{the space in between}

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to parent a teenager. I don’t know how to move from helicopter mom to teaching my daughter how to fly. I don’t know how to navigate this space in between child and adult.

Those were the words left on my computer screen after I got the call from my husband that I needed to take Zach to football practice, and the message from our carpool that I also needed to pick Tali up from cheer. I have been thinking and praying about this topic for weeks, how to write about this place I find myself in with my daughter… this space in between. As I sat down to write yesterday morning, those were the only words I had. I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to transition this relationship in a healthy way.

I typed them, and then went about my day, praying for a way to articulate all of the wrestling in my spirit. Parenting is hard. But now I'm seeing that parenting a teen is it's own special variety of hard. I'm not good at relinquishing control. I'm not good at watching people I love make less than ideal decisions. As I closed down programs in my computer before climbing in my big, silver taxi and hitting the road [again], they flashed across the screen at me.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to parent with space. I don’t know how to give Tali the room she needs to stretch and grow and fall down and pick herself back up. Especially when I see so much of myself in her.  When I see the me that had everything in front of her and made such poor choices. When I see the me that is afraid to invest emotionally. When I see the me that can’t open up to people.  And I want to tell her the easy path. I want to pour into her the lessons I have learned and have her “get it”- ALL. Without the harsh learning curve I had.

When they are little, when we see them running faster than their little legs are equipped to keep up with we can stop them. We can yell ahead “Don’t run!!! You’ll skin your knees!!! Slow down!” We can keep them from so much hurt. But even when they are little… sometimes they still run. Sometimes the warning comes too late. Sometimes the knees still get skinned.

And here I am with this teenager… and I want to yell “DON’T RUN! Slow down!”… but the truth is, there are going to be bruises and wounds along this path.  And not only can I not keep her from all of them, but it wouldn’t be in her best interest if I did.

Sometimes we learn our best lessons from the skinned knees.

Sometimes that is the only way we figure out how fast our feet can carry us without toppling over.

The thing is, when it’s a six year old’s knee, we can kiss it and put a Band-Aid on it, and offer up a popsicle (because they make EVERYTHING better)… but when it’s a heart. Oh, it’s so much more difficult. And the mama bear desire to protect and guard is strong…

And that’s where I found myself standing in the shower, tears running down my face asking God… how far do I let her go? How closely do I guard?  Oh Lord, what decisions do I let her make, and which ones do I make the call?

And He answered… how far will I let you go, Becky?

And I know, He will let me go as far as necessary to learn to lean. He will guide and direct and steer with the power of His Holy Spirit, but in the end, the choice is mine. The path is laid out before me, His way and Mine… and I get to choose.

And so it is in this space in between with my teen… I can guide and direct, I can lay out the options and explain the consequences… but in the end she will decide. She will choose to be home by curfew or not. She will choose the way of honesty or not. She will save sacred spaces in her life or not. 

I recall my mom warning me when Tali was two years old and throwing a temper tantrum… “what seems cute and harmless at two isn’t so cute and harmless at thirteen, you are setting the stage now”.  She was so right. Oh, moms of littles, imagine that temper tantrum or talking back or ignoring the rules on a teenager and use that as a gauge as to how seriously you will take it now.  How far will you let them go, now? Because when they are teens those are the tools they will have in their tool belt to make their own decisions.  Be mindful of the pace you set for them now, because tomorrow, they will need to know how fast they can run.

My job as a parent is far from over, but it is definitely changing. My littles are now 11 and 13, and just aren’t so little anymore. It’s a season of transition and I don’t know exactly what it is supposed to look like or how to know if we are doing it well. I look back and hope and pray that we have laid a firm foundation. I pray that we have the courage to let our children fly, even when the nest seems so safe. In the end,  it's not even about her heeding my advice. But learning to hear the Father's voice. Following His call on her life. Letting Him pick her up when she stumbles.

I know that I can warn (and I will), I can call out “don’t run!”… but in the end, these years are about Tali learning how to set the pace. Learning how fast she can run without toppling over. Learning who she is and setting her sights on who she wants to be.  Learning how to navigate disappointment and words that hurt and relationships that are complicated and friends who aren’t.

And maybe, the best thing I can do is be there with a hug and a popsicle when the knees get skinned a little.   

But it’s hard. It’s hard to bite my tongue when I want to offer advice. It’s hard to navigate a space where words are easier spoken via text message than face to face and to know if that’s okay. It’s hard to see so much of me.  It’s hard not to guard and protect against every hurt.  It’s hard not to micromanage. It’s hard to honor the space she needs to grow.

And so that is where I was yesterday, as I typed those words on my computer screen.

I don’t know how to do this.

I don’t know how to navigate this thing. I don’t know how to parent a teenager because I’ve never done it before… and it’s too important to mess up. I feel inadequate and overprotective and scared and excited and sad all at the same time. This space in between… it’s hard.

