A Few Short Thoughts about Emmanuel, Christ's Mass, and a Merry Christmas!

I'm not a theologian. In fact, I'm nearly the opposite. I'm just a ragamuffin upside-down girl who has been thinking a lot about Christmas.

CHRISTMAS.

Christmas broken down is Christ-mas or Christ's mass.

Exploring the definition of the word "mass" brings a fullness to what Christmas really means.

According to Google, "mass" used as a verb means "to assemble or cause to assemble into a mass or as one body."

CHRISTMAS.

CHRIST'S MASS.

Christ taking action to assemble us into one body is CHRISTMAS.

Jesus gathering us to Himself is CHRISTMAS.

JESUS. GATHERING. US.

GRACE.

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"They shall call his name Emmanuel..." (Matthew 1:23 KJV)


THE WAY JESUS CHOSE TO COME WAS UNEXPECTED, UNCONVENTIONAL, UNDERESTIMATED.

Vulnerable, through womb, from Heaven to a barn... Cradled in a feed trough by dim lantern's light the Holy God came in flesh among us as a fragile baby. He came in the midst of sorrow, unknown, oppression, defeat, impossibility.

HE CAME INTO MY IMPOSSIBILITY... AND YOURS.

He didn't come as a fiery spark that exploded fierce and bright, but he came as a small, sweet, quiet light that grew steady and faithful.

He came dependent, raised on our fractured earth by a flawed young man and a flawed young girl who needed Jesus to come into their own impossibilities.

He arrived dependent, but it is on Him that we need to depend, and when we depend and trust, HE IS THE GOD OF IMPOSSIBILITY.

"For NOTHING is impossible with God."  (Luke 1:37 NLT)

Jesus came, and He was called Emmanuel.

EMMANUEL.

GOD WITH US.

God with us in a world racked in ache... sin, sickness, death, failure, pride, shame, abuse, hurt, entitlement, anger, depression, loneliness...

HE CAME.

Emmanuel came into our impossibilities to make all things possible. Holy God came to be with us and gather us to Himself.

What feels impossible in your life and in your heart this Christmas? Your impossibility might be in the deepest caverns of your soul where no one else sees or knows but you. Please remember this Christmas that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us...God with YOU. He came to gather us...Christ's mass... To gather YOU to Himself. Let yourself be gathered, and receive the beautiful grace of His presence in your impossibilities... The grace that may not change your situation, but the grace that helps you to stand.

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To those who are struggling, hurting, or aching, please remember that JESUS CAME...CHRISTMAS CAME all those years ago, and CHRISTMAS WILL COME this year...no matter your circumstance. I want you to hear someone say to you *MERRY* *CHRISTMAS*. Please know you are loved, cared for, and held by the GOD of the universe who humbly came for YOU, because HE LOVES YOU.

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To those who have been faithfully reading the ramblings of my heart, and those who, perhaps, have just found this humble space, I want to wish you and yours a very *MERRY* *CHRISTMAS*. Thank you for coming by. I couldn't share my heart here without YOU.

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May you be blessed with the TRUTH and HOPE of CHRIST'S MASS and EMMANUEL this season.

 
Much love...All is grace... Always grace,

WHAT IF... Thanksgiving is Hard?

Trees stand tall, vulnerable, and bare. Leaves have turned and fallen into a crunchy blanket of calico below. The cycle is complete, and the trees rest hushed once again. Sunlight reflects on glittery snowflakes floating soft in the air. The crickets have quieted their seasonal song, but geese speak loud as they make their way south flying on strong wings and determination against the autumn sky. The days pass quickly and evening stretches long. The chill in the night confirms that November is here.

NOVEMBER IS HERE.

NOVEMBER IS MORE THAN HERE...

We rush frantic in crowded stores to buy turkeys, cranberries, sweet potatoes, and sage... pumpkins, apples, sugar, and flour for handmade pie crusts...tablecloths, pretty napkins, candles, and autumnal decorations to welcome our guests. Cookbooks are opened to faithful recipes, tried and true. We give our energy, our skill, our time, our love to prepare a special place for our family and friends to gather in close reflection, in tender community.

THANKSGIVING IS HERE.

YES, THANKSGIVING IS HERE.

BUT WHAT IF...

What if Thanksgiving doesn't feel cozy?

What if Thanksgiving feels like stress?

What if Thanksgiving isn't the warm gathering of friends and family around the table?

What if Thanksgiving is completely alone?

ALONE.

Friend, your house may be alive with excitement and swarming with people on Thanksgiving Day, yet in vulnerable truth, you might still feel quite alone.

*****

WHAT IF...

What if you are grieving this Thanksgiving?

What if someone who is supposed to be around your table isn't? What if death, sickness, divorce, tragedy has come, and you have to face this holiday, next winter, next spring, your next birthday, next year... with a gaping hole that you know can never be filled?

What if you are swallowed up in darkness, depression, shame?

WHAT IF?

How then do you say...

"THANKS" ???

No journey is without trial. No path is without dissension. Some seem to have more ease than others, I know, but...

There is always, always something... some one, some place, some way...

TO BE THANKFUL.

Even through the tears...even through the ache...even through the sorrow...even through the loneliness... even through the loss...

Through ruin, rubble, desert, fire, scars, wounds...

