F is for "the F-word"

You knew what I meant. I could actually end this post right now and my point will have already been made. I am fascinated by the fact that we have a word in our language that has become so sensationalized that we don't even have to say it, and others know what word we are speaking of. If I tell you to think of the M-word, what did we do? Well, you may have thought of a monkey, while I thought of a motorcycle, and someone down the street thought of a mountain lion. But, not so with the F-word.

It makes me wonder if, when all the words gather for the Annual Dictionary Academy Awards, do the other words look towards the Red Carpet and say..."Oooo, here comes the F-word, and look what she's wearing!" The F-word is more popular than Cher. She requires four letters...this word needs only one.

The reason this fascinates me is because it is evidence that society has admitted that there is a moral code. Anyone who believes that this word is not a word that should be thrown around lightly, whether they believe in God or not, is professing a moral standard. Words are not something that a child can touch; he will not cut his finger off with a sharp word or become addicted and overdose on a word. But, even those who will not say that there is a God have determined that this word is unacceptable for a child to hear, let alone say. And that gives me hope. Because in the forming of our lips and the pushing out of the air that makes words, we have determined that there is a right and a wrong. There is a moral code. And, whenever we admit to a moral code--we are, either consicously or unconsicously acknowledging the existence of God. Without God to determine the difference between good and evil, who draws the line? Who determines what is acceptable? This word is wrong, but if I change a few letters, why does it become acceptable? And, why is ANYTHING wrong if there is no absolute. This word alone helps to prove the supreme sovereignty of God, and our need for Him in our society

Another reason it fascinates me is because with the extreme ugliness of one word, there has to be an opposite. There has to be a word that is diametrically opposed to this word to describe this act of marriage created by God. There has to be a word so lovely and treasured, so calming and complete that it can win the war of good and evil. There has to be a word that can beat down the world, and the enemy's attempts to intimate with this appalling word. There has to be something that is stronger than the coarseness that this word inspires. For everything that is dark and scary, there is always a contrary, an opposed, a light. The best word I can think of is love. Real love.

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What is your word for the LETTER F? 

And why?

With This Ring...

The evening service at our church was packed, there was standing room only, which is often the case, but last night for me--I couldn't sit in a seat and be still. I couldn't stand in the back and wait, either. I was out on the patio--pacing, my heart pounding with anticipation. My daughter's boyfriend had emailed, text messaged and called family and friends to let us know that after the church service, in front of the sparkling Christmas tree he intended to propose marriage to her.

I have known for over 2 months that this was coming. He met with my husband in October and asked for her hand in marriage. For the last 10 weeks we have kept our excitement for what was coming a secret from our daughter--dodging questions, feigning disinterest in bridal gowns, and changing the subject to discussions of "Harry Potter".

Finally, I was going to be able to now talk freely with my daughter, the only daughter that I will ever get to plan a wedding for. Finally some of the stress that she has been feeling will be lifted, as she moves more freely in the direction that her heart is pulling her. Finally, she will have a ring to go with the promises that this young man has made to her.

The moment was spectacular; as if in a movie, the tall dark handsome prince came through and fulfilled her desire for a romantic proposal. Thanks to Facebook, the world we now live in, every event is a photo opportunity. (I've even considered asking the Costco greeter to take my picture on the way in the enormous warehouse--to mark the moment for future status updates). So, it wasn't considered odd at all that my daughter's friends would insist they stop to pose in front of the Christmas tree to take a photo before "heading into Hollywood for Sushi". (A lie to my daughter, to inspired her to be primped to a higher degree than usual for church).

We, the family and friends who knew what was coming, tried to mull about the tree and appear disinterested in their silly college girl antics. Then, at the prompting of the college girls, Josh stepped forward to take a photo with Emily before "she disappeared into the evening with her girlfriends". Just before posing for the photo, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. Then he dropped to one knee.

The future bridesmaids, on key, let out a scream that would rival the teens on Ed Sullivan the night we "met the Beatles". Cameras were pulled out, and there was suddenly an abundance of flashes like lightening against the dark sky. We were the paparazzi of the moment, capturing the public proclamation of this young man's intentions. She eagerly gave him what he wanted with her tearful, "Yes!" and the crowd cheered! The sparkling tree stood behind them, providing a new memory to celebrate each year on the 12th Day of Christmas when my daughter's true love gave to her--a ring.

We moved the "party" to our home, for appetizers, cheesecake and the stories of close calls when the secret was almost spilled. Then, we gathered around the young couple and prayed for their future. The soon-to-be Groom's Father prayed for them to be steadfast in their faith and to continue down that path that they had been raised. The Father-of-the-Bride continued the prayer in the same vein and called on us, their friends and family, to encourage them as the times get difficult.

Then, in a spontaneous decision, we had a "Love Feast" for the couple.

A "Love Feast" is a beautiful way to celebrate someone publicly. First, we had Emily sit on a stool with her back to her friends, and another stool placed behind her. Then we took turns to sit on the stool and tell her what she means to us. After several people had used their words to build her up, we let Josh finish and then we put him in the Love Seat so that he could be encouraged.

The night was filled with tears of joy and excitement--the friends declaring how grateful they were for the friendships, parents looking for words to fill the lifetime of memories invading their hearts, the siblings each taking a turn to begin to petition for future nieces and nephews.

I didn't think that such an evening, so special could exist without conflict and pain of any sort. When I finally found myself in bed, I drifted to sleep with images dancing in my head. Christmas had come.

