A Real Christmas Letter

Once upon a time...

I had a best friend that I shared Christmas traditions with...

One of those Christmas traditions was waiting for a particular Christmas letter from a particular family that we were particularly "catty" about. I am not saying it was particularly Christian like, and we did become quite convicted several years ago and vow not to share the Christmas letter, discuss it line by line and laugh so hard we were in danger of peeing our pants.

But come on, you know you, you've all done it!

I always joked with my former pal that I was going to write a real Christmas letter one year and just send it out to everyone. Shock the pants off them! Just be totally real.

Things like:

"My 4 year old got kicked out of her 2nd pre-school for cussing out the principal."

"We were unable put up the Christmas tree early this year because my checking account was negative again."

"In the photo, we look happy and my children look beautiful, they are dressed perfectly, all with matching bows and coordinating outfits, but we almost didn't have the picture made. My husband didn't want to take a family picture because he refused to get out of bed. Appointment times are not relevant to him and he knew it meant everything to me and if it means so much, well, every reason not to do it. It took me begging, crying and fighting before he would get out of bed and we were late, of course. It's a beautiful family portrait, though."

"In 10 short years, I've gone from infertility to 'Fertile Myrtle'. I took a pregnancy in Target and found out indeed it was pink. My marriage, kids and life are in such turmoil, though, I was afraid to tell my parents for months and my best friend refused to talk to me for 2 days because she was so upset."

"Our summer vacation was fun this year. We had the lice shampoo shipped to the hotel. I got to see my friend for the first time in a year while she picked lice eggs out of my hair and the kids played nearby. If it wasn't for the Florida sunshine, the internet homeopathic lice special, and the Gulf of Mexico, we might be driving back home with itchy heads!"

"Bible Study was fun this year, too. I was a bit embarrassed when my small group leader who runs the nursery came and asked me to get my children. No-one was sick or hurt, thank goodness, it was just a small louse she had captured in a zip lock bag to show me that my 3 year old had lice. It was good talking to the preacher's wife, although I really would have rathered it not be about having to treat the nursery for lice infestation."

All these stories are actual real life events that have occurred randomly through out the years. Some are funny and do make you laugh out loud. Others speak of the pain and suffering that life on planet earth unfortunately brings.

I'm not saying Christmas letters aren't good and that I don't enjoy getting them. I do! It's just that we seem to so busy impressing all our family and friends and even ourselves we end up "decorating" all the months of the year, not just December.

We decorate our marriage with lights and tinsel because the real thing is dark and needs a little something to spice it up. Have we tried using Jesus, the Light of the World to shed His light on the very union He created? Maybe if we followed His illuminations, we wouldn't need tinsel.

We wrap our children's sporting and academic accomplishments in pretty paper and fancy bows. We want our family and friends to see how all the patterns on the paper line up, the tape doesn't show and the bows are worthy of being store bought not homemade. This matching tissue paper, coordinated wrapping paper, bright and beautiful bows with ornamental tags reflect our own insecurities and fulfilling life long dreams and self worth through the precious ones God gave to us as a gift.

Gluttony becomes an annual tradition carried throughout the year. We start the holidays with dressing our children up and sending them door to door to collect candy no-one really needs and they will only end up getting in trouble for eating too much of it. We stuff ourselves at Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas breakfasts, and all the parties and parades between the two. We charge our cards to buy electronic devices to give our kids more things they already don't need. We overbook our time and pack more into the season than one person could possibly manage. We vow to cut back, spend and eat less with every New Year resolution that is quickly discarded and justified before Valentine's Day. That way we can spend five times the value of a flower and over indulge on candy we don't need.

I am not trying to imitate a popular green character in a Dr. Seuss book, nor the mean guy in Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." The Grinch did not steal Christmas, Satan has, and we have let him. We have let him steal so much of our calendar year. Christmas, New Year's, Easter, September 4th, May 10th and February 1st. Dates of significance about a timed honored tradition or dates of seemingly no importance except to get up, go to school and work, make dinner, read a book and go to bed.

He steals are 365 days of the year with overindulgence seen in the media, watching others have success and thinking we must compete, experiencing a culture with instant messaging, instant gratification and instant potatoes. Have you ever stopped to think there might have been some value to growing potatoes in the garden, peeling potatoes and preparing them for the family dinner? Homemade mashed potatoes; it's a lost art today. Why go home and fix something so time consuming. We can just drive through McDonalds and order a Happy Meal and we get french fried potatoes within about 2 and a half minutes.

When we sit down to create the family Christmas letter this year I wonder if we were really honest we might write something different.

What if we wrote about being a stay at home mom with several little ones at home and how we miss adult conversation and we have made 1000 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches this year and at least, changed that many diapers and you are exhausted. That you feel an extra 10 pounds from each baby is taking its toll, and how you are worried that your little angel doesn't act like such and angel and you wonder if any other mom out there is having trouble with managing their little ones?

What if we wrote that we are having trouble with our school aged children talking back, our teenager skipping school and you think you found a beer cap in his car? Just the other night, you overheard your middle schooler say there were drugs at school and you are not sure who to assign the inappropriate website found on the computer's history to, your teen or husband.