Those words… I don’t know how to do this… danced in my head as we pulled out of the high school parking lot and the tears began to trickle down Tali’s cheeks. She poured out her hurt and her frustration and her disappointment, and I thanked God that she trusts me with these things, and asked Him to please help me have words that would encourage and build up and teach and challenge…

We talked. I told her that it did suck. I told her that it was okay to be upset and frustrated. I told her it was not okay to give up. I told her to remember she is good enough, and not to let anything change her smile.

And that’s when I opened the envelope with six one dollar bills in it. Money that someone had just given me unexpectedly. Money that I didn’t even realize I was “owed”.

Looking at the money I had a crazy idea…

“Steve and Kinzi are behind us… what do you think they would do if we threw this money at them?”

“What?!” Tali asked… and a smile began to spread across her face… “we could throw it out the sunroof!!”… so I gave her three dollars (because really, throwing money out the window IS crazy, and Dave Ramsey would NOT approve, and so we were only gonna toss half of it because apparently that makes it –OK–). And one at a time she tossed them out the sun roof.

Tali's Facebook Status last night. #worthit

Turns out, money is quite dramatic flying out a sunroof at 60mph.  

And it was hilarious.

We watched the shock on our friends’ faces as the money flew back toward them….

And we laughed til the tears changed.

Her friend called her, and we giggled even harder. She also threw one more dollar out just for good measure.

It wasn’t a Popsicle. It wasn’t a Band-Aid. But it was the best $4 I have ever spent.

When I got home, I opened my computer and I saw those words again…

I don’t know how to do this.

And the truth is, I don't. But in that moment I heard my Father speak loud and clear... but I do. 

Father, help us lean on you as we parent. Help us lean on you as we navigate new seasons. Help us lean on you to guide and direct our yes's and our no's. Be the Light to this path, Jesus. In Your Name we pray, AMEN.

{don't step here}

A few weeks ago I interrupted my kids' summer plans of vegging-out-in-the-air-conditioned-house-alllllll-day by forcing them to come pick wild flowers with me. I was helping with a party for a friend, and with the wild flowers in bloom along every country road in Southern Indiana I knew we could get enough to decorate.

I had been scoping good spots on my adventures to and from photo shoots for a week or so, and knew there was a place that had shoots of beautiful little purple flowers that would be perfect, so we would start there.

Begrudgingly, they helped me get containers of water in a galvanized tub and off we went.

I parked at the side of the road and headed into an overgrown patch of purple flowers that had caught my attention days before. All of the space around these intermittent patches of flowers was mowed and as I neared I saw why the mowers stayed away from here- it was wet, "marshy" looking soil. As I walked directly to the flowers I realized there was a small ditch full of water, and that just on the other side of it was muddy, soggy soil- just enough to keep me away from any of the flowers on this side.

"Don't step here!" I cautioned the kids, "it's nothing but mud." I turned and walked away to see if we could get to them from the side or back, away from the road and the ditch, thinking it would be a bit drier that way.

And then it happened.

"Hey mom! You can go right HERE------" and taking a big step over the water, she stepped HARD into the DEEP mud just on the other side of it.

And with a squeal, Tali was in mud almost up to her knee.

Pulling her leg out, her favorite Cons were caked in mud. Her new white shorts splattered.

I could have been mad. I just told her not to step there.

But all I did was shake my head, laughed out loud, and said "I told you not to step there... there's a towel in the back of the car", and went on looking for a way to the flowers, which I found.

As she cleaned herself up, and moved on to an easier location to cut flowers across the road, I happily collected the perfect purple flowers for my decorations, and thanked God for providing them at just the right time, mud and all.

And then I could see it.

I could see how He so often says "don't step here, Becky... this way is nothing but mud" and in my stubbornness and pride and thinking I can find a better-faster-quicker-easier work-around than His way... I step right in it.

At one point in my life, I actively sought out the mud. But that's not what I saw here. Tali didn't want to get mud on her brand new white shorts, and she DEFINITELY didn't want to have it seeping in every stitch of her Converse. She just wanted to help mom get to the flowers and thought she knew the way.

She didn't realize that my words of caution weren't about the obvious water in the ditch, it was because I could see the soggy soil on the other side. I recognized the mud shining just beneath the tall grass that obscured it from her sight.

Being a parent looks a lot like that. It's guarding our children and saying "don't walk there" because we can see the mud. We can see the heartache, we can see the pain, we can see the compromise, we can see the danger. I have said to both of my children at various times "I don't say no because I hate you, even if it feels like that- it's because I love you enough to say no".

Sometimes I have had to say no to things the kids really wanted to do. "All" of their friends would be there, or are playing that game, or seeing that movie, or are allowed to... Honestly, the easy thing to do would be to say yes. Honestly, this momma's heart never wants her kids to miss out. Honestly, I don't want to be the "lame" mom.

Honestly, I want to fit in too.

So I get it.

But at the end of the day, Jim and I are set as guards about our children, and their hearts. And sometimes our job is to say no. Even when the yes is a lot more comfortable.

