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?!

Chains...

I have a free standing 4 ½ foot tall jewelry box in the corner of my bedroom.  It’s one of those that have a top that opens upwards and doors that meet in the middle and open outwards.  Once those doors are opened, there are drawers going down the center of the cabinet. Each section has different forms of dividers….for earrings, bracelets, watches and rings.  The inside of the doors have about 30 hooks, for necklaces to be hung on.  It used to be full of all types of jewelry neatly organized.  Then my daughter discovered it.  Once she figured out how to open it, it became her favorite place to play.  Jewelry of all sorts would be found throughout the corners of our house.  In fact, it was so bad, that on most days I only have one earring on because my daughter has lost its match.  I put it in my left ear because my hair covers my right ear.  The jewelry group that suffered the most from this tiny tyrant was my necklaces.  I had necklaces made of beads, pearls, leather and all shades of chains.  Silver chains, white gold chains and gold chains….those were her favorite.  They were just too shiny, glittery and bright for her to resist.  She could put most of them right over her head and they would fall down over her chest.  She would preen around the house showing off her new found beauty from these beautiful chains adorning her.  They did look beautiful….for a little while.  After time, they started to irritate her.  They were a little itchy, or her hair would get caught in them.  She would try to take them off, but it was harder to get them up over her head than it was to put them on.  Now they were an irritant to her…they bothered her…they encumbered her.  This once beautiful shiny chain that adorned her had turned to something ugly that burdened her…it put her in…bondage.  Oh, friend….can I tell you how I have been there…can I tell you how that things that once were exciting, once enticing, once beautiful have a way of turning so ugly…so painful.  At first, it was something I thought I had a right to put on.  After all, I was the one who deserved it.  I had an injustice done to me and this beautiful shiny chain was going to be my way to make an ugly situation easier….prettier…bearable.  You see I had suffered abuse and this chain of unforgiveness gave me control.  That one chain turned in to two chains…the chain of bitterness.  Then I adorned myself with the chain of judgment…I thought I had a right to wear it.  I mean I wasn’t the one in the wrong to begin with…this was just a normal human reaction. Before I knew it, I was taken over by more chains than I ever intended to wear.  The cheap metal of some of them would irritate my neck turning places on my neck black.  The pendants on others would leave indentations in my neck from sleeping with them on.  Some of them would become tangled from rubbing together day after day.  They were no longer pretty or shiny.  They were ugly, dull and they bound me.  You may have done the same thing with your life.  That beautiful car that you just had to have may have become a chain of debt that you wish you had never put on.  Perhaps you felt rejected from your spouse and so the chain of pornography was soon found around your neck.  Maybe you were hurt at church and so chains of bitterness and separation from the body of Christ can be found encumbering you.  Possibly, you have gone through a painful divorce and you have willingly adorned yourself with the chains of anger and evil speaking.  My friends….oh my friends….let me tell you something…I have a God that can drop those chains right around your feet….and He doesn’t even have to touch them to do it.  You can do it….through Him.  Nothing can put you in bondage that you don’t allow.  We serve the Master, the Almighty One, the One who holds the keys to death, hell and the grave.  He created you….He has freely given you His power by declaring that you can do all things through Him.  Nothing can bind you….you serve an all-powerful God that has not given you a spirit of fear and bondage….but rather boldness and freedom.  Somebody raise up your voice and call upon the one who has freely given us all things and declare that this bondage must be no more.  Let me tell you how my daughter took those chains off.  She would take her two tiny hands and pull….she pulled until she felt the chain break free around her…and then she would drop them to the floor.  I would find remnants of chains scattered throughout the house.  Shackles…..broken.  Bondage…freed.  Freedom…..granted.  Friends, it’s time.  Just like the Tasha Cobb’s song says….It is time to break every chain.  There is power in the name of Jesus to break every chain.  Every chain.  Are you ready to be free…are you tired of carrying this mess around your neck?  Are you tired of being a free man willingly binding yourself up with these chains?  Pull them off in the name of Jesus.  Let them go…call upon Him to give you the strength to just free your spirit.  The same God that let those chains fall down around Paul’s feet in that prison…the same God that freed the Maniac of Gadara from the chains others put on Him….the same God that granted Samson the ability to break free from chains in order to topple over a building and kill the Philistines….that God, yes that God is the one that can break every chain you are carrying.  So grab your chains my friend and call on Him that can loosen them from you.  Once they are broken, drop them down and walk….no run, from them.  Don’t pick them up, just let them go.  Do you hear that?  Do you hear that clanking sound?  That’s the sounds of chains being dropped…I hear them…that my friend, is the sound of freedom.

History...