When your soul feels stabbed, and your ache bleeds into every area of your life...

Hope seems impossible.

***********

STOP.

BREATHE.

PAUSE.

REFLECT.

There's always something for which to be thankful.

ALWAYS.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

If the only thing for which you can say "thank you" is this breath, it is enough.

IT IS ENOUGH.

You are here.

You are loved.

You matter.

You are seen.

You are alive. 

BREATHE.

Your "thanks" may be through clinched teeth and tears, but it's honest and raw. Let the tears fall, and be thankful for the salty trickle that streams down your cheeks and touches your lips... that you feel, that you taste...

IT'S REAL.

IT'S OKAY.

I promise you this, you are not alone. Even if you feel like it, the truth is this...

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  

YOU.

ARE.

NOT.

ALONE!

It's easy to say "thanks" when there is abundance around you. I know the hearts of those who are extravagantly blessed aren't any less thankful. However, when you bend your heart to say, "Thank you, God" ...when that very heart of yours is shattered and breaking...

IT IS HOLY-BEAUTIFUL.

LISTEN, MY FRIEND.

HOLY.

BEAUTIFUL. 

***********  

I am grateful you are here, and you were led to this humble space. Truth. I am praying for you and that you will feel a gentle touch, a kindness, a peace this Thanksgiving, even in the midst of the hard you are walking. 

Know that you are special. You are loved. You are not alone.


All is grace...always grace,

 

I Don't Want to be a Pastor's Wife Anymore... A Letter to a Struggling Pastor's Wife

I recently discovered that someone found my blog by searching for the key words, "I don't want to be a pastor's wife anymore."

My heart filled with sorrow.

I know these feelings all too well. The burden is great, and not many understand. I did a quick google search myself using the same key words. I wanted to know if this person, and others who have searched with a similar question, found the help they were looking for. The few places my search led me were discouraging. One of the blogs I found basically said that it's a gift to be a pastor's wife, you should put on your big girl panties, and stop thinking about giving up on your ministry. Really? 

WELL, I'M THE UPSIDE-DOWN ONE, YET AGAIN, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M GOING TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH.

Sometimes (not all the time), you need to step away from ministry before it kills you, and before it kills your family. Sometimes (not all the time), being a pastor's wife really sucks. (Yes! I said sucks. Don't send hate mail.) 

Another one of the pastor's wife blogs I happened upon said she learned from another pastor's wife to put up walls, so when you move away from the church, it hurts less to leave the people. She and her husband have been in ministry for just seven years and they have moved to four different churches in those seven years. Hmmmm... I wonder if it's because of those walls she's putting up? You cannot connect with people on a deep level and truly love and lead them spiritually if you have walls. It's the nature of the true call. Again, this sucks. 

Boundaries are much different than walls. We learned the hard way that we didn't have the boundaries in place to protect our family. It can be tricky to navigate boundaries, but you have to have them. Period. If my experience, and our family's experience, can help just one more family, then it's worth it to me to shout the truth from the rooftops.

THIS POST IS GOING TO BE ME SHOUTING! OKAY?

I wish I had a way to send a note of encouragement to this pastor's wife, who most certainly is at the end of herself. Since I don't have a way of knowing who she is or how to contact her, I am going to write a letter to her here, and to all who might stumble upon this space that need to know they are not alone. Please note that my email information is on my blog for a reason (under the "Welcome"). If you need someone to talk to or someone with whom to share your story, I humbly offer myself as a help and listening ear.

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Dearest one,

I know your road is difficult. I know you feel alone. I know you don't think anyone else understands what you are going through. Well, I may not understand exactly, but I know a little bit about what it feels like to be  laid out, used up, spent, and operating from a well that has been beyond dry for the sake of others, the ministry, and God. 

I don't know why it is, but within the church there are spoken and silent expectations of a pastor's wife. Over the years you may have cleaned toilets, baked casseroles, sung on the worship team, played an instrument, written, printed, and folded bulletins, changed diapers, wiped noses, taught Sunday School, organized children's church, painted fences, painted faces, and painted walls, headed up the Christmas program, taught the children's choir, decorated bulletin boards, washed windows, vacuumed carpets, organized the prayer team, headed up a toy drive, managed the church's finances (that was a fun one), planted flowers, shoveled snow, baked cookies for visitors and shut-ins, picked curriculum, taught mid-week service (I'm still recovering from that), stuck up for your husband, defended your children, fielded complaints, and when the nursery worker didn't show you filled in, when the Sunday School teacher didn't show you taught, when the Children's church teacher left the church you took over...the list could go on and on. These are all responsibilities WITHIN the church.

OUTSIDE of church, relationship building is expected. People are demanding, inconsiderate, and selfish when it comes to pastors and their families. They, sometimes, feel an entitlement to you and your time. It's your job, right? The church pays your husband, so you and your husband need to be available 24/7 to meet any and every need or WANT they may have. I am going to interject here that there are true needs and emergencies that should NEVER be overlooked. I am confident you will know what those needs are and when and how to meet them. However, I know from experience, people within the church have expectations for you, and if you don't meet them, you may begin to feel fear that they may not be happy, and they may *gasp* leave the church. If they leave the church, then there might not be enough in the offering plate on Sunday to feed your family. Most churches, whether they will admit it or not, also believe they are getting TWO people for ONE salary (sometimes a meager salary at that). That is a ton of pressure on you, dear one. This juggling act between church, supporting your husband, caring for your children (if you are a mom), and the needs of your family can be crippling. Sometimes, you HAVE to take a break. I told you that I would tell you the truth, and I am going to do just that. If it ruffles feathers, I don't care.

