Saturday, January 31, 2009

A Bucket of Blue Crabs





This is me holding a blue crab in Ruskin, Florida at age 4. His pincher's were 21 inches from tip to tip. That's what my mom wrote on the back of the picture. Not being old enough to really know what a real good tip to tip length would be, I am guessing that's pretty big in crab world. I do know a little something about the world according to a blue crab. It happens in a bucket full of them.

Have you ever seen a bucket of blue crabs? They are all in there clawing at each other to get to the top. One giant, maybe like my 21 inch friend, will make his way to the top and reach the edge of the bucket. He will take his pincher and cling on the top of that bucket for dear life. It is then, when he is about to swing his other pincher over, balancing and holding his body weight, smelling the salty air, sensing freedom is near...that another crab, maybe only 15 inches, uses him as a ladder and 21 "incher" says goodbye to the prospect of freedom and the new crab on the block is now tasting what 21 "incher" had just seconds earlier. This all happens in the blink of an eye, over and over, a vicious cycle with no winners. Just miserable crabs clawing their way to the top, swinging and fighting yet never reaching the prize.

A good friend of mine, her son, Heath gave me that visual while we were visiting one afternoon. It was in the context of how he felt. Heath was trying to have victory over an addiction and was upset with the other "blue crabs" that kept pulling him down. He felt like one of those blue crabs in the bucket and he just couldn't escape to freedom.

I wanted to do this story today, January 31st, I hope I make my post by midnight. Today would have marked Heath's birthday. Heath lost his battle with the addiction a few years ago, but he did find deliverance. He found deliverance when he went home into the arms of Jesus.

I think we must also find deliverance in loss and death. Loss to our "rights." Death to our "flesh" and our "selfish desires" or even our "godly pursuits." I know it seems contradictory to the world view and even to some of the prosperity messages you may hear in the modern church of today. You know, "the name it and claim it" propaganda?!

I picture it something like this:

You are in a backyard. There is a Weeping Willow with a wooden board tied to a set of ropes, used for a swing. There is a rustic looking, wooden fence with a hinged gate that squeaks when you open and close it. The grass is up to your knees in some places and as the warm, summer breeze blows the grass waves as if to say, "Come on in, it's nice in here." There are patches of wild flowers dotted throughout the yard. No real pattern, just spots of pink, purple, red and yellow.

Now imagine you are in the yard, you are swinging. The breeze is warm, the wild flowers have permeated the air and you feel alive every time you go high and float back down. What could be better. This is the life, not a cloud in the sky.

Except you left the gate open.

You look around as you slow the swing. What is that smell? Is that a wild boar? Where is that patch of red, the pretty pansies are gone. What is going on here? My yard looks different.

Several days, weeks have gone by. Your yard has patches of dirt where there was once flowers. The swing is hanging by one rope and the board looks to be chewed in half. The Weeping Willow looks almost dead. The fence seems to be leaning over in some areas. That smell, it's permeating the air, but it's not pleasant. The weeds, well, they look like trees. That Veggie Tale movie, "The Rumor Weed" has new relevance at this point! And it looks as if the Rumor Weed had as many children as the "Old Women Who Lived In the Shoe!"

The gate is still open.

Shut the gate!

Hebrews 12:14 and 15 "Pursue peace with all men, and holiness, without which no one will see the Lord: looking diligently lest anyone fall short of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up cause trouble, and by this many become defiled;"

What is your bitter root? Alice Smith in her book "Beyond the Lie," defines a root of bitterness as judgments made about an offense, a situation, words spoken or actions taken against us or someone we love without properly forgiving or resolving the issue. That covers quite a few situations.

Do you have something you could categorize in one of those areas?

What happens when we don't forgive and resolve? Is it a cycle that repeats itself over and over? Is it becoming a pattern of sin that is now becoming a stronghold in your life? Literally taking hold of you with strong hands? Clutching you back as you reach toward the prize?

Does it remind you of the bucket of blue crabs?

I go back to the yard. I confess to the Lord my bitter "roots," I release the offender, and I apply the blood. The blood can only come from death. Death on the cross. His death. The reality of the cross is death. Life comes after death, even on the cross.

I picture my yard like this:

I have a floppy straw hat on, gardening gloves and boots. I have a nice big jug of ice water, an I-pod, and a wheel barrel with shovels and clippers and lots of gardening equipment. I am prepared. "Therefore prepare yourself..." Jeremiah 1:17a

I start digging up the weeds. I cut them with the clippers first. I now go for the root. I pull it up and toss it into the wheel barrel. I do this all over the yard. I leave nothing behind. I go over the entire area and this time my gate is shut! "...to root out and pull down, to destroy and to throw down..." Jeremiah 1:10b

The yard looks bare. I have a roto tiller and I am preparing the soil to plant. I am singing praises, I am walking over the ground speaking the Word of God, and praying. I must look wild, most definitely. I no longer care how the world views me. Call me David. I will dance before my Lord with reckless abandonment. This will be fertile soil.

Now this is where the seed must be planted. "...to build and to plant." Jeremiah 1:10c

Galations 5:22 and 23 reads like this, "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law."