And each of us have this Heavenly Father who is so much better than us at parenting. Sometimes I miss things. Sometimes I let something go and then look back and realize the slippery slope we've found ourselves on, how easily it would be to slide into the muck, and we have to regroup (which is even harder than the "no" would have been in the first place). Video games put on the shelf indefinitely. Television shows no longer tuned in. Relationships learned from.


But if I'm really honest, there was this voice in my ears all along saying "Becky, this is the way... walk in it". If I'm really honest I wanted to say YES to them so much more than I wanted to heed His "no".

My walk with the Lord has been one of learning that His "no" always has a purpose. A protection. I am learning that He sees things just beyond the obvious that I cannot know. I am learning that His way... that narrow road is worth it.

And my heart rejoices that my children are learning that too.

A couple of weeks ago, I had to give Tali what felt to me to be an all-too-familiar NO to something. I can't even tell you now what that something was, but I do remember the conversation we had later that day. We were in the car when she said: "Mom, you and dad always say yes unless you have a REASON. We know if you tell us no, there is a good reason why."

And my heart sang. For you moms with littles and it seems so hard and the answer always seems to be NO and it feels like a lot of chasing and stopping and disciplining... let me offer you this hope... someday they will see.

Some day you will be riding in your car, sipping on a Lic's milkshake, and your daughter will say "I trust you" and it will be worth it. 

Some day your child will tell you that he had a choice to make, and he chose honesty. And it will be worth it.

Some day you will have a daughter navigating an entirely new kind of relationship and you will give her advice and she will say "I just told him the same thing last night!!!" And it will be worth it.

They might not always like it (and we have had heated discussions in GameStop or via text message because of it), but somehow in this crazy-hard journey that is full of so much joy and adventure and peace... they are learning the purpose in the no.

Somehow, in this crazy-hard journey that is full of so much joy and adventure and peace... I am too.

I am also seeing that there is a lot more "yes" than "no" in our Father's heart. Tali said the same thing over those milkshakes- "Mom, you always say yes unless you have a reason".

Father is perfect in His love, and so, if he is telling you no, you can trust Him. Our God knows that the mud, whether it sneaks up on us or allures us, is a thief. It steals our time and our joy and our purity and our peace. When He says "this is the way..." it's not because He wants to keep us from the joy of another journey, it's because He so clearly sees the pain down that path.

Father doesn't want us holed up in our homes all of the time- He wants us out picking the flowers.  He wants us enjoying the journey. He wants us living this life, and living it to the FULLEST. He knows it can get messy out there, but if we will listen He will show us where to step. He will show us the way.

I think about Michelle Duggar from "19 Kids and Counting"... when she is talking to her children she will say "I need your eyes" because she knows "when you have their eyes, you have their attention".

As we walk this out, I hear our Daddy saying "I need your eyes"... He needs our eyes fixed on Him. He needs our ears attentive to His voice. He needs us to trust His path and His good purpose in our lives. Would you give Him those things today? Would you give Him your focused attention in this next step He is asking you to take? Would you allow Him to guide your parenting? Your next career step? That relationship decision?

Will you listen when He says "Don't step here, it's nothing but mud..."

{overwhelmed}

After months of planning, dreaming, talking, saving, we arrived at Hilton Head Island. In the middle of a horrendous downpour. Unable to do the anticipated mad dash to the beach, we instead unloaded, unpacked, and headed to the grocery store to buy what we would need for the week. By the time we got back to our villa and had supper it was no longer raining, but it was also completely dark.

Despite the late hour, I still wanted to touch the beach... to see the ocean... even if by a moonlit sky. We were only a short walk over the boardwalk away, after all. And it had stopped raining. And it was our first time ever at Hilton Head. And my first time ever to see the ocean... and so we went.

As we walked across the boardwalk in the dark, I thought about my only other attempt to visit the ocean. I was eighteen years old with a friend of mine. We set out on the road for Virginia Beach, only to have the transmission go out on our car in the middle of the night in West Virginia. Days later with a brand spankin' new transmission we headed on... only to arrive in Virginia Beach in the middle of a tropical storm that had all local beaches closed. We spent one night within walking distance of the ocean, yet I headed home never having laid eyes on it.

This trip would not be the same. Come storm or high water or late arrivals- I would see the ocean. And not just the glimpse we could catch from our balcony... I wanted to touch it. To take in the enormity of the OCEAN... to gaze out over the endless waters and marvel at the fact that God measures all of it in the cup of His palm. I wanted to be overwhelmed... by the ocean, by the beauty of creation, by my God.

As we neared the ocean, the remnants of the evenings storms were still palpable in the air. The wind was rushing into our faces, making the perfect towel-cape blowing scenario for an eleven year old boy.  Yet within me was a growing unease. We passed only four people on the entire boardwalk. We saw no lights and heard no other voices in the night air. The roar of the waves grew louder. And with clouds overtaking the moon, darkness closed in on us as we stepped from the boardwalk to the beach. 

