28 Days Later

28 days ago I opened my laptop with the intention of writing and, sadly,  I felt like I had nothing to say. I like having something to say. 

It seems I had hit a wall. As I began to pray and ask God to guide me, I felt like he was leading me to just start typing. I didn't know where it would lead. And then, in the middle of my blogging away-- He gave me the idea to blog my way through the alphabet. (I had no idea that people do this kind of thing all the time. And I had never heard of a "blog hop".) So, I posted a blog with a proclamation of my personal challenge. You can read Day One ~ The Wall here.

The challenge was...well, a challenge. In the midst of it, I went on a Marriage Retreat with my husband, acted as Wedding Coordinator for a friend, worked a few shifts at my church's Cafe', hosted a table at a Ladies Tea, worked the snack bar for the HS swim semi finals, helped my son navigate through the halls of the DMV, and continued with the planning of my Daughter's wedding. Before the challenge these would have been reasons excuses not to write. But, because I had the accountability of my proclamation, I had to write. And, so, I just sat down a wrote.

But, for me, this challenge would not be complete without evaluating its effectiveness. So, today, as I continue my count toward my One Thousand Gifts for my Multitudes on Mondays (which is now a regular blog hop for me) I will be counting the 26 blessings I have received through my Alphabet Journey. 

42:: Accessible = I praise God that He always is. It's not about how I think He feels about me. It's about how he really does feel about me. 

43:: Breathtaking = I am so thankful that the view of my life, this blessed life I have had so far, is truly a remarkable site.

44:: Crazy = There was a time when I thought that I might be. I am relieved and blessed to know that I am not.

45:: Divine = He continually places us all in the right place at the right time. I am amazed at His intricate weaving together of people.

46:: Emily = My daughter. My friend. Heading into a new playing field in our relationship. What will this look like?

47:: The F-word = The real one is forgiveness. It's time to take that which is repulsive and turn it into something beautiful.

48:: Gathering = I have only begun to put all these blessings in one place. I shall continue to collect and save each one, like a treasure.

49:: Hair = The crown of a woman, perhaps. But, for me, I am finding the freedom to feel beautiful because of how He is styling me.

50:: I opening = I am opening myself up. I am opening myself to poetry and to beauty in language. I had never written a poem, or played with words in this way.

51:: James = I am so thankful for hearing the Holy Spirit lead me to delve into this book. I had no idea how it would set my faith on fire and revive my prayer life.

52:: Kaleidoscope = The blessing of this constantly evolving relationship between my Mother, myself and my daughter is not something I can understand completely, but I know I am richer for the both of them.

53:: Lord = There is really only one. And His word is His sword.

54:: Mistakes = I've made so many, but my Mother loves me in spite of them all. And, I figured out how deep her love was on the day I became a Mom myself.

55:: Never = Never will I take for granted the protection that the Lord has provided for my family. 

56:: Ordinary = I love that my life is ordinary. Because when it looks extraordinary, that just means there is some Jesus showing.

57:: Pancakes = People and purpose. Simple things can bless people if you do them with a purpose.

58:: Quadragenarian = I wouldn't want to be 20. I have no need to go back and be 30. This is the best time of my life!

59:: Revisions = Everyday. I am not complete.

60:: Sex = My husband desires me. This alone brings joy.

61:: Today = Praising the Lord that we have the choice TODAY to see Yesterday and Tomorrow through the eyes of Grace.

62:: Undeserving = I am. That's just a fact.

63:: Words = I love them. I think they like me, too.

64:: eXtreme = Any person can build a strong household. I am extremely blessed that my parents found the Lord when they did.

65:: Yo-Yo = there is a yearning to control these emotions of mine, but until the Lord takes them away...I will make the most of every hormone I have.

66:: Zombies =I long for their zeal. Maybe, it's hiding inside me.

28 days later, this ends my challenge, and I am not disappointed in the results, because as someone very wise once said, "Writers write". See you soon. Real soon.

Z is for Zombies

As irritating as a zombie can be, you really have to admire their tenacity. I have found that the average zombie has more persistence than myself, therefore, I could probably learn a thing or two from the walking dead. They are so passionate about fulfilling their needs and not being deterred along the way. The word zeal practically describes a zombie to a tee. 

zeal: n. eager interest, ardent endeavor; fervor.