We must plant the seeds that will bear the fruit of the Spirit. These are the seeds I am planting in my yard. I want my yard to look like a scene taken from a Miracle-Grow commercial. I want love with action. I want an unspeakable joy. I want the peace that passes all understanding. I want long suffering that is incomprehendable. I want kindness in the face of ugly. I want goodness to wipe out the filth. I want faithfulness like that found in Hebrews. I want gentleness inspite of violence. I want self-control that reveals Jesus.

Now, I love the outdoors and at one time I wanted the farm thing. I still dream about it, but reality is, I'm a beach girl. I don't know the specific details about planting, growing and harvesting. I do know the seed goes in the fertile ground that has been prepared with fertilizer and water. I also know the seed must die and fall off before the plant starts to grow and bear fruit. I am not sure what all the technical terms are. I just know dying is involved. Then life.

Let's go back to the bucket of blue crabs a few minutes. How do they get relief? How do they get out of the vicious cycle of one-up-man ship and just plain misery? Death. It's death. The only way that crab is getting out is into the boiling pot. It is in the death that he is then able to offer delicious, flaky, melt in your mouth crab meat for others to enjoy. A pure and costly in season only gourmet treat.

How do we show others love? joy? peace? long suffering? kindness? goodness? faithfulness? gentleness? self-control? When does it become pure and costly? What does it look like in season and as a gourmet spread?

Don't we have to die to self or flesh first? How much has it cost you? Peace is easy when we have a cushy job, perfect kids, live in a spotless mansion, have money trees in the back yard and have the love of our life beside us smiling daily. Peace is not so easy when we have lost even a difficult job, have rebellious kids, live with relatives in a house that is too small and falling apart, have no money on these trees out back or in the bank.

What about our reputation? Is it being drug through the mud? Is our name being tarnished? Is your name the latest untruthful gossip around town? Does what you did at 16 still haunt you today? That rabbit in Bambi with the cute little speech problem that says, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." Sounds good when you watch that movie with your 4 year old, but after seeing an old high school beau that said some rotten things about you all over town...a bit harder.

The bottom line for you and Mr. Blue Crab. Death. Death to flesh and self. Most people know about the story of Job. He gets back more than he had at the end of the story. But, he lost his wealth, family and his health. It my be great to know the end of the story. We, as Christians know the end of the story. It gives us hope. We need hope. We get excited about our reward.
But Job had loss. He had lots of loss. You can't sugar coat your way through Job's story, September 11th, Hurricane Katrina, the list goes on and on.

In my Bible there is a commentary about Job. It reads, "Suffering itself is not the central theme; rather the focus is on what Job learns from his suffering." James is clear there will be suffering. A wise woman, Theresa McBean, a pastor for Celebrate Recovery did a series on suffering last January. Her opinion, as so many others, is that we will all suffer. Not if, but when. Why not be prepared as Jeremiah urges?

Quit grasping for freedom by stepping on others with your harsh words. Quit trying to hold tight to the edge of the bucket. Quit laying on the bottom screaming, "Ouch!" Quit snapping your pinchers at everyone and then question why you feel so isolated? Release. Let go. Die.

It is only in our crucifixion of the flesh, disguised as self life, that there is life. John 10:10 says, "The thief does not come except to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and have it more abundantly."

Stranded in a bucket of blue crabs?

What are you waiting for?

Fillet your flesh!

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

#4 in a series of 5

Almost done with the series! We are at #4. Quite an unusual birth story, but for all of you pain intolerant people...I had an epidural! three cheers for the anaesthesiologist!

I need to issue a bit of a background on this pregnancy. This baby is the only baby I did not require several hospitalizations or home health care with. Don't get too happy for me, though...
I still threw up. I have very not-so-fond memories of driving through the carpool line with a cup in my hand for..., yea, you get it, no need to say it. Yes, while driving through the carpool line I threw up!