Jim, having been to the beach many times marched onward toward the waves. Tali, flashlight in hand followed close behind. Zach stood with me on the beach path for a few minutes, then seeing that nothing swooped in and swept away the rest of his family, he joined his sister and dad further down on the beach.

And I stood, frozen. The ocean was so LOUD. Why didn't I realize it would be so loud? A short distance away I could see the white waves crashing against the shore but other than that there was only the black of the night sky meeting the black of the water.  With the wind howling around me, darkness surrounding, and the roar of the ocean overtaking my senses… I was gripped with fear.

A couple came stumbling toward me as my family giggled a few yards down the beach. “Be careful!” the guy laughed… “you’ll get lost!” The girl picked up where he left off telling me about their nighttime adventure strolling the beach. Their words were full of joy… and yet they drove the stake of terror deeper into my heart. Lost?! The couple wandered away, giggling and holding hands.

“Let’s come back tomorrow” I called out to my family. They were straying too far into the darkness for my liking. While I couldn’t really see the ocean, I could feel it’s power and immensity. I was overwhelmed in the purest sense of the word. I was paralyzed with fear and terrified for my family to go any farther on the dark beach.

My son ran by me, towel over his head and flying behind him in proper fashion. Tali investigated something with her flashlight. Jim called out for me to come join him. But my feet would not move from their spot at the end of the boardwalk. Fear was gripping me, growing from a nagging concern deep in my heart to an overwhelming anxiety and confusion. I couldn't make sense of anything, it was all so unknown. As hard as I strained into the darkness I could only see black with a bit of white foam interrupting sporadically. 

Once, it took a storm to keep me from realizing my dream of walking in the ocean. This time, it took only my own fear of the unknown. I was 37 years old, standing on the shore for the first time in my life, and I was terrified. 

As I stood there, I could hear God whispering... teaching. I had come to the ocean to see His face, in a way. I wanted to TOUCH the immensity of the ocean that He holds in the depth of His palm. I wanted to look farther than my eye could see and know there was STILL MORE… that the waters went on and on and on and on. That they went down to depths I can't even imagine… just like this God that I love. Just like this God that loves me.

But we want to meet God in the bright light of day. In the comfort of a church sanctuary, or in the blessing of a new baby. We don't want to meet God in the darkness... when confusion and chaos abounds and all we hear is the roar of His power.

How many find themselves frozen at the end of the boardwalk when God is right there. Unable to see clearly, we don’t know where to step, or what this journey will require. How far can we go and be safe? How far can we go and not get lost? What if it overtakes us? What if it literally overwhelms us, sweeping over our heads and requiring everything? What if?

I looked at my family’s reactions to the exact same beach in the exact same dark with the exact same wind blowing their faces and the exact same ocean roar assaulting their ears.

My husband, having been to a beach at night before knew that there would be soft waters at the edge to warn you that you are close. He understood the gradual slope of a natural beach, and how far one would have to go to get even knee deep in the dark waters.  If he feared, he did not show it. He trusted what he knew about the ocean and the beach… and he marched confidently toward the waves.

My daughter, flashlight in hand and close behind the one she knew would never, ever lead her into danger didn't register a hint of fear either. She had a bit of light in her hand to illuminate her steps immediately before her, and was close to one that she trusted.

My son, hanging back at first. Pacing fearfully… yet anxious not to miss out on a single adventure this vacation had to offer. Waiting to make sure dad and sister were okay- then running with abandon around the beach.

They were not hindered by fear, at least not their own.

They were not hindered by fear, until I called out to them to return. Until they heard it in my voice, despite my chipper “let’s come back in the morning, when it’s light… We can come back when we can see and explore”… I am certain they all knew from my frozen stance on the beach that mom was not comfortable with this scenario. Not one little bit.

They were not hindered by fear, I until hindered them with mine.

Today we returned to the same beach by the same boardwalk. The wind is blowing in my face as I type these words. The roar of the ocean drowning out the squeals of nearby children.

But it’s entirely different in the light of day.

The ocean has not changed. It is still immense. Powerful. As I waded out in it this morning, waves crashed over my head and I cried out with delight. Psalm 42:7  immediately came to mind… “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.” Literally His waves and breakers swept over me. And in the Light… it was welcomed and beautiful.

Before we know God… before we have His Light… He is so much. The power and the might and the majesty is just… too much. It is too dark and too frightening… too awesome. And we are overwhelmed. But if we would trust one who had walked before us, or take with us a tiny hand held light from His Word, or look to those running with abandon even in the unknown of His presence… maybe then we would have the confidence to step out of our fear and into the enormity of who He is.

Having met the ocean in the light, I’m curious what my response will be if we return tonight. I have a feeling that, having known the Light I will now have the confidence to explore even in the night.

When I came to the Lord, it was initially terrifying. I looked into my sin stained life and knew… the requirement would be high. I knew that He wasn't a God satisfied with a portion, but that in time, He would want it all. Everything. But, like the sun rising in my life I could see His beauty. I could see both His immensity, and the gentle way He crashed to the shore… the gradual slope of the beach into His depths. Even how, if we plant ourselves in beach chairs a safe distance from the crashing surf… He will eventually make His way to us with His rising tides tickling our toes.

