My Story (30 Days of Thankfulness, 2015)

So….there I was. Standing in the back of the church with my arms raised, I sang those beautiful words.

If I should speak then let it be

Of the grace that is greater than all my sin

Of when justice was served and where mercy wins

Of the kindness of Jesus that draws me in

Oh to tell you my story is to tell of Him.

Just earlier that day I had snuck out of my house, with my shoes in hand to avoid waking up my family.  Everyone had come home and crashed after morning church and lunch.  Tonight we were having “Night of Worship” and I needed to be at the church earlier than the rest of my family.  As I slipped my shoes on and walked down my front stairs, the light rain had saturated my steps.  All three carved pumpkins were soggy and there was a mixture of fallen leaves.  At the bottom of the stairs I stopped and turned around to look.  A fall wreath with a gold sparkly letter B hung on the door.  That’s when it hit me.  A house….my home. Three pumpkins representing my children. Brightly colored leaves showing the change in the seasons…a season that 5 years ago I didn’t know I would see.

Today, On November 1, 2015…I am thankful for my story.

My story couldn’t be found in a fairy tale book and it isn’t for the faint of heart.  If you love tragedy, pain and gut wrenching shame…boy do I have a tale for you.  I was an orphan, foster kid, victim, rape survivor, whore, divorcee, cancer patient…broken. Somehow…He loved me anyway.  Somehow…He sent His Son, His only Son, so I would not have to stay those things I was.  Instead, He caught me in His pool of grace, washed me with His mercy and gave me a new story.  I am adopted, a family member (let me stop and dance while I weep right there), married…healed.  I should be dead…but I am alive.  Cancer, abuse, sin those things shaped my story, but His hand wrote it.  Girls like me don’t have homes….kids…or doors with fall decorations.  But, God. When I look back I see Him in every snapshot of my life.  Alone, orphaned and in foster care He put me in that class where Mrs. Akers would show me that I needed Jesus in my heart, giving me a new heavenly Father. He guided the heart of a Christian foster family that would love me and adopt me, giving me a new name. He took all that abuse and pain…patched me up and gave me a heart to help others that have walked the same steps I have.  He sent me roadblocks to keep my heart safe and my feet from falling.  He gifted me three…three children, so I could see myself in little eyes and give and feel love like I never imagined.  He kept me safe in my pit of sin…even though I was breaking His heart, He still loved me.  When the consequences of my sin rolled over me and I felt like I was drowning, He held me.  When others walked away…He never moved.  When I came back to Him…walking up that pathway to Him, battered, bruised, smelling like the pig pen I had been in, after losing almost all He had given me…He ran….ran to greet me.  Oh…and the blessings.  They just keep on coming. My past didn’t stop what His love had started. That is my story.

So, while my arms were raised in surrender, praising Him for the story He has written with my life….and continues to write…I am thankful.  

I'm Afraid I Have Wasted His Money Then Prayed About Helping His People

Day 5:  I'm Afraid I have Wasted His Money then Prayed about Helping His People

Brace yourself, this might hurt a little.