It was one of the most eventful pregnancies of all. I will try to hit the highlights:
The Twin Towers fell
My marriage was crumbling
I had to work on Thanksgiving Day
I was fired from Bayfront Hospital
My son was put on ADHD medication
We lived in a 2bedroom/1bath apt. above a photo studio
I got a parking ticket at least once a week
We thought the baby had Down's Syndrome from the AFP test
My Burgundy Explorer stopped forever on the Skyway Bridge
We got the passenger van with "limo lights" and a VCR
I ate lunch with my best friend almost every weekday
The Main Street Cafe was still open
We ate at Poppi's every Sunday
I was Meghan's T-ball Mom
Walt was Jeb's Assistant Coach
Jeb had his first baseball glove stolen
Meghan got a busted lip from playing baseball with Jeb
just in time for school pictures!
Reagan and Meghan had a dance recital at the Sarasota Opera Theatre
I had an epiphany while Jennifer went skiing in March
(if you want to know the epiphany...that's another post)
I went into labor the night before Meghan's T-Ball Team Banquet
(that I was in charge of)
It was 11:00pm on a Tuesday night. Everyone was fast asleep but me. I was watching Law and Order and I noticed that every time it went to a commercial I would have pain. By the end of the program I knew I was in labor and the contractions were pretty regular. I woke up Walt and called my in-laws who lived 2 hours away. Walt had to stay with the kids until his mom and dad got there to relieve him. So, how am I going to get to the hospital?
Walt wanted me to wait until his parents arrived. The last 3 labors had gone like this: 24 hours, 12 hours and 6. If I waited 2 hours and had already been in labor 1 hour...no way. I was getting an epidural this time! It was worth it. I would just drive myself. I could not take a chance in missing out on the pain relief.
Walt reluctantly took my bag down and drove the van around to the front of the photo studio. He helped me get in the vehicle and said, "Be careful. Call when you get there."
I put the car in gear and by the time I reached the end of the street under the red light, I had a contraction. That pattern would remain pretty consistent throughout the 5 minute drive. At every red light, I would have a contraction.
Once I parked and went into the ER and they sent me to Labor and Delivery the pain was subsiding a little. The nurse checked me and hooked up a baby monitor and started asking 20 questions. She was not too happy with the fact I drove myself to the hospital.
Turns out that the labor was not going to be 3 hours as I had so meticulously counted on. I ended up being admitted and taking a sleeping pill. Please don't ever do that. I just ended up with heavy, watery eyes, in and out of reality, all the while feeling every ounce of each contraction.
Sarah was born the next morning, May 8, 2002, by 9am.
Sarah is going to be our worship leader one day and she really knows how to make a grand and dramatic entrance, even from the womb! I think that might be quite prophetic for God's calling on her life!

Monday, January 26, 2009

#3 in a series of 5

Now this is baby #3 birth story. We will refer to it as the "Drive-thru Birth" for a variety of reasons...

Once again, I went into delivery following a midnight shift. ( I know I am skipping ahead and going straight to the delivery, but it's all the same as the last one. Throwing up, home health care, IV's, ketone sticks... You get the picture. Need we review?) Walt was extremely tired. We had only been in our new house 25 days and we were up to our eyeballs in boxes. I also was once again unsure of the real labor pain thing. I had alot of Braxton Hicks with Reagan and I was not sure if this was the real thing.

I was finally convinced of the pain and decided to wake Walt. I got Jeb and Meghan ready and grabbed a few necessities, literally throwing them in my bag as I headed out the door. (Quite the contrast to baby #1 and starched pajamas!) I did notice a beautiful red rose that had bloomed overnight on my rose bush by the door.

We headed straight to the Birthing Center and I was feeling some real pain. After an examination the mid-wife felt I needed to go walk for about an hour and then come back. Well, an hour would give us just enough time to drop off Jeb and Meghan at my mom's. This was before cell phone's and the plan failed because she wasn't home.

So, we are on our way back to the Birthing Center. The pain is getting quite bad by this point and I am breathing rather hard and Jeb is in the car seat mimicking me! "Hee. Hee. Hoo. Hoo."
Not very funny to a pregnant woman in pain not wanting to deliver the baby in a Ford Explorer!

Okay, this is where the first drive-thru comes in. Walt, Jeb and Meghan all decide they are hungry for chicken nuggets. I am not kidding you. There is a pregnant woman in the car, in labor, having severe pain and Walt drove through the Burger King drive-thru. He ordered chicken nuggets my friends, and even asked me if I wanted anything. "No thanks. Not unless they have pain meds or an epidural. Could we get back to the Birthing Center NOW?!"

We are now at the 2nd drive-thru part. Walt pulled in to the Birthing Center, dropped me off, they determined I was 5 or 6 centimeters dialated and they whisked me out the back in a wheelchair. We were on our way to the hospital across the parking lot, up the freight elevator with an incubator coming down the hallway.

Now, ladies, this is my crowning glory with all of my deliveries. No epidural or pain medication! I did this one all natural and in a flash!

I would love to say it was because I was so brave, but it wasn't. It was because once I got into the room and into my nightgown, she was ready to come into this world. Drive-thru part #3.
I tried to get an epidural and pain medication, I did! The mid-wife said, and I quote, "You can't have anything for the pain, honey, your baby is crowning. You need to push." So much for that. No choice here. I think I do better sometimes with no choices. I did that time.

In fact, by the time my mom and Walt arrived to the hospital the baby was in the incubator! My mom and Walt couldn't believe it and I was just incredibly relieved!

We named Reagan late that night. Walt was rocking her. The hospital room was facing the river, where boats were covered in Christmas lights and holiday music was playing in the background. We started going through the alphabet and when we got to the letter R, Walt said Reagan. I liked it. He liked it. She was named Reagan Lane Smith. Born December 7th, 1998, weighing in at 7 pounds and 15 ounces.

Suggestion for any pregnant ladies out there...feed your man before going into labor!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

#2 in a series of 5

This is my birth story about baby #2. We call her Meghan, Lego My Mego, Meggie and having 3 younger siblings, Megit has also been used a few times. As I write this she is turning 13 in 10 days! WOW! My sweet little Mego.