I love history.  I'm not necessarily a history buff...but I do enjoy learning about the past.  I like museums, documentaries...even reading the Old Testament is fascinating to me.  You know what I've learned...the past always has a way of showing up in present day life.  Isn't that crazy? What's crazier is the amount of work people do to keep the past "in the past".  Ironically, we spend so much time trying to not remember...that we lose sight of the insight the past brings.  I was watching a documentary on Nelson Mandela a little while ago.  A journalist was interviewing him about the people that had imprisoned him, wrongfully, for so many years.  The journalist asked, "Didn't you hate those people even after they let you go"?  Nelson Mandela responded, "Briefly...but then I said to myself, they had me for 37 years...if you still hate them when you walk out that door, then they still have you."  I had to pause my television, just to capture all that that statement said.  I rewound the clip and watched it again (thank you Direct TV for the ability to pause and rewind live TV)...and then I rewound it a third time. I couldn't get past that statement..."If you still hate them when you walk out that door, then they still have you".  It made me wonder how many people still had a hold on me.  How many people had taken from me...and were continuing to take everyday because I had not let go of them and forgiven.  When Dr. Smith came to our church last fall he stated that "Forgiveness in our own strength is not hard....it's impossible".  Let me tell you how I saw this in my own life.  My birth mother was/is a heroin addict. She sold herself for a living...and when I was young she realized that she could make money off of me as well to feed her habit. I remember...and it was bad.  Fast Forward 35+ years...fast forward past the foster care, salvation, adoption, Christian school, ministry...everything amazing I've been through...fast forward to last Tuesday night. Our small group met at Rib&Loin BBQ for food and Bible-Study.  Bible study is always better with a loaded pork potato and banana pudding.  I was talking to my co-pastor's wife, who had just returned from a missions trip.  She and a few other ladies had gone to the Dominican to work with women who had been involved in and rescued from the sex trade industry. She had been telling us about the area they went to and how the men were very blatant in their gestures and hissing cat calls. I have memories of that from my own childhood. She then casually asked me if I would be interested in going back with them in June.  I wanted to vomit...my pulse started to race and instantly tears came to my eyes.  The thought of going to any place that brought back those memories was more than I could handle.  I didn't even feel a twinge of desire or need to go there...but my reaction to her simple request made me have to stop and think.  That night, cuddled up next to my husband, in the quiet of the night (other than his snoring), I wondered if I really didn't feel called or if my anger and hurt was keeping me from going.  Is it possible that like Mr. Mandela had stated, "If you still hate them when you walk out that door, then they still have you"...that they still had me?  The answer is, I don't know.  I'm still working on figuring that out...it could just be that emotionally that situation just hits too close to home.  Either way, I'm going to figure it out and see if some forgiveness is long overdue in my life.  Who has a hold on your life?  Are you struggling because you haven't forgiven an ex-husband...a friend...or a boss that wronged you?  We all need to pause life from time to time to make sure we aren't slowing down or limiting the plan God has for our life, by not letting go of those who have wronged us.  Let today be your day of freedom...maybe even with a loaded pork potato and banana pudding.

Leprosy...