Of course it does leave out the drooling, the gaping hole in the chest, and the absent look in their soulless eyes. But, other than that, it grabs the crux of that which we should fear in a zombie.  They see what they want (or who they want), and they go after it (him). They stay on task. 

I need that in my life. I need that "stick-to-it-ness" when dealing with my household, my writing, even my faith. I can become distracted by so many things that my time is wasted, and before too long, I feel less engaged in my own life. There have been times that I have heard people say that they "felt like a zombie when staring at Facebook". And, while I understand and empathize with the sentiment that they are trying to communicate--I don't think that is fair to zombies. Based on my dealings with zombies, that is not the nature of a zombie. Zombies deserve to be acknowledged for their painstaking persistence. Zombies wouldn't be on Facebook at 11:27 PM. Nope, they would be outside your window, trying to scratch their way in, hoping for a midnight snack.

I can only hope that if I ever become a zombie, I will use my new nature to make the world a better place. I hope that I will hone in on my new obsessive nature and find ways to improve the world for other zombies. Perhaps I would start challenges for zombies...

"Eat a human with a different name every day for 26 days --starting with the letter A and ending with Z."

Naw...it's been done.

By the way, click here to learn Rule #32. And then live by it.

And, check out my friend, Shauna's blog TODAY...hmmm...something is happening today...and it's not the rapture.

Also this. These are 

the two best zombie movies ever

Y is for Yo-Yo

Things couldn't be better. My marriage is healthy, filled with laughter and communication. I am fulfilling my role as a wife with ease and my husband enjoys "hanging out with me". God has blessed me with a beautiful daughter, and we are working together to plan her wedding--which is coming so soon, we can almost touch it! My eldest son has been accepted to begin studies at a Christian University, and next week he is being honored for his academic achievements in his college work thus far. My youngest son has his license to drive and was able to drive himself to school for the first time this morning. He is handsome and fun, and people tell me constantly how much they enjoy him--he's the life of the party!

Things couldn't be worse. My husband and are struggling to communicate about the simplest things happening in our household. He is busy with work and with school and when he has time for me--I feel like blogging. My daughter is frustrated with me because my stress level is affecting the time that we spend together to put the finishing touches on her wedding--which is coming much too quickly! My eldest son is trying to juggle school, his job and finishing his fundraising for his upcoming Missions trip to Africa and anything I try to do to help is causing more friction in our relationship. Last night, my youngest son decided, at the spur of the moment, to make a "singing toast" to his coach at the High School Sports banquet, and I found myself sneaking out of the room to avoid looks from the parents who did not enjoy his humor. Did he ruin their party?

The string never moves, but the spool goes up and then down. I want to make it stop. I could learn to live with where ever it landed, but this up and then down is making me dizzy. When up at the top, I know I can make it, but when spiraling down--I become certain that this is the end. Surely the string will now break and I will fall to the floor. The spool will detach and I will roll away. Landing perhaps under the fridge. But, alas, the string doesn't break and I am pulled spinning back up. 

Oh, to become something else, other than this. To become a lamp or a table, what a joy it would be to stay in one place. But, the Hand at the top has made me this way, so I have to learn to trust him and not the lies in my head. The answer is easy, yet it is a trial everyday. Keep the string tied to the hand and then trust in the string. It will not break, I will not roll away. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5

X is for Xtreme Makeover - The Home Edition

My Dad built Space Mountain. 

By himself. 

While on crutches. 

Okay, well, maybe that's not entirely true. But, in the 1970's when my Dad was part of the construction crew that was working on the new Tomorrowland ride--that is how proud I was. I pictured my Dad working on that ride and I saw him as one of the tallest men in the world. As a kid, I don't think that I could have been more proud of my Dad, because I knew he was helping to build a ride at Disneyland. 

I wasn't surprised that they would want him, because I already knew that he could build anything. One of my earliest memories is a time that my parents were working on our home, and that makes perfect sense, because they were always working on our home. Growing up, I learned that sleeping in on Saturdays was a reality only in the homes of my friends. In our home, the sound of hammering and saws accented most weekends. This was what I was taught to value, this caring of the home. This constant upgrading and improving. And, those things are important. It is a good thing to care for that which the Lord has provided. 