There was really nothing remarkable about Meghan's pregnancy. As usual, I threw up from the time of conception to the time of delivery. She was my first pregnancy that required home health care. We had a mini hospital set up in the master suite. By the end of the pregnancy I new more about IV pumps, stands, heparin locks and ketone strips than I ever wanted or needed to know!

The worst day of the pregnancy was probably when I passed out after they gave me a shot of lidocaine to help with the pain from the port they were getting ready to put in my upper arm. I was pretty nervous about having a plastic tube inserted in my arm, so I opted for numbing "stuff." AKA: Lidocaine. Well, turns out I had a little allergy to it and my heart rate shot up and I passed out! Of course, it was all from the comfort of my own easy chair at home. I was even in my p.j.'s! The nurse reacted rather promptly and I lived to tell the story!

It was definately a privelaged pregnancy in every other way. I spent a week in Vero at the beach, IV stand and all. She was delivered at the very fancy Boca Raton Memorial Hospital. The room was like a hotel. In fact, in the movie "Marley and Me," they show Jennifer Anniston coming out of that very hospital. Meghan thought that was pretty cool.

The best thing about the fancy smancy hospital was my meal after delivering the baby. Gourmet fried chicken with a honey glaze. I don't know how they made it but it was the best fried chicken I have ever tasted in my life! Sorry, Granny, even better than yours!

I had 2 false "episodes" with Meghan. You think I would have had more sense about real labor pains having gone through it once before. But...I didn't. We made the trek up to the hospital twice before the actual event happened.

Once it happened it was while Walt was getting in from the midnight shift, of course! The labor was only 12 hours with Meghan but intense back pain. I almost made it without the epidural. Almost. She was quite stubborn, a face presentation delivery. This meant that after intense pushing, because of her head position, she would go back up the birth canal. Very frustrating and exhausting. When my doctor, Helen Salsbury, got up on a stool and pushed her whole body weight on my stomach, it was then I said, "Enough. This child has to come out!"

Meghan's birth had interrupted my dad's golf game, but he had finally arrived. It was a rather blistery day in Florida for February. My dad wasn't in shorts! The new grand baby was a girl. 10 perfect toes, 10 perfect fingers, 10 on the APGAR's.

We named Meghan after Meg Ryan and had all intentions of calling her just "Meg." It never stuck, though. I guess alot didn't stick because my mom called all our family in Virginia with a different name! It was quite funny when my Grandmother and cousins called to say congratulations on "Mallory. " I might also add that "Meg" was Meghan's 2nd name choice because our first name, "Madison" was already given to another baby in the nursery! Confused? So was my mom!

Funny stuff looking back now. Especially now, 10 days from birthday #13! The Lord has blessed us with Megahn. She was 7 pounds and 4 ounces. She cried alot and was very colicky. She was so blonde that she looked bald. She was miracle #2! Thank You Jesus...again!

Friday, January 16, 2009

"Finder's Fee"

I will try to make this more of a "short" story, but it's going to be hard. Lot's to say today!

Last week going back to work was not quite so harsh with a "Teacher Work Day." Getting back in the routine slowly; having time to catch up on all the paperwork that was neglected for candy cane kisses and gingerbread hugs; and sharing holiday happenings with co-workers made it a tad bit easier.

In my conversations with my boss I kidded her that I deserved a "finder's fee" for wooing my college friend to work with us. Who is an awesome find! I encouraged my employer for the terrific boss that she is and just wanted her to know how great it is to work for someone so pleasant and ethical.

The week got back into the swing of things by Tuesday and it was wonderful to see all the kiddo's. It was also wonderful to have a paycheck. Tuesday was payday, and although the check was to be a lot less because of all my days off, every little bit helps!

You can imagine my surprise as I opened the envelope and noticed a typo. Too much money here! I scanned the check stub... in black and white it read: Finder's Fee 100.00

Unbelievable! I was absolutely amazed! A finder's fee, are you kidding me? I am amazed at my God! He just NEVER ceases to amaze me.

I called and thanked my incredible boss and the next day, left a cute pink and brown polka dot pen holder on her desk. What a sweetie! See what I mean? Who has a boss like this? I am so blessed!

Push ahead to this past week, in fact, just yesterday. The start of the day, not so great. I wanted to put my car in reverse, back out of the parking lot and just go home! I did not have the energy to treat students. I had to, though. Prayer. Conversation. Prayer. Phone died. I'm going in!

I got out of my car and went into the school. It would be fine. I said my "good mornings," gave away some smiles, treated my first student. This would be fine. The day is going to be okay. Oops! It is 11:02, I better go get *Sammy. Off I go. He is such a sweet kid. He loves to do bubbles and always wants a sticker.

We made it back to my room. We usually work outside in the courtyard, but it was cold today. I even closed my door. I almost always leave the door open. Pretty cold today. Oops again. I was supposed to go get *George. It's too cold. I will see him tomorrow. We are here and settled. Me and *Sammy will just make a day of it.

I pulled *Sammy's wheelchair over to the table. I wanted him to do an activity that required cutting, coloring, gluing and utilizing his visual perceptual skills. While we were setting up shop *Sammy said, "I love you Ms. Bev. You are my best friend."

