God is Good. He just is...when He talked about being "I AM," one of the things he could finish that title with is "GOOD. I AM GOOD." When I don't know anything else, I can hold onto the fact that He is good. Always. Without fail...He is good.
2011 hasn't been an easy year. You know, some years, months, weeks, days are just easy. They're good...everyone is healthy and happy, bills are paid, work is successful...things just seem to be working. 2011 hasn't been one of those years. The last 2 months haven't been easy months. This has not been a good week. But God is still good, that never changes. He is the constant even when my season isn't.
This has been one of those seasons that it takes everything in me not to feel defeated...that it takes all of the will power I have to keep the white flag put away so I don't just throw up my hands and say, "that's it...I give up." One step forward, two steps back. Every time I have a small victory, I have a bigger battle arise. Just one of those seasons. But God is still good. Some of the battles have been huge, life-changing, heartbreaking, frustrating. Others have been small and insignificant. During the big battles, God has been SO GOOD. His goodness has been tangible. The peace has been only something He can offer, and it has been easy to profess His goodness because it is so real. But sometimes it's the small battles that make us tired...that make it harder to have victory in the big battles. It's often in the small battles that it's hard to remember that God is good.
This has been a week of small battles. By yesterday, I was just tired, exhausted. Russ took the girls to the park so I could "have some alone time" as Hailee puts it. I sat down in the living room with my Bible, unsure where to even turn. I opened it up and the page automatically turned to Psalm 119. I had certain parts highlighted...I don't even remember when I highlighted them. I looked down and this is what I saw:
"You are good, the source of good; train me in your goodness. My troubles turned out all for the best; they forced me to learn from your textbook. Truth from your mouth means more to me than striking it rich in a gold mine. With your very own hands you formed me; now breathe your wisdom over me so I can understand you. When they see me waiting, expecting your Word, those who fear you will take heart and be glad. I can see now, God, that your decisions are right; your testing has taught me what's true and right. Oh, love me and right now! Hold me tight! Just the way you promised. Now comfort me so I can live, really live; your revelation is the tune I dance to." Psalm 119:68,71-77 (The Message)
I had to laugh. In all the little, everyday battles, all the tedious challenges that had begun to defeat me, I had forgotten the thing that has gotten me through the big battles. God is good. I have been repeating it to myself for the last 24 hours. God is good, God is good, God is good. It helped me today as I did my dance...two steps forward, one step back. It helped me in my small victory this morning only to be followed immediately by a new, bigger battle. It helped me when a lady yelled at me out of her car window this afternoon at the store...it helped me walk away and not say anything even though I wanted to turn around and say a few, choice words. What would Jesus do? I'm convinced that sometimes Jesus just walked away, sometimes I think He remained sinless by just keeping his mouth shut! Granted, He probably didn't think the things I thought, so He still got the sinless title, while I definitely don't come close!
You know sometimes we just need that small reminder that He cares. Maybe it's because I'm a very forgetful person. Regardless, I think He knew I needed a little "hug" this afternoon. So as I pulled into a very busy HEB parking lot (after being yelled at in the previous parking lot), I just said, "Lord, could you please help me find a parking spot close to the front? I need to get balloons and I don't want them to blow away on a long walk back to the car." And this is the terrible part. I actually thought, Why would He help me find a parking spot. He's got bigger things going on than my little need. And then I looked up. The spot right by the door...not in a aisle, but by the curb 15 feet from the door, opened up, just for me. I sat in the car and thought, Thanks, God. I really needed that hug.
It was just a small reminder that He knows....that He cares...that He sees all the battles big and small. It was just a small reminder that HE IS GOOD!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
It's Wise to Call First!
I had a surprise knock on the door this week. Jehovah's witnesses. Two lovely ladies who have been here before and strangely remembered my name, the ages of my kids and the dog's name from the last time they stopped by. They know my husband is a "preacher" but they still want to convert me, I suppose. I have wondered why these two have been more persistent than others that have come over the years. Usually when we tell them that we're ministers for the Assemblies of God, they quickly stop their sermon and bid us adieu. We've even had one tell us that it was "ok that we were pastors"...he was just going to keep right on going until his partner tapped him on the arm and motioned that he could stop. Poor guy...they just don't seem to know how to take people that are just as committed to a belief as they are to theirs. But these ladies...well...like I said, they are so nice...and persistent I was pondering this persistence after they left this week and started to think about what it is they see when they randomly knock on my door in the middle of the day. And it became all too clear why they keep coming back...if I happened upon a house as crazy as mine, I think I may try to come back and "save" that family as well! Upon ringing my doorbell, they are welcomed with the following:
A barking dog...who does he think is at the door? Surely it is an army of hooligans here to kidnap the children or so it would seem by the crazy, wild-eyed carrying on of our 11 pound killer Yorkie!