The church is NOT going to step up and give you the space you need for a break (whether that break is permanent or temporary). It is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to say "no" to some things or all of the things you are doing. It is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to help your husband understand that you are at the end of your rope and you NEED SPACE. If you become burned out, and you don't get to a space where you can breathe, you will eventually be NO GOOD to anyone... not your husband, not your kids, not the church, and not yourself. I want to remind you that your primary responsibility is to be a wife and a mom.

You may think you are the only one that can do a quality job at some of the things for which you are responsible at church. You know what? You need to let go. If you CANNOT do it, then someone else will step up to the plate. If it doesn't mean enough to someone else to step up, then maybe that particular ministry didn't mean enough to those in your church anyway? LET IT GO. If you are worried that someone else will step up, but they won't run things like you would, LET THAT GO, TOO. When did things need to be perfect? I said "no" to things way too late. I thought I could just keep throwing things on my back and carrying them. I completely broke, and then I was no good to ANYONE for a year, literally. I did NOTHING for a year. I battled fierce DEPRESSION and DARKNESS. What I was going through possibly could have been prevented. A few beautiful women stepped up and took over my areas of children's ministry, which has long been my heart's passion. You know what happened? Those women brought a different flavor and heart when they taught the kids. They did a far better job than I ever could have. Their passion to teach brought life to those areas of our church. It was BEST that I stepped away. You are not the only capable person in your church, and someone who might be gifted isn't serving because you are doing everything and they think they are not needed. Step away. It's really okay.

REMEMBER: YOUR PRIMARY MINISTRY IS TO YOUR HUSBAND AND YOUR CHILDREN.

IF YOU DON'T DO ANOTHER SINGLE THING BESIDES CARING FOR YOUR FAMILY, YOU HAVE DONE ENOUGH.

ENOUGH.

 If people get angry because you are stepping away or establishing boundaries (again, for a season or permanently... you don't have to decide that now), let them get angry. If they leave the church, let them. I don't care how deep their pockets are or how much they support the church financially. How can you truly minister to people that don't care about you or your family, anyway? How is it a true community when there is a cycle of manipulation no matter the cost to you and your family? When did church become about all of this? I think that last question might be another letter for another time.

TAKE CARE OF YOU.

You are GOD'S daughter. He doesn't want things to be like this for you. It's possible that your family may need to consider stepping away from ministry for a break. You need to pray about it. Only God can direct you, but you may need to ask HIM some very hard questions. You may need to ask each other some very hard questions.  I don't know your particular situation, but I know there are churches out there that take advantage of the pastor's family. There may be prominent families within your church that are manipulating and abusing your family (directly or indirectly). Some may be manipulating and abusing your husband? Or your kids? Don't be afraid to ask the hard questions.

NO CHURCH IS WORTH THE COST OF YOUR FAMILY. 

PERIOD.

I'm going to SHOUT that again.

NO CHURCH!!!

IS WORTH THE COST OF YOUR FAMILY.

With all of the hard things said, IT IS AN HONOR to be called by God to serve others. It truly is. BUT the truth is, that call comes with a heavy burden. If pastors' families are gloaty and giddy about being a ministry family, and they don't feel that deep burden, then I question if they are truly called. If they don't get down in the grit and mess with people like Jesus did, then they aren't really ministering. It's not about platform and glory. To so many, it seems like it is, and that's heart breaking. There will be hard times in REAL ministry, but there will be beautiful times, as well. You will meet some impossible people, but you will also meet some kindred souls along the way that you couldn't imagine your life without. A church with kindred souls will support you if you need a break, no matter how long of a break you need. If you don't feel you have kindred souls among you, take the break anyway.

It is time to rest, dear one.

REST.

From one pastor's wife's heart to another...

Bless you.

All is grace,

No Strings Attached

My sleepy kids awaken sluggish from restless, excited sleep.

Quick showers...

Quick breakfast...

Quick dressing...

Today is the day for which we've been preparing. Vehicles line up in front of our house behind ours like a fourth of July parade.

Grab the paper plates and plastic silverware.

Load the coolers.

Get the water.

By all means, don't forget Gary's-farm-grown-pop-in-your-

mouth-sweetest-sweet-corn-ever! 

 

The grills are tied down in the backs of flatbed pick-ups, and the caravan is off.

 

***********

 

Our kids, slowly waking, chatter along with the soothing vibration from the engine of our car. My husband drives while I finish applying mascara and lipstick on the way. We're almost there.

The caravan of cars follows us through the back gate between nomadic homes on wheels. Generators hum to run the air conditioners in the traveling bunk house dorms to bite away the August morning heat. The Ferris wheel is serene in the morning sunshine. The quiet carnival rests as the rest of the world busies itself around it.

While workers sleep, we quickly prepare. The grills are fired up. Tablecloths are laid out readying the tables for our guests. Homemade salads are placed on serving tables, and Kathy's-to-die-for-chocolate-chip-cookies are placed on pretty trays alongside jellos and puddings for dessert.