What if we quit being fake and got real, and I'm not talking about the kind of Christmas tree you pick. What if we use this instant technology to hold each other accountable? What if we used the family computer to stay in touch with family and friends and bring unity as opposed to letting your child sequester in their room and discover the dark and private dot com underworld? What if we used our social networks to promote peace and harmony as opposed to mean, cutting comments or a "one up" mentality. Post a prayer request instead of a friend request...no one has that many "friends" anyway!

Let's not "throw out the baby with the bath water", but maybe put the BABY back in our lives, and in our Christmas letters.

The Beach Where I Grew Up

Palm trees mixed with palmetto bushes and pine trees,

skirting through hot sand dotted with those hard, brown sticker things that really hurt bare feet.

Lots of shells and an oily coconut smell.

An ocean breeze that cools the burn from the hot Florida sun.

A rocky jetty,

a brown pelican bobbing,

kids swimming

and

waves crashing.

A bottle of Coke and a candy bar next to the North Jetty Surf Shop.

Surf wax,

cold terazzo floors

and

that bell sound when you open the door to the convenience store.

Blueberry hill where "Lizzie" (my car) got air,

reckless driving and brown summer skin.

An impatient teenager that lost a precious jewel in the sand.

Pure pleasure,

a world to escape to.

Windows rolled down,

very loud music and my hair blowing all over.

I lived for the weekends.

Days to be spent under the blazing heat.

Never enough water, sand or sun for me.

Give me a shack on the beach,

a tikki hut by the river,

or a boat docked in the marina.

I'll never live those years again.

Some days were crazy.

Some days were lazy.

Some days were even hazy.

 Those days were lessons in life I will never forget.

Hard lessons I've learned in the sand,

but I am who I am

because of the boardwalk over the sand.

*I know it's Thanksgiving and we are actually getting into the 40's tonight, not exactly the post you might expect.  However, "The Beach Where I Grew Up" is about a place I am very thankful for!  :) Summer represents celebration and I know that fall is indicitive of the harvest season.  But see I am in the winter season right now and even with Christmas songs playing in the background I long for the summer season.  A season to celebrate.  You must have that particular season to get to the harvest, you know.  Another season I long for.  Really, I just want winter to end...and when I glance at the calendar...it's just starting...

Random Thoughts From A 13 Year Old

I took 3 of my children and our babysitter to church the other night and my oldest daughter requested something to write on and with during the service. All too happy to oblige, I provided paper and pen. Quite possibly she was going to take notes, study and apply it to her life.

I read her notes following church and with her permission I would like to share what she wrote using her own sentence structure, spelling and unique note taking style...

Caverley Capel is big ^^^

Pastor Bob is the pastor ^^^

Thier symbol is a bird ^^^

Close friends will tell you if you have bad breath ^^^

The cross is purple tonight ^^^

Is raining hard ^^^

(She drew a flower) Thats a flower ^^^

me and Terra are wearing similar jeans :) ^^^

Pastor Bob is flippin verses ^^

Joshep’s Brothes are being mean ^^^

Baby are you down, down, down, down, down ^^^

School is stupid ^^^

BAM It just thundered ^^^

Pastor Bob makes wierd voices ^^^

The lights are bright in here ^^^

My tooth hurts ^^^

This is boring ^^^

I have three bracelets on ^^^

Mommy’s texting but doesn’t want me to ^^^

And Bob laughs ^^^

lets not kill him...lets sell him!

Well that not nice ^^^ LOL

Why is Joshep silent in the pit? werdo

I’d be screaming ^^^

im a tell you one time & me & U ^

Well why is that?

Shut off your cell phone dummy

My cursive sucks

hahaha. you can hear pages turning

Mommy has a page ripped out ^^^

Halabaloo ^^^ Idk???

Samatha ^ I miss her :(

Um ya soooo, Pastor Bob is being funny.

Pastor Bob looks like that skeleton character on Mario Cart ^^^LOL

The lady in front of me has a Boston Red sox hat on ^^^

Just Sayin...

Mommy faurted ^^^

Now is prayer time and exception time...

Everyone cept me is standing ^^^ 00000

I feel baaaad

“Yes. Jesus,” Mother says AMEN

Not exactly the sermon notes I might expect, yet on the other hand, in the midst of my daughter’s random thought life, funny comments, and actual events that were taking place, I think some Biblical insight was obtained. It’s probably too early to tell, and it’s probably too early to see routine action based on Pastor Bob’s sermon. Somehow in those random notes, as a mom, I see her personality, her heart and her desire to please God. I see some of her reality, I see things she has been exposed to in her life, I see her struggling, I see her memories and I see her future.

You may or may not understand such subtleties I noted. Random comments that are not so random. Like the simple comment regarding the lady wearing the Boston Red Sox hat...

It means so much more than a baseball team for our family. The Boston Red Sox represent the period in our life when we Floridians took up residency in the quaint New England town of Barrington, Rhode Island for 2 years. We experienced the culture and climate change of our lives. We also have some very fond memories of a time in the midst of an extremely difficult experience for me as an adult, mom and wife.

The Boston hat reminds us of having to drive 40 minutes away to a Cracker Barrel. A restaurant that became so much more than just a restaurant. It was a place to reconnect to our southern roots. A place to call “home.” The only place we could get sweet tea, grits, biscuits and gravy in the northeast. We treasured our trips to Cracker Barrel. They became an eager anticipation that took on a life of its own. A way to ail our homesickness, yet share together as a family.