I was sitting on the back row of our church auditorium.  It was another year of “Christmas in Ringgold”….an event that our church hosts every year.  Basically, it’s a Christmas Cantata stretched out over four weeks.  This year we are doing an event that attempts to cover the whole story of the Bible…with the Christmas story being just a part of it.  That’s why, last Sunday, there were lepers.  Yes….lepers.  We were covering the part in scripture where Jesus was on the earth doing miracles….teaching….and healing.  So, we had two teenage boys made up as lepers for Jesus to heal.  They had gauzy white head wraps as if to cover missing ears and injured heads.  They had hanging skin and scabs that our make-up artist had strategically placed all over their faces.  The make-up magic would happen when Jesus touched their heads, pulled the gauze down over their faces, pulling off all the flaky leprosy scabs….giving the appearance of them being healed.  It really was convincing.  So convincing…that before the service began…I was mildly annoyed with our lepers.  I have a semi-weak stomach when it comes to leprosy, and a few other things.  Before the service, we have these sweet ladies in red aprons that walk around with platters of all sorts of goodies….fudge, cookies…cinnamon bites and other delightful treats.  Here was the problem…the service had not started, but our lepers felt the need to wander around, in full make-up and costume.  Here’s the problem. As I sat on the back pew, within my line of vision from the left side came that platter of delicious scrumptious goodies…then from the right came the lepers.  It was too much for me to handle crunchy cookies, while looking at scabby leprosy…I just couldn’t do it.  It looked just a little too real for me.  Needless to say, there were no goodies for me.  So, the service started…I got up did my narration and the song began that our Jesus was going to perform His miracles in….including the healing of the lepers.  Here they came down the aisle…the crowd was hovering behind Jesus to stay away from the “unclean”.  They staggered in front of Jesus, and just like the Bible says, he healed the lepers….right in front of the church.  It was awesome to watch the miracles acted out….made me wish I had been there…back when those things really happened, just to see Jesus in action.  The song ended, and I was getting ready to go back up and narrate…when I saw something…..something rather unpleasant.  Both of our lepers had left their gauzy, flake encrusted wraps right on the floor where they landed when Jesus took them off.  Again, I was grossed out….even further bothered, because I knew I was going to have to grab them and fling them to the side out of the view of the audience. So I did it.  The lights went down; I hunched over on my way up to the stairs, grabbed the flaky grossness and flung them off stage….that was when it hit me.  They had left their sickness, disease, the flakes and all, right where Jesus had healed them.  Wow.  My mind started racing….connecting the dots….putting myself in that very song I had just watched performed.  See I wasn't there when the lepers were healed or Jarius’ daughter was raised to life or when the woman with the issue of blood was cured by her faith. I wasn't there when the Pharisees threw the woman found in adultery at the feet of Jesus….rocks in hand…ready to rid society of her filth.  (*Happy Dance*Tears While Typing*) Nope, I wasn't there for those miracles, but let me tell you what I was there for! I was there when He gloriously saved me from the worthless sinner that I am….I was there when He was the only Father I had, because my birth father never knew me….I was there when he gave me a hand-picked a family to love me, the orphan with no one….I was there when He used this worthless sinner to speak to hundreds of ladies over and over again as His mouthpiece….I was there when he restored me from the wreckage of a failed marriage…I was there when He healed me of cancer not once but 4 times…and my story is still being written.  The same miracles that enabled those lepers to leave their past right where Jesus had taken it off…have happened to me….and probably to you, too.  Let’s stop living like those bandages and scars define us…..by causing bitterness…anger…or wrecked relationships.  Let’s take those rags off and leave them….right where He meant for them to stay.  Your past doesn't define you….He does.  Step right over those gauzy, flaky rags and walk towards that platter, because He has all kinds of goodies in store for you.

Mrs. Harvey

Her name was Mrs. Harvey.  She had blonde, shoulder length, frosted hair that parted in the middle with feathered bangs on either side of her forehead.  She wore powder blue eye shadow and bright pink lip stick. She had a slender athletic build with a miniature waist that she always wore a thin belt around.  She wore shimmery dresses and nude pantyhose. Her shoes were peep toe kitten heels...and I thought she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.  Her husband was a tall, dark and handsome pilot in the Air Force...I thought he was dreamy.  Mrs. Harvey had a powder blue Camaro with silver sparkles...the most amazing car I had ever seen.  She was my fourth grade teacher and I wanted to be her when I grew up.  She was always kind, always patient...and I idolized her.  One day, toward the end of the school year, Mrs. Harvey made an announcement.  Her husband, who had been stationed at McCord Air Force base there in Washington, had been stationed to another base...and so they would be moving. I was stunned. Sitting in my little desk, with the wooden lift top that let you keep all your stuff inside, I lifted the desk top to cover my tears.  How could this be? Mrs. Harvey was my teacher...and I needed her to stay. Why did she need to go with her husband? Confused and sad I just tried to process this in my head. It had never occurred to me that Mrs. Harvey had a life outside of the realm I knew her in.  I had never thought of her in a grocery store, or out with friends....or even as having parents she went to see at Christmas...I only knew her and thought of her as my teacher. In my world I confined her in this little box....and a teacher is all I viewed her as.  Have you ever done this with someone?  Ever put limits on them based on your own perception? I'm ashamed to say I have done this not only with Mrs. Harvey...but also with God.  I confined Him to my own perceptions of what He is...and not who He was? I knew He was the Great Physician...but didn't see Him as my Healer.  I knew that He was omni-present and all powerful....but didn't count on Him to be my refuge, and my very present help.  I was aware that He owned the cattle on a thousand hills, but didn't count on Him to supply my electric bill.  And yet...He does....and He is.  In my small little mind I had limited my God to what He had or had not done for me...when in fact, that couldn't be farther from the truth.  Isaiah 40 states that all the stars in the sky fit with in the span of His hand...that's the length from the tip of His thumb to the tip of His middle finger.  It goes on to say that all the waters in the oceans fit in the palm of His hand.  That's how big He is.  A God that big and that great can't be limited to just our experiences...we have to look at the whole picture....and the whole story, to see the magnitude and the miracles our God does.  It seems that each trial and each victory shows me a new aspect of my Savior.  He has healed me of cancer...not once, but 4 times. He has provided for me....every day of my life.  He has loved me...when no one else did.  He has always done exceedingly and abundantly above all that I could ever ask or think. His greatness isn't just evidenced in my life....it's been seen in the countless number Christians that have gone before me....and those I see every day.  Moses - murderer to leader. Rahab -  harlot to great faith. David - adulterer to a man after God's own heart.  Paul - persecutor to preacher...(fast-forward)...Valerie - cancer to healed. Chuck - homeless addict to a sold-out believer. Lisa - broken to restored.  Our stories are still being written....who knows what amazing aspect of God will be revealed to you in the next chapter of your life.  Just remember not to limit Him...we have not begun to see the greatness of our God.  He will blow you away with what He has in store...just like the wind used to blow through Mrs. Harvey's hair in her powder blue Camaro with silver sparkles.

