Fulfillment

The day before we had stared out windows that revealed wet snow falling. With every snowflake I became sure we would have to reschedule the project. I was feeling discouraged. How do you demo and rebuild in wet, muddy conditions? But the day of the project dawned bright and sunny…and the perfect temperature for outdoor work. I felt God’s pleasure. Some of us assembled had never met but it didn’t matter as we held hands and prayed for God to bless the work of our hands and hearts, for he had already established it. (Psalm 90:17)

The need was obvious ~ a rotting deck, with preschoolers in the house, needed to be torn down and replaced with something safer. Everyone got to work, some tearing down rotting wood, others painting new wood, and the yard being cleaned up. I listened to the chatter and laughter mingling with power tools and paint brushes and couldn’t help but smile. What a perfect day! This had the appearance, the sound, the feel of an early church community. In Acts 2 they are described and I imagine that God allowed us a glimpse into their community to encourage us to continue in their model ~ fulfilling both physical and spiritual needs for one another. (verses 42-47) By all accounts verse 46 indicates that by fulfilling both kinds of needs the Body was encouraged, edified, and fortified to continue in worship and service.

As I looked around that day at the work and fellowship happening simultaneously I recognized God’s presence on the Body of Christ. That day as people packed up and left, leaving behind a family grateful for the work done, I knew we had received so much more than what we had given that day.

“This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of God's people but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God. Because of the service by which you have proved yourselves, men will praise God for the obedience that accompanies your confession of the gospel of Christ, and for your generosity in sharing with them and with everyone else. And in their prayers for you their hearts will go out to you, because of the surpassing grace God has given you. Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!” 2 Corinthians 9:12-15 (NIV)

Hey! You're invited...to a foot washin'!

“You would do that?” came the awe-filled question. And then, with tears framing the next words, “There are not words for this kind of love.”

I had just had the honor of approaching a couple in our Body with an offer to priceless to refuse. We were offering to “wash the feet” of a couple who washes the feet of so many in our congregation. At first there was hesitation. After all, it is much more comfortable to wash others feet than to be humbled by baring ours for a soak. But the gift was from God and nobody can refuse that.

We showed up on a bright, sunny Saturday morning. Armed with cleaning supplies, groceries, and oh yes…lots of doughnuts! First order of business…fellowship. Foot washing is more than just fulfilling a practical need, it’s about filling a spiritual need ~ the community that the book of Acts speaks of.

And then we went to work. And here’s the thing, it didn’t even feel like work. It was just a group of friends laughing, talking, and serving this precious couple. The day flew by and before we knew it we were cleaning up and sitting down to lunch for more fellowship. It was a great day.

In the last meal Jesus shared with his disciples before his death he did something that caused quite a stir. He took on the position of a servant and washed the feet of his men. Peter, the bold and brutally honest one of the bunch, at first balked at the very idea of his Lord washing his feet. In John 13 we see the scene played out and I imagine that Peter, in an awe-struck tone, asked Jesus, “Lord, are you washing my feet?” (verse 6) and when Jesus replied in the affirmative I wonder if it wasn’t tears that framed Peter’s next words, “You shall never wash my feet!” (verse 8) This account gives me a lot of lessons to chew on and God has been gracious to show them to me little by little. If he taught them all to me at once I might explode from sensory overload! Any of us would.

The idea of washing feet is a fairly foreign concept to us today but I believe God is sparking the desire afresh in the hearts of his people. And with that spark a challenge is born. Will we heed the call of God to be the Body to the Body? Will we quit talking about it and actually do it? See, we can’t go out into the world to minister if we first don’t minister to our own the way God desires. We’ve drawn the circle around ourselves and the change begins with those in the circle.

“And they continued steadfastly in the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in prayers. Then fear came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were done through the apostles. Now all who believed were together, and had all things in common, and sold their possessions and goods, and divided them among all, as anyone had need. So continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they ate their food with gladness and simplicity of heart, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to the church daily those who were being saved.” Acts 2:42-47

Contentment...what?!? What's THAT?

Have you ever thought about the value of the memory that brings you joy or a smile to your face, or a tear to your eye? Now think about trying to recreate it…kind of devalues it doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel the same or even look the same and you may even be a bit weary because you expended energy to recreate something that God had given you effortlessly the first time. God’s gifts aren’t meant to be recreated but savored in the moment they are given.

When I was in Kenya last June I had a great mango juice drink. Let me tell you…it was GOOD! So good that I carried the desire for it back with me to Colorado and went on a search for it. Imagine my excitement at finding a mango juice on our grocery shelves and the brand came out of South Africa! I thought that surely it would be almost the same drink I had in Kenya. Now imagine my disappointment when my taste buds revealed that it just wasn’t the same. I realized then and there ~ as silly as it seems, that the mango juice that gave me such a great memory of my time in Kenya was meant for just that. A memory and not something to try and recreate. I have learned to value the memory of it and let it bring me joy as it leads me to recall other good moments of the same trip.

1 Timothy 6:6-7 has a lesson for us about the value of a moment. When we can be content with the moment and the memory of the moment we have taken a step toward godly contentment. And godly contentment leads to a joy filled life because we value the gifts of God, no matter how big or small. And when we value something, we recognize that we don’t need to spend any time or energy recreating it. God would rather see us put energy toward new moments to add to our collection.

There’s a woman in the Bible who had her own collection of moments. We can learn a lot from her. She valued moments given to her by God and continued on, giving her energy to new moments along the way. Her name was Mary and she was the mother of Jesus. Twice in Luke 2 we are told that she observed and participated in some special moments and treasured the memories in her heart. (verses 19 and 51) Notice she didn’t attempt to recreate any of those moments; she just tucked them away in the recesses of her heart and carried them with her.

