Kindness

A couple of weeks ago, I needed to make a few important phone calls while my children happened to be present. After I finished, all four of my kids, aged nineteen down to nine, wasted no time to tell me that I sounded like an entirely different person on the phone than I do at home. And by different I mean...kind, courteous, polite, gracious, chipper. UGH! They mocked me and ribbed me, all in good fun, but something stung in my soul trenches as I tried to laugh it off... THE TRUTH.

My kids were right. For a few days after the phone reprimand incident, I jokingly spoke to my children as if I were making professional phone calls to them. Honestly, it annoyed them, but the sting still lingered. I was more kind to strangers and acquaintances than I was to my own family, my children, my supposed-to-be-most-treasured possessions. Sigh.

Laying bare the ugly parts of my mothering (and beyond), I transparently confess that a few days later I was in a tizzy about something. I was carrying on like an angry dragon, and my nine-year-old son calmly said, "Mom, this is not a situation for yelling." UGH!!! Sting. Sting. Sting. 

SOMETHING NEEDS TO CHANGE, AND IT NEEDS TO CHANGE NOW!

ME.

I, SIMPLY, HAVE TO GET IT TOGETHER!

I could come up with a hundred legitimate excuses about why this is a struggle for me, but the fact of the matter is, it doesn't matter.

THERE ARE NO EXCUSES. 

THERE IS NO ONE TO BLAME. 

I, ALONE, AM RESPONSIBLE. 

I am responsible for managing the temperature, tone, and atmosphere in my home, and I am failing to do that in a way I feel confident, peace-filled, and proud. I have thoughtfully and prayerfully considered what I might do to change my disturbing habits, and one question kept coming to me over and over.

WERE YOU KIND TODAY?

Let it sink in.

Let it simmer.

WERE YOU KIND TODAY?

It didn't take long for me to dash to my chalkboard and write it out smack-dab-in-the-center of all of my comings and goings in our home.

WERE YOU KIND TODAY?

I printed off words and images from my computer and taped them in doorways, onto mirrors, onto windows, and even onto my coffee maker.

BE KIND.

KINDNESS MATTERS.

CHOOSE KINDNESS.

I want reminders EVERYWHERE. I don't want this soul-sting to be wasted. I don't want to have anymore regrets than I already do about my parenting, teaching, loving, and character-modeling in our home. This is too important to miss, and I sense a definite shift.

Am I going to fail? Absolutely. I failed as early as this morning when water went flying (accidentally) across the room and ruined a precious heirloom. It's important to know that we are human, and there is grace. ALWAYS GRACE. But at the end of the day, I want to know and be aware that I did my broken-best to be gentle, gracious, and kind. I want peace to fill my soul when I snap out the lights at the close of the day, wander past my chalkboard, and ask myself...

WERE YOU KIND TODAY?


"Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you."  (Ephesians 4:32 NLT)


ALWAYS GRACE,
 

 









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Quick update:

It's been several weeks...errr months... since I've been able to blog. If you have found your way to my little corner of the internet apart from Facebook, I want to update you that the home we have been living in, that we waited nearly six months for the short sale to be approved, is our home!   

WE ARE HOME! 

WE ARE GRATEFUL! 

GRATEFUL! 

GRATEFUL!

One of the first things I bought was a welcome mat.

IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE HOME! 

Nursing a Weed?

This past weekend, IronMan and I decided to do something about the weed infested flower bed in front of our house. I know it isn't officially our house yet (you can read that story HERE), but we are trusting and hoping and believing that it will be soon. Truth be told, no matter the outcome of the house, we couldn't live with those weeds staring at us for one more day. So we bought a shovel, hoe, and rake, fifteen bags of mulch, two rolls of weed barrier, and we got to work.

There were a few tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils planted by one of the previous residents, so we carefully dug up their bulbs and stored them to plant next fall.

THERE'S SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL ABOUT SAVING LIFE THAT IS ALREADY PRESENT.

IronMan and I started digging, ripping, hoeing, and pulling grass, dandelions, clover, nettle (OUCH!), and whatever else was growing green and tall and strong. This flower bed was a mess, but then I came across a plant that caused me to pause.