Surprise! I'm not perfect!

I have a startling confession to make.  This is going to take some of you back…so…brace yourself….I…am not perfect.  I’m almost perfect…but not quite.  I have no toenail on my left big toe. As in nothing…just bare toe.  Due to this slight imperfection, I have to wear an acrylic toenail.  Once my toenail is on…my feet look fabulous.  My open toe and peep toe shoes look adorable…and no one can tell.  There is one problem with my fake toe nail…it doesn't stay on well.  One time I bumped it on a chair in court and it landed on the witness stand.  Another time I was in church and had a glass of tea next to my chair…something must have happened because the next thing I knew, I was drinking my toe nail. On my honeymoon I realized in the wee hours of the morning that it had come off in the bed.  I was like a ninja trying to comb my hands through the sheets so I could superglue my toenail back on before my husband woke up. It has a mind of its own and seems to pop off at the most inopportune times.  There is a way to make it pretty secure however.  It requires the perfect blend of acrylic, a nail tip, and superglue.  Now, I have been getting this done for years, and I know the way that works best.  The problem is, that every nail salon I go to thinks they know how to do it better.  I get tired of explaining myself….every time…to whoever gets assigned my pedicure.  Even people that have done it before, still continue to haggle with me over the right way to do it.  Just this past Saturday I had to explain, again, the proper way to do it.  It’s on, but he still didn't do it the right way.  As a result, this morning, I was putting on my superglue to hold it in place.  It got me thinking about some other things in my life.  I may be an expert on my toenail….but there are other things I really struggle with.  Ironically, I am quite a bit like my nail technician.   God has a whole book that spells out for me how to deal with life, trials and struggles….but I often insist on doing things my way.  As if I know better…as if I am an expert on life.  I stress about things like groceries and bills…when He tells me He will supply for every need.  I worry about my cancer coming back…when He clearly tells me that He won’t bring me through what I can not handle.  I try to manipulate situations to have outcomes that I want…when He tells me that He will work all things together for my good.  I worry about being alone in trials…when he tells me that He will never leave me or forsake me.  Chances are, you have found yourself in the same boat I have.  Trying to tell God what is best for our life and how it needs to work.  Isn't it tiring?  Aren't you ready to just rest in that peace that passes all understanding and cast all your cares upon Him?  I know I am.  So rather than mess things up, raise my blood pressure or have another sleepless night…I am going to do it His way.  That will be my only guarantee that I will be doing things right…and they will work…without superglue.