Next time you or I are tempted to recreate a moment, let us consider a different way to spend our energy and store away the memory in our hearts as a priceless gift from God.

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19

To my lifelong bestie...a true "gold friendship"

(Jim, Sarah, Rachel, Isabelle, and Mady White - May 2008)

There are days I forget. I will hear a song and reach for my phone to text or call. I will see her picture and feel like she is still present in our lives. But, inevitably, I will reach for the phone or pull up her email address and the memory that she is gone will hit. Usually it is a hard and shocking hit. Much like the one I felt when she was diagnosed with Stage 3 pancreatic cancer while appearing 100% healthy.

(Sarah and I - 1975?)

Sarah and I were born in 1974 6 weeks apart. Our dads had known each other in high school, our parents double-dated and then stood up for each other in their weddings. So when they became pregnant at the same time it was only natural that Sarah and I would be connected. Our moms would rub their bellies together and sometimes I convince myself that we began to communicate even while in- utero. I entered the world, two weeks late to my mother’s dismay and misery, on August 27, 1974 and Sarah came after me on October 10, 1974. I have this set of pictures of the two of us as newborns and the scene is this: in both pictures our moms are holding us but in picture number one we are content. Picture number 2, taken seconds later, we are both screaming our heads off! Yep, that pretty much sums us up; we were joined at the hip and the heart from October 10, 1974 on.

I remember when we were about 5 or 6 and playing at her house one day. We walked by the bathroom and my brother had left the door open while doing his business. We were FASCINATED! Standing up?!? Well that would be so much easier we reasoned. So we waited until he finished and then we went in together, closed the door, and at the same time straddled the toilet (oh my goodness don’t you just get a picture of this in your mind!?) and tried to go the way we had seen my brother do it. Well. Needless to say, it didn’t go so well, as you can imagine!


When I was 7 my dad got a job in Colorado. It was painful for our families. We were all being distanced from our “bestest” friends. But when you are connected at the heart distance doesn’t matter much. In fact, it can serve to provide determination to keep the connection strong.

Every summer and some holidays we would travel back to Michigan and it was like we had never been separated. When we were in middle school Sarah would spend the night with me at my grandparents’ house and so would one of our cousins, Andre. He was a bit younger than us but had developed a crush on her! One night we could hear him singing the song “Sara” by Starship (Jefferson Starship to those of you who know them as such). We cracked up! From that moment on every time we heard that song we would just giggle. About two weeks ago I was grocery shopping and “Sara” started playing over the loudspeakers. I cracked up and whipped out my phone to call her, but then the hit came. And in a nano second I went from laughter to tears. She’s gone.

(Sarah and Mady - Summer 2008)

When we were seniors in High School I went to visit her and my grandparents. Because of that visit every time I pull out and use my vacuum I think of her. That visit I found out how completely obsessed she had become with vacuuming. She vacuumed all of the time! It calmed her down; I think it might have been a form of therapy for her! Vacuuming made her really happy. Shortly after her death her youngest daughter was playing dress up and pulled out her own toy vacuum and was happily vacuuming away. Sarah’s “mini-me” is apparently going to carry on the habit!

(Isabelle vacuuming - January/February 2009)

Sarah was the maid of honor at my wedding. A couple of years later I was a bridesmaid in hers, 6 weeks after giving birth to my first child. But I wasn’t missing that wedding for nothing! Distance had not, could not break our bond. Oh we had other best friends, other people who knew us better, who we spoke with daily but there was always a bond that we shared that could not be broken. When Sarah, after a couple years of struggle, got pregnant with twins I flew out for the baby shower. It was a milestone moment that I didn’t want to miss and now, on this side of it, I am glad I did not miss. I think my regret would be deep if I hadn’t made it for certain moments of her life.


One of the twins, Rachel, started having inexplicable seizures when she was about two. The seizures delayed her development. After years of testing and experiments there is still no answer as to why the seizures started, why they continue, and why Rachel. The unanswered why’s wreaked havoc with Sarah’s heart and with her sanity. For years she fought with the anger that there were no answers to her questions, with anger that Rachel wasn’t developing like other kids her age and therefore treated differently, with the anger at herself for getting frustrated with Rachel when she didn’t know any better. And then about a year and a half ago Sarah was released from the anger. She finally got to the place where she accepted the situation, accepted Rachel for who she was, accepted that some people would treat her daughter different or stay away from her out of ignorance. See, God knew what we did not. Sarah’s time was near and she needed to be released from that before he could take her home. There was a huge shift in her whole demeanor once she allowed the questions, frustrations and anger to go. About a month or so before Sarah was diagnosed Rachel had a severe seizure. She had never had one like it before and never since. It was so severe that Sarah had to use a med on her that was a “just in case” med. She was shook up. It scared her so badly that her email had fear weaved into it, unusual for Sarah to convey. Sarah loved Rachel so much and while her special needs were hard to deal with she didn’t want to lose her daughter.


(Sarah and Rachel - Summer 2008)

It had been six years since we had seen each other. I had never met the twins or Isabelle, their third child. “On a whim” my dad flew me to Michigan in October 2008 as I was on my way to NYC. It would be a short trip, he said, but at least I would get to see Sarah and finally meet the girls. “On a whim” turned out to be the last time I would ever see Sarah this side of heaven again. None of us knew how close her time was, especially her. I remember the morning I left her feeling like we had just gotten back in our groove and I had to go. There’s no room for regrets, what if’s, or wishes. God’s grace is that “on a whim” I got to see my lifelong bestie one last time before her Creator called her home.

On November 12, 2008 Sarah was diagnosed with Stage 3 pancreatic cancer after she woke up one morning and basically couldn’t get out of bed and had to be taken to the ER. Her symptoms? None that indicated stage 3 cancer. We were all in shock. Stage 3 with no prior symptoms? The moment her diagnosis was given she declined so rapidly that there was no time to prepare.