It was then I noted 2 things in my spirit. Number one, I am glad I didn't drive away this morning and number 2, I knew what the Lord wanted me to say next.

"I love you, too, sweetie, but you know who wants to be your best friend?"

"Who?" *Sammy inquired.

"Jesus."

And with that one awesome word... a new name was written down in the Lamb's Book of Life.

I can't even tell you what an incredible experience it was and how the posture and timing was perfectly divine. That will have to be a whole other post. I can tell you, though, when we are faithful in the little, He is faithful in the big! If I could have had a video camera to catch that moment! In my family I am famous for saying, "That's a Kodak moment." Well, friends, that was a Kodak moment if I ever saw one!

As I bounced home, well, it sure felt like bouncing or flying, one... I called a few friends to tell God's glory story. I told the girls as soon as I picked them up and we were all celebrating with the angels.

Now every good celebration deserves a treat. Our treat was going to the local thrift store. My dad has a special name for it. He calls it the "Goodwill Boutique." So, off we went to the "Goodwill Boutique."

We sat down and went through stacks of children's books. We found a brand new "Love you Forever" book that Lily has wanted for quite some time. We found some treasure! Our last stop was to try on my jeans in the fitting room. As we were all squished in the dressing room like sardines I reminded the girls of the incredible miracle that I got to be a part of earlier that morning. They were smiling and just taking in the wonder of it all when Reagan got that look.

"Don't you get something, Mommy?"

I laughed and said, "No. *Sammy gets something. He gets to go to heaven forever."

And my sweet precious girl says, "I know! You get a finder's fee from God! It's like He was giving you a hint last week when your boss gave you that finder's fee in your paycheck!"

We laughed so hard!

It may not sound high class or upscale. It may not even sound plausible to some. But I promise, it doesn't get any better than trying on designer jeans for 80% of the price, being with your gals, celebrating a new life in Christ and having a 10 year old wrap it up using timing like a seasoned comedic veteran! I mean, who but God could weave all those details together?

I love my God.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Not 1 Bloom

I know I wrote that I would come back to the “new beginnings,” but the Lord impressed upon me that I had to go back and start the “birth” stories with the beginning…
So, this is the beginning. This is how we came to be blessed, beyond comprehension, with 5 miracles from the Lord.

January 4th of 1992 marked the beginning of our marriage, but the beginning and ending of our family began November or December of 1989. I was attending college, transferring from Orlando to Ft. Lauderdale because I could not take the long distance relationship anymore. What I did not know that Christmas was I had 2 babies growing inside me. I thought that queasy, nauseating feeling was the stress from moving, having my parents find out how much the phone bill was or the fact that I was getting ready to “live in sin” officially.

I will spare you from the details, but I did ring in the new year of 1990 with “pink.” A pink line that meant I was pregnant at 19. Unmarried, reasonably poor, still in college, and extremely immature. This left me with the most reasonable explanation, “I can’t be pregnant.” But I was. And, what you do when you live in denial, you take care of the “problem.” Reality has no place.

See, what I mean, you label the babies a non-human object, the “problem.”
You rationalize why the timing would not work, “I am in school, I have 2 more years until graduation!”
You legitimize it, “I will go to an OB/GYN, not one of those clinic places!”
You find an idol, “I can’t loose this man over a pregnancy!”

Fast forward to "living in sin" from December 1989 to a Wednesday night prayer meeting in August 1993. I was at my wit’s end with longing to be pregnant with every thing in me. In 4 years, I had peed on hundred’s of pregnancy tests, noticed every pregnant woman within Broward and Palm Beach county, babysat every chance I could get, taught swimming lessons, taught a 2 year old Sunday school, took a ministry training to volunteer in a Crisis Pregnancy Center, attended a 13 week Bible Study about abortion and God’s forgiveness and healing, had procedure after procedure, did the basal body temperature thing, took infertility drugs and had surgery … you get the picture. Well, at that prayer meeting, the Pastor’s wife and the women in my “circle” that knew I was praying for children, anointed me with oil, laid hands on me and said sweet prayer.

“Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.” James 5:14

By the end of the month I had a doctor’s appointment with an infertility specialist at Cleveland Clinic in Ft. Lauderdale, never mind his long waiting list, and was scheduled for a 2nd surgical procedure.

Surgery went well. I braved the IV with Philippians’ Flash Cards in my hand and squeezing the poor nurses arm into oblivion. (Little known fact about me; I can have a baby with no medication or epidural, but I practically faint with IV’s!) Recovery went fast and Dr. Hickox said I should be pregnant after the next monthly cycle.

It was a Friday night in October. I was speaking to the Youth at church, about purity and giving my abortion story. I was out the door, with the car keys in my hand, on my way. I had to go back in before backing out of the driveway… I had started my period. No time for tears. I have to go tell the Youth about God’s love, grace, forgiveness and mercy.

Sunday morning at church was rather somber, but a good preach. As I was leaving, RoseMarie, an older woman who knew my struggle and had laid hands on me that Wednesday night, came to talk. She got right to the point. She said, “Beverley, the Lord wanted me to tell you, you are pregnant.” And she walked off.

