September 11th

On September 11, 2001, I was home with my two small boys watching "Zoomboomafoom" while I sat in my glider rocker nursing Josh, who was almost a year old. Mark called from work and told me to turn on CNN, so I did. Kenny (then five years old) and I sat with our eyes glued to the TV for the next 2 hours while Josh lazily napped in my lap, unaware of the unfolding tragedy. My body went stiff and tense when I saw the second building get hit. Later that morning, as the buildings toppled to the ground, I felt numb. I was less than 20 miles away from Ground Zero in suburban New Jersey. There were many people in our church who worked in Manhattan in the financial district. Over the next few months, we would hear many surreal stories from those we knew who witnessed bodies falling in front of them, saw their own cars get crushed, thought they may not make it out of Manhattan alive that day. For the past ten years, each September 11th has been a reminder of the unthinkable. More than once, I made myself go through the countless faces who fell victim to terrorism that day. I made myself look at each one to remember and pray for their families. The day had such heaviness attached to it, and rightly so.

Ten years later, on September 11, 2011, my son Josh made a decision that changed the way I'll see September 11th for the rest of my years on this earth. He decided to get baptized at church to publicly announce that he was a Christ Follower. In counseling, we call this a "corrective emotional experience". As I sat in church and watched him go under the water, I could visualize blackness falling from his skin and newness shining through him as he came up out of the water. He dried off and walked back towards me to pick up his sack of clothes, and I caught his eyes. I saw a renewed sense of peace and calmness and confidence looking back at me. He had a huge study bible in his hands, given to him by our pastor. Off he went to dry off and change and I held onto his bible for him. We sang that night....about Jesus and victory and newness of life. And I couldn't hold back the tears. For all the desolation this day has represented for the past 10 years, today was about redemption for Josh....a day I had prayed for all of his 11 years on earth. I knew that only God could do that in him....make him want to be clean and right with God. It reminded me that God is real and alive and at work in us...even in my two boys. And as dark and grueling as September 11th is for so many, God reminded me there is hope.

Change is Hard

Sometimes I just need to write to make sense out of what's going on inside me. Lately, I've experienced more than a usual amount of fatigue and weariness. Today I've stopped. I stopped planning, organizing, doing my normal "staying busy" thing. I took TWO naps, made some special coffee, and lit a candle or two. I'm taking stock of all that's transpired since we moved to Wisconsin six years ago, especially on the inside. The level of "output" has been tremendous. I found it only went well when I took the time to be connected to the Source. All the counseling, the listening, the tears...I know they add up to something more than I can put into words. I'm so grateful I got to be a part of people healing and moving forward for the past six years. I'm having a hard time making sense out of why God would have me go through all of the training and long hours towards being a licensed therapist to now walk away from it. All I know is I'm really tired. Sadly, I don't have it in me to keep my practice open, but I wish I did. I thought it would be easier to walk away from as tired as I've been, but it's grueling. I'm not sure what that means.

I took a state job earlier this year, because as hard as we tried, we weren't able to make ends meet on my private practice income. Kind of embarrassing to admit, really, but we started too far behind to begin with. I wasn't doing back flips about taking the state job, but God is clearly providing for us through it. Now in month 9, I can see more and more why God has me there. I know that's a big part of why I'm too tired for private practice. I'm just admitting I'm sad about leaving it behind. It's what I really love to do.

My career re-focus has come out of a need to provide a more stable income and schedule for my family. My boys need me "all there" for at least the next ten years. While leaving private practice behind feels like losing a part of myself, I know there will be more of me to go around at home....and more time to actually be filled up from the Source. I have a feeling I'll get back to it one day. I'm not sure how or when or what it will look like, but I know it will be in His timing.

Time

I am answering this question from Ann Voskamp's blog "A Holy Experience"



During the next three weeks, as we walk with Him, might we consider: The Spiritual Discipline of Time. Might we explore the purpose of time, how to live in time, slow it down and not rush, how to use time as a holy thing. And how do we make time for God and for all things eternal? We look forward to your thoughts, stories, ideas….