A group of 7 or 8 teens and kids takes prepared flyers from traveling house to traveling house, and from fair stand to fair stand.

The flyer simply says:

FREE LUNCH to ALL fair/carnival workers

11:00 a.m. - 1:00 p.m. at the fair pavilion

NO STRINGS ATTACHED!!!

Hot dogs, hamburgers, sweet corn, salads, and dessert...

We'll see you there!!!
 

***********

They begin to trickle in one-by one, at first, skeptical.

Each one carries the weight of the world, and the weight of their own story. Most carnival workers don't get here through the path of an easy life. It's no easy life, still, to have no permanent home... no permanent roots.

Genuine kindness and compassion go a long way, and serving a meal to those who might normally be forgotten awakens me. Our heart is to simply bless.

NO STRINGS ATTACHED...

At 11:30, we've only served a few people, but word of mouth spreads quickly, and by noon all of the skepticism has turned to dust. The pavilion is full of hungry people, genuine laughter, and happy conversations.

A sun-baked toothless man touches me on the shoulder and says, "Thank you for this meal today. I haven't had a home cooked meal in months, and those cookies were so good." I gave him a few more cookies and a smile to take with him.

One lady, weathered beyond her years, asks, "Why are you doing this?" Eyes shining, the kind-hearted pastor replies,"We, simply, want to thank you for all of the hard work you do. Thank you for helping to make fair week so fun!" 

 

The same pastor braves fair admission prices and sweltering afternoon heat to cart his wheeled cooler filled with ice-cold bottled water to share with the workers each afternoon of the fair. Some workers recognize him from the free lunch, and by the end of the week almost all of them know him by name.

 

A FREE MEAL...

 

FREE WATER...

NO STRINGS ATTACHED...

No strings attached, because we believe that when Jesus said give a cup of cold water in HIS name...in HIS love... that HE meant it, and HE meant for it to be done with NO OTHER AGENDA other than loving each other.

***********

This month marks two years since God called us away from Michigan. This week is Branch County Fair week there. I have been reflecting on the six consecutive years we were honored and privileged to serve the fair/carnival workers in this very small way with NO STRINGS ATTACHED. I hope that in the simple giving of a meal they will remember the kindness, and it will become part of the story they pass on to their children and grandchildren. Our heart was to simply bless, and in our serving, we have been the ones who have been blessed.

I anxiously await the vision God is beginning to unfold in our hearts for Colorado. I feel as if our time of "rest" might be coming to a close. Whatever we do, and wherever we serve, we will always remember to give a cold cup of water in HIS love and in HIS name with NO STRINGS ATTACHED. 

 

 

"Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty...the smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing." (Matthew 10:42 MSG)

 

ALL IS GRACE,

 

 

I Met Jesus Today

I MET JESUS TODAY.

I was standing in front of a tree weighted down with stuff.

Literal stuff.

I was strategically balancing a Rubbermaid tote, my purse, a blanket, several items my kids asked me to hold, and a backpack. In front of me on the ground was a cooler, a guitar in its case, another blanket, a casserole container and a box of doughnuts.

Yes, a box of doughnuts.

I was waiting patiently beside the tree, and I heard a kind voice say, "Hi, how are you today?" I looked up, and there was a bearded gentleman in his mid to late forties with kind eyes and a nice smile... in a wheelchair battling obvious symptoms of muscular dystrophy.

I replied, "I'm having a good day. How is your day?"

He said, "Mine is good, too. Thank you," and he continued on. I watched him as he did the fastest u-turn I've ever seen maneuvered in a motorized wheelchair. Actually, I didn't know until today that a wheelchair could move like that!

He was turning back towards the tree and me. He looked at me and asked, "Where are you going? Do you need any help?" As he held out his hands in a helping gesture he assured me, "I really don't mind."

I MET JESUS TODAY.

Jesus was in a wheelchair, and I was leveled. Jesus wanted to relieve me from my obvious burdens.Why is it that those who have, perhaps, the most need are the ones who are the quickest to volunteer help when others seem to be in need? Why is it that true giving comes out of our poverty and not our wealth? I was floored at this man's generosity. His kindness. His heart.

I MET JESUS TODAY.

I am going to figure out how I can be Jesus to others and have it flow from me with ease. I want compassion and helpfulness to be my first response to every situation with others. I am going to scratch, kick, and claw my way if I have to to get THAT to be my natural bent and the overflow of my heart, not only in words but action.

I MET JESUS TODAY.

As he zoomed away in his wheelchair, I realized just how beautiful His heart really is, and I want to be just like Him.


Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 (NLT)


ALL IS GRACE,

Thoughts and Boundaries

Right out of the gate, I want to disclose that this won't be a "normal" blog post. This is just little-old-ragamuffin-me sharing some things that are stirring in my heart. This might not be one of my more meaningful posts for you, my reader, but sometimes those who tell their story with words need to write for themselves... possibly for a measure of deeper healing.

THIS ONE IS FOR ME.

From my very first blog post, I have promised to be honest and transparent as I share my heart. I will not sanitize my thoughts or story, and  I will always strive to be as real as I can. I continue to keep that promise, and if the day comes where I can't, I will stop writing.