I knew Sarah loved me but to my recollection she had never actually said the words. That wasn’t really her style. I was okay with it because I knew; I didn’t need her to say it. About two and half weeks before she passed away I was able to speak with her on the phone. She was weak and was nearing the end of her voice but we talked and her humor was intact. I was scared. I was feeling so far away, so disconnected, so useless. I told her I was coming back in January to help out for a week or so. She laughed and said okay. Sarah never needed help; she was always the one helping. Her “love language” was acts of service. At the end of our conversation I said I loved her and then I heard her say, “I love you too” and I cried. When she said that I knew that she knew that we wouldn’t be seeing each other in January because she wasn’t going to make it that long. Sarah was doing what I believe most people do when they know their time is close, she was making sure she expressed herself to the people in her life that she loved. Two days later Sarah fell silent and didn’t speak again.

Sarah passed away at home with her family in the early morning hours of December 23, 2008. She went quietly and without the immediate knowledge of her husband, Jim, and her mom, Cindy, who were in the room with her. She had wanted to go when the little girls weren’t aware and when there wasn’t all this activity around her, God honored her request. It was a quiet and somber Christmas. Here in Colorado we gathered as a family and prayed for and remembered our “family” in Michigan who were now looking at life without their daughter, sister, wife, and mother. The rest of us were looking at life without our friend.


The day after Christmas my parents and I flew out in the wee dark hours of the morning to attend the wake and memorial service. I didn’t know how I was going to say goodbye to this woman who had been in my life just as long as my parents and grandparents. She had been in my life longer than my brothers! She wasn’t my friend; she was my sister – a part of me. So a dear friend drove up from her home in Ohio and came to stand by my side and by my parents’ side as well. We sat at Sarah’s wake with her family and friends all day. Available to them and available to each other. Jim chose an open casket. He reasoned that her sickness and death had come up so quickly that hardly anyone had the chance to see her and say goodbye and he wanted people to have the opportunity to do that. I walked up to Sarah, laying there looking alive just asleep and I thought I saw her breathe. I had to restrain myself from grabbing her hands, from reaching out and touching her. Walking away was a hard moment.

The next day Sarah was laid to rest. It was the most surreal moment I have had in my life to date. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She was young, she had three little girls to take care of, and she had a husband she was still living life with. She was needed and wanted. Why her? Didn’t God know Rachel, her special little girl, needed her? Sarah was Rachel’s world. What would they all do without her? She was the bedrock of her whole family. And she was gone. Lying in a casket departed from us and present with the Lord. But it wasn’t supposed to be that way. Now I have questions that I must struggle through, most likely for the rest of my life. One may mistakenly think I am mad at God because I have these questions, but I am not. I know God is sovereign and sees the whole picture. And I also know that he is okay with my questions and he will meet me at that place of wondering and he will give me peace in the lack of an answer here on earth. And when I finally see Sarah again my questions won’t matter any longer.


My friendship with Sarah has taught me about the value of relationship. Her death has reminded me to keep investing in the relationships I have in my life. Life should not be so busy that I don’t have time to invest in the people that matter. Saying “I love you” is always appropriate! When I come to the end of my life the only thing that will matter in those moments, as it did for Sarah, is the relationships I have invested in. We forget that our days are numbered and we don’t know that number, only God does. When Jesus walked this earth he spent the majority of his time investing in people and relationships because that is how God, in part, reveals his character and nature. Our busy activities won’t matter and won’t count for much at the end of our lives. But our relationships will. I’m reminded by the passing of Sarah to make the most of every relationship in my life that I have been gifted with and to not take even one day for granted. Like I said, there is neither room for nor value in regret but in moving forward and taking the lessons I have learned and applying them to my life.

The day after Sarah’s memorial service I went out with two other childhood friends, we had all grown up together. I have memories of these two precious friends as well. They were Sarah’s best friends. Like I said, we had other people who knew us better, who we considered to be our best friends but nobody could break the bond we had from being born “together” and continuing to share the milestone moments of life together despite the distance. We went to Sarah’s favorite restaurant and ordered her favorite drink, an Arnold Palmer, and shed a few tears and a few laughs. And while distance also separates us, we now make more of an effort to keep in touch.


Saturday, October 10, 2009 would have been Sarah’s 35th birthday. Her husband bought a cake and celebrated her life with her girls and her parents. Her sister declared it national “call your sister and tell her you love her” day and I made it a point to smile throughout the day each time I thought of her. There’s a lot of “firsts” to get through this year but we’ll get through them. God is good to provide the grace each of us needs to get through the harder moments.


To Sarah Lynn House White…thank you for your love and friendship, thank you for the years of memories and milestone moments shared, thank you for 3 beautiful girls that will carry on your memory, thank you for the laughter. We shared life together; I miss you deeply but I would miss you more if I had never had the chance to know you.

Unpacking the baggage of life

Today my oldest redhead started 6th grade. She bolted out of the car this morning without so much as a glance in my direction and I drove away with tears pouring down my face. (She would be so confused if she had seen the tears, I’ve been waiting for this day all summer!) Memories of my 6th grade year are flooding me and sometimes those memories make me feel like I am drowning. To this very day I carry some of that year with me. I still battle lies fed to me and I still engage in coping behaviors in moments of extreme stress or emotional distress that were created as a result of that year. YUCK.

This summer I hauled some luggage around the world. I simultaneously bemoaned and rejoiced over the 50 pound weight limit. Have you carried 50 pounds of dead weight? WHEW. I was certainly thankful for the wheels on my luggage that allowed me to navigate with a degree of ease. I also hauled a different kind of weight this summer. The 30 pounds that I have lost to date. My trainer could see that I was having a hard time believing my weight loss so he made me carry the weight I have lost. WHEW. I am certainly thankful for losing that weight so that I can navigate my life with a degree of ease. Both kinds of weight made me feel awkward and loaded down. When I was free of them I moved as if I were floating! What a huge difference!