Last night as we returned to our villa, not having touched the ocean, the Lord asked me if I was willing to trust Him in the dark, as well. To trust Him in the unknown… to trust Him in the dreams He has planted in my heart. To know that He is the same God at night as He is during the day… to take my knowledge of His gentle surf into the darkness with me. And to TRUST.

I wonder, reader, where you are in your experience with God? Is He still an overwhelming unknown? Take comfort in the scripture that says “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”… know that as He did with me, on this beach last night… He will meet you in your fear, and begin to teach you the unsearchable truths of His Kingdom. Also remember that this is only the beginning of wisdom- He never desired that we would stay in this place. Rather He tells us that perfectlove casts out all fear! Take a step into the unknown, and then like dawn His light will begin to shine over your life. You will see and know the wonders of our Lord…

Or maybe you are like me… you have been walking with the Lord for some time now. You have known His miracles and seen His good works. You have seen His hand of protection and providence in your life. You have learned to trust Him in the light… but now the path before you is uncertain. It’s big and frightening and it seems as though it may overtake you. He wants you to be reminded today that He is the same God in the dark as He is in the light. He is the same God in the day as the night. He is the same God who met you in your first adventure on the beach, and He is the same God that will be there when your dream is within reach. He is the same.

Don’t let your fear tell you anything differently. Don’t let your fear cause you to focus on the roar of His power and miss the gentle tickling of the surf on your toes. Don’t let your fear convince you that the darkness will win. Don’t let your fear hold you captive at the end of the boardwalk.

Don't let your fear hinder you. 

Don't let your fear hinder the ones you love.

I wish this tale was one of a family who, in their excited first night at the beach, giggled and ran along the shoreline. How we got lost… and then found our way again. How we made memories that first night that will last a lifetime. But instead, my fear caused us to turn just shy of the ocean and return to the safety of what we already knew. I let my fear keep them from a memory, hold me back from putting my toes in the ocean...

Today we get a re-do. Today we sit at the beach and enjoy the surf and take in the wonder of God's

handiwork. Today, I stood at the edge of an endless ocean and cried tears at the enormous beauty of it all. Today we played in the surf and napped at the waters edge. Tonight we can walk to the beach again, and take with us the knowledge of what we saw in the light. I can step into the unknown confidently, taking with me the lessons learned last night.

We don't always get a re-do in this life. Friends, don't let your fear of the unknown you paralyze you at the end of the boardwalk. Don't let the dream you can't see clearly fade into the distance as you return to the thing you have already known. Don't miss out on adventure with our great, big God because His power seems so overwhelming in the darkness of this life.

Step into the sand. Let the enormous power of the ocean meet you with gentle surf. Take it all in.

Don't let fear hinder you... or the ones you love.

Learning to run my race

My husband and I watched with great anticipation as our daughter took her place on the track.  It was the first track meet of the season, and she would be running the second leg of the 4x100m relay. The gun sounded and her friend sprinted toward her, the baton was handed off, and Tali took off. Well, she sort of took off. She looked every part the runner, her stride was long and beautiful, her back was straight, her arms were pumping appropriately... but it looked as though she was running into a strong headwind no one else was experiencing.  The kids from other schools quickly pulled away from her in that 100m and when Tali handed off the baton to her teammate, they were solidly in last place.

Our kids have not necessarily been ones who excelled at everything they put their effort to, but they have usually been near the front of the proverbial pack. This sinking to last was a new feeling for Tali.. and for mom and dad cheering from the crowd.

I wondered how she would do as her team came across the finish line in last place. Worried I watched for a crestfallen expression, slumped shoulders, all the symptoms of defeat... and instead I saw Tali skipping and laughing across the infield to meet the rest of her team. I observed her joking with friends on the bleachers between events. I watched as she went to help other runners with the starting blocks. She was just fine.

As we marched our way through track season, very little changed. Tali did occasionally get placed on the fastest relay team for her school, which meant despite her running-into-a-headwind-technique she still managed to pull a couple of blue ribbons with her team. She remained steadfast and faithful to track practice, despite the fact that when I asked how it went she would answer "awful!" with the biggest smile.

So at the last meet of the season, I knew what to expect. My friend had joined me to keep me company and to cheer Tali on. I warned her about the headwind, and she laughed with me when it came to pass. Another event and much of the same.

That's when the social-worker-I-care-about-feelings rose up in my friend and she asked "How is she doing with all of this".

"All of what?"

"All of this, you know... not excelling at something" (<--- which is a very nice social-worker-i-care-about-feelings way of saying losing). 

I paused. And I realized... she's doing really good with it all.

Actually, she is excelling at... being mediocre (at best)... sticking with something that is HARD... maintaining a positive attitude even when she isn't clutching a fist full of blue ribbons or hearing her name over the loud speaker.