I noticed that my blog received 10% of its entire views in just the last month. I am EXTREMELY grateful and humbled, truly, but gratefulness will not be my point in this particular piece. However, I do thank YOU for faithfully following me and for faithfully reading. I couldn't do this without you.

For bloggers and writers, each piece that is shared "costs" something. It costs a part of yourself to release parts of your story in the form of words for others to read, think about, soak in, and possibly *sigh* judge or criticize. For the writers in particular that share raw parts of their own story (read ME), there is a certain amount of vulnerability in sharing the depths of your heart and the aches of your soul. The last piece I posted, I re-lived. I could scarcely proofread it without bursting into tears. There's always more story than what translates into words. You re-live to write, and it's sacrificial to go "back there."

Perhaps the increased traffic on my blog in the past month has something to do with that raw-gut-level-honesty. I believe people resonate with someone willing to share the ugly of their own story to help create a safe place for them to heal and wrestle with theirs. One of the reasons I write is so others will know they are NOT ALONE.

I am far from perfect. I have made, and will continue to make mistakes. I am human. In humility, I have tried to own my failures. I know my platform is a tiny one, but I take the responsibility very seriously. I try, if I am wrong or have wronged someone, to "own" my part as honestly as I can. I cannot, however, be responsible for FABRICATED accusations or CONTRIVED hurts. In grace, I have also tried to appropriately stand up for myself when criticisms have come. It is, perhaps, grace that can sometimes be the most costly of all, but grace gives you peace of mind so you can walk away knowing you didn't "play along" with the attempted destruction that was sent to tear you down.

All of this has gotten this grace-girl thinking a lot about boundaries lately.

GRACE DOES NOT MEAN WITHOUT BOUNDARIES.

Boundaries are healthy barriers you establish to protect yourself. Grace does not mean you have to be a doormat for another to spew their venom and walk away. Grace does not mean you have to be silent. I have done a poor job of establishing boundaries my entire life. I may fail as I attempt it now, but I feel this is my space. It is a little bit of "home" for me, and it's time I take a few simple steps to protect it.

I WILL NOT allow someone to make me feel like the story of my growing up years is invalid, and that I have no right to feel or be broken. I suffered at the hands of a physically and mentally abusive alcoholic for the fragile and formative years of my life until I was eighteen-years-old. I am forever damaged because of it. I will always be broken, and feel un-whole on some level. I am here to share my story so others will know they have a safe place with me. I am here to share my story for the men and women who also feel broken and un-whole. I will NOT make light of my story, because THERE IS NO LIGHT. It is insensitive, cowardly, and immature to criticize another when they have bled their story selflessly for the possible healing and connection of others. In my humble opinion, you have trampled on something just a little bit holy, because the TRUTH of someone's story is a sacred thing.

If you are struggling with shame, remorse, or regret (trust me, I have been there), it's so much easier to be in denial and cast blame on someone else to help ease your pain. The ONLY way you will find peace, again, is if you, first, look long and hard into the mirror with brutal honesty. Do the work there, down in the grit deep within yourself, and then (and only then), in true humility can you move forward and focus on real healing.

From here on out, I will be moderating all of the comments that come through my blog. I apologize, because I know this is a hassle for those of you who leave comments here instead of on facebook. I, simply, have to protect this space, and I thank you for your patience and grace ahead of time. This is "home" for me, and it's time to keep "home" a safe place, not only for my readers, but for me, too.

Thank you for bearing with me. Again, I realize this is not a "normal" post, but sometimes circumstance deems a response, and it is healing, indeed, for me to stand up for ME just a little bit.

***********

*THIS* is why I do what I do...  

YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

YOU HAVE A SAFE PLACE WITH YOUR *OWN* STORY!

MAY YOU ALWAYS FIND A BIT OF GRACE EACH TIME YOU LEAVE THIS SPACE... THAT IS MY HUMBLE PRAYER...

"It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are . . . because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier . . . for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own . . . ”  (Frederick Buechner)



ALL IS GRACE,

I am That Girl (The Difference With Brennan Manning)

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl who was robbed of her childhood and was shackled well into her adulthood.

I am the daughter of a man who sometimes disappeared for days without a phone call... without a trace.

Alcoholism is no respecter of Christmas or birthdays... regret or heart-break.

Each day just is. Drunk or not.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I'm the little girl tucked away fragile under her pink blanket in the back seat of the rusty old Dodge Dart.

Many nights of my childhood, the hum of the tires laid its path from dirty country roads to the county jailhouse where we would collect my father, sometimes black-eyed, busted lipped, and blood-soaked... always speech slurred with excuses.

I am the small girl who hid alone in the backseat mingled in the odor of cigarette smoke, stale alcohol and fresh vomit. I covered my nose and mouth with my pink blanket so I wouldn't have to breathe his air. The multi-colored neon lights of the bail bonds building pulsated and robbed my sleep. The school bus would come for me in a few short hours.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl who lived in the reality of fear.

A MAN CAN'T SINK MUCH LOWER. 

To elevate himself, he dominated me with his power, manipulated me with his anger, and controlled me with his terror.

I am the girl who had nightmares about him well into my thirties, and I will never fully escape the mess he created.

I am the girl whose father broke her...drunk or sober...on purpose.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl who believes in restoration.