“Good thing,” I thought. “She wasn’t hearing from God. I am on my period! What kind of sick person is this! This can not be happening. No way!”

As I passed Eckerd Drugs, I thought about what she said.

“Why not? What’s 10 dollars? I’ve already invested a small fortune in these ‘sticks!’. I will just run in real quick and get one.”

Negative. No pink line. Okay. It was official. NOT PREGNANT!

Monday morning, getting ready for work, about to head out the door. I went back to grab something in the kitchen. When I did, I noticed something unusual on my window sill. I had a clay flower pot with an African Violet in it. A wedding present from someone, it might have been from my mother-in-law. Anyway, it had been there on that ledge for almost a year, and not one bloom! Something was different that morning.

Not one bloom! 4 blooms!

It was the Lord, He was telling me not to believe the negative reports. The sun shining on those blooms gave me hope. I knew the Lord was urging me to go take a blood test at the doctor’s office.

Now, this is highly unusual, I was early to work that morning. So, after dropping off all my stuff at the office, I went next door to the lab downstairs. I had them call up to Dr. Hickox’s secretary, Suzie, to get the orders for a blood draw. She sent it down within a few minutes, STAT. The nurse in the lab said they would have the results by this afternoon.

The morning went by rather uneventful. It was time for lunch. I went back to my office to grab my purse to go grab a bite down the street. I sat down at the desk to get my purse out of the drawer. My phone started ringing. Who could this be?

“Hello, this is Beverley at the Bridge, how may I help you?”

“Hey, it’s Suzie…congratulations MOMMY!”

“Are you kidding?! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Are you serious?”

“Yes. You are pregnant. When can you come in? Dr. Hickox wants to just take a quick look at you.”

We took care of all the formalities, I was crying like a baby and after trying to call everyone on the planet, no-one was answering! I had to tell someone! I walked out of my office and literally, grabbed the first person walking down the hallway. It was the Physical Therapist down the hall, Sue Dumas. I pulled her into my office and started freaking out with the good news! We hugged, she told me congratulations and I can honestly say my life has never been the same since that phone call! So, now, the 5, yes, 5 birth stories might have a different meaning.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

#1 in a series of 5

The number 8 is supposed to represent "New Beginnings." The number 9 is representative of "When Things Are Birthed." I really believe that my 2008 was a year for "New Beginnings." I could do a post about all the "New Beginnings" in my life last year, and I probably will. I know I will. Just not tonight. Tonight I am going to start with the first in a series of 5. I am going to write about "When Things Are Birthed." And how better than to start with the actual birth stories as they relate to my 5 children?

The first birth story is about my son, Jeb.

I had quite the notions regarding birth. Fears, expectations, hopes, excitement, the list goes on. I was probably a typical first timer. I was armed with a birth plan that included no epidural, ironed pajamas with a matching robe, yes, I ironed them, a stack of "relaxing" cd's, a boom box, a baby journal and a new pair of socks.

I never listened to the music and I was hooked up to the epidural within the 2nd hour of labor. I did wear the nicely "starched" pj's and the new socks felt wonderful.

Jeb made Daddy cry when he was born...the ultrasound had been wrong, she was he!

I had to send my mom to the store to buy a boy outfit. The Gymboree diaper bag was filled with pink, lace and ruffles. Nothing could even pass for neutral in this new mommy's bag.

After 24 hours of labor I was exhausted but more than relieved to say goodbye to "morning" sickness and have a beautiful, healthy, real live baby boy.

The next morning, after falling in love with the new man in my life, I had the first..."you are NOT talking about my kid that way" experience.

They had put me in a semi-private room and I did not know the neighbors. I had just been privy to all her labor and delivery TMI details. The new parenting couple were very talkative with lots of opinions and very loud ones. I guess they thought I was out of ear shot, but I was not. The husband made a comment that floored this new mommy. He made fun of Jeb's name! I have successfully blocked out his exact word usage, but needless to say, I was quite upset.

I don't know what it is about someone saying something about your kid, but it rocks you. I am sure that is how our Father feels. "Is that my Katie you are talking about?" "Did you just say Greg had weird shaped, what?" "You have a problem with how smart Joe is?" "Janet did what on Saturday night?" "You think he talks to slow?"

It's different when you think of it that way. But it is that way. We are His children. He is in love with us. He made us and created us with His love. He wants to spend time with us. He wants a relationship with us. He wants us to walk with Him. He doesn't want others to talk negatively about us.

That's what we do when we talk about each other. That's what it feels like. We can not stand it when someone talks badly about our kids. The Lord can't stand it when we talk badly about His children.

Remember that the next time you want to spew a negative comment about the cashier's make-up, the dry cleaner's hair style, the clerk's clothing choice or even your spouse's bad breath. We are all children of God and no one likes to hear someone talking about their baby!

Saturday, January 10, 2009

"T.P." Troubles

Many of my close friends will remember this story...but for those that have never heard it...it is too good to pass up...