The wiggling of the doorknob as my two year old does her best to open it on her own.
They can also probably hear me "whisper-yelling" to leave the door alone until I can see who it is. By this time it is pointless to pretend that we aren't here...Rhylee has locked and unlocked the door so many times in 15 seconds that she may qualify for a place in the Olympics. Hailee is running after her screaming to "let Mommy open the door! We don't know who it is!" (She has obviously been lectured enough about the dangers of opening the door to strangers!) So after I realign my face from the not-so-friendly smirk and stop the rather large eye-roll that began after looking through the peep-hole, I open the door and try to have the most "I'm really busy, but may I help you?" look I can muster. At this point, the dog and the baby are my best friends as it looks perfectly understandable why I am not a very gracious host. I am standing on one leg while my other leg holds Rhylee on my side of the doorframe. I now realize that at some point in the morning, she has gotten ahold of markers, the only thing she is now wearing is underwear and she is colored blue and black from head to toe...amazing how you only notice this kind of artwork when guests randomly appear! The dog is in my arms wiggling like crazy...he apparently has determined that the hooligans are actually angels from the dog-treat factory here to deliver $1,000 worth of anything worth licking! Hailee is peering around my body still trying to determine if these are safe strangers or the kind mommy has scared her about. My hair is plopped up on top of my head in a very messy 6 AM-get-Ethnee-out-the-door-before-she-is-late-for-school kind of way. I am in workout clothes, no make-up and the look on my face is now saying, "Talk fast ladies, you have 3.2 seconds to tell me what you want or this craziness is going to get past my legs and you're going to have to take it all home with you!" I am sure this is the message that was coming across because the only thing they said was, "Is this a bad time?" Ha! What was surprising was the calm, cool, collected voice that came out of my mouth (it was a very different voice than the one in my head!) "Well, we were just getting ready to leave for the store" (which was the truth...I just had to clean up the marker-kid and redo my hair). The Jehovah's Witness kindly handed me her paraphernalia, told me something about end-time prophesy and said they would let me go. What? You don't want to see what other kinds of craziness you could find if you actually stepped through door #1? Oh that's right, you can't get through my leg-barricade!
After I shut the door, I began to think about the fact that I'm a pastor's wife...and they know that. I'm supposed to be dressed in my best casual/trendy/conservative clothes to answer the door. My children are supposed to be sitting around a spotless kitchen table having a Bible study while I prepare cookies in the kitchen...that way I could invite them in to share those cookies with the girls while I put on some tea. We could then pursue a hearty debate about the beliefs of Pentecostal Christians vs. Jehovah's Witnesses. None of us would probably convert to the others' beliefs, but we would all know at the end of the day that we had done the best we could.
And then my imaginary bubble popped...
I took Rhylee upstairs, did my best to rub the marker off of her arms and neck but left it on her belly and legs because her clothes would cover most of that. I grabbed a brush and dealt with the mess on top of my head, finished my grocery list, threw on some flip-flops and headed to the store.
What was the point of this whole, ridiculous story, you might ask? Well, it's to remind you that it would be wise to call me before you come over. I would love to be dressed fashionably (but not too fashionably) when I open the door. My hair can be neatly pulled back to show that I've been cleaning like a good housewife (but not too much because I keep a very clean house by habit). We can sit at the kitchen table and have a lively debate, and I'd be happy to make some cookies and put on some tea...but those things would require that I go to the grocery store first. Our children can play and we can have a lovely afternoon.
Ok, now your bubble can pop.