I went to my father in my mid-twenties to express forgiveness. He didn't think there was anything that needed forgiveness.

I walked away for good leaving my grace in his lap while I carried his debt and mine home...with me.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl who discovered she was rejected publicly. Her father declared no heirs, no children, no daughter... to him, I don't exist.

I am the damaged daughter who nearly drowned in his wake. Pain and baggage SCREAM that I am here.

Whether he writes me off or not, it doesn't change the fact that...

I am here... *sigh*

HE OWNS NOTHING... NOT EVEN ME.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl who began to read the memoir of one of her favorite authors last Christmas... and wept.

This man changed my life, my heart, and my thinking, yet I discovered that he is not unlike my father.

I knew his story before, but in the memoir, he fleshed it out differently. I couldn't hide from the details. They haunted me. In a way, they still do.

NO MAN COULD HAVE BEEN ANY LOWER THAN BRENNAN... JUST LIKE MY FATHER.

BRENNAN MANNING WAS AN ALCOHOLIC JUST LIKE MY... *sigh*

FATHER...

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl entangled in the paradox that a man whose writing helped change my whole being, is in effect, like the man who nearly destroyed my whole being.

HOW CAN THIS BE?

Brennan and my father, both, were imprisoned by alcohol's ruthless demands, and both have lived with the consequences of its doom.

Brennan, however, was completely humbled, broken, and transparent about his enslavement to the disease of alcoholism. He owned every failure, every filth, every sorrow, every anguish, every battle, and every set-back. Brennan's life-story is etched on the pages of his final book, and...

HE COMES CLEAN...AS CLEAN AS ANY MAN POSSIBLY COULD. 

Brennan transparently shares of the hell he was in and the hell he put others through (particularaly his ex-wife and step-daughters).

I felt every word I read, because I have lived them. I felt the anguish his loved ones experienced. I know what he did to them, because it's been done to me. I know they will never be the same, because I am not.

BUT THERE IS A DIFFERENCE WITH BRENNAN.

Brennan devoted his last published work to owning the hurt, the ugly, and the lowest of the lows. The pain of his remorse oozes from the pages.

BRENNAN OWNS EVERYTHING... 

IT'S THE DIFFERENCE WITH BRENNAN.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl who is wracked with utter failure and brokenness herself, and the barbaric message of grace penned by a man whose life resembles that of her father has been imprinted on her soul.

Brennan knew he needed grace, and he had no where else to go, but to accept it.

I know I need grace, and Brennan, ironically, was the avenue God used to sink the message of His scandalous grace into the marrow of my soul.

***********

I AM THAT GIRL...

I am the girl forever changed by the message of a ragamuffin-alcoholic fully humbled, and fully surrendered to outrageous grace.

I am eternally grateful for the beauty God made from Brennan's ashes, so that I know God can make something beautiful from mine.

THANK YOU, BRENNAN...

Because of you, I get it.

ALL IS GRACE, 

***********

I would like to share with you one of the most meaningful things I personally believe Brennan has ever said.


"Do you believe that the God of Jesus loves you beyond worthiness and unworthiness...beyond fidelity and infidelity... that He loves you in the morning sun and in the evening rain... that He loves you when your intellect denies it, your emotions refuse it, your whole being rejects it? Do you believe that God loves without condition or reservation and loves *YOU* this moment AS YOU ARE and NOT AS YOU SHOULD BE?"


Click HERE for the link to Brennan's obituary. Our hearts are sad, but we are so glad you are home, at peace, and FREE, dear ragamuffin.

Brennan Manning's final book and memoir is entitled All is Grace... and friends, it really is. 

The Truth of Grace for Me

GRACE IS SCANDALOUS.

Rules are safe.

The further and deeper I press into His grace, the more I understand I could never earn my way.

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE ANOTHER RULE.

Another should...

Another shouldn't...

TO REST IN HIS GRACE IS TRUE FREEDOM.

When Jesus cried out, "It is finished," He decided, too, that grace was the only way.

HIS GRACE CHANGES ME...

Transforms me...

Shapes me...

FROM THE INSIDE OUT...

NOT FROM THE OUTSIDE IN.


***********


"I do not treat the grace of God as meaningless. For if keeping the law could make us right with God, then there was no need for Christ to die." Galatians 2:21 (NLT)


"For those who insist being grace driven means moral laxity...the exact OPPOSITE is true. Morality driven by GRACE is deeper, more genuine, and simply BLOWS AWAY any morality driven by rules." (Matt Sargent)



All is grace...and it really is,

I Want to Homeschool, but... I don't Know Where to Begin

I haven't been blogging regularly here for the past few months, but I have been busy blogging daily for an online book study in another space. I have also stepped out of my comfort zone today (do I really have a comfort zone, anyway?) and I am writing about something entirely different. 

HOMESCHOOLING...

I have the great honor of guest blogging over at Cheeky Bums Blog today. Homeschooling is a topic I wouldn't normally write about in this "Upside-down Pastor's Wife" space, but it is something near and dear to my heart, nonetheless! 

If you are interested in homeschooling, or know someone who might be, would you please share this article with them? I tried to write the article I wish I would have found all those years ago when we began our homeschool journey. My prayer is that those who find it will feel a little less alone and much more informed as they step into this amazing journey. 

***********

I want to homeschool, but... I don't know where to begin...