My sixth grade year is a weight that I carried around for years. The sad part is I didn’t even know it! The year actually started out good. We began the year with a substitute teacher because our teacher had a heart attack over the summer and was still recuperating. With his arrival the year spiraled downward. He decided to hate me. For real. He picked on me, he taunted and mocked me in class, nothing I ever did was good enough, and he tried to fail me in several subjects. My mom was in my classroom and the Principal’s office more times than I can remember trying to address the obvious issues with this teacher. I was feeling pretty low. I remember thinking that if I just tried harder, just submitted even more that maybe he would like me. But nothing I ever did was good enough, nothing I said was ever right, and I was worthless. I crouched in a corner of my heart and tried to hide from the world. Nothing helped the wounds that had been dealt my heart.


A few years ago the Lord was gracious to me and showed me what I picked up in 6th grade. I was limping along through my life trying to carry this cumbersome load. It was pretty heavy baggage. But he showed me how to let it go, how to unpack the baggage and lighten my load. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30) I was burdened and therefore I was a burden to people in my life! I learned that when I’m burdened it doesn’t just stay contained within me; it seeps out and weighs down people who interact with me. YUCK.


God took me through a process in which I had to go back to sixth grade for a brief moment and pinpoint what I was led to believe, unknowingly, during that time. It didn’t matter that my mom had come to my defense and believed in me. What was said and done to me far outweighed what good she had done. Unfortunately I find that to be true of so many people in the world today. It is easier to believe the negative things about ourselves than to believe the positive things. But all that does is end up weighing us down with fear, shame, guilt, controlling behaviors, and the list goes on and on. Raise your hand if you want to keep hauling THAT baggage around with you! No thank you! As God pinpointed things in my life that were a direct result of that year of school I was able to look at them through the filter of his word and slowly I began to unpack that baggage. And my load became lighter as I gave over to him the things that I thought were true of me and picked up what he really has to say about me. As I unpacked the baggage he began to remind me of things he had placed in me all those years ago. I started to unfold from my crouched position and look forward to what he said he wanted to do through me. "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18-19) He wouldn’t allow me to hide any longer; he was putting me in a new place to do the things he had purposed for me so long ago. (Ephesians 2:10) I began to feel the freedom of walking through life without the load! What a huge difference it makes in my relationship with God, my relationships with others, and how I navigate through this life I have been given!


Last week my mom looked at me with dread on her face. “Oh no, she got a male teacher for 6th grade.” And I took a deep breath. She and I both have the same memories of my sixth grade year but the memories have affected us in different ways. I smiled and said, “It’s going to be good, it’s going to be okay.” And you know what? It will be!

“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten….” (Joel 2:25a)

A most unusual life compass

"Truth is the torch that gleams through the fog without dispelling it." Claude Adrien Helvetius

It came out of nowhere. One second it was clear and the next second I was enveloped in fog as thick as a hearty stoup. It was so bad that I could barely see three feet before me. A car happened to be in front of me so I accelerated just enough to stay close and follow. They didn't seem as intimidated as I by the thick fog. I followed for a few minutes but their speed was making me feel uneasy so I backed off. The fog closed in around me. I started to panic. What should I do? Should I pull over and wait for it to clear? That could be hours! Another car came up from behind and passed me, going at a speed I thought was stupid considering the intensity of the fog. I spotted the white line to my right and was reminded that in driver's ed all those years ago we were told that when in doubt follow the white line. Right on top of this practical reminder I considered that my tendency to follow others who may or may not be overly confident could result in a huge mess.

And then it all became clear in my heart.

In the past I have followed others who were more confident navigating the unknown. And even though they were going at a speed that made me uneasy I followed because I had forgotten about the white line. God was using this night as a reminder that he is the white line in my life and if I follow him I will get to my destination safely. Following others is never a guarantee I will arrive safely. I may crash before the destination, all the while the white line is right there as my compass. "Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them in the desert. By day the pillar of cloud did not cease to guide them on their path, nor the pillar of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take." (Nehemiah 9:19 NIV)

So take a deep breath, Beth, and look at the white line. Follow it.

My heart was beating hard, my hands were clammy, my stomach churning. I focused on the white line, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I leaned forward and continued. Other cars passed me at breakneck speeds, but I ignored them and kept my eyes on the white line. God's revelation to me echoing over and over in my head. The truth of it being driven home as my heart and mind reviewed all the crash and burns I have experienced because I had taken my eyes off the white line. I followed that white line all the way to my neighborhood and pulled into the garage with relief. I sat there for a minute before going in.

Okay, Lord I got that lesson loud and clear. I really get it. No matter what I do or what I am called upon to do I gotta keep my eyes fixed on him.

The gift of the moment

This moment. That moment. Our days are made up of moments. I've been taking a crash course in moments. God is the instructor. It is a TOUGH course! I have pop quizzes daily ~ and it is the same question every day!

Beth, how will you respond to THIS moment?

Some moments are made for laughter. "A cheerful heart is good medicine,but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22

Some moments are made for tears. "He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him." Psalm 126:6

There are moments for repentance. "Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me." Psalm 51:10

And then there are the moments of grace. "And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." 2 Corinthians 9:8

I have discovered that with God's grace I can be laughing so hard one minute that I am not breathing and the very next minute I can be weeping with the compassion of God for someone.

I am learning that each moment is from the hand of God. They are ALL his doing, whether they are disappointments or victories. Each moment is ripe with purpose, with potenial. My response determines how they will impact my life. Will I despise the moments of my life or will I embrace them?