It's wise to call me before you come over because it's just plain courteous. My house will probably be a mess, although I will try my best to pick up a few toys and move the dishes into the sink. I may still be in my workout clothes and my kids may or may not be dressed. I probably won't have homemade cookies and tea but you're welcome to an Oreo and a sippy-cup of milk. That's my real house, my real life. I'd love to share it with you if you can handle the craziness! If you want the "bubble picture" above, you'll need to give me at least a week's notice!
A barking dog...who does he think is at the door? Surely it is an army of hooligans here to kidnap the children or so it would seem by the crazy, wild-eyed carrying on of our 11 pound killer Yorkie!
The wiggling of the doorknob as my two year old does her best to open it on her own.
They can also probably hear me "whisper-yelling" to leave the door alone until I can see who it is. By this time it is pointless to pretend that we aren't here...Rhylee has locked and unlocked the door so many times in 15 seconds that she may qualify for a place in the Olympics. Hailee is running after her screaming to "let Mommy open the door! We don't know who it is!" (She has obviously been lectured enough about the dangers of opening the door to strangers!) So after I realign my face from the not-so-friendly smirk and stop the rather large eye-roll that began after looking through the peep-hole, I open the door and try to have the most "I'm really busy, but may I help you?" look I can muster. At this point, the dog and the baby are my best friends as it looks perfectly understandable why I am not a very gracious host. I am standing on one leg while my other leg holds Rhylee on my side of the doorframe. I now realize that at some point in the morning, she has gotten ahold of markers, the only thing she is now wearing is underwear and she is colored blue and black from head to toe...amazing how you only notice this kind of artwork when guests randomly appear! The dog is in my arms wiggling like crazy...he apparently has determined that the hooligans are actually angels from the dog-treat factory here to deliver $1,000 worth of anything worth licking! Hailee is peering around my body still trying to determine if these are safe strangers or the kind mommy has scared her about. My hair is plopped up on top of my head in a very messy 6 AM-get-Ethnee-out-the-door-before-she-is-late-for-school kind of way. I am in workout clothes, no make-up and the look on my face is now saying, "Talk fast ladies, you have 3.2 seconds to tell me what you want or this craziness is going to get past my legs and you're going to have to take it all home with you!" I am sure this is the message that was coming across because the only thing they said was, "Is this a bad time?" Ha! What was surprising was the calm, cool, collected voice that came out of my mouth (it was a very different voice than the one in my head!) "Well, we were just getting ready to leave for the store" (which was the truth...I just had to clean up the marker-kid and redo my hair). The Jehovah's Witness kindly handed me her paraphernalia, told me something about end-time prophesy and said they would let me go. What? You don't want to see what other kinds of craziness you could find if you actually stepped through door #1? Oh that's right, you can't get through my leg-barricade!
After I shut the door, I began to think about the fact that I'm a pastor's wife...and they know that. I'm supposed to be dressed in my best casual/trendy/conservative clothes to answer the door. My children are supposed to be sitting around a spotless kitchen table having a Bible study while I prepare cookies in the kitchen...that way I could invite them in to share those cookies with the girls while I put on some tea. We could then pursue a hearty debate about the beliefs of Pentecostal Christians vs. Jehovah's Witnesses. None of us would probably convert to the others' beliefs, but we would all know at the end of the day that we had done the best we could.
And then my imaginary bubble popped...
I took Rhylee upstairs, did my best to rub the marker off of her arms and neck but left it on her belly and legs because her clothes would cover most of that. I grabbed a brush and dealt with the mess on top of my head, finished my grocery list, threw on some flip-flops and headed to the store.
What was the point of this whole, ridiculous story, you might ask? Well, it's to remind you that it would be wise to call me before you come over. I would love to be dressed fashionably (but not too fashionably) when I open the door. My hair can be neatly pulled back to show that I've been cleaning like a good housewife (but not too much because I keep a very clean house by habit). We can sit at the kitchen table and have a lively debate, and I'd be happy to make some cookies and put on some tea...but those things would require that I go to the grocery store first. Our children can play and we can have a lovely afternoon.
Ok, now your bubble can pop.