I will tell you right out of the gate that we are not a "glitzy" homeschooling family. If you are looking for how to begin a creative, jaw-dropping homeschool, this particular article may not be for you. I want to help "normal" moms (like me) get a better grasp on where to really begin. 

Our homeschool isn't going to win awards for the most creative, most educational, or the best of anything, but I assure you we are not mediocre-hum-drum, either. What we do might end up on facebook, but it won't be pinned on Pinterest, and that's okay. We are down-to-earth and real, and we are a simple "nuts and bolts" homeschooling family. 

We have been on the homeschooling journey for fifteen years, since our oldest was a year old, and we have been blessed with four children ages six to sixteen.  My kids are currently in first, third, sixth, and tenth grades. I want to touch on the things that were most helpful for me when I first started homeschooling. It is my greatest hope that after you read this, you will feel like…

HOMESCHOOLING IS NO LONGER AN IMPOSSIBILITY…

BUT A POSSIBILITY for your family.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." (Lao Tzu)

To continue reading, please click HERE!

Be sure to poke around the Cheeky Bums Blog and Cheeky Bums Market while you are there. You'll find a wealth of information, encouragement, recipes, and some adorable vintage items, toys, and clothing for your kids!

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All is grace,

The Stone Over the Grave

Ironman bought me a book for Christmas called One Thousand Gifts Devotional- Reflections on Finding Everyday Graces by Ann Voskamp. As I leafed through the pages, I felt my heart stir that maybe I should invite a friend or two to go through the book with me. In just twelve days, there are now 34 women (and growing) going through this book with me/us. I created a private blog for the group, and I assumed that God would ask me to keep this blog here quiet for the time being. I have learned that I need to stop assuming. As He leads, in my broken-best I will follow. Today, He is asking me to share in both spaces.

***********************

In the devotional entry we are looking at today Ann Voskamp shares a fragment with us about the heart-wrenching time her baby sister died. She writes, "They lay her gravestone flat into the earth, a black granite slab engraved with no dates, only the five letters of her name. Aimee."

This is in the first paragraph in the pages I am supposed to teach, and I can't read any further.

I CAN'T GET PAST THIS.

I AM FROZEN.

My heart is twisted up and I wrestle with God. I don't want to "go" where I have to "go" to tell about a grave in my own life. I think the trigger for me was the way Ann worded it, "A...slab engraved with...only...five letters."

My grave slab has eight... eight letters. And here I am, stuck.

THERE IS MORE THAN ONE KIND OF DEATH.

Because of our human condition we have all been touched by it. We have either chosen the grave path ourselves, or we have suffered at the hands of someone else who has chosen it, and it has affected us deeply. Sometimes, it's a combination of both. Sometimes, things just are.

Please don't misunderstand. The loss of a child, husband, wife, parent, brother, sister, friend... physical death... there is absolutely no comparison to the ripping devastation of such loss.

This, too, I have experienced.

THE FINALITY OF THE GRAVE IS A RUTHLESS BITE.

***********

But death...

Death can come in many forms.

Death rattles you to the core of who you are.

Death can leave you helpless within its jaws.

Death forever changes what was once before.

Death leaves you raw, open, slayed, wounded, bleeding, infected, defeated...

Divorce, alcoholism, pornography (men and women, both), infidelity, promiscuity, physical abuse, emotional abuse, betrayal, depression, rape, adultery, abortion, miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, job failure, drug addiction, sex addiction, rejection, self-hatred, loneliness, spiritual desert, pride, shame, failure, failed expectations, failed friendships, disease, injury, prostitution,  murder, gossip, slander...

THE FINALITY OF THE GRAVE IS A RUTHLESS BITE, INDEED.

DEATH CHANGES YOU.

I have a gravestone that covers death. My death. Beneath it lies my deepest regrets, my worst failures, my lowest sorrows. From time to time, I still come to the stone and weep.

GRIEF IS A WRESTLING BETWEEN LETTING GO AND MOVING FORWARD.

How do you move forward when what lies under that stone has shattered your soul? How do you quiet the grief? Some days I want to lift the slab and crawl right in with the mess. Maybe there inside that grave I won't be seen, and maybe there inside that grave I can just emotionally erupt with all this mess and it will release me?  But I can't. Who can  lift the sealed stone that covers a grave? Who is strong enough? Not me.

SO I STAND OVER THIS SLAB IN THE POURING DOWN RAIN. NO UMBRELLA. SOUL DRENCHED IN THE CONTENTS OF MY GRAVE. VULNERABLE.

I COLLAPSE TO MY KNEES IN A HEAP ON THE GROUND. I AM A FILTHY WRETCH.

THEN I SEE IT.

I remember that HE is the one who gave me the picture of the grave. The visualization of it is etched in my soul. All of those "things" needed somewhere to go, because they aren't me anymore. I can't undo them. I need to embrace the lessons, but I need to be free from their bondage, and from their shame. Those "things" shaped me and made me who I am, and they are shaping me still, but I am not the sum of those "things." Those "things" do not define me. I still struggle. I am not so far removed from the grief of this grave that I can move completely on from it. Shame and grief are tricky things. On the days I am swallowed up in its shadow, I remember...
  
THE WORD ON THE STONE...

It's just one simple word.  