I was sitting at church at our revival meeting, listening to the announcements.  I don't know about your church, but we do ours at the end of the service.  When they are over, an usher prays, the offering is taken and simultaneously someone sings "special" music.  Well, call me pagan, but usually around that time, my stomach is speaking to me in it's prayer language.  I click my phone screen on to check and see how late we are running, and roll my eyes in angst because once again, every church is going to beat us to the Cracker Barrel.  In case you are wondering, the phone I click on is a Samsung Galaxy 5.  I then noticed my french manicure nails....not your normal french manicure....the usual white tip is a sparkly purple tip that matches my toes, all done at my most recent mani/pedi appointment. I smiled to myself, loving how shiny and pretty my nails are.  Thats when I remembered that my nail tech said they are getting a new pink sparkle in....and I inwardly squealed in delight at how cute my nails are going to look next time.  Now my stomach's prayer language had increased to where others could hear it....and my mouth watered at the thought of the ribeye, mashed potatoes and house salad (the one with cheese, bacon and croutons) that I was going to eat.  Suddenly, my thoughts were re-captured into announcement time.  The preacher was encouraging us to include in our offering a special gift for our speaker, Dr. Robert Smith.  Now you need to know that one of my favorite preachers ever, is Dr. Smith.  His grasp of scripture and ability with words allows him to paint verbal pictures from the Bible....listening to him is an amazing experience and always exciting....I spend most of the message feeling the need to crawl under the pew from conviction.  My life has truly been changed from hearing him speak "God" to me.  So, when our preacher said that we needed to include a special gift for Dr. Smith, I immediately thought that I should talk to the Lord about that.  First I looked in my Coach purse and Coach wallet to see if I had any cash on me, I didn't, but I knew I could give on line.  So, I sat there, in my pew...and started praying in my heart and mind.  "Lord, please give me direction about if I should give a gift to Dr. Smith....and how much you would want me to give." I didn't get done in time for when the plate passed me, but no worries, I knew I could do it at the next service.

That afternoon, after I was full from biscuits and steak, I laid on the couch for a few minutes and started flipping thru my Direct TV channels on our 65" television.  There was one of those "Feed the Children" commercials on.  You know the one...the one that says, "For the price of a cup of coffee....you could feed a child for a week".  I'm ashamed to say that I actually laughed inside because the coffee price he gave that could feed a child for a week was remarkably less than I spend on my Starbucks coffee.  I joked with myself thinking, "For the price I spend on a coffee, I could feed the child for 6 months".  At that very moment, literally....it felt like the Holy Spirit jumped on me with conviction.  The passage where Jesus asks Peter if he loves Him and Peter answers yes....and Jesus says, "Then feed my sheep."  Peter and Jesus repeat this three times in that passage.  I know that there is a spiritual application about "spiritually feeding" people....but what if Jesus meant it literally....as in feed....or give food....to His people.  His people like Dr Smith.....His people like these hungry little children.  The conviction was so heavy as I realized I had decided to pray over how much to give Dr. Smith.....and how much to give those hungry little children.  The conviction wasn't over the prayer about how much if any, to give...it was from the realization of what I had not prayed about.

I had never prayed about whether or not I should use the money God entrusted me with to get my nails done.  I never asked God if I should His money to buy a Coach purse rather than a less expensive one.  There has never been a prayer said about going to a restaurant (well except for the ones from my children begging God to send me home from work so we could eat dinner).  It never occurred to me to pray over whether or not my family needed satellite television...or WiFi..at my house, that's a necessity like electric and water.  When I spend His money on me....I don't pray about it.  When I spend His money on other people....all of a sudden, prayer becomes necessary.  So....I'm afraid I have wasted His money then prayed about helping His people.

Please understand, none of those things I have purchased are bad.....I have them because God has been so generous with me, that my family has more than we even really need.  However, my focus is all wrong.  I should be helping His people first....then deciding what extra "goodies" we should have.  I love anything Coach.....but He has done far more for me than Coach ever will.  I love having my nails done....but the work God has done in my heart thru Dr. Smith's preaching makes me prettier than sparkly purple nails ever will....because those heart changes make me more like Him.  Anything that makes me more like Him.....should take precedence over any new toy or monetary gain.  So today, my friend.....if you, like me...have found yourself in this position.  I encourage you to change your focus.  I need us to put on some sparkly sunglasses that have Jesus lenses....lenses that help us see His work that needs to be done, before our own wants or needs.  After all, I do love Him...and just like He told Peter....I should feed His sheep.