But, it wasn't until I was in my twenties that my parents began the most critical Home Makeover imaginable. For as their children were leaving their finely tuned nest, my parents humbly began to make Jesus their Lord. A series of trials in their lives brought them to the place that they began to seek out answers, and they landed in a healthy, growing church. 

The day my Father was baptized he grew several feet taller. Once he seemed big to small child; now, he was a giant to a young woman. The things that he built, while I grew up in his home, do not compare to the home that he built when he brought Christ into his life. Today, as an adult, I look at my parents and how they serve God so faithfully, so consistently, and I don't think that I could be more proud of my Dad, because I have seen how he has built a home to honor the Son of God. 

He is the one who will build a house for my Name. 

He will be my son, and I will be his father. 

And I will establish the throne of his kingdom over Israel forever.

I Chronicles 22:10 

W is for Words With Friends

I've discovered that I cherish this game, this Words With Friends game that I play. It's not the computer Scrabble game--the app for my phone. It's this blogging, this twittering. This game on Facebook that we play. We engage one another with our words. Our words become the toys that we play with while we socialize--and I adore it. We are using our words to encourage, inspire, influence and amuse, and when I consider the embracing of these words, I believe that I was born "for such a time as this". 

I've been a journal-er for most of my life. Quietly, in my room, on my bed, writing out words and turning them into thoughts. Taking a journal and dedicating it to prayer, I've allowed the Lord to lead my words to a place to transform my heart. But, it was always just me. My thoughts were exposed to no other, a secret they remained~then suddenly, my new normal to "say" them aloud. Tossing out thoughts into cyberspace has become part of how people "see" me, a part of how I've transformed. (Like it or not ;)

It's a strange time that we live in, this internet instance. I've got people in Maine and Malaysia who know more about me than the lady down the street. Our words are connecting us to people of like mind, heart and spirit. These powerful, wonderful words. And, then as I ponder these Words With Friends, I think of the truest friendships I have, and I am not surprised that they have been formed while experiencing "Word" with friends. 

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:14

I am blessed to have friendships that are built around our relationship with Christ. It is no surprise that these are the people I cherish so deeply; I call them my family. There is something transforming that happens when we spend time with other people exploring the nature of God, praying to Him in the name of his Son. Pure relationships, built on trust, develop and we are not left void from our time investing in them. I have loved being a part of relationships that were formed in the workplace or out on the Little League field, but it's this adding of God's Word that takes my breath away. It's like playing a 316 point word on the Scrabble board.

This challenge I issued to myself several weeks ago, this challenge to discover what to do when the words are hard to find, has opened my eyes to so many things about myself. But, among the greatest is this: The time that I spend in the presence of the Lord has the greatest power to transform my mind and influence my writing. There is no "writers block" that the power of the Lord cannot break through. If the Lord wants to use my words, He will always help me find a way.

Now, off for the rest of my day, which--if you friend me or follow me, I am certain you will "hear" about.

V is for Volkswagen

Some cars inspire greatness.
Some cars inspire adventure.
And, some cars inspire arm punching. 

"Slug Bug!" 

I am driving in our Burgundy AstroVan, with a car full of children, and the game is on. The children are giggling, as one of the boys cranes his head starboard to eye the cute little Bug-car drive by. "Slug Bug!" he hollers, and the first punch is thrown. The game is on. Soon, all eyes are pealed to find another Beetle on wheels, for only one person can claim it! Then at the traffic signal, a lovely cream convertible Beetle appears, the kids in my van let out squeals, "Slug Bug!" "Slug Bug!" They begin to slug one another. Soon, there will be bickering...and possibly tears. And, yet, it is a game that must be played.

I look at the woman driving the clean convertible--alone. I sigh.

Carpooling is exhausting enough without adding in the unspoken laws of "Slug Bug", "Shotgun" and Out of State License plates. Time in the hot van transporting short people can become a torture chamber on wheels, and I imagine the future when carpooling will be unnecessary and riding in a car will be pleasant again.