That Boston hat represents our family trips to Boston. Sweet family trips in the blistering heat and the bitter cold. Watching a street performer named Stitch that made us laugh out loud. Stitch was no longer the cartoon partner on “Lilo and Stitch.” Stitch was now a Boston tradition embedded in our family memory bank.

That Boston hat gives us all warm fuzzy’s when we think of our trips into the city for visits to Dr. Joy. Joy she gave us, too. A pediatric dentist that made fluoride, Novocain and that awful odor seem like a trip to Disney. She had a treasure box, a fish tank, tooth fairy pillows and video games. When you walked into her office it was as if you were stepping into a make believe world. A world where it was just happy, fun and even the sound of a drill made you smile.

Seeing that Boston logo on a hat could be the visual that takes us back to another trip into the city when we visited Fenway Park. Walking up and down the stadium steps with “Tigger,” I mean Jeb, the resident tour guide Meghan, when are we going to sit down Reagan, get back here Sarah Grace, I wish we had left the stroller in the car Lily, a little slower Grandma Cookie, awestruck Caleb, a little directionally challenged Tabby. And who could forget the culmination of the day at the restaurant across from the ballpark? Sarah gave quite the almost 3 year old performance as she sang the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” doing the motions with her left hand, as she colored on the placemat with her right. Just let me say, it was worthy of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

If I know my daughter like I think I do, that Boston Red Sox hat speaks of a time in our family when we felt like foreigners in an unfamiliar world. A world where snow plows, snow piles, and snow days replaced our familiar sand castles, sandy floorboards and sandy beaches. The word negative was not a math term but a weather forecast. “Oprah” was viewed as the sun was setting at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and real life fairy tale swans replaced the ugly black and white Muskogee Florida ducks.

Living in New England was way out of this mom’s comfort zone. I went from an outdoorsy, social, always on the go, fashion conscious, never enough time to do it all mom; to an always at home, cooked dinner every night, got all the laundry done, sitting for hours in the sun while rocking babies, hot tea drinking, flannel pajama and wool sock wearing mom.

As my hair grew long, the winter grew long; and while enjoying the effect the cold had on my locks, I also was enjoying the effect the cold had on our family. The long, cold winter was very difficult for me personally, but with less sunlight, an almost non-existent social life, and unavoidable limitations due to the weather, gave us ample opportunity to just be together.

Reality still existed at 35 South Street, Barrington, Rhode Island. We still had drama. We still had arguments. We even had some horrible incidents. Life still carried on. I still threw up with baby number 5, just like I did with baby’s 1, 2, 3 and 4. We still had bills to pay, poopy diapers to change, and even changing addresses thousands of miles, some things remained the same.

We have always been a family that enjoyed the game of baseball. Baseball has played a part in a great majority of our memories. When I think of Fenway in Boston, or see a clip on tv, I think of the kids posing for a picture with the scoreboard as a backdrop. I think of holding Sarah and trying to keep Lily quiet as we sat in the wooden seats trying to hear the tour guide provide historical facts and sports trivia. I recall holding my breath, desperately hoping that Jeb would not jump over one of the seats and break something so famous.

I just remember smiling a lot in Boston.

I bet my daughter remembers smiling a lot in Boston.

I can not pretend to know everything my daughter thought about that night at church for 2 hours. All I get is a glimpse. As well as I know my girl, and I do know her well. I only get a glimpse that I see. In Jeremiah 17, verse 9, it reads like this: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked; who can know it?” Verse 10 tells us: “I, the LORD, search the heart...”

I may read her “sermon” notes and see a glimpse of her heart but the Lord, alone, is the only One who truly knows her heart. I can read those random phrases and even be pretty close at relating why she notices the Boston Red Sox hat because I have spent time in relationship with my daughter. Jeremiah tells us, though, that we do not even know our own heart. That it is deceitful. The Message Bible declares it “is a puzzle no one can figure out. But I, GOD, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.”

Playing dress up and pretend is fun. As children pretend play it is a necessary tool to proper development. As an adult, pretending is known as having a false reality or being in denial. Denial is a sometimes needed coping mechanism to protect oneself in a dysfunctional or crisis situation in life. But just as children outgrow Barbie’s and GI Joe’s, one must outgrow the pretend games.

Some of us are living in “Candy Land,” by sugar coating our reality.

We place so little value on our finances we spend and borrow like we are in a game of “Monopoly.”

We pick and choose our values and twist the truth as if we are on a polka-dotted mat playing “Twister.”

We act out our lives, going through the motions, denying reality, only showing others what we want them to know which reminds me of “Charades.”

The Lord can read between the lines on your “sermon” notes. He knows whether you are playing with a full deck, taking out the Joker or if your time is always spent on that polka-dot mat twisting the truth. Your life is the ultimate reality show. God is the producer, writer, director and film crew. It’s both a prime time show and a syndicated re-run on TV Land.

Submit your heart to Him. He is the only One who can know it. He is the only One who knows your child’s heart. Trust Him with your heart. Trust Him with your child’s heart. This is not a game of “Life.” There is not a spinner on a board game left to chance. Your kids are not little pink or blue pegs you insert into the plastic game piece. You don’t get to roll the dice for college or pick a card to get your salary amount. Save the board games for family night.  Play the real game of life by living in reality and following God’s rules.

