young family with an adorable little boy.

So, in my overly enthusiastic, evangelistic mode, I  invited them to this week's VBS.

As I explained to the mom and dad that we would be having tons of fun while talking about ways to serve our families, neighbors and Jesus, the boy just kept cannon-balling into the pool.

"Hey son," says dad. "They're going to have a fun bible school where you can learn about baby Jesus!"

Jump! Splash! Cannon-ball!!!
He surfaces again.

"Wouldn't that be fun?"

I had to interrupt, but quashed my desire to refer him to last week's marketing blog, and instead with a smile said, "Baby Jesus is probably kind of boring to a 5 year old."

So I give it a try, "Would you like to come have fun and learn about the Jesus who walked on water? That would be cool, huh?! How awesome is that? Maybe you could be a water walker too!"

Of course, I was attempting to appeal to the little boy's adventurous instincts, but he was really only interested in splash-balling enough water to hit the lady sitting on her porch in building 7.

Suddenly, as if perfectly on cue, I hear our very quiet, hardworking maintenance man pipe up in his usual un-overly excited voice, "I just wanna meet the Jesus that turned water into wine."

"Amen!" the parents shouted and we all cracked up laughing.

What I learned this week at Vacation Bible School is simple.

You can't make a kid be a camel if they don't want to be a camel.

You can coach, excite, order, beg, plead or dance around super silly, but in the end, being a camel is really up to them.

And the holy spirit.

It's pretty much the same way with adults. We can't change people. It does no good to nag. God himself is the agent of change.

We can love them and pray for them.

And that's about it.

And that's about everything.

It's the whole, "You can lead a horse to water...but you cannot make him drink," thing.

But...if we take the whole huge instruction book called the Bible (one of the kids said it was bigger than "War and Peace" which is amusing in itself) and boil the message down to the two most important lessons in it, it's revolutionary.

"Love the Lord your God, with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind and all your strength...and love your neighbors as yourselves."
That's it. I like things super simple. As we work on these two things, it gets the focus off of "us" and our wants and our needs.

In simply serving others, we give God the opportunity to be God. On every street, in every city, every country, on every continent around the world. Even if we don't understand or agree on every word between Genesis and Revelation.

You can't make someone be a camel if they don't want to be a camel. But you can lead them with love through the desert and wait for God to work.

In God's Big Backyard, we all have a part to play.

As I was passing out the beautiful boy/girl sugar cookies, one of the arms broke off in the baggy. I was prompted by a Jesus one-liner and said, "Well,since we are one body, made up of many different parts. Who wants the arm?"

I know my part.

I'm the mouth piece that keeps stepping on someone's toes.

The second most important thing I learned was that camels don't actually store water in their humps. I always thought they did!

Nope. It's just a fat hump. The water is stored in their bloodstreams so they can go a long, long way in the desert. They also have three eyelids but that's not really relevant to the post, it's just a fun fact.

Two of them have lashes.
One does not.

I hope I don't get lashes for saying the word, "poop" in VBS.

It was relevant.

Oh, and joyfully, just so you know, the camel kid came willingly on her own after a while.

Breaking Bad...

                                                                                                            

                                                                                                            ( photo courtesy of kurieuze.com)

Everyone has a story. Some good, some bad.
Some are sad or mad or glad.

Sometimes stories, or just conversations with people linger in your mind for a while.
There are two people I've recently met that I can't get out of my head.
Billy.
And Mayo.

I met Billy last month at my daughter's school.
He wanted to talk about Unicorns for half an hour.
Hands down, the most fun conversation I've had in a long time!
I'd talk about Unicorns all day long if they'd let me.

I'm not sure who "they" are, I'm just saying.
I drive down the road weaving Unicorn stories in my head and have to remember to reign in my creative side in favor of reality.
I am reminded to focus.....Focus.

My mind drifts a lot.
It's one of the bad habits I'm trying to break.
And breaking bad is never fun.
Especially for the people who live with me.

I had been anxiously waiting for Joyce Meyer's new book, "Making Good Habits, Breaking Bad Habits," and continuing my lame excuses for not just doing what I know I need to do.

Birthday Shout Out by the way to this amazing woman who has helped me so much in my walk with God.
Last year I dreamt we went and had Chinese food together.
She had the Sesame Chicken.

Life is but a dream.
That hasn't actually happened yet, nor has my mission trip with Justin Bieber or my dinner party schmoozing with Oprah..., but thankfully, Joyce answered many of the questions I would have asked if we were eating at PF Chang's.

I won't plagiarize. Just buy it. It's worth every penny of the $15.57.
If I could just implement some of the principles, I'd have it going on.

I've been trying to break the bad habit of hitting the snooze button.
Wisdom says to start my day early. Every day.

I listened to Michael Hyatt's podcast about becoming a morning person and became very intentional about waking up at 5 am after hearing it.
This time, I'd planned to succeed!

What I did not plan, was that I would wake up at 5 am, in a puddle of pee, because my dog decided to have some sort of urination situation.

So, yes, yes I did wake up at 5 am....cussing.

Not the intended path.
Mornings at my house are not always filled with chirping birds and whimsical wonderland anticipation of what the day may bring.
Especially when I'm trying to break bad habits.
At times, I am downright caustic.

Now I know why. I've been doing it all wrong.
Shocker.
Apparently, you're not supposed to try and break every bad habit at once.
Start small, she says.
Break just one.
That success will catapult you to the next.
And then the next, and then the next.
Pick an easier one first.

I'm not sure which one that would be.
Currently, I'm trying to get organized, stop freaking out, leave the house with plenty of time to spare in order to be on time, quit nagging my daughter relentlessly for no reason, stop cheating on smoking, relieve stress through exercise, drink more water, eat healthier, get up earlier, use my time wisely, stop misplacing things, be more productive and yada yada yada.

Number one on my list of necessities is mental stability.
Obsess less.
Mess less.
Bless more. OMB.
That's my version of OMG!!

Becoming a better person is hard work.
But I am convinced it is worth it.
I believe all the way down in my soul that God has a good plan for me and it helps when I follow his instructions.

I'm amazed by people like Mayo.
Mayo is a new resident in my neighborhood that I had the great pleasure of sharing a deep and meaningful conversation with.

He introduced himself by saying, "I'm older than dirt."
"You look pretty good too me," I replied back.
It was legit.
He's a very handsome man.
"I'm 87 years old!"
Shocked by the sheer numbers I said, "WOW! You ARE older than dirt!"
And we laughed.

Then he told me that his wife passed away 12 years ago.
And that years ago, his daughter had been diagnosed with a rare bone cancer at the age of 13.
And how he laid his hand on the holy bible and swore to never drink or smoke again if God would heal her.

And how she died anyway.
And yet still to this day, he's never touched a drink or cigarette in over 40 years.

And all I could say was, "Wow."
How do you get that kind of commitment?

"Don't get me wrong," he said. "I still chase women."
And then we laughed.

I love the good and the bad.
I love the happy and the sad.
This is my life, and I'm working on who I want to be every day.

This is Your Life
Who do you want to be?
God will help.