Time passes slowly, the van changes colors. Soon, new beetles are released by the VW company and the streets are suddenly crawling with bugs. Someone in our family decides we need more of a challenge. So, we alter the game. In this Sill-y version, if you see a VW Bug, you would hit not just once, but over and over (ever so gently) until the person completed a task.  The task? Well, the victim must say a common phrase that goes with the color, and until the victim does...the hitting continues (EVER SO GENTLY) .

"Slug Bug, black, black, black..."
"BLACK WIDOW!"

And this becomes the law in the Sill-y van that we drive.

Blue Christmas, Blue Bayou, Blue Bonnet, Blue Book, Blue Shield

Green Mile, Green Day, Green Arrow, Green Goblin, Green Lantern, Green Hornet (thank goodness I had sons who knew all the Superheros)

Orange Juice, Orange County, Orange Coast College, Orange You Glad I Didn't Say Banana?

Pink Ladies, Pink Eye, Pink Lemonade, Pink Floyd

Purple Rain. Yep, that's all we got.

Red Robin, Red Light, Red Cross, REDRUM

Yellow Stone, Yellow Pages, Yellow Brick Road

For so long, this was my "normal", but today my youngest will be taking his Driver's test. Soon he will be driving alone and the carpools will have come to an end. Already, it is a rare occasion that all of my children are in the same vehicle. In my "new normal", I am the woman, driving alone, but, I remember the time of games in the van and I praise God for the rainbow of memories he gave us during all of our journeys. I also praise God that my children have no memories of accidents, because His hand of protection saw us through each little errand, and when they talk of the carpools, they don't talk of the bickering--they just remember the games.

So, if you see me drive by, give me a holler--then give your car-mate a punch (ever so gently)

And, have a safe trip! Love, the Jakibug (aka Silver Bullet, Silver Medal, Silver Surfer)

U is for Undeserving

So, this is the truth. My kid's rooms are a mess. Sadly, I assume the "three little words" that my children heard most often, as they lived through the teenage years were not, "I love you" but rather, "Clean your room". It's part of having children, this training. It's part of being the parent, this exampling. And, quite honestly, while I have done well in some areas, training my children to keep a tidy room is not something that I could teach a webinar on. 

That being said, today is my son's 17th birthday, so when he returns home from school, his room will be clean. For many years now, on or near my children's birthdays, I have given them the gift of a clean room. While they are at school (because this can only be done in their absence) I enter the room with a trash can and a box for Goodwill.

The whole tradition started when they were young children and I knew that they would be having friends coming to our house for a Birthday Party or a Sleepover. I certainly didn't want to end up having to keep a child belonging to someone else, due to my inability to locate said child in my offspring's messy room. And, now, my children embrace it! They don't like to do the work of cleaning out the closet, or sifting through the trash, but when they arrive home, they embrace the serenity their newly uncluttered domain provides.  So, once a year...thisis a priceless gift I can provide.

Stepping into my son's personal disaster, I wonder, "Did his XBOX explode?"

His floor and his closet look as if his latest war game managed to come to life. I should feel relieved that my youngest was able to survive such a battle. But, quite honestly, I don't find myself filled with a sense of wonder and joy as I look at this mess. In one corner I find a bag full of trash, near that I find what appears to be an old lunch sack. I unroll the brown paper and spy something black, "Is that a banana?" 

I begin to get irritated at the things that I find, and I suddenly move away from the heart of  Gift Giver to the mind of the Task Master:

"Why am I doing this? Next year, he will be an adult. An adult! He should keep his room better than this! Someone who makes such a mess is undeserving of this gift. Undeserving of me spending my time doing what I've asked him to do on so many occasions!" 

Ah...undeserving. I've lived in that shadow. I've felt the truth of that word spread across the darkest parts of my "me". And, with the thought of that "me", that has depended on the Grace of the Father, I realize, we are all quite undeserving of Him cleaning our messes.  I think of my life; I try to keep my room clean of jealousy and envy. I try to rid myself of fear and doubt. Using a dust rag, I've eliminated some of the film that clouds my mind, but within a short time the dust settles again. But, the Father comes in and cleans up my room. He doesn't get angry or call me undeserving of His time. Of His life. 