Sand Between My Toes

As I look back on all my summers, 40 of them... I try to put them in order and recall all the details of my favorite season and it comes down to one common denominator:

sand between my toes.

Summer of 69

I believe we were somewhere in West Virginia...

okay, no sand between those 6 week old toes.

Summer of 1970

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Definitely sand between the toes.

Mom and dad took me to the beach to celebrate birthday number 1.

I posed with a bulldog, wore a bikini, sported pig tails and wore those big round, face covering shades.

Summer of 1971 to 1973

I will have to do a bit more research.

I am not sure of the time frame, but somewhere in those years I had major surgery to remove a double esophagus. The surgery was a major endeavor where they had to, literally, cut me in half that required at least 4000 stitches, a chest tube and a long hospital stay.

Cinderella's castle in Disney World was a very important part of my recovery, along with various other tourist type destinations in Florida. Does princess dust count as sand?

Summer of 1974

We are officially Floridians and I am once again in the hospital. A quick stop to Manatee Memorial and then in for the long haul at Sarasota's Doctor's Hospital. A broken femur, traction and body cast to repair. I ended up in this predicament from trying to "dismount" like a gymnast from the swing set in our trailer park. Which, was nothing but sugar sand and those round, prickly stickers that you can never seem to get off.

So, technically, my summer started with a little bit of sand and ended with a whole lot of plaster.

Summer's of 1975 to 1981

Sand in the Keys along the 7 mile bridge, Marathon Camp Ground, Vero beach under the sand, Ft. Pierce in the pines, Sanibel and hermit crabs galore, Ruskin shores and blue crabs, and Daytona Beach where the sand had tire tracks, "whack-a-mole" and Noxzema first aid.

Summer's of 1982 to 1984

Nebraska, Kentucky, Tennessee and Winnemucca, Nevada...Tumbleweeds and desert sand does not count! Only a few years, but it seemed like a lifetime of being without my Florida sand.

Summer of 1985

Could have been Galveston sand, but thanks to my dear old Dad, we were back in Florida and I called the Ft. Pierce "Pay Beach" on North Hutchinson Island my home away from home!

Sweet, sweet sand between my toes again.

Summer of 1986

I think my little beige Nissan logged more trips on SR70 than any other time in my life.

The North Jetty Surf Shop became a favorite spot.

Sand between my toes, and on my floorboards!

Summer of 1987

I worked at the orange grove with my dad making 10 bucks an hour but I had to get up at 5 in the morning! : ( Watching the sun rise as we drove in that truck down the bumpy, curvy roads made missing beach time bittersweet. : ) All the hard work paid off that summer...we spent a week in the Bahamas. Abacoa Island sand between my toes was a nice treat.

Summer of 1988

College Days in Orlando. A new beach and surf shop discovered and concrete at Dover Shores City pool replaced a lot of sand that year.

Summer of 1989 to 1998

My sand mixture was made up of Ft. Lauderdale, Hollywood, Coconut Grove and the Keys. The Lauderdale FPL plant even contributed with a mixture of sugar sand and golf carts. We also got to add the Carolina Outerbanks and Georgia coastal sand to our sand repertoire.

Summer of 1999 to 2002

I rediscovered the Florida west coast sand. Whiter, brighter and more sand dollars. Anna Maria Island, where I first learned to swim, staying at the Villa Roma Hotel, which is still there, has great sand! Jupiter Beach Resort was discovered during these years and what a discovery we made. Their sand is captured with all 5 of the children's hand print. I made clay impressions of their hands while on the beach, so it has sand mixed in the mold. : 0

Sand between my toes and their hands!

Summer of 2003

We moved to the "Ocean State," Rhode Island. Not exactly Florida sand, or Florida weather. We explored the sand from Nantucket to Maine, but I prefer the warm breezes in Florida and our lovely sand.

Summer of 2004

We were back in Florida and back on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. I think Lily was 3 or 4 days old when I took her to Holmes Beach.

Summer of 2005 to 2007

We ventured to Martha's Vineyard, rode the ferry and sampled the Island life. We left the cozy New England town and made South Carolina, close to the mountains, our home. No beaches anywhere close, but Florida vacations would now be mandatory!

Summer of 2008

A vacation on Anna Maria Island turned into residency in Florida. Sand between my toes, even though, for the first time in my life, I was craving some Carolina mountain air. Lots of sand between my toes this summer.

Summer of 2009

Full Circle.

The "Pay Beach" has truly become a pay beach I can no longer afford. Our new spot is a cute little park on South Hutchinson Island with a lifeguard stand that we never see guards in but is a really neat place to take pictures at. The North Jetty Surf Shop is gone. I still haven't learned to surf...something I have wanted to do my whole life. But the children are playing in the same sand I did and riding the same waves I did and sitting on the beach watching them play makes me know at the end of the day there's not much better than

sand between my toes.