My gut told me to stop! I don't think this is a weed. I quickly snapped a picture and texted it to a friend that is far more plant savvy than me. "Is this a weed? I think it's a plant. What do you think?" I did some research on the internet (thank God for Google). My highest hope... could it be, might it be, will it be a Black-eyed Susan? I have this thing about BLACK-EYED SUSANS, and this plant looked familiar...like in a Black-eyed Susan sort of way. I emailed another friend. "Is there any chance this might be a Black-eyed Susan? What do you think it is? Maybe it's a weed?" With the expert advice from my two gracious horticulture friends, I decided to replant this life and see what happens. All three of us were in agreement that we didn't believe it was a weed, but it is impossible to know what it is until...

UNTIL IT BLOOMS.

The poor plant drooped for two days to the point of looking near death. I watered it, I worried over it, but it wasn't happy. Thankfully, the rains came and the sun warmed its leaves. It perked up!

I planted a pretty purple friend next to it. All I can do is wait and see what this mystery plant will be. I researched every kind of Black-eyed Susan variety to see if the leaves match. Some look the same and some look different. There is no way of knowing what it will be...  until it blooms.

SOMETIMES YOU DON'T KNOW HOW BEAUTIFUL SOMETHING WILL BE UNTIL YOU PATIENTLY AND LOVINGLY GIVE IT CARE, GIVE IT ITS BEST CHANCE, AND WAIT TO SEE IT BLOOM.

I got to thinking. This plant is a little bit like us, isn't it? We don't really know what we are or who we will be until we bloom, either. But all of our life experiences, tenderness and care from those around us...from God, rainy times, sunny times, droughts, and famine, they all make us who we are. Sometimes, I think we bloom over and over again, as I expect this plant will do, and each passing year, we will have stronger roots and more blossoms. Growing, progressing beauty.

I don't know for certain if this plant will be a Black-eyed Susan or not, but I'm attached to it now. I don't think my flower bed would be complete without it. Whatever it will reveal itself to be will be perfect.

THERE IS SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL ABOUT SAVING LIFE THAT IS PRESENT, INDEED.


All is grace,

Home... or not?

Our realtor called.

"I have to advise you not to make any improvements on the house," she warned.

We already have. Sigh.

"If the seller's short sale isn't approved, you could potentially lose the home," she informed. "If it moves into foreclosure, you will have seven months to find another house."

Seven months? If the worst happens, we will have to be gone before Christmas.

I collapsed into IronMan's arms, weeping.

I don't want another house. I want this house. This house is HOME. This house is perfect for our family, for ministry, and for IronMan's growing business. But here we are, again, in this seemingly endless swirl of feeling homeless. My soul is in angst.

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On February 14th, we heard from the seller that our offer was accepted on this house, and I shared on Facebook to announce this amazing news.

When this "Mary Bailey" was a little girl, she threw a "rock" in the Ol' Granville House window, and **THIS** is what she wished for. Today, Valentine's Day 2015, my childhood dreams are coming true!! This is my "Granville House" and we are going to fill it with family, friends, memories, and love. It's been a very long journey, but we are coming HOME!!! Thank you, God!!! This is a miraculous **GRACE**

 
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I, honestly, feel like we have been naive and foolish, but I replay our circumstances over and over in my mind. We didn't know this was going to be a short sale at the time, and I don't think we would have or could have done anything differently. Our house was set to close on Friday, February 27th, the day the first moving truck was going to pull out of my parents' Colorado driveway. We had tons of help lined up for Saturday, February 28th to clean the house (a monstrous task!) and unload the truck (another monstrous task!). We received word on Thursday, February 26th (the moving truck was already loaded) that the house wasn't going to close until Monday, March 2nd, but the seller graciously understood our circumstances and invited us to move in on Saturday, anyway. In good faith, we trekked in a Budget rental truck from Colorado to Indiana, 1,100 miles, 21 hours of brutal straight driving. IronMan flew back to Colorado, packed a second truck full to the brim with the remainder of our belongings and his entire business, and drove another 21 hours straight to Indiana exactly one week later.

In three weeks, we had every box unpacked (two moving trucks full!), our homeschool set up, and IronMan's business organized and ready to go.