And sitting there with the cold wind blowing and a thick quilt over my legs at a junior high track meet, I realized that this is the very lesson the Lord has been teaching me for the last eighteen months. How to run my own race, even when I'm not hearing my name announced over the loud speaker or earning blue ribbons. And even more, how to run the same race... when I am receiving those things. 

A few years ago, with a heart bursting full of words and encouragement and love of a Savior, I started this blog. I wrote the words He placed on my heart with abandon and joy, and I was simply amazed anytime someone would comment or click or share. I never expected to be a "big deal", I was just loving the race that He had me running and that it included something I loved so much. THIS. Writing. Sharing His truth and grace and love. Encouraging.

But somewhere along the race, I started looking to the right and to the left. I strained my eyes to look at the runners ahead of me, and glanced over my shoulder and those behind... and the comparison game began. I became obsessed with the numbers on the stat screen.  My heart wanted to walk in humility, I refused to self-promote beyond a single share on facebook, but I could feel the tightening of pride when others were more "successful" than I... and envy would make a strangle hold on my heart. I found my eyes darting toward the crowd and wondering how many of those eyes were on me, cheering for me... or were they all looking to the one finishing so far ahead? And then, when I heard my name... my heart would pound with the ecstasy of affirmation.

As I became jealous for the attention of others, Jesus became jealous for mine. And because He is a good God, faithful even when we are not, He stepped in and saved me from myself.

The writing stopped. The teaching paused. And a break began.

You guys, I am writing this from the most raw place that I can. I am raising my hand and saying "Hi, my name is Becky, and I am a recovering approval addict". I am admitting that I lived in a place of jealousy and fear. My eyes had strayed from Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith. My mind was no longer fixed on the one that promises perfect peace.  I dared not dream big for myself, for fear of failure. What would people think if... I dared not dream for ME, because the dream she was walking in seemed to be working better.  I was a mess of contradictions... I wanted affirmation in the small things but was afraid to walk in the actual call on my life for fear it would look like pride.  I knew that in all things I was nothing without Him, I didn't want His glory for myself, just a little affirmation from man so I would know I was on the right track. As it seems to be with all things in me, that need for a little grew to to a need for a LOT. And I didn't even know it!

Over the last year and a half, He has been refocusing my attention. He has turned my eyes back to His and reminded me that only His affirmation matters. He has taught me that false humility is really pride, and that genuine humility only comes from hiding oneself deep in His heart. He has healed wounds I didn't even realize were there, and has offered me a whole, unblemished, unwounded heart.

He has loved me well. And gently. He has cheered me on from the stands as I ran... and failed. He has taught me to look to Him at that moment with a smile on my face and genuine joy in my heart and mouth the words "I tried!!!"  He has calmed my heart with the quiet whisper of "well done" when I doubted the step I had just taken. He has winked with a smile when that thing done in secret, stayed in secret. He has beamed when I cheered a teammate across the finish line, or held the starting block for her so that her footing would be sure as she takes off.

His plan had not changed... and for me it still included this... Writing. Encouraging. Sharing. But He had to push the pause button to teach me how to focus on Him and Him alone, so that I can be free. So that I can be free of the affirmation addiction I found myself spinning in. So that I can be free of need for approval of man. So that I can be free of fear of man. So that I can be free in Him, to say and do whatever He would call me to- as crazy as it sounds or seems or is. So that I can be free to cheer on others who are running faster than me. Achieving things in this world, and receiving the affirmation of others, and my heart can well up with genuine JOY and say "you go girl!"

Just as Tali hopped in my car that day, bragging about the super fast time her friend had run in the 100 meter.  I asked her as we pulled out of the parking lot how she felt the season went for her and the answer came with no hesitation, "really good... Mrs. Dillon told me that I have improved a lot this season" and she proceeded to rattle off times that demonstrated her personal improvement.

And there it is.

My daughter went into this track season knowing that she would probably be running at the back of the pack. And she was okay with that. Her goals were to stay in shape, and to improve on her personal times during the season. And she did. Because she kept her eyes on her own race, and didn't bother with comparing herself to her friends who were created to run. Had she started looking around played the comparison game, how long before discouragement set in? 

My friend, set your eyes on your own race. Trust the path that Jesus has you on. I promise you, it isn't going to look like my race, or her race, or his race... because He is a creative Creator and He has laid out a path unique to you. It doesn't matter if others hear the cheer of the crowd for something you wish you could have done as well... because your Father is still in the stands screaming like crazy because He knows... He knows what your time was yesterday and last week and three years ago... He knows how far you have come!! And so He has a giant foam finger with your name on it and He is chanting YOUR name with abandon. Keep your eye in your lane, and run the race set before you, and no matter how long it takes you to make your way around that track when you [finally] do, He will greet you at the finish line and with a hug whisper the sweetest of all words "well done..."