That's What I Think

I love the way You remember me-
You never forget my work,
You always know my name.
You are never condescending.
I don’t need a fax or an employment verification form.
I am always somebody special to You.
I always have been and I always will.
You made me this way.
You call me friend and I never annoy You!
You are patient and loving with me.
You never call me from an “unavailable” number.
You never say to me,
“I’m on vacation. I won’t be back until Monday. I can’t find your records. I must hire you under the name that appears on your social security card. You don’t have the proper documentation.”
You aren’t sitting at the bar sipping on a drink scrolling through numbers, text messages or e-mails on you blackberry.
The temperature is always right and the company always pleasing.
I can always trust You.
You are never trying to scam me
or
wine and dine me to trick me into bed.
You will never break my heart
or
tug on my emotions to manipulate me.
I never have to rush You or wait for You to show.
You satisfy me without making me feel too full.
You are a cold drink and a hot cup of tea.
Your motives are pure
and
Your thoughts are always for me, not against me.
You take me to the finest places
and
always pick up the tab.
I feel safe in Your arms without any pressure to perform.
You hold me perfectly-
never too tight
never too lose.
Just being in Your presence makes me feel loved.
I can trust Your heart even when things are spinning so fast
I can’t see or stand straight.
You know my nicknames, my passions, my failures,
what makes me happy or sad, mad or outraged.
You know the real me and still make a choice to stay
without being forced or rewarded.
You see through my heart.
You don’t care what color my hair, skin or roots are,
if my breath stinks, have wrinkles or am flawed.
Make up is really optional, along
with designer tags and that “put together” look.
I never have to doubt Your eyes,
wonder what You are doing with Your time,
or who You might be looking at.
I’m always Your favorite and the apple of Your eye.
Always!
I make mistakes everyday
and
You are always there to love me through them.
You made the sand on the beach for me.
You made the palm trees, warm ocean breeze
and the shooting stars
just to wow me and give me pleasure.
Your heart hurts when
kids cry,
marriages end,
lovers cheat,
babies die,
grandparents forget,
teenagers hurt themselves and others,
mommy’s go away,
and
daddy’s never show up.
You sit in every court room, waiting room and delivery room on the planet.
You witness life and death
and
all the pain and sorrow in between.
Yet You never walk away
You never quit or say enough!
You stand beside us.
You never leave us.
You don’t go away.
You hold our hand,
wipe our tears,
and offer up a shoulder.
You light up our path with sunshine and moonbeams.
You sprinkle the way with daisies and tulips,
roses and lilies.
You decorate the backdrop with sunsets and mountaintops,
a babbling brook,
a meadow with tall grass swaying to nature’s band,
sandy shores that border oceans of blue, emerald green, turquoise and teal.
A barren desert with prickly plants that reveal their colorful blooms only for a lucky few
when the stars dot the clear black night.
All a slide show of shock and awe,
as we follow Your version of the yellow brick road.
Dorothy needed ruby red slippers, 3 heel clicks and a simple,
“I want to go home.”
Cinderella needed glass slippers, a fairy god mother,
and a pumpkin with a curfew.
I love that You don’t make me
jump through hoops, pass a test or wear special shoes.
I love the way You love me.
I don’t always understand Your ways.
Suffering children is a hard one for me.
Rain falls where it’s needed and where it’s not.
Angels get delayed
and planes crash.
There are mansions in heaven
and
bowls filled with our prayers.
You refer to a harlot as a hero in the faith
and a rebellious punk worthy of a feast.
The religious despised You
and
You hung out with outcasts.
I love that about You.
I love the way You love me.
When I feel the warm wind in my hair
and the hot sun on my face,
I know You have written a song,
a number 1 hit to be sung.
Your music serenades my soul and rescues my mood.
I see You with long hair, carrying a guitar, wearing flip flops and
maybe a tattoo or piercing.
That image is not what some may envision.
Your vision is grand,
way beyond my dreams.
I dream of You
and
how You love me.
It takes my breath away
and
at the same time gives me breath.
Today You probably would live in a trailer close to the ocean,
that’s what I think.

Friend Request

Your Friend Request Has Been Accepted…

Many of us are aware of what these words mean in the 2009 cyberspace world of communication. “www” doesn’t signify a stuck key on a typewriter but rather the very important internet address that unlocks the super highway of information.

(I actually took a class called Typewriting in 9th grade, and I got an A!)

Anyway, receiving a message that says: “Your friend request has been accepted” is a good thing.
It means you have requested someone to share communication with. These people you wish to communicate with come in a variety of “friends.”
They may be:
Long time friends you see daily
Long time friends you used to see daily and now live miles away from
Long time friends you used to see daily and have not seen in 20 years
First time friends you met and bonded with after a few hours
“On-line” friends you may have never met in real life but are connected with
Co-workers that you do life with that are truly your friends
Friendly relatives: near and far, near and dear, not so near and dear
Your teenager’s friends
(You are much more likely to be their “friends” than your own teenagers “friends,” although it is possible.)

We “MySpace,” “FaceBook,” e-mail, text, blog and now we “Twitter.” I am 40 years old and just as guilty as my 2 teenagers. In fact, my teenagers only use 4 of the 6 technologies I mentioned. I use all 6. Of course, I don’t use them to the neglect of my motherly duties. My phone and computer are detachable from my phalanges, unlike my hormone surging DNA that must remain by a power source at all times in case a battery needs charging.

So, I will suffice to say that most are familiar with the words,
“Your friend request has been accepted.”