Me and the 4 girls were all coming home from a Clyde, North Carolina visit . It was a 2 hour trip, with stops and all, from our Spartanburg, South Carolina home. We had only been on the road about 20 minutes when I had to take a food break just south of Asheville. It was late and I was trying to be somewhat healthy in an unhealthy drive thru. The final pick resulted in apples with caramel sauce. Everyone seemed satisfied for about another 20 minutes.

I put the potty break off for as long as I could. We ended up at the rest area at the South Carolina state line. I would have preferred a restaurant or gas station, I am not a fan of rest area's. The potty break could not wait, however, so, in we go.

My oldest daughter decided to stay in the car...she was either texting, listening to her i-pod or using some other electronic device. Reagan, Sarah, Lily and Mommy all went to the bathroom.
On our way to the ladies room, a man started walking near by and as I scanned the parking lot, I didn't see the car he belonged to. Quick thinking on my part, I opted to stay outside the bathroom door while the girls went on in. Who knew who this man was. I decided, "better safe than sorry."

The gentleman turned out to be fine. He came out of the restroom, walked to his car, I had not identified, and drove off. Whew! Everything was cool. I could go in and utilize the facilities now.
Little did I know the scene on the inside I was about to encounter.

I venture inside to see Sarah washing her hands, Reagan in the handicap stall with the door wide open and Lily sitting on the potty.

Nothing out of the ordinary so far.

The part that will bring you to tears is the condition Lily's hands were in. And her big sister, Reagan, was diligent to help.

I am going to attempt to explain the view I encountered.

Lily was having problems because both of her hands looked like they were tarred and feathered in toilet paper. Poor thing, was just trying to unroll the toilet paper but her hands were so sticky from the caramel sauce the toilet paper was sticking to it.

She had grabbed the paper with her left hand and when it stuck to that hand she took her right hand to pull it off and ended up with pieces of toilet paper stuck on both hands. It was so funny. She was sitting the on the potty with these sticky, toilet paper hands looking like, "Well, what do I do now?"

We laughed in the bathroom, out of the bathroom, on our way to the car, and in the car. Every time we gained some sort of composure, the image would flash up like a picture on a movie screen and we would get hysterical again. We laughed on and off all the way to Spartanburg.

I really wish I could have caught it on film. If there was ever a "Kodak moment", that would have been it.

No deep theological tapestry to weave into this post. Just a funny moment between gals, at one of the pit stops of life.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Ruby Red Slippers

I don't know about you, but ruby red slippers sound divine.
For some of you who don't know me, I have been blessed with 4 girls. Right now their ages are from 4 to 12. Wow?! I know. Anyway, back to the red slippers. I wish I had a nickel for every time we were even near red shoes of any kind, that someone in the crew wanted them. Not only wanted them; it's been more than a few occassions I thought we might get escorted out of the "Baby Gap" over a complete melt down over a "no" to the red shoes.
There is just something about girls, teens, women, in general, and red shoes.
Do you have a pair?
I do. A gorgeous candy apple red, high heel, strappy number.
I won't even tell you, I would be way too embarassed, how many the girls have together.
What is it about red shoes?
Was it "The Wizard of Oz?"
Well, my girls have never even watched it!
Then, what is it?
I really don't have the answer. I know it has brought down sisters in this house. Just a week ago, Sarah, my 6 year old got a new pair. Cute little Mary Jane type, with the strap cut low across the toe with tiny white polka dots. Lily, the 4 year old, did not get a pair. This pure and simple fact put both of the girls into a knock down, drag out, type struggle. Lily wanted to wear them. Sarah did not want her to. A fight broke out.
It was a pair of red shoes!
Exactly!
It was a pair of red shoes!
Don't think this is a story about getting to the why of it all.
I don't know!
I do know little girls want 'em.
Big girls, too.
Over the holidays we watched "Christmas Shoes." (If you have never see it, Hallmark Channel, highly recommend it! The song, "Christmas Shoes" by Newsong, also highly recommend it!)
The entire movie was heartwarming and captured the true meaning of the Christmas season. Especially moving for me, though, was the part where the mom and dad danced.
The mom, played by Kimberly Williams Paisley, was dying of cancer and she was saying her goodbyes to her husband. The little boy had already given her the ruby red slippers, and they looked fabulous. Her husband scooped her weak, pale and next to lifeless body up and started dancing around the room with her.
(Hallmark and Kleenex have to be sister companies.)
Quite a moving scene for anybody.
It reminded me of Jesus and our own humanity.
The part that reminded me of Jesus was the way the husband held her.
Like a precious jewel that was so valuable it had to be cradled in his arms. Like he would never put her down. The way my Sarah Grace holds her "baby" at night. "Baby" was a Reagan, my 10 year old, reject and looked brand new, so I put it in the crib when we brought Sarah Grace home. She has carried it around ever since! "Baby" gives the loved look a whole new dimension! Ratty, smelly, dishelveled, worn, a bit pathetic. Not to Sarah Grace. She is the love of her life. She even LIKES the way she smells.
I guess that's what moved me about the scene in the story.
Reality of someone dying isn't a romantic picture.
I don't mean to be offensive and please understand me when I say this. Hair and make-up probably isn't where you might want it. Breath would not be described as minty fresh. Perfectly pedicured toes, probably not. I may be the only person on the planet that wonders about these things, but I do. I am just being honest.
I bet Jesus holds us like the husband did in that scene.
I bet Jesus holds us like Sarah Grace holds "baby."
And even if we are lucky enough to go right after a trip to the salon, with make-up and a cute outfit and a new "do" to boot....
What about the insides?
Coming from the beauty shop might not be so wise. Lots of gossip usually goes on there!
Jesus can see our spiritual filth, our judgemental rot, our critical cancer...
He still scoops us up in His arms, cradles us like His most prized possession and delivers us straight into His Father's arms!
Glory! Glory! Glory!
The 1st part that reminds me of our own humanity is the part where she isn't healed here on earth.
You want the little boy to come home, give his momma the ruby red slippers and instantly watch strength flow into her and watch her get up and dance a jig across the room.
That's what I wanted.
It's not what happened.
That's the part that reminded me of our own humanity.
We all die.
The other part that touched on this humanity of ours was the fact she had on ruby red slippers.
Do you all get that?
The little girl inside her was wearing ruby red slippers.
She was safe in her Daddy's arms,
being his princess
and
still playing dress-up in her ruby red slippers.
Every girls dream come true.
I bet she even clicked her heels together and said, "I want to go home."
The song has a line that goes something like this:
"I want her to look beautiful if she meets Jesus tonight."
She did look beautiful in her ruby red slippers.
Maybe when we are scooped up in the arms of Jesus,
when it's our time to go home,
all the gals,
get a pair of shiny new ruby red slippers.