I have no idea how we went from the offer being accepted on the house to being in the house, unpacked, and set up for living in five short weeks. We were all utterly exhausted and bone-crunching weary. It seemed worth the deep sacrifice, because we were finally HOME.

...or not?

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We are now 46 days past the original closing date. Other set closing dates have come and gone. It seems there is very little information for us, the buyers, in this circumstance. For the most part, this feels like a silent, excruciating wait.

EXCRUCIATING.

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A couple of years ago, my mom overheard Sunshine Girl talking to the neighbor children. She wasn't sure what the context of the conversation was, but she saw Sunshine Girl put her head down and hesitantly say, "We don't have a house."

For the last two years, our son has asked for a house for every birthday, every Christmas, and every holiday in-between. I found this picture in his school notebook not long after we moved here.

He is so glad to have a house and be HOME.

I see it in all four of my kids. They are in their own space. They are relaxed. They are free.

FREE.

This spring, hyacinths poked up through the thawing spring ground. They whispered to me that there is life waiting here in this house for us. Inside this house, my family is that life.

We have been doing just that. Life. Living.

We have taken home-baked cookies to our neighbors, and my kids are getting acquainted with the neighbor children. We have had meals, games, and learning surround our family table...our FAMILY TABLE!

Lives have intersected inside the walls of this house as our life-space has been filled with dear friends. We have broken bread together, sipped coffee, shared meals, shared hearts, worshiped, and prayed together.

BEAUTIFUL.

My chair is tucked in my favorite corner of this house next to the window and fireplace. I love when the afternoon sunbeams pour warm light in through the window. Sometimes, I come back to my chair at night after I've kissed all of my kids goodnight in their rooms, and soak in the peaceful quiet. It's a haven.

I can tell you, unequivocally, if we have to move from here, we will all be devastated. I'm worried what it would do to my kids' hearts. I'm worried what it will do to ours. We have each other. We have what truly matters, but after a very long line of lousy things happening to us over and over again across two decades, at some level it really does matter what happens here...with this...with what is supposed to be our home. We are having a difficult time believing that anything good can happen to us. Our faith has been riding on an angry ocean for far too long. We thought this house was a gift. I want desperately to believe that it still is.

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We have been through SO MUCH leading up to now, and it's very difficult for me to receive encouragement or truth from someone else if I don't know that they have been through war like we have. It's not arrogant, it's about being authentic, and trusting that someone else is authentic, too. I share on my blog, transparently, so you know that what I share is not just words, but backed by experience. I want you to know you are not alone, because I also know what alone feels like. I want to share drops of encouragement, too, as one who has been tested in many fires.

Yesterday, I came to my blog, heavy-hearted, to write for the first time since November (it's been a long hard winter). I wanted to somehow share what we've been walking through. I've been wanting to write with EXCITEMENT that we have moved back to Indiana and we finally have a HOME, but I couldn't because of this senseless circumstance we are in. We are reserved in our elation, because there is a real chance that we won't get to stay here. Until we know how this is going to turn out, we are in limbo.

If you've never known what it's like to feel that your living place isn't secure, it might be hard for you to understand why we feel such a deep ache. That's okay. I'm truly happy for you if HOME has never been threatened. We haven't owned a home for fourteen years. Our sense of home has been displaced for a very long time, and our three youngest children have never experienced it at all.

I have been praying and crying out to God. I told Him, honestly, that if I knew what His plan was, maybe I could have some measure of peace. Maybe I could go to bed and not cry myself to sleep. If I just knew. Sigh. Obviously, I want to know that this is going to be okay, and the best thing I could hear is that we are here and we are home.

Should I let this go? Or can I plant my heart?

My heart is burdened for my whole family. I am longing for this to be resolved. I am longing for some sign that this will be okay.

When I signed into my blog yesterday (REMEMBER...THE FIRST TIME SINCE NOVEMBER...WITH THIS HEAVINESS IN MY HEART), it took me to the blog navigation page. The first thing that showed up on my blog, right in the middle of the page, was a link from a fellow blogger that I follow. There was ONE picture on the entire page. It was a chalkboard with three words on it. THREE LITTLE WORDS. The words?