I was reminded of someone else that is waiting for us to send a confirmation of their request when I got a friend acceptance about 6 weeks after the fact.

It was the weirdest thing. I had actually forgotten all about it. It was one of those “friends” that I met and we did hard, physical labor together. Not an easy task. There was a time restraint, a space restraint, a financial restraint, an emotional restraint and lots of personalities thrown in the mix. It’s actually quite amazing that we ended a very long and difficult 12 hour day in such a positive way.

I was reading this book called “Behind Those Eyes” by Lisa Whittle when a phrase took me immediately to my MySpace inbox about a friend request I thought had been ignored. The phrase from the book was, “We all need’s God’s forgiveness, and He offers it to us, free of charge and expecting nothing in return. All we have to do is accept it.”

All we do is accept it.
Forgiveness.
One of many gifts from the Lord.
All we do is accept it.

Why is it so easy to “accept” friends on the internet we haven’t seen or talked to in 20 years? “Accept” judgment and criticism from the world? “Accept” bad language, crude behavior, inappropriate images and outright lies from the mainstream media? “Accept” ineffective and inferior standards from the educational, medical, and political institutions? “Accept” the injustices in our oh, so modern world, like, hunger, pollution, disease, abuse, racism and poverty? Yet, not “accept” a gift from God?

One person could not possibly eradicate all the ills mentioned above. However, if we first started with forgiveness, a gift God is waiting to have confirmed by us, what would this world be like?

Forgiveness is the foundation and building block.

It all starts with forgiveness.

That free gift that is a catalyst for so much more. It’s the cornerstone, the core to self preservation and community living that actually changes lives.

Self preservation starts with accepting His forgiveness. Admitting we blow it, we are horribly imperfect. When we come to that ugly reality, in walks our true Super Hero and offers us the first gift in a series of many. It’s called forgiveness. It must be accepted to get the next gift called salvation. When salvation happens it is the finest way to preserve ourselves. We are forever alive in Christ and positioned for eternity. No self preservation could be finer. I believe it is the best decision our “self” can make.

Living in community also means accepting that gift of forgiveness. Communities range from our close family and friends variety, to the world’s version. We have goals that we want to accomplish within our family communities, like getting everyone to make it through a family gathering without having a verbal explosion. We have global goals we want to accomplish together. World peace, “green” values shared, and expecting clean water and food for everyone on the planet.

I personally believe these goals will not be accomplished until the return of the only One who can bring all those things because He is the only One who can give all those things.

I also, personally believe that does not mean we have permission to lounge by the pool, drinking cocktails, feeding our every lustful appetite because we can never accomplish these idealistic goals.

Back to my comparison of the forgotten friend request.
Like I mentioned, this was a person who I had done hard work with for 12 hours. I believe it was one of those divine appointments organized by the Master Planner Himself. We were world’s apart in so many ways. A different gender, a different race, a different age, a different culture, a different upbringing…you get my point. Yet, there was a connection birthed out of a heart for things the same.

We seemed to both be talkers and hard workers. We seemed to both enjoy humor and laughing. We both seem to be able to organize and lead and just get the job done no matter the obstacles presented. We both loved music. In fact, he seemed to be a local jazz star. We also seemed to enjoy working with troubled kids. It turns out he was doing this “moving” gig because he was out of his day job. A job that was very close to his heart. A job as the music teacher in a school for troubled kids. A job much needed, reaching these students yet unable to be sustained in our economic times. I also learned from talking to this tender soul that nothing was ever really a job to him. He went about it much the same way I do. With heart and soul.

I could write a whole other story on the actual “job” we did. It could be described as a Steve Martin or Chevy Chase comedy with the heartbreak drama of “Terms of Endearment.” But we did it. We accomplished our goal and actually parted ways having experienced laughter, glimpses of the heart, sore muscles and in much need of a goodnight’s sleep, yet, both knowing the night was not going to end for either of us until the next morning. He had his 2nd gig playing music and my 2nd gig was dinner with friends to celebrate a job finished that was rather bittersweet.

When I paid this sweet man for his well deserved earnings he was pleasantly surprised. The job was taken with the agreement that him and his friend would get a set amount until the job was completed. My parents were paying for it and the job had taken twice as long as originally planned. My dad is a good tipper and a generous soul. He suggested we double the money originally quoted and call it a day. That I did. Him and his friend were shocked and suddenly, I saw a new energy arising from 2 weary and sore bodies.

Feeling like things had turned around for everyone, because, let me tell you, the day did not start out this positive, I decided to kick it up a notch. I told him it was my pleasure to pay him for a job well done but I needed a favor. Could he do something for Jesus, since He was really the one whom all blessings flow. He was more than willing to do that and even had a plan. He was going to bless a ladies Bible study with his musical talent. His friend was not “into the Jesus thing.” so, I told him it was a divine appointment and he was going to be on my prayer hit list, so “get ready!”

When life was back in the daily grind, I looked up this local jazz favorite and he had a MySpace account. That is when I requested to be his friend. Just about 6 weeks ago. I really thought he had forgotten, and so had I. He had not, though.