When my son, Kenny, was in 6th grade, we bought him his first cell phone. Way too soon, I'm sure, but we gave into the pull of wanting to be in touch wherever, whenever....I digress. The other day, I called his phone (now a big 8th grader) and heard the same voicemail message he made three years go. His voice sounded younger, more elementary-school-like. My first thought was to tell him to change it now that his voice is deeper...then, "No, I hope he leaves it like that for the next twenty years." I want to remember how he sounded. It made me wish I took more pictures, more video footage. The next night, after too many hours of work, I called on my way home thinking I'd get his voicemail and instead got his voice (even better!). I asked if he wanted to do a mall date with me..."YYYYeah!" I scooped him up and spent the next two hours eating Kato's Chicken, laughing at his goofy jokes, and wandering through the mall. My body was weary, but my heart was glad for the time with him. Sometimes, no often, time has to be taken. Those moments don't just happen. I have to be intentional about being fully present in those moments and recognizing the opportunity when it presents itself. As we pulled into the garage at the end of our "date", he said, "Thanks for the time tonight, Mom. That was epic." He didn't thank me for the jeans I bought him or the Kato's Chicken or the cool t-shirt he landed. It was the time that mattered to him most.

One Thousand Gifts

I just started reading "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. It is moving me in ways I didn't expect. I am going to start counting the many gifts in life I'm grateful for as I read this book. Today, I'll start with #1.

1. I am grateful for making it home alive today. Kenny (14) and I were driving home from church in an ice storm. As I was driving along, a car in front of me started sliding from left to right and back again across three lanes of interstate. I felt a calm come over me and give me clarity to keep switching lanes so as not to hit her. I moved far right to get far from her and suddenly she was far right in front of me. I calmly looked behind me to see who was there and adjusted left. Soon I was past her and she was stopped safely on the shoulder with her head in her hands sobbing uncontrollably. I am grateful for so much in those few seconds...for the calm that came over me. For my son who was buckled tight. And for the sobbing woman who was safely parked on the shoulder now after at least three 360 degree spins across the ice. The gift is knowing He was present in those moments. His presence is the greatest gift of all.

Red Velvet Cake

With life moving at such a fast pace these days, I am enjoying a night at home with Kenny, my handsome, goofy 14-year old son. What amazes me is that he still wants to hang out with me at 14, but I'm not complaining! Mark and Josh are in Texas on a ministry trip for the weekend. Josh has been sporting his Packers jersey around Dallas all day, and somehow he still managed to make some friends. I love that he and Mark can make some memories together down there. Meanwhile, Kenny and I get some bonding time back at the house. We watched a goofy movie tonight that I won't even name, because it was that stupid. I had more fun watching Kenny laugh at nothing than watching the movie itself. Along with the movie, we had a cake-making project going on. Kenny's been watching "Cake Boss" on Netflix a lot and wanted to try his hand at making his own cake. He chose Red Velvet with cream cheese frosting. It actually tasted amazing, but my kitchen does look like a murder scene. Well worth worth it...

On another note, my sister (Tammy) and I were in downtown Madison all day. Actually, I've been down there all week for work. We were doing training in the Concourse Hotel and Tammy had the day off, so she brought her lap-top and grad school work and camped out in another part of the hotel while I "trained". We were a block away from the Capitol Building. At lunch, we sat at Noodles and Company on State Street and watched out the window as thousands of college students marched down the street with crazy signs and hats. They descended on the capitol to voice their opposition to Governor Scott Walker's budget proposal, which would limit labor unions in their contract negotiations for state employees. We heard Jesse Jackson was nearby, but we never actually saw him. It was a high energy day. I'm not sure what I think about all of it, but I was very aware that we were sitting in the middle of something pretty historic. From my little chair, I'm just a state worker who didn't have a job 3 months ago who's thankful to be working. If they take more out of my check for health insurance and ask me to contribute to my retirement, I think I can live with that. But that's just me. And I realize the whole issue is much bigger than me.

Thanks again for reading. If you're reading this and you have something we can pray about for you, leave a comment (or send me an e-mail at fourdisciples@frontier.com) and we'll add you to our prayer list. We have family devotions a few times each week and would love to pray for you together.

Amazing Gift

I am posting this story with my sister's permission. I can't wait to share part of her amazing story with you. I wrote this in honor of my nephew's recent birthday. Grab your kleenex!