Day 4: I am Afraid I Have Mistaken Laziness for Contentment

Years ago a dear friend of mine, and her husband, met up with her parents at a local shopping center.  Now just to give you an idea of how long ago this was....there were payphones.  Her parents had just come stateside, as they were missionaries in Germany to the military.  I have to give you a little view of my friend.  For purposes of my writing, you need to know that while she has many amazing qualities, one of my favorite things about her is her outspokenness and spunk....they are a fun combination to watch.  She is that person that says exactly what you are thinking....but would never say for fear of "being rude" or "being judged".  So, they were at a shopping excursion and her father had to make a phone call. He went into a phone booth and proceeded to make his call.  Meanwhile, my friend, her husband and her mom stood around outside of the booth.  While they were standing there a "biker" type of gentleman came over and made it clear to all outside of the booth that he needed to use the phone.  Her dad, in the booth, continued his call.  The "biker" guy, outside the booth. began to  pound his fist on the phone booth door and started yelling for her dad to get of the "beepity beep beep" phone.  This continued for just a few moments until my enraged friend decided to take a stand.  She (and her pregnant self) walked over to the "biker" (in all of his leather vested with no shirt glory) and made (well, yelled) the following statement. "IF YOU MOVED YOUR FEET AS FAST AS YOU MOVE YOUR MOUTH, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN AT ANOTHER PHONE ALREADY"! Deciding that this phone booth was not worth the hassle, the gentleman moved on.  That story has stuck in my mind for years.  I've heard a thousand stories in my lifetime so I've never really been sure why this one stuck....until now.
God has been working on me....alot. One of the things I have been focusing on is evaluating what I am doing with what He has given me. He has given all of us gifts, abilities and talents.  Luke 12:48 states that, "...to whom much is given, much is required".  Don't think that this excludes you because you think you have nothing or not enough to count as "much".  Considering we all deserve nothing, I imagine anything He gives us on top of His salvation and mercy, would fit in the "much" category. That verse makes it clear that we are supposed to be doing something with the somethings we have been given. Now, table that thought for a minute.
Philippians 4 :11 says, "....I have learned, in whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content".  So wherever I am...wherever He leads me...I am supposed to be content.  Whatever He gives me, I am supposed to be content.  So for the Christian, the following equation would be true: Where I am = contentment. Right?? Wrong.  It's interesting to note that in this passage Paul is speaking to the church of Philipi and he gives a list of over 30 actions he is doing and that God wants them to do.
Longed for, beseech, intreat, stand fast, rejoice, think on these things, learned, be abased, abound, do....and the list goes on.  There is just one time that contentment is mentioned, but I'm afraid that we have confused it's meaning.  Contentment does not mean sitting still.  It can't, not with 2 verses later Paul saying,  "I can DO all things through Christ which strengtheneth me".  In verse 10 he thanks them for supporting him financially...so in this next verse he says, I'm not saying I wanted you to (support me financially), because I have learned to be content. No where in this passage does he imply that he is sitting....waiting on blessings....waiting on instructions....just killing time until he gets direction.  Sitting, idling.....just being content.   His contentment is referring to not expecting, not needing, not wanting them to give him financial help. Why would he?  His Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills, his Father promised to never leave him  or forsake him, his Father said that He will supply all of his needs.  Now he might have chosen the church of Philipi to distribute that to Paul, but  He didn't "need" them to...He could of used some other route if they had not been willing and listening to His leading.  So Paul wasn't sitting there in expectation of them...he was content. Content to do whatever God led him to do, knowing that he would be taken care of.
Now, lets put all of this together...into some kind of heavenly casserole.  All too often, I have sat....waiting...watching the paint dry...going about my normal routine, waiting for God to show me how to use my talents and gifts.  I didn't make an effort to exert myself, because after all, what if I headed in the wrong direction with it, or wasted my time because that wasn't what I was supposed to be doing.  Do you know how dumb that sounds now that I'm reading the words I am typing?  Do you know what that is called? Laziness.  I have all these things he has given me, but I'm just going to stand out here and lean up against my storehouse of goodies until He tells me what I'm supposed to do with them. I'm a writer....but unless God sends me someone that wants to publish my book, I guess I'll just sit here...waiting....and be content.  I'm a teacher, but I don't guess I have anyone to teach until He lines up a women's conference to speak at...so I'm waiting...just being content. Maybe yours is that God has called you to be a parent, but you are just waiting until He lets you get pregnant so you can do that.  Maybe you are a singer, but you are just waiting until God books Carnegie Hall for  you, so you can use your talents.  If you are a writer...WRITE!  If you are a teacher....TEACH!  If you are called to mother and you haven't been given children.....FOSTER some!  He already gave you the talents, does He have to spell out what you are supposed to do with them, too???  He's not going to let you walk through a door He doesn't want you to go through....but you will  never know if you are supposed to go through there if you just sit there on you bahonkas  and don't MOVE!
My friend's, I am afraid I have mistaken laziness for contentment in my life, maybe you have done the same.  In the words of my beautiful friend, "IF YOU RAN YOUR FEET AS FAST AS YOU RUN YOUR MOUTH....you might be where He really wants you already.  It's moving day friends, time to do something with all the something's He has given us....I just ask that you wear a shirt under your leather vest.