Rules

It was late and I was tired. Don't worry....I still looked fabulous, but I was tired. This has been an exhausting week of on-call for me beacause I have had to go out almost every evening. Once again my phone rang and so out the door I went. I headed out to pick up two children and place them in a foster home. Now, this may suprise you...but I'm a pretty laid back worker, as in I don't get worked up about much. This has led me to a list of rules that I follow in my work because they make my job a tiny bit less stressful. Rule #6: I don't chase runners...ever. If a kid is going to run from me, I let them go. That might sound strange to you, but I have a reason. Unless they are running towards me, I'm never going to catch them. They are trying to run away....that intent and goal makes them have even more speed because they are determined. I, on the other hand, can't put my hands on them so what would I do once I got to them? I can't hold them down, tackle or stop them....so why waste all that energy and let's not forget about my shoes! These shoes I wear are not made for running. On this particular call I was wearing black, lace covered Guess stillettos, with a patent leather bow just below the peep toe...they are simply divine. Anyway, I really just wanted to get this call over so I could get home. I arrive at my destination, get the kids and head to the car. That's when the five year old made a run for it. I wasn't particularly stressed...because he's five, his legs are shorter than mine, I mean how far could he really go. So I try my usual tactics like "Hey buddy, can you show me how your car seat works?" and "Little man, want some candy?". He would stop and listen then look like he was debating....and then start running again. So, I waited. The area was well lit...but in order to get away from me, he was going to have to run into the shadows and I guess that looked too scary for him. He would get close to the darknes and then sprint back into the light. Basically I was watching a five year old do a running shadow dance...I figured when he got tired he'd come back....and he did. Now I'm more tired and feeling a little frazzled, so I was relieved to get on the road and head to the foster home. Now, this house has a huge hill...actually, it's more like Mt. Everest, for their driveway. It's one of those that when you try to get out of your car you get beaten down by your car door that keeps trying to shut. So here I am in 4 inch stillettos trying to get out of the car on a hill.....needing to hold onto the car door just to get out and stay upright...but it keeps shutting on me. Mercifully, the foster mom sees me and heads out. She goes around and gets the little one out of his car seat, and I go to get the five year old out of his. The door is pushing on my hiney while I'm trying to unbuckle his 5 point harness seat, balancing on 4 inch stilettos....on the side of a Mt. Everest. My head keeps bumping into the kids head so he is now holding my head up by my bangs to keep me from bumping him anymore and kicking me with his cowboy boots. Sweet mother of mercy...I was so over it at this point. I get him unbuckled and hold the door open (feeling like I'm going to fall forward at any minute since I am now facing down hill in 4 inch stilettos)..and that's when he took off. I saw him running down the hill, but I thought how far can he really go...he's just five. Well let me tell you, that kid was part cheetah. I'm standing there (barely) with a laundry basket and a car seat...foster mom is holding a toddler and an open pack of diapers...and cheetah boy is running for his life right down the middle of the street. I attempt to climb up the hill towards the porch so I can put the clothes basket and the car seat down. However, there was no way i could do it in my shoes. I put the basket and seat down and had to take off my shoes...I wrestled with the car door again so I could throw my shoes in the front seat. Then, barefoot, I grabbed the basket and seat and put them on the porch. Meanwhile, foster mom had decided to take off after cheetah boy who was running for his life in those little cowboy boots. I see her running with a toddler in her arms, leaving a trail of diapers behind her. Rule #6: I don't chase runners...ever. Well, considering the cheetah boy appeared to be on his way to Michigan, I was going to have to make an exception. So, I got my chase on. Yep, I got in my car, backed down Mt. Everest and started after the boy. I couldn't see him or foster mom anymore, so I followed the trail of diapers. My windows were down and I could hear her yelling my name...I see her, with the toddler, and cheetah boy in tow. I had already removed the car seat....so he held my hand....through the widow, all the way back to the house and up Mt. Everest. Finally, in my bare feet, I get the kids placed and am on my way home...barefoot and completely frazzled. I was laughing out loud in my car just visualizing the whole fiasco. It's funny how in life we make a set of rules based on our experiences. Rules like, "I'll never marry becuase I don't trust men" or "I don't go to church because churches are full of hypocrites". Rules that define our life...but don't always make sense. Often we make these rules to protect ourselves from being hurt. Well I'm here to tell you, that your number 1 rule should be the same as mine....Be Flexible. God is going to bring, or maybe has brought already, so many opportunities into your life...and if you can't be flexible and put your heart and life out there...you may miss something amazing. Can I take it a step farther? Don't let anything stand between you and your relationship with God. If you have His direction and leading....just go with whatever it is. Don't let rules, caution or others stand between you and doing His will in your life. Just take off those stillettos, throw them in the front seat and head on after that cheetah that He wants you to pursue. After all, He's God, and He's got this.

Clouds

Today, I am thankful for clouds. Heading down the road the other day, I was surrounded by beautiful scenery, sunshine and cool temperatures. I loved looking at the vibrant trees and colors of fall. Interestingly though, not all the places were bright. There were some places that were dark and gray, patches of no color. I was confused at first and wonder if perhaps there had been random fires or if maybe a tornado had wiped out the area. Then I realized what was happening...there were clouds that were blocking the sun from hitting all of the hillside. The big white puffy clouds were beautiful suspended in the air, but casting shadows on the trees below. You know what's interesting about shadows...you can hide in them. The trees with the shadows were as beautiful as the others....colorful and alive...I just couldn't see them temporarily. A couple of months ago, I read a quote by Tyler Perry. He said, "Don't try so hard to be seen, sometimes God has you hidden for a reason". Several years ago, my marriage had ended, I lost a loved church and ministry...lost people I thought loved me and I was a single mom. Anger and bitterness had crept into my heart and taken over like a wildfire. Through a series of events the Lord impressed hard on me to move to Chicago. His leading was so direct in every step...and we landed in a little church called Beecher Baptist Fellowship. It was a small church filled with people who loved the Lord and loved others...that church was our cloud. I didn't sing in the choir...I didn't speak at ladies meetings and jubilees...I didn't work with the teens or even teach Sunday school...we just rested...and healed. Being removed from all that we knew gave us a renewed awareness of God's love, His grace and His voice. He was constantly emulated in that group of believers that banded around the boys and I and lavished love all over us. We were so broken and they were so kind. There are times in all of our lives when we have to, like those trees, be removed from the strong sun and heat of our lives...and like Ps. 91:1 says "...abide in the shadow of the Almighty." Things are different now...I have ministries I work in, am remarried...and life is very full. But I will never forget my time in the shadows and the healing that took place. I will never forget the love and compassion I experienced from that church that loved us...right where we were. May God help me to see when others are in the shadows of life and to be Him to them.