It's time for letting go//All of our if only's//'Cause we don't have a time machine//And even if we did//Would we really want to use it?//Would we really want to go change everything//'Cause we are who and where and what we are for now//And this is the only moment we can do anything about//So breathe it in and breathe it out//Listen to your heartbeat//There's a wonder in the here and now//It's right there in front of you//And I don't want you to miss the miracle of the moment//There's only One who knows//What's really out there waiting//In all the moments yet to be//And all we need to know//Is He's out there waiting//To Him the future's history//And He has given us a treasure called right now//And this is the only moment we can do anything about//So breathe it in and breathe it out//Listen to your heartbeat//There's a wonder in the here and now//It's right there in front of you//And I don't want you to miss the miracle of the moment//And if it brings you tears//Then taste them as they fall//Let them soften your heart//And if it brings you laughter//Then throw your head back//And let it go//Let it go, yeah//You gotta let it go//And listen to your heartbeat//And breathe it in and breathe it out//And listen to your heartbeat//There's a wonder in the here and now//It's right there in front of you//And I don't want you to miss the miracle of the moment (Miracle of the Moment by Steven Curtis Chapman from the new release This Moment)

I'm making the intentional choice to breathe all the moments of my life in. I can think of no better way to live in the moment God has gifted me with!

The deception of a perfect world

In my perfect world I...

am a size 6/8

am SUPER wife

am SUPER mom

need no sleep

live in a spotless house

am right with every decision I make

am the best friend anyone ever had

excel at everything I put my hand to

say all the right things at all the right moments

am the first SUPER human ever.

In my real world I...

am a size...what are you crazy?!?! A woman never gives away her weight/size!

am an average wife

am an okay mom

need more and more sleep the older I get

live in a house that is "lived in"

make wrong decisions at least once a day

am not the best friend anyone has ever had

fail more than I excel

open mouth and insert foot more often than not

just blend in with the rest of the human race.

Everyone has their perfect world. But I don't know anyone who lives it.

I am confronted with letting go of my perfect world in order to embrace God's world. I encounter God's world everyday and it clashes with mine and then the gauntlet is thrown down. His or mine? Choosing his always means dying to my definition of "priority".

I've experienced the freedom of picking up the gauntlet and accepting the challenge of dying to myself so why do I still fight it? Why am I faced with it the minute my eyes open to a new day to the minute I close my eyes to rest? Because my perfect world priorities are all about me and not about him at all. My priorities are skewed and don't serve anyone but myself. On the surface they may appear to serve others but really...it is all about me.

But when I choose God's priorities I am taking a stand. I am making a statement. I am choosing surrender. Choosing God's world over mine makes me think of Isaiah 40:29-31, "He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." My world really produces weariness because it is never ending, there is always something I could be doing. God's world gives me strength because it relieves me of false responsibilites ~ things I think I should do but really don't need to or shouldn't because they are meant for someone else to do. When I choose to let go of my world I suddenly cease flapping my wings and glide with the wings of God. Immediate freedom.

Choosing God's world means I am saying that the God of the work I do is more important than doing the work of God (wish I could take credit for THAT profound thought but alas the credit belongs to Dr. Carolyn Tennent!). It means that I must allow the busyness of my world to die so that the life of his world can be birthed in me (1 Corinthians 15:36, "What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.").

"Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." (Matthew 16:24-25 NIV) YEP. Here's the gauntlet once again.

Confessions of a jealous heart

I'm glad nobody was around. With every word I read I slipped further down in my chair, my head dropped a bit more, and my heart traveled slowly toward the bottoms of my feet.

No, this wasn't a rebuke driving this response to the words I was reading. It was envy, jealousy, insecurity, doubt. On the heels of that would surely come the rebuke...from God.

From the time I was young I loved to craft words into works of art. Art that I longed to touch the hearts of people with and, as I have aged, honor the work of God in my life.

I think I was in 6th grade and my parents got me a Brother Word Processor for Christmas. I was in heaven. I spent hours in my room churning out story after story. Nothing profound or meaningful. I was just beginning to explore the world of wordsmiths. Eventually I began keeping a journal and it became the place that God began to push me to share with others the words coming from my heart.

The desire to write, the quest to be good at it, the hope that God might use it have compelled me to take steps where I am not comfortable, to reach for dreams I call impossible, to fight against the insecurities that flood me.

And it was the insecurity pushing me down that day I read, with an admittedly jealous heart, the words of another gifted wordsmith. As I read the blog I considered waving the white flag of surrender on my dreams of writing. In comparison to mine, this writing far exceeded anything I could ever commit to print. I felt low. I felt defeated. I felt raging jealousy. I felt horrible. I know the truth ~ God calls whom he will. If he will use a donkey to speak then surely he may choose to use me! God was gentle in his rebuke this time. In his grace he chose to do it through encouragement rather than conviction.

As I sat there seriously considering shutting down my blogs and finding a new passion ~ ridiculous I know since the passion for writing is ordained by God ~ an email popped into my in-box. "Your family Christmas letter made me weep. WEEP....you should really do more of this writing thing. :)" HUH. That was totally out of the blue. Or was it?

God knows (literally) how I struggle with being the best at something. I often find myself asking to be the best at SOMETHING, ANYTHING. Usually when I make this amazingly selfish and flesh focused request God does two things. 1) He affirms me through others and then 2) brings someone along who can do it all better than me. SIGH.

My jealousy prompts a "woe is me" pity party. It's a very unattractive attitude; whining, insecurity, tears, pouting. And God is quick to call me out in these moments. And I am getting quicker at allowing the rebuke to get my focus back on God, the giver of all gifts.

This time all it took was one email and one story to get my perspective back. God used the story to remind me that I honor him best when I give all I am to what he has gifted me in and not keep looking around wanting to be more.

*The story? Oh, it goes like this...