It's wise to call me before you come over because it's just plain courteous. My house will probably be a mess, although I will try my best to pick up a few toys and move the dishes into the sink. I may still be in my workout clothes and my kids may or may not be dressed. I probably won't have homemade cookies and tea but you're welcome to an Oreo and a sippy-cup of milk. That's my real house, my real life. I'd love to share it with you if you can handle the craziness! If you want the "bubble picture" above, you'll need to give me at least a week's notice!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Spelling Lesson For My Daughters
My dear sweet precious Hailee and Rhylee,
I remember the day each of you were born. I felt like angels were singing when I saw your beautiful faces for the first time. I was overcome with joy and love for you and dreams of what our future as a growing family would hold. I began to realize the depth of my responsibility to teach you and train you to be bright and intelligent young women, and that is what brings me to today's lesson. Your older sister is in school now where she learns to read and write, add and subtract. But you two precious girls have not entered into this great season of learning yet. So I feel compelled to give you your first spelling lesson. It's a big word, but you are both such brilliant children that I'm sure you will have no problem mastering it. The word is spelled:
S-L-E-E-P
That word spells sleep. Wikipedia explains it this way:
I don't expect you to understand all of that, so let me put it in much easier "mommy terms." Sleep is what you do when it is dark and you are in your beds. You should close your eyes for 8-10 hours without opening them. If you do open them, you should roll over and close them again without getting out of bed.
We are going to have to work on not only spelling this word but putting it's meaning into practice. Although you both know how much I adore your glorious faces, I really don't want to see them at 2 am and again at 3 am because mommy is trying my best to master the fine art of sleep.
Hailee, it breaks a mommy's heart to hear her child cry, but when I find you sobbing in the bathroom at 3 am because you can't reach the toilet paper, well, this mommy heart is not nearly as sympathetic as I would be at...say...8 am. And Rhylee, I am endlessly thankful for your affectionate nature, but no amount of kisses and hugs while you make your way up my body to my pillow will be as appreciated as if they waited for 5 or 6 teensy weensy hours.
Girls, mommy wrote yesterday about trying to have a good attitude even when I'm tired, and although I pulled off a compassionate attitude in the wee hours of the morning, Jesus is going to have to help mommy today because mommy is already counting down the minutes until nap time.
So my sweet, angelic youngest daughters, as I close this letter, I pray that you will find it in your giving hearts to sleep tonight. If not, we will have to have another spelling lesson tomorrow. And that word will be:
B-E-N-A-D-R-Y-L
Love,
Your ever thankful, slightly sleepy Mommy
I remember the day each of you were born. I felt like angels were singing when I saw your beautiful faces for the first time. I was overcome with joy and love for you and dreams of what our future as a growing family would hold. I began to realize the depth of my responsibility to teach you and train you to be bright and intelligent young women, and that is what brings me to today's lesson. Your older sister is in school now where she learns to read and write, add and subtract. But you two precious girls have not entered into this great season of learning yet. So I feel compelled to give you your first spelling lesson. It's a big word, but you are both such brilliant children that I'm sure you will have no problem mastering it. The word is spelled:
S-L-E-E-P
That word spells sleep. Wikipedia explains it this way:
Sleep is a naturally recurring state characterized by reduced or absent consciousness, relatively suspended sensory activity, and inactivity of nearly all voluntary muscles.[1] It is distinguished from quiet wakefulness by a decreased ability to react to stimuli.
We are going to have to work on not only spelling this word but putting it's meaning into practice. Although you both know how much I adore your glorious faces, I really don't want to see them at 2 am and again at 3 am because mommy is trying my best to master the fine art of sleep.
Hailee, it breaks a mommy's heart to hear her child cry, but when I find you sobbing in the bathroom at 3 am because you can't reach the toilet paper, well, this mommy heart is not nearly as sympathetic as I would be at...say...8 am. And Rhylee, I am endlessly thankful for your affectionate nature, but no amount of kisses and hugs while you make your way up my body to my pillow will be as appreciated as if they waited for 5 or 6 teensy weensy hours.
Girls, mommy wrote yesterday about trying to have a good attitude even when I'm tired, and although I pulled off a compassionate attitude in the wee hours of the morning, Jesus is going to have to help mommy today because mommy is already counting down the minutes until nap time.