Leaves

I was sitting in my big comfy chair, legs stretched out on the ottoman and holding a warm mug of Chi-Tea. The house was quiet and the sun was setting. To the right of my chair just through the kitchen are french doors that look out into the back yard. Something caught my eye. There was a beautiful yellow leaf gently floating to the ground....followed by a red one and then a fiery orange leaf as well. Today, on November 1, 2013, I am thankful for leaves. These past few weeks our church has been having a sermon series about Hebrews 12: 1-2. There is a part in that passage that says "laying aside every weight...". I have spent some time reflecting on just what those weights are for me. They aren't always bad things, I mean the scripture goes on to say "...and the sin which does so easily beset us"...so I know the weights aren't necessarily sin. They are just things that weigh us down...maybe things that make our life harder. As I watched those leaves floating downward, it occured to me that they will never be back on that branch. Other leaves may come, but the fallen ones will never be back. They have been "laid aside". It's remarkable to me how different a tree looks without the beautiful ornamentation of the leaves. The leaves give bright buds of green foliage in the spring....followed by bursts of greenery....then slowly emblazening into reds and yellows...and then....they are gone. A bare tree...just branches and trunk. I've been there. I've been at those points in my life when God said, "Ok, it's time for everything to go". It was just me and Him. Times when I felt like my whole life had been stripped away. I had lost friends, a child, a church, a ministry, a marriage, my health...my hair. Stripped down...just me and Him. Somethings we choose to have leave our life but other things leave on their own. Either way, it hurts. I think sometimes we try too hard to hold on to things that are just weighing us down. Maybe it's a relationship that isn't good for us. Maybe it's a job that is holding us back from being where we need to be. Possibly it's a habit or addiction that is costing us way more than we ever intended to pay. You know what's really neat about the leaves falling off the branches? The branches start lifting higher as the weight falls off. They aren't overwhelmed by the mass anymore....they are free. Free. The leaves aren't necessary for the survival of the branch...they just make it a little prettier. What is it that you need to lay aside? What or who is weighing you down? Here is what I know...once those leaves are gone, they won't be back. The beauty of it is this, once they have left and you have had some time to lift back up...there will be room for some new leaves. My goal this year is to bud some pink glittery ones.

My View of God

Last Sunday afternoon, after church, I decided to go for my bi-monthly pedicure and fill-in. After all, it is the day of rest, how better to enjoy it than two hours away from my regular life sitting in a massage chair, feet soaking in warm bubbly water, a chi-tea latte from Panera and getting beautified. Well, I arrived a few minutes before they were opened, so naturally I just had to go to the Panera next door. That's where I got my chi-tea latte....and...a cobblestone muffin. While I sat in a corner chair waiting for the nail salon to open, indulging in my yummy treat, I saw a family right outside the front glass doors. It appeared that they were finishing up eating in the patio area. I have no clue what was happening or being said because I couldn't hear them...I could only see them. What I saw was what appeared to be a mom, a dad, two girls...maybe 13 and 14, and a little boy who was having a serious meltdown. He was in full cry it out mode...and standing next to what appeared to be a cookie....on the ground. From my perch inside, I deducted that he had dropped his cookie on the ground, and now he was grieving. His mom patted him on the head and his sisters appeared to be updating their facebook status on their IPhones to "...and the little brother is annoying me again!!! LOL! Whatevs! #lame". That is when I saw ...something beautiful. The father came over to the little guy, knelt down next to him and pulled his son in towards him. Then he put his arms around him and just held him in a bear hug. I could see the boy's body shaking and he appeared to be crying a little harder with his face buried in his daddy's shoulder. My mind went back to a Biblical Counseling class I had in college. I remember my teacher explaining to us that often people's view of God is how they view their own father. For example, if their father was absent, they may struggle with feeling like God is never there or present for them...it affects their faith in knowing He cares. If their father was harsh and demanding they may struggle with feeling like God is always waiting for them to mess up, just waiting to pounce on them and show how they failed. Some who had fathers that never praised them or acknowledged their achievements might struggle with feeling like they are never good enough for God, that they are a disappointment to Him. I'm not here to debate philosophy or theology...but I do know there is some truth to that statement, because I have seen it myself. I started life...basically with no dad. I'm sure I have one, I just never met him and don't know who he is. Once I was adopted, I got my new daddy...Jerry Thomas. He has always loved me, always doted on me and not one day have I ever felt like my dad didn't love me. He makes me laugh, he has killed bugs for me, he has taught me...and he definitely helped shape my view of God. I struggled at first with the concept that God loved me....or that I even mattered to Him. As my relationship with my dad grew, my view of God did as well. My view of God is that He laughs with me...and thinks I'm amazing....after all I'm His kid and He did fearfully and wonderfully make me! He is always present and loves me with an everlasting love. I am incredibly thankful to Him because even though I wasn't His, he adopted me and loved me and made me His own...just like my daddy. I have had faith that could move mountains, knowing that God would heal my cancer, knowing that God would not fail me after a failed marriage, knowing that God was ever present in every bit of my life and cared...just like my dad. Friends, I'm not sure what you are dealing with that is causing your meltdown....I don't know if like that little boy you have lost something valuable to you. Maybe your job has become too much, maybe your marriage has failed or maybe you have lost a child. Please know this...God wants to come right to where you are, drop to His knees and envelop you in His love...His grace...His strength. If all you can do is bury your face in His shoulder and cry...that's alright with Him. He loves you right where you are. You can rest in that truth, and I hope for you, God just got a little sweeter just like He did for that little boy.