 How wonderful it would have been to have heard this message as a teenager.

And, now, I think of my friend who heads up an All Girl's Conference, Father's Eyes, based in Southern California. In planning for 2012, they have decided that they will be celebrating the work that God does to transform our "junk" into something BEAUTIFUL. I think of the theme she has shared...A Beautiful Mess. I am suddenly quite thankful for my friend who works hard for months to plan, organize and facilitate this event to share God's truth with these teenage girls. His words are not the command, "Clean your room", but rather a reminder, "You are forgiven". 

It's by God's grace that He saved me and cleaned up my mess, so I readjust my mind to align with the heart that started the task, and I find ways to enjoy my son's beautiful mess.

T is for the Triplets...and Grace

Once upon a time there were three sisters, each born a day apart. The three sisters were called Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow and they had lived their whole lives sharing the same home. Each of the sisters was unique in her perception of the home, and for matter, the world.

The oldest sister,Yesterday was a remarkable storyteller and could entertain guests for hours. She had a way of weaving together a tale that could draw out both laughter and tears. Her gift was quite pleasant, as she could inspire her sisters to see the good in all of their adventures.

The youngest sister, Tomorrow, was a dreamer. Because she was a planner, she was constantly coming up with new ways that the sisters could improve their home. She had grand ideas, and could inspire them to believe that the future was something to be embraced. Her sisters enjoyed her, because she gave them hope. 

And in between these two lovelies, was the middle child, the sister called Today. Today had the hardest life of them all, for she was a task master of sorts. If anyone was going to get the days chores done, it would be Today. Quite often, Tomorrow would promise that she would take care of an errand, but in the end it would still fall on the shoulders of Today. And each day Today would fall into bed, exhausted from a day doing chores, only to wake the next morning and hear Yesterday taking the credit.

The three sisters had lived together, for all of their lives, and and seemed to have achieved some semblance of unity, however, with each passing year Today became more and more intolerant of Yesterday and Tomorrow. She was only able to see how each one should change. The stories of Yesterday became bothersome to Today, because when Today remembered the events that Yesterday shared, she didn't remember them being quite so charming and filled with joy. She remembered them being mundane and tiresome. Today also became easily frustrated with Tomorrow, because Today felt like Tomorrow was believing in things that were far fetched and unrealistic.

"Tomorrow lives with her heads in the clouds!" Today exclaimed one afternoon, "Talk to her, Yesterday, and tell her the mistakes that have been made! Surely then she will see that she's reaching too far! Help her to stop yearning for more!"

So, Yesterday began to think of the stories that only focused on the mistakes that had been made in the past. But, the more she focused on the bad things, the more depressed she became. She would tell her stories to her sisters, but no one laughed and when the tears came down, they didn't feel good. Tomorrow listen intently to these stories of error, and it wasn't too long before Tomorrow began to feel anxious. Soon, Tomorrow didn't spend her time dreaming of the things they could do, rather, she spent her time fearful of what might be coming their way. 

After too many months of living this way, Today looked around at the way they had changed, and she realized the damage that she had done. Yesterday spent most of her day sleeping, avoiding remembering. Tomorrow was consumed with the things that could go wrong, but she still didn't help with any of the chores. Today was dumbfounded at what she had done, for she had not realized the power she had. 

Then one morning, Today went to the Master, and she said, "What shall I do about Yesterday and Tomorrow? I behaved badly, and they are paying the price."

The Master responded quite gently, "There is someone I know who you need to meet. Today, I want to introduce you to Grace."

So, Today spent hours in the presence of Grace, and later that evening she brought Grace into her home. Grace approached Yesterday with a warm, gentle smile. Slowly, she began to coax the goodness out of Yesterday. Yesterday loved Grace and began to wonder how she had lived so many days without her. 

Grace smiled at Tomorrow and then gave her a wink. Tomorrow was intrigued and said, "What do you know?"

"I know that you are Tomorrow," Grace's smile never waned, "and the dreams that you have are what change this house to a home. I know that Yesterday and Today depend on the hope of Tomorrow."

The three sisters asked Grace to stay in their home, and from that moment on, the stories of Yesterday, the dreams of Tomorrow and even the happenings of Today, all took place with Grace.