I am not saying that I have this approval thing all figured out. But He has been confirming again and again and again that this is where He wants me in this season. Writing. Sharing. Encouraging. He has calmed my heart with the promise that He loves me enough to strip away anything that becomes a distraction, even ministry. So I can put words to screen and offer them to you... all the while trusting HIM. He's letting me throw my hat back in this ring, and I'm going in knowing that I may be running around at the back of the pack... and that's okay. Because I hear my Daddy cheering from the stands, and that's all that matters.


For more on keeping your eyes on Jesus and breaking free of affirmation addiction:
Bob Sorge, It's Not Business, It's Peronal 
Jennifer Dukes Lee, Love Idol
In addition to God's personal voice speaking to me, these books were instrumental in awakening my heart to the truth of God's jealous love for me, and the empty promise man's affirmation holds. 

a daddy's love

I answered the phone knowing what he would say...

"I found Lily" and then, voice cracking, "she's gone."

Details, question- where, how, are you sure? How does she look? Can Tali see her? What should I do?

"I will have her on the back deck, Tali can see her."

The walk to Tali's room filled with prayer. And she knew the minute she saw my face. She had just been helping her daddy look for her Lily, he had just sent her inside...

"No Mommy, no..."

And then she ran outside... to her daddy... to her beloved pup... to a scene that broke this heart wide open.

Jim stood on the steps, cradling the ball of fluff that was our Lily girl in his arms... sobbing. The voice that had cracked on the phone, was overcome when his little girl came bursting through the back door in search of her "little ball of love" (as Tali once described Lily in a school paper).

We all loved Lily. but I knew standing their that Jim's grief came more from seeing his baby girl broken as anything else.

That's a daddy's heart.

It's a heart that seeks to protect and guide and care for... it's a heart that breaks when his children's breaks. It's a heart that will sit on the back deck, cradling the lifeless body of a dog, for as long as his little girl needs to say goodbye.

As I stood there in the cool of the night watching the scene unfold... my heart was wrecked. It was wrecked for my little girl, grieving. It was wrecked with love for my husband, such a good, good daddy. And it was wrecked with a vision of how our own Daddy God loves us.

Jim's construction green shirt showing the evidence of a long days work, hands stained from an evening repairing his truck... and his strong arms gently cradling the eight pound dog he just carried from the highway.

And I thought... This... this is how our Daddy God carries OUR grief.

Despite the big things going on in the world... our Daddy captures every one of our tears in a bottle. Each is precious to Him. He meets you in your grief. And He will sit with you, on the back deck, for as long as you need to work through it.

He will enter into your grief with you. Not a distant being gazing at you, watching from afar... a person, there, holding your grief in His strong arms. Present... in the moment. Grieving with you.

I think about Jesus as He made His way to Lazarus's tomb... when Mary threw herself at Jesus's feet, wracked by grief over the loss of her brother... Jesus wept.

Jesus joined her in her grief... even though He knew He would be bringing Lazarus back... Why? Why would Jesus cry? He wasn't grieving because He would never see Lazarus again. He didn't cry because He was late to the funeral. He grieved because the one He loved grieved. He hurt because she hurt.

He hurts when you hurt.

I saw such a beautiful, heart wrenching picture of this on Monday night.A daddy's tears shed one for one for the tears of his daughter. Strong arms carrying her affection and grief. Not rushing her to move through her emotions... but joining her in them. Processing with her. The utmost of respect given to a grave, a dignified spot in the yard, a stone to mark a little life full of love. And later, when sleep would not come, pulling his little girl onto his lap. Validating her brokenness and in doing so, beginning the fine work of putting her back together again.

Such a good, good daddy.

So much like another Daddy I know.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1a

[You can read about the day we found Lily here]

Also- to update, Tali is processing her grief well. She still has tearful, "Lily is really gone" moments... and I certainly have never seen her grieve so deeply, but am proud of how she has leaned on us and her Daddy God to comfort. 

parental whiplash

Sometimes we do things right. Sometimes we make big mistakes.

I think that our Father is not so much concerned with the weight of one to the other, as how we respond in each of the situations.

A week or so ago I got a text about one of my kids from their teacher. They had stood up for a friend who was being picked on at school. My mommy’s heart was so proud…  I have been talking to them both about being more than kids who do the right thing… but being kids who stand up against the wrong thing. And so it was such an encouragement to see in action the words spoken into my kiddos' hearts, affirmation that something might actually be going right at home… which is always great because no one knows better than me how messed up things can be there at times!

I was on a mommy high. The kind where your heart is full of pride at the people your kids are growing into being. I may or may not have made a Facebook status to that end.

And then, literally minutes later, the phone rang. My husband asked “Which of the kids have been buying things with their Kindles?”… wha? huh? seriously? The kids that I may or may not have just posted about being incredible kids… have overdrawn his checking account?

Talk about parental whiplash.

The rest of the phone conversation was a mix of “I-can’t-believes” and “Surely-there’s-a-mistakes”… but the proof was there, in his hands. A bank statement with not one, or two, or four “Amazon Digital” charges. 

But twenty-nine.

Hanging up the phone, I quietly asked “who has been buying things with their kindle???”

One small hand silently raised to shoulder level.