The Volume Button

  You are laying on the couch captivated in a Lifetime movie.  The storyline has been building, and it is almost to the best part…you are a bundle of nerves wondering just who it is that has been stalking the poor, beautiful single mom named Trixie.  All she has been doing is trying to get enough hours at the Diner to provide for her 3 children….one of whom is special needs.  She met Tony, the tall and handsome Texan cattle rancher who thinks she is the prettiest girl he has ever seen.  However, her heart still yearns for her husband Thad, who fell off the family yacht last year in the Bahamas and was lost at sea.  As the petite Trixie walks alone in the night to her tiny hatchback Datsun, she hears someone behind her……is it Tony the handsome cattle rancher?  Is it her long lost husband, Thad?.......or could it be the creepy guy that comes in the Diner every Tuesday at midnight and orders the blueberry pie….with no ice cream…?  Suddenly, pictures of cheap furniture come across the screen, and a guy named Earl is screaming at you to come to the END OF SEASON SOON TO BE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY BLOW OUT SALE at Furniture R’Us.  At that moment, you realize how awesome it is to have a volume button on your remote control.  You turn your TV volume down from 21 to 2 in .021 seconds flat….and sigh in relief.   Quiet.  Don’t you wish we had a volume control for life?  A way to turn the baby’s cry down to a tolerable level….the husbands ball game down to a dull roar…the bickering brothers down to a whisper…Oh that would be nice.  How awesome would it be to have the ability to turn your bosses voice into a mere whisper….or to completely mute a complaining customer.   Sometimes, we all need…inhale….exhale…quiet.  Quiet…a time when we turn down all the noise of life…and just listen.  You may be wondering….”Um, what am I listening to if it’s quiet?”   Let me ask you this: Have you ever tried to listen to two people talking at the same time?  When we allow the noise of the world to constantly bombard our ears, how are we supposed to hear that still small Voice…..that Voice that directs us…leads us…comforts us.  Trust me; you will hear more that matters with the volume down than you will with the volume up.   The volume button…awesome for television viewing…but absolutely necessary for peace of mind.

My Name

 What comes to mind when you hear the name Abraham Lincoln? Cleopatra? Amelia Erhart? When you hear those names, doesn’t a whole story come to mind?  A president, a queen…an adventurer.  With just the mention of their name you know exactly who I am talking about.  Well, my name is Lisa Brown….and my name has a whole story as well.  Orphan, victim, adopted daughter, preacher’s wife, divorced, mother, cancer survivor…I could go on and on.  You know, I believe that names aren’t just a way to keep people organized….they are titles to people’s life.  When I hear about David, I know that with all of his shortcomings and failures, he was a man after God’s own heart...a picture of God’s grace.  When I hear Bathsheba, I think of her story of lust, betrayal, murder…and then a picture of mercy.  When I hear my name, Lisa Marie Brown, I see a picture of redemption.  What does your name mean to you?  At the end of the day, it really isn’t about what my name says about me….it is really about what my name says about Him.  