YOU. ARE. HOME.

I immediately went to my own chalkboard, tears streaming down my cheeks, and wrote the three words.

YOU ARE HOME.

Can it be?

Has God heard my heart's cry? Is this the answer?

I wrote it on the chalkboard, and on the chalkboard this is going to stay until this is fully resolved. This chalkboard is going to be my encouragement, my reminder when days are hard and doubt and dread press in.

HOME... or NOT?

I have to choose to BELIEVE this is HOME, until I know otherwise. God, please move and answer on our behalf, and answer quickly. Amen.


***********

Always grace,

The Family Table and Longing for Home

Family friends recently celebrated their youngest son's birthday. To create a cozy atmosphere for his fall birthday they prepared their family table by lighting candles in pretty green and red globe holders, as well as candles lovingly crafted by their children in unique autumn leaf holders.

Unexpectedly, one of the beautiful leaf holders caught on fire, consumed the hand-crafted candle, and charred the surface of their table. Gratefully, no one was hurt, and they were able to quickly extinguish the flames, but they were, understandably, sad that their family table was now blemished. My dear friend texted me to share the incident, and I immediately thought of our own family table that was also permanently blemished.

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We purchased our family table when our oldest daughter was six months old, eighteen years ago. Our new table was stored in my grandparents' garage while we lived with them waiting for our house to be built. On June 1, 1997 we moved into our home and used our family table for the very first time. One year later, our family table took the first of several journeys across the miles to another new home in Pennsylvania. During our two year stay in Pennsylvania, we received the phone call you are CERTAIN you will never get. Hearing the news of his mother's tragic death on the other end of the telephone line, our family table fractured under the weight of IronMan's anguish-filled fist. Cracked. Blemished. Forever.

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OUR FAMILY TABLE HAS HELD US WHILE WE'VE WEPT OVER OUR DEEPEST SORROWS.

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WE'VE ALSO EXPERIENCED OUR GREATEST JOYS AROUND IT.

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It's been a gathering place for each new little one that has joined our family. As they grew, all four of them found their own special place of belonging around the table. My kids have learned to read and write around our table. We've painted, colored, drawn, sewn, assembled puzzles, built Lego creations, clay creations, and craft creations. We've made play-doh cookies and Christmas sugar cookies. We've played Checkers, Uno, Parcheesi, Canasta, Chutes and Ladders, Connect Four, Monopoly, and Candy Land (a thousand and one times). We've rolled out pie crusts, assembled lasagna, and mixed up banana bread batter.

It's held our Thanksgiving gatherings, our Christmas celebrations, our family Valentine's parties...

...and it's marked the quickly passing years with each birthday.

The dearest hearts and dearest of friends have gathered around our family table.

That God-bless-it table has even held stacks and stacks and stacks of folded laundry waiting to be put away.

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OUR FAMILY TABLE HAS BEEN THE GATHERING PLACE FOR THE COMMONPLACE. 

BREAKFAST. 

LUNCH. 

DINNER. 

AND MOST THINGS IN BETWEEN. 

THROUGH THE YEARS, THE MEMORIES COLLECTED AROUND OUR RAGGED TABLE NO LONGER SEEM ORDINARY BUT EXTRAORDINARY. 

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Our table has journeyed many miles and resided in several states: Indiana, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Michigan, and then back to Colorado. It's moved with us, so far, a total of 4,445 miles.

FOUR THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE MILES!

Our precious family table has been in Colorado storage for 39 months; 169 weeks; 3 years 2 months and 26 days; 1,183 days waiting for its (hopefully) FOREVER HOME.

ONE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-THREE DAYS.  Sigh.

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WHILE OUR FAMILY TABLE HAS BEEN IN STORAGE, WE HAVE BEEN IN WAITING.

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Our family table tells a story, and I feel like our story has been on hold. But time doesn't really pause for us to take a much needed breath, does it? Especially, with kids.

THE CLOCK TICKS ON, AND WHETHER WE ARE LIVING IN AN IDEAL SITUATION OR NOT, WE HAVE TO MAKE THE BEST OF IT, AND MAKE THE BEST MEMORIES THAT WE CAN LIVING WITHIN THOSE CIRCUMSTANCES.