I only got to meet him once, so far. About 20 minutes old, I breathed in his light chocolate skin. I savored the moment, knowing the next time I saw him he would likely be a grown man.

My sister, his mom, gave him a selfless gift. Young, wounded and needing time to heal, she wanted more for him than she could give him then. I had the privilege of traveling that long road with my sweet sister to a faraway place. With resolute determination, her face set like flint, I watched her push through that week with the kind of strength and dignity that can only come from maternal love.

Her stomach brimming with new life, we boarded the plane with more than a few stares and questioning glances. I became her self-appointed press secretary to shield her from answering unneeded (and often ignorant) questions. Of special note was the large, nosy woman across the aisle who felt it was her job to get to the bottom of the story behind my sister's very large belly. My protective instincts kicked in and I intercepted her questions with the speed of a running back. I digress....

When we arrived in that faraway place, we were greeted by a handsome attorney, who would be my sweet nephew's adoptive father. He shuttled us to a nearby hotel and checked in on us daily (sometimes more) to see how my sister (and his future son) were progressing. He had the eagerness of a new Dad and treated us with respect and kindness.

For more than a few days, my sister and I walked the streets of that faraway place in hopes of bringing on labor. Rain, wind and cold did not stop us from venturing outside our hotel room. If there was daylight and my sister was still “with child”, we walked.

Finally, a blizzard descended on the faraway place. So did labor pains descend upon my sister – in full force. The handsome attorney pulled into our hotel within minutes of our call. Less than an hour later, my sister was in a hospital room in full-blown labor.

A very short doctor entered the room to examine my sister's condition and labor progress. (He needed a stool to stand on to do the pelvic exam!) Without much examining, the good doctor concluded this little bundle of joy would arrive very quickly.

I held my sister's hand and nearly lost my circulation due ot her intense squeezing. As I performed this important task, I regularly glanced “southward” to assess the situation. Each time I did this, my long hair flew into my sister's red face beaded with sweat. This annoyance may have slowed her labor down, but my nephew's abrupt arrival still came within thirty minutes of arriving in the hospital room.

Almost immediately the ADRENALINE level in the room slowed down to a minimum. Peace and relief reigned. The adoptive parents, my sister, myself, our short doctor friend and the nurses – we all had a different role and angle in that holy moment, but we all seemed to agree that it was all about the child. He was safe. He was breathing. He had ten fingers and ten toes. He was perfect. No matter what all the adults in the room were thinking and feeling up until that moment of his birth, that moment belonged to him. He owned it. And rightly so.

After holding him close to her chest for a few precious moments, my sister called his parents over to her bed. It happened to be his adoptive mom's birthday. My sister handed her this most amazing gift of a child and said, “Happy Birthday, Mom.” There were no dry eyes in the room at that point.

From where I stood that day, my sister was the most courageous woman on the planet. While many in her shoes may have chosen a different path, my sister chose to carry her child for more than nine months and do the hardest thing any mom could be asked to do – allow someone else to raise her child. For this reason, she has since then been my greatest hero in life.

Published!

So, I wrote this article about 2 or 3 years ago and sent it in to "Just Between Us" magazine (a magazine geared towards pastor's wives and women in ministry). I never heard back from them, so I kind of forgot about it. Yesterday, they e-mailed and asked if they could include it in their summer 2011 edition. I'm pasting it for you below....enjoy!

As a young pastor’s wife, I had my eye on the prize. As we toured the low-income neighborhood of the first church where Mark and I would work, I imagined the difference we would make. I envisioned many coming to Christ, and this building coming back to life as God used us to set our little part of the world on fire. Fourteen months later, we were loading our U-Haul to move into our next church. Disillusioned with the surreal experience of watching God’s people tear each other apart, I found it difficult to look forward to the next stop.

Onward we went. God was gracious enough to put us in a place where people loved us. My heart was cautious, though. I was hesitant to let people in. I selectively reached out to people who seemed safe, but kept the walls up around others. Even as God used our time there to bring healing and strengthening in many ways, I was exhausted. Looking back, I realize I never allowed myself to let my guard down. A good friend pointed out my sin to me. She called it “the sin of self-protection.” Ugh. She was so right.