Day 3: I Am Afraid I Have Told People More About The Fun of My Sin Than the Effects of It

Hang on....this is going to be rough...I've struggled over this one more than anything I have ever written.  **Disclaimer** There will be some content that may not be suitable for all ages.  Satan has whispered in my ear so much about writing this....about the talk that may happen at churches I've attended before...and phone calls for the sole purpose of gossiping about my revelations.  However, God has told me it needs to be said.

Day 3:  I Am Afraid I Have Told People More About The Fun of My Sin Than the Effects of It

I went through a period of time, as an adult, where I definitely was living for self....intending to please no one but me.  I didn't pick up my Bible for almost a year....and prayer was a stranger to me.  I didn't go to church, totally engrossed in my bitterness and anger.  This played out in many different ways, but probably the most obvious was my lifestyle.

Even though that is not my life anymore, the memories don't leave.  Often, I have found myself telling others with great detail and humor, about those times.  Pub crawls with strangers, blowing thousands of some guy's money at a casino,  "foody-calls" (I'm not explaining that), one night stands, partying with people that blew in one night more money than I will ever make....I could go on and on.  A ton of experiences...some more embarrassing than others.  I have even found myself randomly distracted by reliving some of those moments in my mind.  I can't change the past.....but I believe there is a fine line between telling about it for teaching or counseling purposes and glorifying the life I was living.  There is a difference between remembering some of those memories in my mind to keep me from making the same mistakes and dwelling on or reliving them in the privacy of my mind.  You know that phrase, "I have some skeletons in my closet"?  Well, this girl has a small village in her closet.  Mistakes, bad choices, sin, shame....so many things that did nothing but hinder the purpose He designed me for.  You need to know something....if you, as a Christian, have followed a similar path in your life and never experienced the chastisement of God...you better check your heart.  The Word is so clear that there are consequences and we reap what we sow.  It's not a "Hahaha, heathen" moment where God just wants to obliterate us for our indiscretions. It's an,  "I love you and I can't take away the effects of your sin" moment for Him.  It's impossible to get by or dodge the consequences.....you may not see them at first....but the day will come, and it will hit you like a ton  of bricks.