 ...even without our beloved table.

When we first moved to Colorado to live with my parents, we needed to rest. We needed a break to heal from twenty hard years of ministry. My parents, very generously, invited us to come and live with them. They have been a place to land more than once over the past twenty (plus) years. We will forever be grateful for their goodness to us. Missing our family table and what it represents is not a reflection on the memories made with my parents these past years (which are priceless), but my parents' house is not ours. It has been a resting place.

WHEN YOU'VE DESPERATELY NEEDED REST, AND YOU HAVE GOTTEN REST, YOU ALSO KNOW WHEN THAT REST TIME IS DRAWING TO A CLOSE. 

We have been displaced, but it's time for us to find our place again. It's time to begin again. We are longing for home.

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HOME...

Webster defines homeless as having no home or permanent place of residence.

This is something I've been thinking a lot about lately. I do think Webster is correct, but I also think being homeless has to do with belonging and purpose. It's so much more than not having a house or residence. We aren't where we belong just yet, so in a sense, we are homeless. Home also has to do with roots.

ROOTS...

Google defines roots as the part of a plant that attaches it to the ground or to a support...conveying water and nourishment to the rest of the plant.

Think of this in the aspect of home. Home is your place of belonging, but it's also the place from which you will be nourished as well as nourish. Home will be your support system. Home and roots go hand in hand. If your roots don't have a place to reside, they won't function to their fullest potential of nourishing.

Missing our family table has given me an opportunity to put into words this pining that we feel.  We long for our family table to, once again, collect the memories that tells the story of who we are as a family. Our table needs a house, and we need a home. Together, those two things will form our roots so we can be nourished and, in turn, we can nourish others.

I can say from the deepest part of my being that I believe our rest time will soon be over, and the deepest of our longings, for HOME, will be fulfilled. For our family, the biggest part of home for us is ministry. We are ready. We are ready for our blemished, ragged, imperfectly perfect, precious family table to come out of storage and find its place as the hub and life-filled center of our home, and we are ready to share that with others.
 

 We patiently wait, hope, trust, and believe that it will be sooner than later.

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Thanksgiving is just a few days away and, undoubtedly, most of you will be gathering around a table, perhaps even your own family table. This year, we will gather around my parents' table, and we will say thanks for the gifts we do have, which are many. If you are truly HOME, please don't take it for granted. Thank God for your roots, your belonging, your purpose, your house, your family. If you aren't quite yet home this year, hold on, dear heart. HOME may be just around the corner. There is always, always something to be grateful for. Always. I pray you will be able to see the gifts in front of you, and as you are, we are trusting God for the time when it might be just a bit different than it is right now. I truly believe that it's going to be BEAUTIFUL.

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Always grace,

Mountains, Mulberry Trees, and Mustard Seeds... Thoughts on Faith

"'You don't have enough faith,' Jesus told them. 'I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible.'" (Matthew 17:20)

"The apostles said to the Lord, 'Show us how to increase our faith.' The Lord answered, 'If you have faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'May you be uprooted and thrown into the sea,' and it would obey you!'" (Luke 17:5-6)


In these two verses, Jesus is asked by His followers how to increase, or have more faith. I find Jesus' reply intriguing. He tells them in both accounts, "If you had faith EVEN as small as a mustard seed..."

What strikes me is that the faith they had right then and there, right beside Jesus himself, must have been less than mustard seed sized faith, or Jesus wouldn't have said what He did.

"IF YOU HAD FAITH EVEN AS SMALL AS A MUSTARD SEED..."

A MUSTARD SEED!!

A tiny, miniscule, can-barely-see-it mustard seed...

AND THEY HAD LESS FAITH THAN THAT...

How do you walk and talk with Jesus, follow Him in flesh and blood, how do you hear His voice and feel His touch, experience His tenderness, His mercies, His miracles right there in front of you, and have less faith than a mustard seed?

I'm certain that I know how, and it's simple, really.

THEY WERE HUMAN.