Counting my One Thousand Gifts for Multitudes on Mondays

38:: Yesterday, thank you for the stories and the lessons learned from your view.

39:: Today, the day is sprinkled with gifts, in spite of the chores. The Master will help us see the good before the Tomorrow is Yesterday.

40:: Tomorrow, thank you for believing more for me, than I believe for myself.

41:: Grace, without you, my days are nothing.

S is for Sex

"Let your fountain be blessed, And rejoice in the wife of your youth."

Q is for Quadragenarian

Ruth Huber Park is usually crowded, filled with soccer balls and the children who kick them, toddlers and the parents who swing them. Filled with noise and sunshine. But, at 6 AM, the park is quiet and misty. The Quadragenarian makes her way pass the playground equipment and toward the line of trees on the far edge of the park. She longs for the stillness of the park to penetrate her being. To calm her wild mind. She knows she shouldn't hold in all the struggles she's bearing, she should give them up to the Lord. But, she's tired and worn, so she puts it off for another day. Lately, her life has been spinning and swirling, and when she falls into bed each night, she prays, no begs, for peace. Most nights she finds blackness, which she decides, is fine. Dreams are overrated, and really, they were meant for the young. 

She used to dream ferociously, reckless movies while she slept. She used to dream longingly, romance unattained. She used to dream effortlessly, floating down a nighttime river to the dawn. Now, she doesn't spend her sleeping energy dreaming, she just...goes...to...sleep. 

Last night was far different, and it stayed for so long. She dreamed that she traveled back many years and watched her young self from afar. She saw herself insecure--looking into a mirror, crying at the shape of her face and wave in her hair. She felt for a moment the sting of regret. Disappointment was tearing into her soul. Opportunities lost. Anguish overwhelming. Too late to go back, she saw her former self hurting, broken and alone. She watched the girl write pleas for help in a diary, then lock its secrets inside.
When she woke in this state, she knew, for some reason, she was to come to this park. She prayed, "Why God? What will I find?" 
His answer was a whisper, "Go. There are things that need to be heard"

So, the Quadragenarian climbed into the family car, and drove to the park. She walked to edge of the woods and she waited. Waited to be heard. Perhaps she had come here to tell the girl of her youth all the things that she needed to know,

"You are so beautiful. Your face is so perfect, you've barely a flaw. Enjoy your supple skin, for one day you will have wrinkles, like me! And, these wrinkles, well, that's all you will see! 
"And why are you filled with regret? Life is not over! You have many things still to do. You don't know it now, but, one day,  the world will be different; different because of you. 
"And as for your secrets, don't hold them inside! Don't lock up your heart in your journal! You have no reason to hide! And, trust in your Father, lean close to Him. He got plans for your future, and that time begins now."

The Quadragenarian waited. She waited and wondered. Wondered when the time would arrive for her words to be said? Just then in the trees, a shadow appeared. Approaching her slowly was woman far past her prime, and as she got closer, the Quadragenarian saw herself in the smile. The familiar old woman then reached out with her words, and she spoke ever so carefully what needed to be heard,

"I am Octogenarian, and I must say, you are so beautiful. Your face is so perfect, you've barely a flaw. Enjoy your   wonderful skin, for one day you will have wrinkles, like me! And, these wrinkles, well, that's all they will see! 
"And why are you filled with regret? Life is not over! You have many things still to do. You don't know it now, but, one day,  the world will be different; different because of you. 
"And as for your secrets, don't hold them inside! Don't lock up your heart in your mind!  You have no reason to hide. And, trust in your Father, lean close to Him. He got plans for your future, and that time begins now."

O is for Ordinary

1984 ~ I am a starving actress (well, at least until I get home to my Parent's kitchen, where I will make a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese). I am attending the prestigious American Academy of Dramatic Arts. My highlight of the year comes when I have a semi-private acting session/lesson with William Devane to prepare for a role that I will play opposite his son. Later when he meets my Mother at the stage production, he tells her, "She's got what it takes. Some people don't, but she does."

I am not ordinary. I am special, unique.