Friday, January 2, 2009

The Robe

I have this image in my head, of a robe.
We have been privileged to stay, too many times to count, at a very posh hotel in Florida. It is called The Jupiter Beach Resort. Very nice. Marble in the bathroom, luxurious bedding, over sized furniture, superb pampering and the whitest, softest, most glamorous robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. That image to me says privilege. I am not sure why, but it does. It seems extravagant and luscious and delightful, a bit spoiled.

Luke 15:22-24 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry: for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ and they began to be merry,”

Have you ever seen those Intervention shows about addictions? They are pretty intense. I don’t remember any scenes that read like that Bible verse. We tend to view rebellion in 2 extreme ways. A type of Tough Love, which really has translated to mean and condemning, or Co-dependant Enabling. Neither choice is good.

Mean and Condemning might read like this:
…But the dad said to his wife, “Bring the bank statements, where I can add up all he owes me for the last 18 stinking years! Bring those filthy, smoke filled clothes out of his closet that he left the last time he spent the night here because he was so wasted he couldn’t drive. Oh, yea, honey, his flip flops are in my trunk by the gas tank. Remember when I had to go fill his tank up when he ran out of gas on that old dead end road at 1 in the morning? You can look in the refrigerator for some leftovers, me and the misses are going to Olive Garden, we get a senior discount on Tuesdays. You can sleep on the couch tonight but you have to be gone by morning! You will never quit this nonsense and me and your mother wash our hands of it!”

Co-dependent Enabler might say:
“Sweet heart, I know it is hard for you. I will go pay all those bad checks. They don’t understand how desperate and sick you were. I will then call Daddy and have him go down and talk to Mr. Bank President to see about letting all this slide. We have been loyal customers for 25 years. I have all your clothes ironed and color coded in your old room. It looks just like it did in high school. Remember when you made that touchdown in 88? You had such the flu the next morning. You got sick awfully fast dear. And Mommy will put a roast in the oven with yeast rolls and I made you a chocolate cake, your favorite. Now, go lay down, you must be exhausted from your little experience downtown today.”

We may laugh at the absurdity. If we examine our hearts, however, it’s reality for a lot of us, either personally or in our families.

What would Jesus’ response be?

Bring the best robe…
Therefore now there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus…

I believe in true Tough Love, Interventions and Boundaries with Accountability. I believe Jesus provided us His example for all of these. I just think we err on the side of one extreme or the other most of the time.

I can’t give you the words to say or the actions to take for your situation. Only Jesus can do that. He is the One who knows a repentant heart from a foolish heart. He knows when to throw a party to celebrate true recovery or whether to keep the doors closed and the wallets zipped.
No man can know without the guidance of the One who searches our hearts.

I do know the model in the Prodigal son is the example He shows us.

I see a model of
forgiveness,
mercy,
grace,
love,
and
compassion.

We can’t get or give those on our own.

We have to get those from the same person the woman at the well got hers from.

His name was and is JESUS.

I struggle with this model everyday. I think we all do. It’s just the right balance. We can not get it right on our own. It’s like those gourmet chefs that cook without measuring. A dash of this, a sprinkle of that…

How do they know? They just know. We don’t just know. We know the One who does know!

So, the next time you discipline an unruly child, make a rather weighty decision regarding a family member or look on at a stressed out mom with a freaked out toddler or teenager, grab that image…

The Robe.