HE GAVE ME THIS WORD, AND SEALED UP MY GRAVE WITH IT.

With this word, He frees my soul over and over again. When I stumble back to the grave, HIS GRACE eventually helps me find the word again, and HIS TRUTH washes away the muck and sludge that keeps trying to pull me back.

UNSPOKEN.

EIGHT LETTERS...

My grave slab is engraved with this one simple word that takes my breath away and breathes new life into me all at the same time. This is the word HE chose for me, and only I can fully know its meaning. The pouring down rain turns into the pouring down of HIM on me, and it breaks through to me...

HIS TRUTH OVER ME.

UNSPOKEN.

Until...unless...if... for His purpose, God lifts the rock that covers my grave, the grave will stay sealed, and I realize that...

TO HAVE LIFE, YOU HAVE TO WALK AWAY FROM THE GRAVE.

ONE STEP AT A TIME...


Turn and walk one step into...

FORGIVENESS...


Take another step and  walk towards...

RESTORATION...


Keep fighting and walk into...

FREEDOM...

MERCY...

HOPE...

HEALING...

REDEMPTION...

PEACE...



LET IT WASH...LET IT WASH...LET IT WASH...


There will probably always be days that the grave pulls me back. There will be days that I still stand over it and weep and grieve. You can't cheat pain, and you can't cheat death... of any kind. But this I know...

HIS TRUTH WILL COME.

HIS TRUTH WILL FREE...

AND HIS TRUTH WILL... KEEP FREEING...


"'See, the stone I have set in front of Joshua! There are seven facets on that one stone, and I will engrave an inscription on it,' says the LORD Almighty, 'and I will remove the sin of this land in a single day.'" (Zechariah 3:9) 




All is grace...all is grace, 

 

Resolutions and the Story Will Keep

It's hard not to think about resolutions around the new year. I usually don't make them, because I don't enjoy setting myself up for almost certain failure. Since I haven't blogged in a while, it was probably some strange form of guilt that caused me to think about a resolution for my blog. There has been a lot going on in my life over the past two months, and I haven't blogged at all. GUILT. Several times before the first of January, I thought maybe I should step up my blog in the new year. Maybe I should blog every weekday? Each time the thought rolled around in my heart, I dismissed it. To me, it felt...

IMPOSSIBLE.

OVERWHELMING.

ABSURD.

SURE FAILURE.

Where would I find the time to blog every single day? When I do blog regularly, I can scarcely churn out a post every other week because I am a...

 V-E-R-Y...  S-L-O-W... W-R-I-T-E-R.

The thought was surely guilt stirred. Blog every day? Laughable.

***********

Ironman gifted me a devotional book for Christmas. After I read the first few entries my heart was stirred. I knew I should try to gather one or two people to go along on this journey with me. I envisioned encouraging one another through the devotional, and keeping one another in thought, prayer, and heart as we counted our graces and blessings together for the year. I wanted to have conversation. I wanted encouragement. I wanted someone to pray for me and me for them. I wanted a deeper sense of intimacy and community. I invited one friend to accompany me on this journey, and soon it became two. Two people have turned into... seventeen people...SEVENTEEN PEOPLE... so far.  :) This has all happened in such a whirlwind... really in just a matter of two days. Yesterday I wondered how I was going to manage so many people through email correspondence. Creating a facebook group wasn't an option since several participants are not on facebook.

WHAT TO DO?

YOU GUESSED IT.

BLOG.

Use a blog space to lead this precious group of women into deeper grace...

EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THE WEEK...

***********

God has been whispering this phrase deep into my soul for some time now regarding my blog...

THE STORY WILL KEEP.

He has spoken this as a wash of peace when I have been concerned about the lack of story in this space over the past few months. Ideas have stirred, my heart is full of my own journey to share, and I know there are things He wants me to eventually tell.

Into the pain. I've learned many lessons this winter from facing the physical pain of surgery on my knee as well as soul surgery. Into the pain, and...

THE STORY WILL KEEP. 

I want to share what God taught me about misunderstood Manasseh, and the truth of grace.  It's a nugget of truth that I haven't heard anywhere else.

THE STORY WILL KEEP.

A tale of two friendships... a tale of truth and forgiveness, rejected grace, and letting go.

THE STORY WILL KEEP. 

Once again, I am going against every blog rule in the book. I am going to leave this particular space here quiet, for now, so that I can go where God is asking me to go. I realize this isn't the wisest move with two published works due out anytime. But...

I HAVE TO TRUST.

GOD SPOKE TO ME THAT THE STORY WILL KEEP.

I BELIEVE HIM.

I WILL BE BACK HERE WHEN HE CALLS ME.

***********

For now... resolutions...

I smile in my heart at how God placed something seemingly impossible in my path, so much so that I immediately dismissed it. I think He might be smiling on me right now saying, "Shanda dear, I told you so."

ONWARD I GO...



All is grace...all is grace,

***********

p.s. If you would like to join along in the journey, we are going through Ann Voskamp's new devotional, One Thousand Gifts Devotional: Reflections on Finding Everyday Graces. We will also be counting one thousand gifts (just 3 gifts a day) for the year as directed from Ann's blog, A Holy Experience. Please let me know if you'd like to come along.  :) You can leave me your email address here, or contact me via facebook.