1994 ~ I have just given birth to my 4th child and my eldest has yet to start Kindergarten. He is 10 months younger than his sibling before him. People bring flowers and meals, and make quite a fuss about us having four children. A mother of 3 asks me kindly, "Did you always want a large family?" I am a little surprised, though she means me no harm. And I think to myself--'That's only one more than what you have'. Then she tells me that I am brave, that she could never have had so many young children.

I am not ordinary. I am special, unique.

2004 ~ My children are in school all day. I drive a minivan and pick them up after school each day. I sit with them to do math homework, which is getting too hard for me. We attend church on Sundays. We watch American Idol. I begin to believe that this is the sum of my life. I will never win an Academy Award. The boy that I dated while attending the American Academy is now famous. Since living through the death of my daughter, I have just the three children to raise. The empty space looms large. 

I am ordinary. I am not special, I am common.

Sadly, I listen to these lies, and many others just like them, for too long. I believe that my life is colorless and bland. Depression, which has been a battle for years, begins to call out to me--this damn plague knows my name all too well. The screech is unbearable.

Then, miraculously, the Spirit whispers. And the whisper is clear, so I welcome its pitch. I am not common at all. There is an adventure in this ordinary life that I lead. Every life is full of adventures, I've just been asleep. The extraordinary life is not lived by only the exceptional.   

Very few people will live the extraordinary life, but God calls every person to live their ordinary life~extraordinarily.  

So, I wonder, how do I find it. Where is the amazing life that I'm living?  Where did I leave it?

Then one morning, while reading my Bible, the amazing adventure appears. The adventure shows up when I remember a little butterfly. Soon after that, I see a spider in my bathroom. It begins to make sense, I found the adventure. It was here all along, just clouded by distraction. 

2011 ~ I am not ordinary. I am special, unique. And, in spite of what you might think, you are too.

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king;
my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. 

You are the most excellent of men and your lips have been anointed with grace,
since God has blessed you forever. 

Gird your sword on your side, you mighty one;
clothe yourself with splendor and majesty. 

In your majesty ride forth victoriously in the cause of truth, humility and justice;
let your right hand achieve awesome deeds.

Psalm 45:1-4 

Random Fact: During the summer of 1977, I saw William Devane in The Bad News Bears in Breaking Training 9 times {IN THEATERS}. The only movies I have seen more {IN THEATERS}  were 11 times for Warren Beatty's 1978 classic Heaven Can Wait and 13 times for Dustin Hoffman's 1979 heart breaker Kramer vs. Kramer.

Also this:

Have an Ordinary Adventure today!

M is for Mistakes

When you are getting ready to be a Mother, people begin to offer advice to help you avoid pitfalls. However, one of the things that no one teaches you when you go to Lamaze Class, to prepare for the new journey that lies just ahead of you, is how you are going to deal with the mistakes that you will make. And you will make mistakes. The mistakes that I have made with my children are one of the things that I have struggled to forgive myself for. Regret is wonderful when it steers us along to make better choices, but it can become debilitating if anguish begins to loom large. But, imperfection is a fact, and so the mistakes still appear. 

There is no perfect mother, just as their is no perfect child. But, interestingly, as moms we have greater aptitude at forgiving our children for the mistakes that they make than we have for forgiving ourselves. I look at the lessons my children have learned, through the mistakes that they have made and --that's what I see, the lesson. And, then it occurs to me, that's how my Mother sees me. A life full of lessons, not a woman defined by mistakes. So, as the child of my Mother, I get to experience what I give to my children. Mercy and grace. 

The truth is, you never know how much your own Mother loved you, until you become one yourself.

Mothers, we need not be defined by the mistakes that we've made. Because, a long time ago for us, but what feels like a blink and breath to our Mothers, we were the child. 

My own Mother made a "mistake", and I am so thankful she did.  

In the mid 1960's my Mother was busy with her toddler son and his new infant brother, when she realized she was pregnant again. 

Unplanned, an accident? 

A mistake? 

A surprise. 

And, so I was born just the year after my brother.  

Perhaps, she sees me as a prize.

And, I'm thankful in turn, that I followed her lead. 

In the mid 1990's I was busy with two preschoolers and their new infant sister, when I realized I was pregnant again. 

Unplanned, an accident? 

A mistake? 

A surprise. 