I remember that day.  I was sitting in the oncologists office and had just been handed a death sentence.  Third stage lymphoma and fourth stage tongue cancer. The lymphoma was a secondary cancer caused by the tongue cancer.  They had found a lesion at the right side base of my tongue.  That cancer had found it's way into my lymph nodes.  It had wrapped all the way around my jugular vein and had eaten into my sternocleidomastoid muscle. I was going to have to start with surgery.  A radical right neck dissection.  They would be cutting down the right side of my head, behind the ear, straight down to my collar bone and across to the center of  my neck.  My face and neck would be pulled back so they could remove the muscle and attempt to strip the cancer from the vein.  They would be removing the right side of the base of my tongue. My lymph nodes would be removed.  A chest port and a stomach tube would be put in place to help me with the barrage of chemo and radiation that would have to follow.  My face would look different.  My voice would change.  I would not be likely to be able to sing the same as before.  I would have no saliva glands.  More than likely I would lose my hair ....and my teeth.  If and only if everything went 100% perfect....I would have a 15% chance of living.  Do you know what causes 98% of all head and neck cancers?  Alcohol and cigarettes.  I told my doctor that made no sense.  While I may have had a drink or two in my life and maybe a couple of cigarettes...I wasn't and alcoholic or an addict.  He then told me that everyone's body is different....and one or two cigarettes in my body may have had the effect that years of smoking may have had on another.  He did look a little puzzled, though.  He knew I was a Christian because we had talked about church before.  He said that there was another possibility, but he didn't think it would apply to me.  He said that there was a case study going on and I could be in it.  Everyone is aware that HPV (a sexually transmitted disease) can cause cervical cancer.  However, they were finding that head and neck cancers were becoming common at an alarming rate with 35-50 year old females.  The cause? Their hypothesis....HPV.  Women contracting HPV cells orally...and those cells mutating into head and neck cancers.  I began to protest and made it very clear that I was happily married, but had been tested prior to marriage, and I certainly didn't have any STD's.  According to the doctor, you could test negative and be negative for it in the genital area....but there wasn't really a good test for oral cells.  He then put me in a room with a nurse.  She had a little notepad and a pencil.  She said that in order to help them collect accurate results, they would need the name of all of my partners.  Now, I had experienced sexual abuse....but that had been years ago and pretty much unrelated.  She needed all my partners since I have been an adult....it occurred to me she was going to need more paper.

I'm not saying that every person diagnosed with cancer is experiencing chastisement for their sins.....but I do believe my sin caused mine.  In fact...it almost killed me.  I'm not supposed to be here, I'm supposed to be dead.  So there it is....the whole nasty, ugly truth about the effects of my sin.  There is not one moment of that time that was worth the excruciating pain of my surgery.  Nothing funny about it, that helped me through the sickness of chemo and radiation.  Not one second that was worth watching my children cry and beg me not to die and leave them.  None of it was worth the consequences....none of it.  Friends, please please hear me...

I must leave you with this one thing.   Sin is no laughing matter....but where ever it exists, grace abounds more.  I'm alive and forgiven, but my face looks different.  I'm in remission and have received mercy, but I can't sing like I use to.  I sacrificed some things for temporary pleasure.  That pornography is not worth your marriage.  Your reputation is way more valuable than a one night stand.  That life you may take is far more valuable to someone than that last beer will ever be to you.  We don't have to live our lives with spiritual scars....signs of sin's wreckage in our life. Come home friend....He loves you and His closet has no skeletons....it's full of grace and mercy.

Day 2: I'm Afraid I Forget Too Easily How Blessed I Really Am.....

Day 2:  I'm Afraid I Forget Too Easily How Blessed I Really Am.....