The Lord has not forgotten His “friend request.” He took the time to connect with you, heart to heart when He formed you in the womb and counted and numbered the very hairs on your head. He has a keepsake bottle with all the teardrops you have ever cried. He knows your favorite candy bar, if you walk around the house in your “birthday suite” when no-one else is home, the person who first broke your heart, if you push the grocery cart back to the store or if you leave those cookies in the produce aisle when no-one is looking.

Press the “accept” button on His “friend request.” He wants to call you friend. He wants you to “accept” forgiveness. Forgiveness from Him, from others and from yourself. So, log onto that super highway called the
Wide World Web. MySpace or FaceBook,
whichever you prefer,
but don’t forget to
Believe Bible Biographies, seek GodSpace or JesusBook
and “accept” all He has to give.

You know, He has more friends than anyone else on the internet!

That alone should make you want to be His friend!
LOL!

BOXES, WRAPPING PAPER and LABELS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m78l28tcIE0

http://www.seussville.com/birthday/

I just finished catching up on my Bible study from being out of town a few days. I am studying the book of Esther guided through Beth Moore’s incredible workbook that provokes much thought and invokes much Holy Spirit scripture reading, that in turn, blesses me beyond my most wildest imaginations!

I am at the part in Esther where they are celebrating. The “Today’s Treasure” was from Esther 9:19...”A day of feasting, a day of giving presents.”

Beth explains in the workbook that a more literal translation for the Hebrew word, manot , could be portion. Esther 2:9 takes this word presents and denotes it more as a special food. Beth Moore then takes us to Psalm 16: 5,6 where it reads, “You, O LORD, are the portion of my inheritance and my cup; You maintain my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; yes, I have a good inheritance.” In this translation, Beth points out the word represents more the lot or portion, something akin to one’s destiny.

This is where I love Beth Moore Bible studies! The Lord has given her much wisdom through her hard work and disciplined study of the scripture! So, here goes: this is a quote from the Esther Bible study written by Beth Moore. She is putting Psalm 16: 5,6 in her, or our own words. “Lord, in all the chaos and crisis, all the threat and doubt, You caused my life to work out. Instead of me falling apart, the lines of my life have fallen together. Truly, I can say that You have given me a delightful inheritance.”

WOW!

I think of these words: presents, portion, special food, and lot and can not help but think of my own experience with presents, portion, special food and lot. Each word fits perfectly into my most recent experience in this seemingly, unyielding season of pain, suffering and loss. And it all falls just shy of a week before my 40th birthday.

{ A quick word about the type of “birthday” person I am. I like everyone to know it’s my birthday. I am not tight lipped about it. I will give detailed descriptions on how I want to celebrate and what presents can be most appreciated by me! I will gladly poke and prod to obtain what I most eagerly desire: to joyfully celebrate my birth with friends and family, food and fun! Now, you know. If you are a friend, or acquaintance, you may start preparing! LOL! }

I started planning for the big four o last year. I found out that my favorite country music singer was having a benefit concert on the very day of my 40th birthday. I figured it was definitely divine intervention. I bought tickets and told all my close friends to plan accordingly. When I researched it, I also discovered that the singer would be playing softball with the fans and foster kids attending the concert. WoW! I definitely knew this was going to be a terrific birthday celebration amidst a very hard time in my life.

Fast forward a bit…even with tickets in hand, I am unable to attend.

I just talked to a dear friend of mine and discussed with her my sadness over my disappointment in this “not being able to go” reality. She told me to think of my birthday celebration in terms of the success I had just attained over the past few days. I will have to explain to you what “success” she is speaking of, because, when she first made the statement, I really did not have that thought.

My friend is referring to our weekend of BOXES, WRAPPING PAPER and LABELS.

BOXES to put my possessions from 17 years of a broken marriage in.
WRAPPING PAPER that will protect everything but the hearts involved in the break down of our family. LABELS to help the movers know what stays and what goes, mine or his, the Salvation Army or back to the condo.

As my 40th birthday draws closer and my previous plans fall apart, I wish the BOXES, WRAPPING PAPER and LABELS had been for different purposes.

BOXES for a new Dooney and Bourke purse, like the one I saw the lady at Baby’s R Us carrying…gorgeous! A pretty new beach towel with polka dots and monogrammed, in my favorite colors. WRAPPING PAPER for 40 presents! LABELS to tell me which wonderful friend, relative or child to send a thank you note to.

I guess those things could happen, and they would be nice, but it wouldn’t give me the ability to
* set a table for 7 instead of 4
* drop off and pick up all 5 kids from school
* look around and see picture frames with our family in them
* go home after carpool, sit at my table in the sunny nook in my beautiful kitchen, drink my tea and do my Bible study
* see Tori’s flip flops laying on the wood floor by the back door
* look out Lily’s window and see a mature and beautiful dogwood tree
* tell Jeb to turn down his music, get off the computer or be home by dinner
* complain about how smelly Jeb’s ball uniform is, especially his socks
* decide whether to let Meghan spend the night with Tori
* watch a movie, look around, and see: Jeb laying on the floor with his feet on the entertainment system, Reagan and Lily laying on the couch together, Sarah huddled up at the end holding Baby and sucking her fingers, and Meghan deciding on where to sit after turning out all the lights and popping popcorn
* Explaining to people at the grocery store that all 5 of these kids are mine, I am old enough to have a 14 year old, Jeb is the only boy, all 4 of the girls are sisters, no one brought a friend and Lily and Sarah are not twins.