A story is told of a king who went to his garden one morning, only to find everything withered and dying. He asked the oak tree that stood near the gate what the trouble was. The oak tree said it was tired of life and determined to die because it was not tall and beautiful like the pine tree. The pine was troubled because it could not bear grapes like the grapevine. The grapevine was determined to throw its life away because it could not stand erect and produce fruit as large as peaches. The geranium was fretting because it was not tall enough and fragrant like the lilac.

And so it went throughout the garden. Yet coming to a violet, the king found its face as bright and happy as ever and said, "Well, violet, I'm glad to find one brave little flower in the midst of this discouragement. You don't seem to be the least disheartened." The violet responded, "No, I'm not. I know I'm small, yet I thought if you wanted an oak or a pine or a peach tree or even a lilac, you would have planted one. Since I knew you wanted a violet, I'm determined to be the best little violet I can be."

Others may do a greater work, but you have your part to do; and no one in all God's family can do it as well as you.

Well now. How can I argue with that?

"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (Ephesians 2:10 NIV)

*Story taken from the Updated Version of Streams In The Desert Devotional Readings, January 7

The Retirement of NB803

I'll agree that my obsession with NB803 is strange. I'll admit that in the recesses of logic to attach any profound meaning to a pair of shoes seems to be a stretch. Yet NB803 has been the sole (no pun intended) focus of two blogs and now a third.

Believe it or not (and considering my obsession I'm going to guess you will choose to believe it) I remember the day I purchased NB803. I was training to hike Pikes Peak in 2001 and needed better footwear to carry me up the mountain. I broke them in hiking the no oxygen zone and then tested their endurance by hiking up the mountain on August day in 2001. We fell in love with each other. Something shifted in me when I had those shoes on. Courage I did not know I had seemed to flow from my feet when they were encased by NB803.

I'm a visual person, I easily attach meaning to moments, to possessions, to people. I lean on a visual to help remind me of God's truths. So it was natural to look at NB803 when desperately seeking a visual of courage as I prepared to go to Kenya in 2007 (click here to read that NB803 story).

There are seasons, if I have learned nothing else in my life I have learned that. And a couple of weeks ago I realized that the season of NB803 had come to an end. They have served me well. They have acted as God's visual reminder to me, they have reminded me over and over again of his truth in Habakkuk 3:19 (Amplified), "The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds' feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering, or responsibility]!" They have walked me through many valleys and up many mountains. But the time has come.

God has moved me on to a new season and I must leave NB803 behind with the past. "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:18-19 NIV) I will retire them with a heart of gratitude for their service to me and then fix my heart forward and take a step into the new season God has for me.

Thanks NB803 for serving as a conduit of God and WELCOME NB540 ~ Get ready to run!

In the Garden

MEMORIES OF EVELYN L. WELLS

APRIL 19, 1927 - DECEMBER 5,2007

(November 12, 2007)
It is quiet and dark, the only noises are those of the oxygen doing its job and the drip of the IV. She keeps asking to sleep and we assure her it is okay. So she sleeps but wakes and asks when she can sleep. She hasn't asked in a while now and I think she is finally resting. I'm holding her hand, her soft and bony hand. My chin is propped up on my arm as I lean on her bed. I'm watching her and taking in the moment ~ I have so few left.

I'm at a place of reality. When I was a kid I always thought my grandparents would just die quietly and peacefully in their sleep one night and we would get a phone call the next day. I guess I carried that assumption into adult life. Although I know that isn't always the case, rarely does it happen that way.

When I saw her yesterday I knew the time was coming. She melts into the bed. Her frame is barely discernable under the blankets. She is listless and quiet. Her skin is cold, the blankets don't warm her, they just protect her. Today she looks even worse than yesterday. Perhaps it is all the tubes and bandages covering the places blood has been drawn from. With every breath her chest retracts, but she doesn't seem to be in pain. Thank goodness.

My mind is going in a thousand different directions. Memories of when I was small to memories of just a couple of hours ago assault me and I just let them come. I think the same thing is happening to her. At times she will ask about someone from years ago or she will comment on something she read in the newspaper last month. She is remembering also. But she has 80 years of memories to filter through and mine are limited to the 33 years of life with her.

A few weeks ago I grabbed a handful of M&M's and a memory hit me. When I was little she would pour M&M's into a glass for me and I would dump them out on her mustard colored carpet and separate them into colors. A pile of green, a pile of brown, a pile of orange, and a pile of yellow. Like a lot of things M&M colors were simpler back then. Wait, was the carpet mustard or that avocado green? Well no matter I remember the M&M's.

I'm holding her hand and thinking of all the meals she has made in her lifetime. She hasn't cooked in 6.5 years and I know she misses it. There are three things I especially loved that she made. Potato Salad, Christmas cookies, and chicken sandwiches. Her recipes for those dishes are the only way I'll make those things. And I must have her knack for the cookies because I seem to be the only family member that can make the recipe work as well as she did.

On my way to the hospital tonight I was remembering a dream she had about 6 years ago. She looked at me wistfully as she shared that she had dreamed the night before that she was up on her feet cooking, cleaning, and square dancing. All the things that require more mobility than what she had. It was taken from her so suddenly, so harshly. There are many things to grieve.

Earlier tonight I brought "back up" with me in the form of a friend. Oh the grace of God! Knowing the beauty of my friend's voice mom asked her if she would sing for Grandma. Her favorite song is "In the Garden" so we sang that first and then continued. And Grandma, with her oxygen mask on, sang when she could. I will never forget the beauty of that moment. Our voices, with Grandma's muffled one joining in, raised to the Father who will welcome her home soon.