And, so my youngest was born just the year after his sister. 

Always a prize.

On Mother's Day, we celebrate Mom, because, let's face it, she is the one who celebrates us everyday.

J is for Prayer

Well, really it is, "J is for James". But, considering the day that it is, and the verse that is spinning in my mind, I decided to change the titile. So, in honor of James, the brother of Jesus, 

J is for Prayer

"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective." James 5:16

Being that today is the National Day of Prayer, which was established in 1952, when  A bill proclaiming an annual National Day of Prayer was unanimously passed by both houses of congress. President Truman signed it into law. It required the President to select a day for national prayer each year. I cannot help but ponder this verse, and wonder about its author. 

I fell in love with the book of James this summer, when I challenged myself to read it through in its entirety every day for one month. For 30 days, I read the book and I wrote nothing down. I wanted to be saturated with what the scriptures were telling me, and not my own thoughts. This is one of the verses that has penetrated my mind since then.  The verse has a courageous willfulness to proclaim the power of prayer, which I love, but it also can leave many people feeling frustrated as they look at their own lives and question the lack of healing they are experiencing. 

Just yesterday, I had someone share with me that she has been "attempting to forgive" someone (who is now dead) for so many years, but the lack of forgiveness she experiences holds onto her heart. This "sin" of not forgiving is confusing to her, as she feels it distance her from the person she desires to be. She wants to be healed from, what she feels is a sin of  bitterness.  She has confessed it, but she doesn't feel she is experiencing the change in her heart. 

And, what of the healing. Is it merely a feeling? Is there healing that comes that isn't attached to our feelings? It's alarming to me how much of my faith, and the faith of others is built on feelings; such an untrustworthy source of discrimination. 

J is for James.

The author, himself, was the brother of the one they called Christ. What was that like? To grow up with someone, and then as an adult, have them proclaimed, "God". No one who has ever had a brother can blame him for doubting. I remember hearing an interview, in 2003, of another James, Jim Carey, when he was proclaimed, "The Funniest Man Alive". He was asked what his siblings thought of his career. He said, "It's really sad. They don't think I am funny at all." This has stuck with me, because I think of my own brother, also named James. When my brother, who I still call, Jimmy, tries to be funny, I just want to smack him. I want to say, "You are not funny, you're my brother". I cannot imagine what it would be like to grow up with someone for my whole life and share many meals and chores, and then one day watch him die on a cross for my sins. Would I be wise enough to buy into it? Or, would I be like Jim Carey's siblings and still remember all the stupid faces he made growing up?

James, the brother of Christ, had a reputation of being "an unusually good man". {Hailey's Bible Handbook}  He wrote the book of James late in his life, after he had been the pastor of a Judean Church for 30 years. (Side Note:  It is amazing to me that he had been the pastor of a church, without the book of James to refer to! How did he encourage people to serve? ;) He believed in the teachings of his brother, and after Jesus had ascended to heaven, James became a man known for prayer. I read that James, "spent so much time on his knees in prayer that they became hard and callous like a camel's knees", which is another amazing thought to imagine. The longing for his God. The longing for his Saviour. The longing for his brother. All attainable through the fullfillment of the Holy Spirit. 

James was martyred sometime about the year 62 A.D. or 66 A.D., when he was brought before the assembled Sanhedrin, and commanded that the "brother of Jesus who was called Christ" proclaim from one of the galleries of the Temple, that Jesus Was Not the Messiah. Praise God for the hours spent in prayer, because as James stood in that temple, he cried out that Jesus Was the Son of God and the Judge of the World. 

The testimony of the brother of the one we call Christ. So, this is my "J" on this day of Prayer.

I is for Eye { I } Opening

Inept

     unable to write, mind much too clogged

          An Idea, 

             an Inception

                  Involvement from others, never planned by myself

                       Ingenious, perhaps, can't call it my own.

Insecure

      unable to write, mind still too clogged

           An intimidation,

                an infection

                     Incompetent to self, never quite good enough

                          Insidious, these thoughts, do I call them my own?

Ignite me

      inspire me to write, unclog my mind

           Involve You,

                Impel me to Your thoughts, always more than enough 

                      Individual I am, You will call me Your own.