So my sweet, angelic youngest daughters, as I close this letter, I pray that you will find it in your giving hearts to sleep tonight. If not, we will have to have another spelling lesson tomorrow. And that word will be:
B-E-N-A-D-R-Y-L
Love,
Your ever thankful, slightly sleepy Mommy
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Living in Celebration
There is a new song that I have become addicted to. You have probably heard it. The lyrics are:
It's one of those upbeat songs that makes you want to get up and dance wherever you are: in the kitchen (where my kids join in) or in the pick-up line at school (the other parents think I have lost my mind) or at the computer while balancing bank statements (the time when I need life to be put into perspective the most!). It's just a great song! It's a celebration.
I like lots of different kinds of music, but I have realized that music affects my mood, my attitude. Music is powerful. I am not one of those people who will lecture about how Christians should only listen to "holy music," because I listen to other things too. My girls have listened to Justin Bieber and Kidz Bop, and I have a couple of country stations programmed in my car. But I do realize that I have to be careful what I fill my mind with. When I finish listening to some country songs, I'm about ready to key my husbands car for infidelity that DIDN'T happen, cry for children that I HAVEN'T lost, or get revenge on a friend who HASN'T hurt me. Or I can listen to the other genre of music that goes on in our car/house: Disney Princesses...by the time Russ gets home I have convinced myself that everything we discuss that night should be sung to me in the form of a ballad. I expect him to sweep me off my feet into my "happily ever after." And then he is forced to hide the Disney princess CD's.
And that, my friends, is why I usually try to stick to worship music, and I am completely stuck on this song Happy Day. I think it's the celebration of this song that I like the most. There are so many worship songs that bring me to tears and repentance (both things I need quite often) but sometimes I think Christians forget the sheer celebration of what we have received. The lines:
Oh happy day, happy day
You washed my sin away
Oh happy day, happy day
I'll never be the same
Forever I am changed
It's one of those upbeat songs that makes you want to get up and dance wherever you are: in the kitchen (where my kids join in) or in the pick-up line at school (the other parents think I have lost my mind) or at the computer while balancing bank statements (the time when I need life to be put into perspective the most!). It's just a great song! It's a celebration.
I like lots of different kinds of music, but I have realized that music affects my mood, my attitude. Music is powerful. I am not one of those people who will lecture about how Christians should only listen to "holy music," because I listen to other things too. My girls have listened to Justin Bieber and Kidz Bop, and I have a couple of country stations programmed in my car. But I do realize that I have to be careful what I fill my mind with. When I finish listening to some country songs, I'm about ready to key my husbands car for infidelity that DIDN'T happen, cry for children that I HAVEN'T lost, or get revenge on a friend who HASN'T hurt me. Or I can listen to the other genre of music that goes on in our car/house: Disney Princesses...by the time Russ gets home I have convinced myself that everything we discuss that night should be sung to me in the form of a ballad. I expect him to sweep me off my feet into my "happily ever after." And then he is forced to hide the Disney princess CD's.
And that, my friends, is why I usually try to stick to worship music, and I am completely stuck on this song Happy Day. I think it's the celebration of this song that I like the most. There are so many worship songs that bring me to tears and repentance (both things I need quite often) but sometimes I think Christians forget the sheer celebration of what we have received. The lines:
I'll never be the same
Forever I am changed
excite me, but they also challenge me. It goes right along with 2 Corinthians 5:17 "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come." There is a line that has been drawn in the sand. If we have been saved (FOREVER changed) we aren't supposed to be on the same side of the line as unbelievers. Can we associate with them? Of course. Can we love them? Absolutely! Christ wouldn't have it any other way. But this challenged me to live a life that is OBVIOUSLY different. NOTICEABLY different A life so full of joy and celebration that those who haven't found this freedom could look at me and say, "hey, I want what she has." Because those that don't have it, might be happy, but they don't have joy...true joy.
So here's the dilemma I have found. Sometimes I don't feel like walking around in celebration. Why? Well, sometimes I'm frustrated, annoyed, and tired. Yes, tired. Two nights ago, my precious baby girl woke up from 3am - 4:30am (and no, I was not calling her a precious baby girl at 4:30!) By 6:15am when my alarm went off, I was TIRED! I was in no mood to celebrate. Trust me, my kids can vouch for that one. I was snippy and crabby. However, after a little time listening to this song, life kind of came into perspective again. I may be tired, but I am forever changed! Forever! All the junk that I had dealt with or been tempted by in my life was instantly taken from me and cast as far as the east is from the west on the day that I was changed, and I will never be the same. Somehow, that made whinny kids, telemarketers, unresolved bills and dishes seem a lot less stressful. Life, the life I was meant to live, was once again brought into perspective.