“But, how can protecting yourself be a sin?” you ask. After all, the Bible says, “Be as wise as serpents, yet innocent as doves” (KJV). Self-protection is a sin when it becomes the single most important thing in your life. How can we be a blessing to anyone if we don’t allow them to see who we are? Beyond the Sunday clothes and women’s ministry titles…who are we? Who has God created us to be? Doesn’t He want the world to be allowed the privilege of seeing that He doesn’t make junk?
Six years later, we moved to a new church in a new state. We both sensed God’s hand in the move and in the church and community He was calling us to. I made a decision on the long drive up the interstate. Before God, I decided that I would be myself in this church. I purposed in my heart that I would pray for two solid friends in the church whom I could be honest with and share myself with. God delivered inside of a year. He answered my prayers beyond anything I could have hoped for or imagined. He gave me two friends who allowed me the grace and freedom to share from my heart and be who I was. They also had a gracious way of letting me know when I was wrong. What a gift!

Five years later, we moved again to a new ministry position in our current state. Leaving my friends behind was painful. I’m so grateful God gave me the courage to let my walls down and to go deep with my sisters in Christ. What a rich time of friendship and spiritual intimacy.

As I write this, I am three years into our new place of service. It hasn’t been easy, but my heart is free, my friends know who I am, and I realized that God is using us to begin to set our little part of the world on fire.

My Cave

I have been working my new "state job" as a vocational rehabilitation counselor since December 28th. I make the trek up to Beaver Dam each morning (32 minutes from our house in the suburbs of Madison), log onto my state computer, and busily help disabled people connect with the services they need to be able to find themselves gainfully employed one day. More than half the time is spent meeting with people who need help. The rest of the time is spent writing reports and purchase orders and e-mails and following up with vendors on the phone. Right away I decided if I was going to spend 40 hours a week in that little musty office, I was going to be sure I was happy while I was doing it! So, I added scented candles (pumpkin spice is my favorite), some well-placed pictures of Mark, the boys, and other loved ones on my desk, a Monet print on the wall to my right, and last but certainly not least....a lovely lamp Mark bought me for Christmas that has an attachment for my i-pod complete with speaker so I can pod-cast and worship-music my day away as I endlessly spend the state's money.

At one point, a couple of weeks ago, my friend Faith came to visit me for lunch. We brown-bagged it in my office and enjoyed my pumpkin spice candle on our lunch table. She asked me how it felt to be working up in my Beaver Dam office each day. On that particular day, I was feeling like I was in exile or something. Of course, I'm grateful God provided that job for me, fur us. It has just been an adjustment to move away from what I thought was my life's calling to a job I never expected to be doing. Of course, the selfish part is not having nearly as much control of my time as I once did. Faith immediately knew where to send me. "I want you to take some time to read the story of David in the Cave at Addulam this week in 2 Samuel. Ask God for an adjustment on how your viewing your assignment up here." Sigh....okay, Faith. Have YOU ever read that story? I couldn't recall it, so I dove into it that week. Here's what I got out of it....

David was running for his life. He found refuge in the Cave at Adullam. More importantly, he found refuge in the presence of the LORD in the cave at Adullam. And he experienced God there like never before. One by one, God started sending all these people to him. They sought him out in his CAVE! They were in debt, destitute, and without hope. God provided David to be their leader and to give them hope. and in return, they also blessed him. An unexpected result, I think, of someone who must have felt like he was in exile in that dirty, musty cave.

I realize I'm not David. But I think God had something for me in that story. It did feel like I was running for my life when I applied for that job. Our finances were about to completely cave in around us after five years of trying to "make it" in private practice. I felt resigned to go on up to Beaver Dam and "suffer for the family". God is surprising me with the blessing it is to have a long line of people at my door who are in debt, destitute, and without hope...people with handicapping conditions they never asked for. And I am sitting in this chair with practically an unlimited bank account to do whatever I can to help them get a job. Some need driving lessons, some need assistive technology, and some just need a job coach to walk alongside them and help them get started on a job. I get to bless them in creative ways and, in return, I am truly blessed. I see hope for our finances turning around eventually, and I am more aware of the fact that God Himself placed me in that little cave. I'm not sure how long He'll have me there, but by His grace, I remain open and willing to walk in faith.