I sat at the foot of the bed and watched him lean into her, kiss her on the forehead and say "I love you." Even with her mask on I could hear her clearly. "I love you so much Harry." And then he whispered to her and she tried to whisper back as her eyes closed. He stayed leaned into her for a moment and then straightened. 59 years of marriage. 59 years of life - good or bad - lived together. Their wedding vows included "I do" to sickness and health. I have never seen a more vivid living out of those vows than I have in him. He has been more than faithful to those promises. He has displayed a stubborn faithfulness to his bride. I am awed and moved by his example to me. Most recently every time I see him near her he is touching her and caressing her. I wonder what memories he is filtering through.

When I was little a favorite dress up item was her square dancing skirts. They weren't skirts on me, they were full dresses. I pulled them up right under my armpits and twirled and performed. I remember standing at her dresser and looking at all of their buttons, pins, and patches for square dancing. They would travel with a group and go to conventions and events to dance. Lanny said the most beautiful thing to Mikaela, and me, today. "Great-Mama will get to square dance with Jesus soon." She has really missed it and soon she will be able to again. I wish we still had those skirts.

I look at her lying in bed, no more fat on her body and think of all the weight loss methods she tried. It hits me. Doesn't matter any longer. That is the last of her concerns right now. The day she had her stroke she had exercised or was headed out the door to walk. She had been losing weight and was feeling good. I think that was the last day she ever thought about her weight again.

When you tell her you want to pray her eyes light up and she gets real animated. She even makes noises of agreement while in prayer. Ever since her stroke she has sat in the mornings with her devotions and her list and she faithfully prayed for her family. Her husband, her daughters, her grandkids, and her great-grandkids. She loves to pray for her family.

I asked her yesterday what I could bring for her next time I visited. She said nothing for her but could I bring something chocolate for Harry? He loves sweets, especially chocolate. Her eyes fill with tears and she looks worried when she says his name. 59 years of thinking about the needs of someone else. Wow.

She keeps asking about the girls. Are they with Lanny? When will they come see her? She loves her two red-headed great granddaughters. I bring them in and she smiles. Eliana sings and her smile extends from ear to ear. The girls love Great-Mama, but they know what is happening and they are okay.

(November 16, 2007)
He turned down chocolate tonight. I don't know if I have ever seen him turn down chocolate. And he didn't really want to eat but we encouraged it and he did. If he isn't sitting right next to her stroking her hand or rubbing her arm he sits and just looks at her. Mikaela asked me in tears the other day, "But what will Great-Papa do with his life now?" A great question from a 9.5 year old. What will he do? For the past 6.5 years his whole life has been the sickness and health part of those wedding vows. Has he ever lived alone? I don't know if he has. He certainly hasn't for the past 59 years. What will Great-Papa do with his life now? I watch him watch her and rub a hand over his face. He is deep in thought and I wonder if the same question is running through his mind.

She's cold now and beginning to experience pain. They brought a CD player in and instrumental music surrounds us. Overnight a picture of her from healthier days appeared on the bed stand. She is flashing her famous smile. She is famous for that smile, everyone comments on it. It is lively and warm. I looked up the meaning of her name the other day and it means "lively". That fits. She always had a smile on her face and in her eyes. The other night she smiled for my mom.

She is agitated and getting upset with me.
"Beth Ann, I really think I need to get up now and quit being so lazy."
"Now Beth Ann, I don't want to be known as a slouch so I think you should let me get up."
"I have rested enough, let me get up and get some work done."
"I've got work to do, I really think you need to let me get up so I am not accused of being lazy."
To keep her mind off of her agitation I bring up the pool that Grandpa built and us kids used. Lots of great memories and she smiles and even is able to produce a laugh at some of the antics I pull out of my memory.

The pain meds haven't hit yet and she winces and says her leg hurts. So I rub it. She settles down with my touch and falls to sleep. I kiss her on the forehead and leave for the night.

(November 24,2007)
She amazes me. Yes, she is still alive. She is still sharing her beautiful smile and is so kind and polite to people who come in. But the past two days have been hard. She is dead weight (no pun intended of course) and it takes more than 3 people to move her. Grandpa got to her this morning and she was crying. So now she is bed fast, she won't get out of bed again.

Last weekend Bradley came to visit her and she was very happy. At one point two of her daughters, three of her grandchildren, two great grandkids, and her husband were all in her room with her and she fell asleep with all of the noise and a smile on her face.

Two nights ago she told the doctor that she had a lot to live for! Bless her heart, I don't think she understands the reality. Earlier that day someone mentioned Thanksgiving was the next day and she looked at me and said, "Well I had better rest up tonight, tomorrow will be a big day." I told her to go ahead and rest. But on Thanksgiving morning she popped her eyes open and said to Grandpa, "Well, let's hit the road." She thought she was coming to mom's for the day.

(December 1, 2007)
It's been an up and down week. Hospice had to discharge her because she wasn't "actively dying" ~unbelievable. We understand on their end, it is this end that we are perplexed. More moments of taking deep breaths and trying to rest in God's sovereignty. So mom brought her into her house. I'm so proud of my mom. She has been amazing to watch in this process. She has been tender with Grandma, gracious with Grandpa. When hospice broke the news Grandpa burst out (literally) sobbing. He stood apologizing over and over to mom. She reminded him that it was okay with her, she made a promise.

On Sunday I was afraid to hold her hand. It looks so fragile. It is literally bones covered by skin. She is nothing, completely wasted away. I wonder how? How is she still alive?

She asked me about Paul and Rebecca. I called Paul and put the phone to her ear. The moment she hears his voice she begins to cry. She is very emotional these days. She tells me she had a bad night last night. She was restless and couldn't settle down. I asked her - was it your mind or your body that wouldn't settle? I think she is still having a slide show in her brain of the past 80 years of life. But she says it was her body. I secretly think it was a little of both.