Here you and I are, sort of on the other side of things. We don't have the benefit of being present with Jesus in the flesh. Jesus' followers struggled with faith, and they were right there with Him, and for good measure, let's throw in the fact that we are human, too. I don't know about you, but I want to have faith. I want it to live and breathe and carry me. I want it to seep from my soul. I don't want it to be rattled and shaken.

The truth is, though, sometimes life batters us to bits. Sometimes we feel crushed under the weight that life can be, and sometimes it's hard to hold onto faith at all. So how do you... and how do I... have faith AT LEAST the size of a mustard seed?

HOW??

Did you notice what the two verses also say?

IF...

If you have mustard seed sized faith, then you could say to a mulberry tree, "Be uprooted and thrown into the sea," and it would obey you, and you could tell the mountain to move from here to there and it would. If you have mustard seed sized faith, nothing would be impossible.

NOTHING WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE!!

Do I think we'll be able to uproot a real mulberry tree simply by telling it to
throw itself into the sea? Do I think we'll be able to move a real mountain from one place to another?

NO.

But what are the mulberry trees in your life that need uprooted and tossed away? What are the mountains in your life that need to be moved? The thing about mountains, especially, is that they are usually an entire range. Sure there's Everest and Kilimanjaro, McKinley and Fuji, but mountains are connected to one another: Andes, Rockies, Appalachians, Himalayas. One singular mountain could scarcely move without taking a portion of the next mountain or part of the range with it, so I think of the mountains that need moved more like intertwined circumstances. What are your mulberry trees and mountains, and what is hard in your life right now?

HOW'S YOUR FAITH, FRIEND?

That brings us back to the apparently elusive mustard seed, doesn't it? Sigh. When we are rattled to the core, how do we have faith when everything around us feels faithless or impossible?

"...let us strip off every weight that slows us down...that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance...We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus... who initiates and perfects our faith." (Hebrews 12:1-2)

THERE IT IS.

Strip away things that are slowing us down and keep going, even if it's just one baby step at a time.  

DO NOT GIVE UP!

JESUS IS THE ONE WHO INITIATES OUR FAITH. 

JESUS IS THE ONE WHO PERFECTS OUR FAITH. 

This is freeing, because it's not about us; it's about Him. It is Jesus who stirs faith in us from the start. The apostles were right there in the midst experiencing Jesus, and somehow their eyes must have shifted from Him. Again, they were human. I truly believe that experiencing God is what sparks our faith, and we have to choose to keep our eyes on Him, and we have to choose to keep going.

A real experience = the beginning of faith, and GOD is the one who does it. WE choose to stay on the path while He forges faith in us along the way.

Soooo... that mustard seed sized faith and those seemingly impossible mulberry trees and mountain ranges?

I'M FINDING IN THE MIDST OF HARD LIFE THAT THE IMPOSSIBLE BECOMING POSSIBLE IS NOT SO MUCH THAT MY CIRCUMSTANCE HAS CHANGED, BUT THE FACT THAT I KNOW AND BELIEVE I AM BEING CARRIED THROUGH IT. 

FAITH.

IT IS JESUS WHO SPARKS AND ALSO KEEPS MY FAITH, AND I AM FINDING ON THIS JOURNEY THAT THE MOUNTAINS THAT GET MOVED ARE USUALLY THE ONES INSIDE OF ME.

TRUTH.

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I'm not going to lie. Today marks the three year anniversary of our family leaving Michigan. We, honestly, thought then that we were stepping into the Jordan River and entering the promised land. It turns out that we were only leaving Egypt for the desert. Sigh. We never dreamed that we would be in our forties with four kids, and living with parents. Double sigh. The longing for home is a deep ache, that at times, feels like a crushing weight. We've been on a roller-coaster with IronMan's job the last three years, as well. But we are still here. God has given us just enough to stay on this path following after Him. These days, I am trying to muster up enough belief that the promised land might just be ahead still. We have hope in the midst of the hard, even if we are scratching our way to it. On the roughest of days, my heart's cry is this:

"I DO BELIEVE, BUT HELP ME OVERCOME MY UNBELIEF!" 

My friend, you are not alone. Keep your eyes on Jesus. Don't give up. We will get through this, and the mountains are going to move. I can feel it in my soul bones.


All is grace,