Veterans

 Tonight I would like to tell you about a man named Donald Bradley. Each night he goes to bed in a VA hospital....missing his wife of 50 years. He can't walk anymore....but he used to jump out of planes. He can't make his own food anymore, but he used to be able to open a MRE with his teeth. He can't care for himself anymore....but he used to do things for our country that we only read about in books. He missed months out of every year of his girls lives...because he needed to. His wife spent her nights alone in a bed, virtually a single mom, just praying...praying that her husband would come home. His daughters prayed for their daddy in their prayers each night, and listened intently for the sound of his boots in the hallway and his bag hitting the floor. His daughters grew up overseas....American girls in school in Greece, Germany...and wherever they were stationed. He served in the Korean War...and went on countless missions we will never know about.  There is another man named Mitchell Mitch Moss , I must tell you about. He was in the Persian Gulf War. Then he met Dawn at her daddy's church in Germany...like turned to love....and years later here they are in Chattanooga with 3 kids...and...a lifetime of service to our country. Then the Twin Towers happened...and Mitch had to go...not 1, not 6....but 15 months away from his family. Birthdays that he is not in the pictures for. School events that can't be relived....a wedding anniversary celebrated by a party of 1. I remember hearing my friend cry...torn between the incredible fear she may not see her husband again....and the insurmountable pressure of being a single mom.  On this Veterans Day, I would like to say a tearful and humble thank you to Donald, his wife Patsy Ann, his daughters Beth Ann and Sue Ann. I would like to thank Mitch, Dawn...and their children Bradley, Madison and Hailey. Bradley Moss sacrificed having his daddy home for Christmas....so my son Michael Brown could celebrate Christmas in freedom. I have so many special people that I know and love who have sacrificed for my freedom. Deyanira Stephen Lambert live right down the road from me....they sacrificed for me, too. I wonder if you are thinking, "Wow, she is so self absorbed, she thinks they did that just for her?" My answer is yes.....yes I do think they did it just for me. I am an American, and they sacrificed just for my freedom....just for your freedom. You see...they don't go to war and decide, "Aw, well, there's not as many people as there used to be....so we really shouldn't fight for our country anymore". One American is the same as 5 million Americans....and all of us, according to our soldiers, are worth dying for. The Americans that hate God, and the ones that believe we are one nation created under Him. The Americans in prison, and the ones that have never broken the law. The Americans that talk badly about our country, and the ones that love it. You see we all represent something...freedom. That freedom has cost many a mom and a dad to miss special days with their families.....but they believe our freedom is worth it. I thank them for that. I don't deserve their sacrifice....and I could never repay them....but I love them and my children are being taught to love them. They may not wear capes....or have the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound...but they are the real kind of heroes...the kind Iron Man and the Avengers only dream of being.

The People I Miss

 I am thankful for…the people I miss. Before you think I have completely lost my mind, let me explain. I miss my family. I miss them terribly. There is something about having your mom, dad and family around especially in the Holiday season. I miss sitting at the kitchen table talking to my mom about everything going on while she makes the bread crumb dressing. I miss hearing my daddy cackle at my corny jokes and seeing my boys hover near him because they love their grandpa. I miss my brother and his big bear hugs. I miss my sister-in- laws. Crystal has a beautiful laugh and it's so funny to watch her and her brother pick on each other...my son Michael wants to be just like Jamie. I love sitting at Malinda's table and catcing up on life...Raul makes me laugh all the time. I miss Ann and Joe…and arguing over how we are going to divide up Uncle Tony’s shrimp salad. I miss my mother-in-law Carol, she really cares about me….and I love how she loves my children. Today, while I was standing at the grocery store I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. My nose started getting stuffy and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from becoming a sniveling mess. I miss them…all of them. While I was standing there pretending to be intently reading a jar of olives, my work phone rang. It was one of the kids on my caseload. She was calling to thank me for the birthday card I had mailed her, and to tell me Happy Thanksgiving. She asked what time she could call me on Thanksgiving day, she has called me every holiday and birthday for the past 2 ½ years. I am the closest thing she has to family. Her parents abandoned her. Her siblings have long since forgotten she exists….she has no one. I remember that feeling. I remember being in foster care…and having no one. I remember being on a playground and kids calling me bastard and orphan. I was alone. The day I was adopted, I remember one specific feeling…it’s not really an emotion, and yet it sort of is….belonging. For the first time in my life I belonged somewhere. No matter where I went or how far away I was from my new family…I would from that day forward…belong. There were people that loved me…people that would miss me if I wasn’t around…I had a family. So this evening as I think over this day’s events; I am thankful for the people I miss. I have people to miss, and people that miss me…and that is much more than I used to have.