Bless her heart, she remains so positive. The day she was transported she felt sick. The next day she slept most of the day and today she was transported back to hospice. She is officially "actively dying". Last night mom got 45 minutes of sleep. Grandma was agitated and restless. She was "mad" that mom wouldn't let her get out of bed and didn't know where she was. Her voice is gone, barely a whisper.

When the ambulance arrived to take her back to hospice the medics greeted her and she flashed them that famous smile. Mom and I think she will die with that smile on her face. I think it means she is at peace with her Lord.

The nurse asked her if she would like something to drink. "I would like some coffee please." Oh Grandma.

Grandpa had a "dream" last night. He said he heard three distinct knocks on the door and believes it was God letting him know he had come for Grandma. So this morning he told Grandma it was okay to go home and be with Jesus. He gave her permission to go. He cried. She said okay. I'm not sure he told her it was okay to go when they said their goodbyes almost three weeks ago.

(December 2, 2007)
We went to say "see you later" today. I cried. Her eyes are dull. But she smiles. I leaned into her face, kissed her, and with tears wetting her cheek I told her that she should go and I would see her again. I pulled back and she said, "Oh, did you grow up?" Yes, I answered, I have grown up. And I laid my head on her shoulder and she placed her hand so gently on my cheek and we cuddled.

Grandpa is touching her as much as he can. And she looks at him and smiles so big. 59 years of marriage. His eyes met mine over her head and he teared up.

I don't think I will see her this side of heaven again. I told her to go, be healthy, be whole, DANCE with Jesus. She nods. I tell her thank you for loving me well and for being a great Great-Mama. And then I kiss her and leave.

(December 3, 2007)
She told a nurse this morning that she was worried that Grandpa was going to die and she didn't want him to. He told her the other day to go be with Jesus and he would follow shortly. She took him literally. It's not what he meant, of course. He meant he is 80 and he will follow her "shortly". So they explained to Grandma what Grandpa meant and she was put at ease. She's still thinking of him.

Mom asked her if she was ready and she sighed and said "oh yes". Oh Jesus, would you please bring my Grandma home to you?

(December 4, 2007)
She was intent on talking today...but to nobody in particular. And most of it nobody could understand. I feel in my spirit that it was God and he was taking her through a time of cleansing. I only think this because mom understood a few phrases and they were "I'm so sorry" and "I love you girls so much".

(December 5, 2007)
She smiled at my mom and Grandpa this morning and then went into her own world.

Thank you Lord. She is home now and whole before you. Oh what a long journey this has been. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

In the Garden
(Verse 1)
I come to the garden alone,

While the dew is still on the roses;

And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,

The Son of God discloses.
(Chorus)
And He walks with me,

And He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own;

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known.
(Verse 2)
He speaks, and the sound of His voice Is so sweet,

The birds hush their singing,

And the melody that He gave to me,

Within my heart is ringing.
(Verse 3)
I'd stay in the garden with Him,

Though the night around me be falling,

But He bids me go;

Through the voice of woe,

His voice to me is calling.

There's a chill in the air

It was a rather cold evening. The wind was blowing and the sky was dark. It was only 7 o'clock but it felt later. It had been a long day already and I felt like it was getting longer.

It wasn't just cold outside, my heart felt cold - iced over with pain and the beginning drops of anger. Lanny parked the car and we sat for a minute staring at the unusually packed Starbucks. Silently we exited the car, gripped hands, and made our way inside. A quick scan of the small but crowded place showed us the table we needed to head to and we made our way. A couple I knew was sitting just inside the door and I smiled tightly at them and hurried in the other direction. I wasn't up for small talk tonight.

We found our table and greeted one of two people we were meeting with. Knowing my love for coffee and Starbucks I was offered a drink. I turned it down. The thought of sipping coffee while engaged in a discussion that brought me pain made my stomach churn. It was a good decision. As we waited for the other person's arrival, sometimes engaging in stilted and awkward conversation but most often just sitting there looking at the crowded room, I shivered. Starbucks had the air conditioner still set for summer time temperatures and the night was cold. It fit the chill of the relationships represented at the table.

The other person finally arrived and squeezed in to our makeshift corner. It was probably good the place was crowded and noisy - not a lot of possibility for eavesdropping. We started conversing. Lanny went first, we had spent some time that afternoon praying together - asking God to show us what to say and how. I stayed quiet. Lanny finished and they began to speak. The conversation went back and forth - although I said little. I answered quickly and firmly. My shoulders were starting to ache from the cold of the room and the tension of our conversation.

I'd love to say at this point the conversation was the start of healing and the relationships started to mend. But that didn't happen. I have had few, if any other, conversations in a coffee house or anywhere else that ended as this one did. It ended with a realization that the relationship was unable to be fixed. I could easily be polite and civil with this person but the ease we once had with each other was finished. When something gets shattered it is no longer repairable, have you ever tried to glue shards of glass back together into the shape it once was? Impossible.

I've had coffee in that Starbucks many times since and God, in his grace, hasn't allowed me to dwell on that night. Here's where I will introduce the joy - yes JOY - of that night...

God's grace IS enough. That night led me into a deeper depression and an anger that I had to work through. My numb heart thawed and God showed me some deep truths and led me back to a place of healing and then beyond. God allowed that night to happen and even to this very day I am still gleaning lessons from that night and from the whole situation that night revolved around. That's grace and there's joy in that.

God's grace carried me when I could not take a step further on my own. A few months after the conversation at Starbucks God showed me his grace in another conversation, this time in an office. But by this time I was stronger and more settled in who I was in Christ and this time my answers were firm and clear and I spoke for myself and for what I knew God had shown me and done in me. Walking away from that meeting I was led into deeper grace.

The chilly Starbucks meeting taught me something - when there is a chill in the air, God's grace is enough to take the hurting heart into a place of healing and beyond.

Thank you Jesus for the warmth of your touch and the thaw of my numb heart.