Of course, as much as I would want to have all those things back, they wouldn’t make me happy. They wouldn’t make me feel less lonely, less overwhelmed or less needy, either. And the reason I know that is because when I had all those things, I still felt all those ways.

To have this knowledge, it doesn’t make me miss all those things any less. To realize after a broken marriage and 5 kids that I kept pretty organized and controlled that it was just an illusion, doesn’t keep me from still trying to grab the wheel. To know I am turning 40 having planned a really cool and awesome celebration that I so wanted to go to but can’t, doesn’t make me feel a bit sad about the big day!

I read the scripture, though, and have hope.

I read another quote from Beth Moore,
“Satan tried to destroy you along life’s path. You’re still standing, aren’t you? Instead of falling apart, your lines are all starting to fall together. Piece by piece. Glimpse by glance. What a beautiful inheritance you have!”

Satan has tried to destroy me along life’s path.

He has tossed out the bait of moving and house hunting, finding the perfect curtains and comforters, signing up my kids for every extra-curricular activity we could afford, and even ones we could not. Friends that were so much fun to be around I chose them over Him more times than I care to remember. Church has even detoured me off God’s path a time or two. When you are too busy doing church work or even serving at church rather than to do His work for me or to serve Him it’s a plot from the enemy not your desired lot He has planned.

Still standing, though.

I have tried falling apart. I have even succeeded at times. I recall a very rough time when I had three children under 5, no one in pre-school, a nursing baby, diapers, pull ups and a bed wetter! Newly moved, no friends, a husband at work all the time, a very bad hair cut and 15 extra pounds from a baby. I wanted to fall apart. I tried to fall apart. I did, for 1 day. All I got were cranky children, a living room covered, and I mean wall to wall, with Cheerios, sticky messes, clogged toilets, a sink full of dirty dishes and things pretty much in worse shape than when I fell apart.

Piece by piece… He has wiped off the dirt, dug deep into the wound, extracted the ugly stuff, filled it up with a healing balm and given it rest where new growth can come.

Glimpse by glance is all He ever gives me, although I really want to see the “big picture.” He knows all I can handle ,is a glimpse; and He always gives it with Rhema word, dreams and visions. With a glance at my past He lets me look at the fence posts I have put up so I can measure my growth. Keeping an eye on the present, keeping a balanced tension between watching, waiting and having a willingness to go when He says go. These are my mile markers. They are the signs I see often that are clear and posted, helping me to stay on the path I need to be on. When He lets me peer into the future, it’s usually without specifics, although I have been given the “details” a time or two. I always know it’s a future with provision, peace and purpose, if I choose it.

What a beautiful inheritance I have!

I can’t help but laugh at God, like Sarah did, when I see that sentence. It brings me full circle to the BOXES, WRAPPING PAPER and LABELS. The ones I used as I packed up my very fancy suburban house.

Even driving on the interstate anticipating the exit to get off of, it reminds me of a Dr. Seuss book. It makes me think of 2 places we have lived. They were both worthy of a post card. Pleasing to the eye, lovely landscape, prestigious schools, elaborate community networking, fancy shops and malls, excellent dining options and always a Panera Bread, Target and Starbucks available.

Can you see us? Mom of 5, getting all dressed up every day to drop off at school, grocery shop, make beds, fold laundry, grab soup and salad at Panera and rushing to get to the bus stop where I would make idle chatter with other moms doing the same thing. It so reminds me of “Whoville,” with Cindy Luwho. These dressed up moms scurrying around and trying to look so put together with all our kiddos in tow. High tech strollers, fancy bikes, trykes and scooters, blonde haired ponies with matching bows, polka dotted jumpers and big blue eyes. Pretending in a make believe village waiting for a sentimental story where the hero is an odd looking green fury thing that grows his heart and changes their world. Louis Armstrong’ can be heard in everyone’s outdoor speakers singing about green trees, red roses, blue skies, white clouds, friends shaking hands and babies crying. Can’t you just see the Cat in the Hat sitting with crossed legs, eating green eggs and ham, on the whimsical bench looking in the pond with the red and blue fish?

I bet the Lord looks at us, at times, and just laughs.

I did have a beautiful house. I had several beautiful houses. I had wood floors, granite countertops, high end appliances, a bathtub with jets, a formal living room, a formal dining room, a den, a study, a powder bath, and a brick exterior with a red door and a brass door knocker.

I gave up my personal freedom and much of my self to have them.

I think my dear, sweet friend is right. I need to celebrate this birthday with the BOXES I put my left over blessings God allowed me to have for 17 years in.

The WRAPPING PAPER that protected the treasures my kids have given me over the years that are priceless and warm a mother’s heart.
And to celebrate the new LABELS in my life:
Single mom
Mom that is writing and creative again
Mom with choices and personal freedom
Mom without a cape and mask
Calmer mom
Unorganized mom
Working mom
I make mistakes and it’s okay mom
I need help mom
I don’t need to give you a reason mom
Rested mom
Boundary mom
Just say no mom

On April 18th this year I am going to let it be “a day of feasting, a day of giving presents.”

Esther 9:19

Note: At the last minute, 3 days before the event...I got to go! : ) The benefit was awesome and there were 1200 foster kids sponsered!