I have forgotten their last name...but I will never forget what they did for me and my boys.  They were a family on my caseload and I had worked with them for about 4 months.  They were living in an Extended Stay hotel, all 5 of them in one room.  There was a small sitting area with a pull out sofa bed, a kitchenette, bathroom and a queen bed in the corner.  Their previous homelessness had almost caused their children to come into foster care, but I was helping them pull their life together so that would not have to happen.  The dad had now acquired a job as a mechanic at an oil express shop.  The mom was in her third round of chemo. Their three girls were struggling with the emotional fallout of one too many tragedies in this families life.  Bit by bit the family was growing stronger.  The agency I worked for had food vouchers that we would give each family on a monthly basis to help them.  I knew that this family's food stamps had just kicked in and the dad's income had started making a big difference in their needs. We had laughed together, cried together and everyone had done their part to make this work.  At the end of our sessions, the mom and I would have the same conversation before I left.  "Lisa, thank you for saving our family, if their is anything we can ever do for you, just name it".  Then I would tell her that they had saved their family and they owed me nothing.  However, today the conversation would have to end differently.....they were my only hope.  I hadn't eaten in 3 days and my boys had eaten Ramen Noodles for a week.  I had no way to feed them tonight because our last package was opened the night before.  My heart raced with nervousness, scared that they would reject me or worse, tell my boss about what I was going to ask them.  I was a single mom with 2 little boys and my income was 11 dollars over the food stamp limit.  I couldn't borrow from anyone, because I knew I wouldn't be able to pay them back.  So there I sat, swallowing my pride, angry and sad about my own circumstances.  Then she said it, "Lisa, thank you for saving our family, if their is anything we can ever do for you, just name it".  I spoke up and said "There is something I really need....my boys and I are hungry. Could we have your food voucher?".  Humiliated, I started crying.  The room was silent, then she got out of her sick bed.  She walked over to her kitchenette and started putting can goods and other food into paper grocery bags.  She, with hardly anything was packing food up for me.  She also took her voucher off the refrigerator and gave it to me. She put her hand on my shoulder and told me that I was a good momma....because good momma's ask for help....and asking for help isn't failure.  Oh how I needed those words right then.
I remember sitting in my car at the gas station, pulled up to the pump, pretending to look for the imaginary money I had lost.  In reality I didn't want to tell my boys I didn't have field trip money or ice cream money....so I would give them the last of what we had. Now, I was trying to muster up the courage to beg some stranger for a few dollars of gas money to get to work.  As different cars came through, I would talk myself out of asking because "that lady looks mean" or "that guy is going to say no".....and on and on it went until I would see someone with a little kindness on their face.  Then I would ask...I'm embarrassed to tell you how many times I did this.
So there I was...this morning at 3:05am at a truck stop just south of Cartersville.  I had put $35 dollars in my tank with my work gas card and then gone inside for snacks to keep me up.  A Starbucks refresher, bottle of water and a pack of Twizzlers would do the trick.  I walked out to my car, when I saw her.  She had arrived in a minivan with what appeared to be a pregnant teen and a little girl, about 7 years old.  She came over and asked if I had a few dollars I could help her with.  She said that she needed gas money to get back to Atlanta.  She had lost her job and she and her daughter had been evicted.  They had traveled up this way because they heard there were opening in the shelters, but there had not been one that could accommodate she, her girls and a soon to be grandchild. So, they put their name on the list, but were heading back to Atlanta to find some friends to stay with.  That's when I heard myself telling her that I didn't have any cash. I know what you're thinking.....you?....seriously?   I'm ashamed to say it, but yes, I did.  Then she said, "Is there anyway you could help me get my girls something to eat?".  It was like she slapped me in the face. How could I even hesitate?  Why would my gut instinct be to say no?  I can tell you why....I have forgotten where I used to be...and as a result, forgotten how blessed I really am. I was flooded with conviction.  I walked with her into that truck stop and bought 2 Big Mac Combos and a kids 6 piece nugget meal for a girl. Then I filled her gas tank. After I knew they were taken care of, I headed the rest of the way home.
I cried for a few miles, torn up at my own initial lack of compassion.  I've been that woman before and it was terrifying.  I never want anyone to be afraid to ask me for help, nothing I have is mine, anyways.  I'm not some major accomplishment.  I'm not this miracle worker who pulled herself out of the gutter.....I'm just a sinner who has experienced the grace of an almighty God....and for some reason He has seen fit to bless me. Me....of all people.
 Friends, I wonder how many times we pass by people in situations that we were once in.  Our willingness to help stunted by our lack of remembrance of where we came from.  For someone that has been a homeless orphan, foster kid, single mom, cancer patient.....let me tell you the beauty of all that history.  Those are all things I was....not things I am anymore.  Grace, mercy and a whole lot of blessings have put me where I am today. So, the next time you see someone in need....remember when you were there....and remind yourself of the blessings you have.  That will enable to show that blessing to someone else....even if it is one chicken nugget at a time.