So that is what I have done for 2 straight days. Every time I feel overwhelmed, stressed, tired, (insert other emotions here) I have turned on this song and simply celebrated. Because I think that gets forgotten too often. Sometimes, it's just time to celebrate...because we are FOREVER CHANGED! Join me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sW2qpMVO7oY
Monday, March 28, 2011
Let Me Introduce Myself
I am a Christian, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend. I am my own unique person called by God to my own unique ministry AND I was called to marry a pastor. I am a pastor's wife, I live in a pastor's home and I raise pastor's kids. I live in a fishbowl. I live in a place that many find intriguing, that some envy and that others just want to watch...to press their nose against the glass and see how we swim around this thing we call "our life." There are preconceived ideas about what it must be like to be a part of the pastor's family and live in his home: our laundry is supernaturally cleaned, our groceries appear in our refrigerator like manna from Heaven and our children flow in the anointing 24/7 thus ensuring us a life without hair-pulling or gnashing of teeth! Ha!
You may be wondering, why on Earth is she doing this? Because I like "real" people, and I'm willing to bet that you do too. We're just real people doing our best to live the life that God has called us to. And that's exactly what you should be doing as well. We're not super-spiritual and and we don't have a more direct line to God than you do. We are obedient, plain and simple. We read the Word of God, we believe it to be true and we work very hard to follow what it says. We believe that a relationship with Jesus Christ Monday-Saturday is key to seeing something happen on Sunday. We just live what we expect other Christians to live, and we don't follow any preconceived expectations that don't have any Biblical basis. I have been known to wear jeans and a baseball cap to church. Gasp! Why? Because my clothes do not determine my relationship with my Savior. And because sometimes that is just me...that is real...and I think people relate to real. Or at least I do.
You may be reading this because you are one of my closest friends and nothing on this blog can surprise you because you've seen my life inside and out. You may be reading this because you don't know me very well and you'd like to get a better idea of what makes me tick, what makes me the crazy person that I am. You may be one of the dozen or so people who have asked me to write a book because apparently my little stories on Facebook (just the facts and drama of my life) are entertaining. You may be one of those who is intrigued by this glass house we live in. Or you may just not believe me when I say that we're a lot like most people...you may see my husband and our family and think there is a secret to happiness that we're not sharing with you. But I assure you, it's not a secret, just choices we make.
So let me invite you to the fishbowl. Pull up a chair, stick your nose to the glass. You are invited to get a glimpse of my life. You may be surprised to see that it is not much different than yours...or, at least, it shouldn't be.
You may be wondering, why on Earth is she doing this? Because I like "real" people, and I'm willing to bet that you do too. We're just real people doing our best to live the life that God has called us to. And that's exactly what you should be doing as well. We're not super-spiritual and and we don't have a more direct line to God than you do. We are obedient, plain and simple. We read the Word of God, we believe it to be true and we work very hard to follow what it says. We believe that a relationship with Jesus Christ Monday-Saturday is key to seeing something happen on Sunday. We just live what we expect other Christians to live, and we don't follow any preconceived expectations that don't have any Biblical basis. I have been known to wear jeans and a baseball cap to church. Gasp! Why? Because my clothes do not determine my relationship with my Savior. And because sometimes that is just me...that is real...and I think people relate to real. Or at least I do.
You may be reading this because you are one of my closest friends and nothing on this blog can surprise you because you've seen my life inside and out. You may be reading this because you don't know me very well and you'd like to get a better idea of what makes me tick, what makes me the crazy person that I am. You may be one of the dozen or so people who have asked me to write a book because apparently my little stories on Facebook (just the facts and drama of my life) are entertaining. You may be one of those who is intrigued by this glass house we live in. Or you may just not believe me when I say that we're a lot like most people...you may see my husband and our family and think there is a secret to happiness that we're not sharing with you. But I assure you, it's not a secret, just choices we make.
So let me invite you to the fishbowl. Pull up a chair, stick your nose to the glass. You are invited to get a glimpse of my life. You may be surprised to see that it is not much different than yours...or, at least, it shouldn't be.
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