When I woke this morning, much later than usual, I thought of the beautiful night. I thought of the couple. I thought of the ring.

It is a precious ring, and I don't mean that in a nod to Gollum. It is precious--feminine and dainty. It has a beautiful oval center stone and smaller stones that cascade down the band. It shines with the hope of the future and the hard work of the young man who planned and saved to present it to his love. And, suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a fear that she could lose it. I was nervous for her to wear it to school. I wanted to send her a text message telling her to put a piece of duct tape on the inside of her hand so that she wouldn't lose this new treasure. I felt the anxiety begin to twist in my stomach.

I closed my eyes..."For this reason, I kneel before the Father..." I began my prayer and I poured out my fear to the Lord.

A few minutes later, my daughter sent me a text message to listen to a song by Carrie Underwood, "Mama's Song". I clicked onto You Tube and listened to the sweet song. With tears rolling down my face I listened to the sweet blonde singer, remembering the days when my daughter felt she had "discovered" the singer on American Idol. And then I began remembering the moments that my daughter has experienced great pain and disappointment requiring her to cling to her Savior to get through the night.

I remembered, with every beautiful gift that we receive we live in the place where it can be lost. This is just the beginning of having to watch this couple live in this dangerous world. I will see them receive and I will see them go through loss. There is no way around that. My own parents have had to watch as we, the young couple that they celebrated 2 decades ago, have lost homes, jobs, and even a child. There is no amount of duct tape available to hold onto to the things that God will pull away to draw us near to Him.

We were so blessed last night and I will treasure the memory. God was honored in the midst of the celebration. Families began the process of uniting the two people. And even if the ring is ever lost, what that young man gave to my daughter, will continue to be present. Because, on the 12th Day of Christmas, my daughter's true love didn't merely give her a ring, he gave her his heart. Christmas has come, indeed.

Molly

In my past I made the choice to have an abortion. In one of my earliest articles on my blogspot titled "Little Butterfly" I shared a little about my story and how as a teenager I had an abortion. The actual date, at least the closest that I can pin-point was April of 1983. I am not going to go into the history of that, as it would be redundant to the other post. It did take many years to overcome the guilt and the grief that was attached to that decision. It was living through an abortion that convinced me that abortion was wrong. Trying to overcome my low self-esteem at times seemed impossible. I viewed myself as unworthy of the simplest blessings and I longed to return to the time and change the decision and the outcome.

I would hear stories of women who couldn't get pregnant after they had had an abortion and even those stories would make me feel guilty. I didn't struggle with an ounce of infertility. I used to make a joke and say that David would sneeze and I would get pregnant. To which David's sweet Grandfather replied one day, "Maybe that's why they keep having babies, maybe they don't know what's causing it!"

Our 3rd pregnancy was the first one that we planned and it came about easily. We breezed along with very little concern. We had baby clothes for a boy or a girl so we weren't overly concerned about bringing home another Sill.

Everything changed in April of 1993 when we got the results from a routine ultrasound that showed that there were significant problems with the baby's brain. Basically, the baby had a disease known as Dandy Walker Malformation and because of that disease she also had hydrocephalus. The doctor advised us to abort the baby. It was a horrible feeling to be lying on the table having the person who is supposed to want to cure your child telling you that she isn't worth the effort. There was no way that I would abort her. And David felt the same way.

The reason I am telling about this moment isn't to exalt myself for not having an abortion. Trust me, there was NOTHING noble about me keeping my baby girl. The reason that I need to tell you about that is because it is such a huge illustration of God's love and trust. Look at the dates of the two incidents. They match. April of 1983 followed 10 years later by April of 1993. God gave me another chance to choose life. He didn't have me travel back in time to make the choice to keep my first baby, but what He did do was allow me to be in a place to choose again. He knew that I would choose love over fear. He trusted me with her life because He had seen my heart and He believed that my repentance was real. She was so important in my understanding God's love for me. He believed in me. After all those years that I had chased after His approval, He smiled on me and showed me very clearly that I had no reason to doubt His love. I didn't have to prove that I was sorry, He knew.

Now, some cynics among you may be thinking, "Well, of course you didn't have an abortion, you're husband was a Youth Pastor!" Well, you are mistaken if you think that the mind is not more clever than that. Deception is a nasty bug that will always find a way into a desperate situation and there is no doubt in my mind that if I had WANTED to have an abortion, I would have found a way. I fully believe that there have been scared Christian women who have gone to a clinic to have an abortion and then later told family members that she had a miscarriage. We are daughters of Eve and we are inclined to sin and cover it up. I was fully aware on the ride home from the hospital that this was an option. Satan always finds a way to lead us off the path if we give way to our fears. And I had fears that were ugly.

I begged God to take my baby because I was so afraid of how she was going to destroy the lives of my daughter and my son. I was fearful that having this baby would mean that I would always have her in my home, that she would grow old with David and I, and we would never have any time together alone. I begged God to allow me to miscarry. For one day. And then I stopped and I named her.

The morning after finding out that I would be giving birth to a baby girl that the doctor's had said, "would never be normal" I stopped at WalMart to pick up a gift for a birthday party. I stood in the line with my two little children and the clerk asked if I wanted to pay $1 to a fundraiser for the Children's Hospital of Orange County. It was the kind of fundraiser where you pay $1 and you get to write your name on the paper shaped like a hot air balloon. Tears filled my eyes as I wrote "Molly Sill". Just like that, she suddenly had a name.

After the party, I went home and told David that I had named our daughter. Her name was Molly.