Day 1: I am Afraid I have Spent More Time Looking in the Mirror Than looking at My Heart.

Every October Halloween decorations start appearing.  Hanging eyeballs, broomsticks and skeletons start showing up around the neighborhood. At Cracker Barrel, these decorations are out in August....but at any rate, they are out and people buy them.  They are meant to strike a "fun fear" in the people that view them,  Those decorations got me thinking about fear.  Not the "fun" kind that ghost sounds and orange lights cause....but the kind of fear that keeps me up at night questioning myself.....or my motives. Fear that I have handled some things wrong in my life...or not been the person I should be. So, for the month of October, I have decided to write a series about "Things I Am Afraid Of".  I want people to not make my mistakes....and hopefully we will  learn some things together.

Day 1: I am Afraid I have Spent More Time Looking in the Mirror Than looking at My Heart.

I have a pretty face.  It is made prettier by the BB tinted cream, mineral foundation, eyebrow pencil, blush, sparkly eye shadow, false eyelashes, mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss I put on it everyday.  It's a process.  I start with the cream...and it has to be rubbed in just right.  I then draw my eyebrows, since cancer took them away.  I have a myriad of eye shadow, sparkly, matte, bright etc, that I choose from. After my eye shadow and eyeliner is on, I move on to applying my thin mineral veil of foundation.  Then it's time for eyelashes and mascara. I put my eyelashes on with waterproof eyelash glue.  Once that is dry, I apply the mascara to complete that look.  Last but not least, lest's no forget....lip gloss.  I have all different colors, but it must be high gloss and preferably with sparkles.  I can't help it...I love it.  Then it's time to work on the frame for my face. By now, My flat iron is piping hot and ready to straighten my hair....or perhaps I will heat up the curling iron and put long loose curls....either way, I assure you, it will look amazing.  Finishing my look will be Tressemme' hairspray....and the final touch, perfume in my hair.  Then, it's time to get dressed, douse myself with perfume, shoe selection (it will be heels)....final look in mirror (some day's I really impress myself)....then out the door to face my day.  All of that, before I walk out the door.  All of that, before I face  my day.  All of that. None of that will make me smarter.  None of that will help me fix people's lives.  Not one stitch of that makeup will help me put a family back together, or rescue any kids.....or draw me closer to my own kids.  Not one ounce of eyelash glue will help my homeless client or help me love on a hurting friend. My lip gloss doesn't make my marriage stronger or give me wisdom.  No amount of hairspray will give me the words to say to a friend who has lost a child.  None of "all of that" will ever draw me closer to the One who made my face....it's frame....or the feet that slip into those stilettos.  I have spent hours of my life.....probably months of my life making my outside look like I think it should.  In stark contrast, I have probably not even spent half of that amount of time dressing or adorning my heart.  Adorning my heart with verses to meditate on, verses to derive beauty from, verses to heal friend's wounds.  Dressing my heart in wisdom from seeking the face...the only face that matters...the face of my almighty God.  The One who made the moon and stars.  The One who formed me out of dirt and breathed into me the breathe of life.  Dirt.  I am just dirt.  I am distraught that I have spent more time focused on making my dirt beautiful, rather than taking that breath of life and saturating my heart, my mind and my world with it.  As I type this, I am crying...mascara running down my face...devastated at my own oversight of my most precious commodity.  My heart.  My heart is where He lives.  My hospitality has been grossly understated.  I haven't adorned His dwelling place with half of the effort or time that I have given to my outward appearance.  I don't have a mirror to watch for imperfections or to gauge the beauty of my heart.  Well, technically I don't....but really I do.  I know His heart...and I know mine is supposed to be like His.  So if I'm looking at His heart and I see any variation in mine, that's what I need to work on.  Friends, I have so much work to do.  My prettiest features are discovered in my journey to become more like Him....then and only then will I be able to with much certainty say, I am beautiful.
 My morning routine to make my dirt pretty and sparkly won't change.....but my commitment to it will now be out shined by my daily efforts to make my heart beautiful.  My heart is in need of some fresh glitter, a good polish and maybe some touches of zebra print.

I Miss My Time With You....

It had been a long day.  Once again, I was at a local pharmacy attempting to get a kid's prescription filled for a foster parent, all the while annoyed with myself for offering to help them out.....because it's technically not part of my job...and because I was missing my family and ready to go home.  My day had consisted of meeting up with countless people who had burdens and tragedies and endless pain in their life....most who thought it was all my fault.  They were eager to let me know how angry and hurt they were.  Now, at 7:30 at night, sitting at CVS, I thought to myself, "If I have to listen to one more person complain about how miserable they are, I am going to lose it".  That's when she showed up.  You know her.  That lady that always has some type of ailment and is constantly looking for a new victim to tell about it...and today was my lucky day.  I had seen her when she first got there.  Limping up to the counter making sure that she smiled at everyone on her way up there like "Don't you see me, Don't you feel sorry for me?" she motioned for the pharmacist.  Next, she spoke extra loud so everyone within the Ft. Oglethorpe area would know her ailment and feel her pain.  I can't even tell you what her issue was....I lost count after her 4th diagnosis.  The guy next to me was arguing with his wife about how stupid it was that he was going to have to pay the copay for HER meds....he had to pay them out of HIS account the last two times.  I rolled my eyes in annoyance and misery.  Then there was countless entourage of people rolling up to the window wanting their meds filled.  I heard the pharmacist say over and over again, "Sure, we can have those filled in about 30 minutes"....which really annoyed me since I was going into my 2nd "30 minutes".  My misery was so painful by now....I knew I was going to need a bed in a psych unit....or a large bag of peanut M&Ms.  Considering my deductible isn't met yet, I figured the M&M's would be more cost effective.  I was about to get up, when I heard it.  I heard a voice say "Mom".  It sounded just like my oldest baby, Michael.  I answered, "Yes?!"...."Michael?".  Then I heard it again, "Mom".  I got up out of that chair and started scoping the aisles, looking for my son.  He was calling me....and I needed to be wherever he was.  I looked everywhere, but to no avail. Then I saw the voice...he was an attractive teen boy, showing his mom the "As seen on TV" item that apparently was some kind of family joke, but he wasn't my Michael.  I was sad....and a little disappointed....I would have loved to see my boy right then.  I went to sit back in my chair at the pharmacy, that's when I realized something.  When I heard "my son's" voice....everything else just faded away.  My focus was completely on him...not the amount of time I had been there, not the hypochondriac lady....nothing but Michael.  An old Christian contemporary song by Larnelle Harris came to mind.  "I miss my time with you....those moment together...I need to meet with you each day, and it hurts me when you say....your too busy, busy trying to serve me...  It was a hit in the 80's and the concept of the song was that it was written from God's perspective...about how He feels when we don't pray and read His word....and spend those moments just talking and being in fellowship with our Father.  That day, in that pharmacy, I wanted to hear from my son so badly.  I missed him....and to see him at that moment....to have him walk thru those doors and just sit next to me, would have been a sweetness only a parent could understand.  I thought about that father that sat on his porch day after day waiting for his prodigal son to return home.  Then it hit me. That morning I had started with prayer....then the pone rang. Yesterday, I had started reading, then Katie woke up.  Day after day, morning after morning I could remember starting but not finishing....getting quick prayers sent up, or grabbing a verse to think on, if possible, but no real time with Him.  He and I have developed quite a "fast food relationship".  Calling on Him, telling Him what I need, picking it up, and driving away.  No conversation, no meditation.....just quickness out of duty...obligation....need.  I miss my time with Him....and I know He misses me.  So tomorrow, when I wake up, He won't have to be disappointed....He won't have to wonder if it's really me...it will be.  My maker and I....walking together...praising, worshiping, catching up....meditating. I believe I will start with a special time of praise....and thankfulness....after all, where would I be without peanut M&Ms?!