My heart sunk. The “surely not’s” became reality. Twenty-nine times my child had pressed buy to the tune of $183.40. Plus fees for the overdrawn account.

I may or may not have removed a facebook status about being proud of the incredible people my children were growing into being. One had stood up to a bully at school, the other had overdrawn our checking account. Life has a way of leveling the parental teeter-totter.

That evening turned into a lecture/fact-finding mission that would not end.  Surely they were confused and did not realize what they were doing? Surely they forgot that the kindle fire was tied to our checking account? Surely??

But when it all boiled down, and I asked the simple question “Did you know you were doing something wrong when you hit buy?”, and two big, sad brown eyes peered back at me with a quiet but honest “yes”… there was no longer any question.

At that moment my heart was flooded with a swell of emotions.

Disappointment… they knew better. They had been warned, threatened, and reminded.

Frustration… did I mention they knew better? Seriously, I could imagine once, or twice… but twenty-nine times! In 24 hours?! And they didn’t even buy apps, just upgrades to a game they were playing…

Hurt… because they were so disappointed in themselves. So embarrassed. So sad. The tears flowed steadily all night long and it always hurts to see your child hurting.

But more surprising than any other emotion was the…

Pride.

Not one time did they deny their actions, or make excuses. No whining about consequences or punishments. In fact they had volunteered to sell something near and dear to their heart in order to pay daddy back. They agreed without question to using their chore money to pay him back in the meantime. The kindle was handed over, without the weeping and gnashing of teeth that have accompanied its restriction in the past.  When we explained that they would have to go into the banker and apologize for overdrawing daddy’s account, they looked me right in the eye with an “okay”, and then dropping their chin to their chest, cried silently.

The consequences hurt, but they have walked through each one of them without question. Without whining. Without excuses or blame shifting or fit throwing.

And there is a part me that knows… the lesson has been learned. Neither of my children will ever, ever, ever make a Kindle transaction without our express written consent in the future.  The lesson was learned the moment they were caught and that hand rose slowly into the air.

But there still must be discipline. There still must be consequence.  What would be learned if we covered the mistake with no price to pay? With no sacrifice?

I think of the passage of scripture that says our Father “disciplines those He loves”.  It is a good thing to have a Father who loves you enough to discipline you. To sit, as Jim did with our child, and say “I love you so much. SO MUCH. Had you just asked I would have given you an amount you could spend. But this is unacceptable. You took more than your daddy had to give you…”

My mom cautioned me when my daughter was a toddler and my son was just a baby- ”Becky, you aren’t raising children. You are raising adults… keep that in mind”

It’s good to have a Daddy who will discipline you. It’s good to know the Father’s love. Love that is deep enough He can not be satisfied with you being anything less than mature and complete. Who is raising us up to be a people set apart, different. That loves us enough to walk us through difficult times... times that refine us and grow us.

It’s also good to know, that in the moments of our greatest triumphs and our greatest mistakes… the Father is still proud. That He never gets parental whiplash. He is never surprised by anything we do, or do not do. That when we walk in obedience, or disobedience... He loves us just the same. Just as I love my kids... when they are right and when they are wrong. Just as I have been so proud of them over this last week, of their courage and humility and integrity in the face of major consequences.

And so, tonight I can say with no wavering, with no doubt… how incredibly proud I am of my children. How blessed I am to have the opportunity to be their mommy, and how proud I am of the people they are becoming. Not because they are perfect… but because of who they are, even in the midst of major league mistakes.

And no matter what you have done... right or wrong... I can so easily hear Daddy God saying the same thing… about you.

happy birthday, to the little girl who changed my life...

Twelve and a half years ago I made a routine visit to my doctor’s office.  After the visit, as I sat on the side of the table, he asked “is there anything else we need to talk about”. I remember the nervous tension filling my body as the words tumbled out… “well… maybe it’s not a big deal, but we’ve been trying to have a baby for about a year, with no luck”.

I also remember the look on the doctor’s face. Concern.

He quickly responded that it did not have to be a big deal, but that really, we should be doing prenatal visits by now. Let’s look a little closer.

An ultrasound later, my mind was spinning with new terminology, a diagnoses, prescriptions…

PCOS. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It explained so much… missed cycles, no baby, that frustrating couple of hairs on my chinny-chin-chin. There was still blood work to be done, but the doctor was certain this was the cause of our delay.  

What was already a preoccupation with getting pregnant became a full out obsession. The next months were a flurry of fertility drugs, basal thermometers, cycle charts, message boards, pregnancy tests, internet research… it was a roller coaster from the heights of hope, to the depths of disappointment. It was a season of feeling less-than. Friends got pregnant who weren’t even trying… what was wrong with me that I couldn’t have a baby? What had I done?  There were days laying in a darkened bedroom when the blood test revealed no chance of ovulation.

And I was going it alone. Of course Jim was there (he was necessary to the process, after all)…  but I was far from God at the time. The depth of hopelessness I felt during this season haunts me… it reminds me of what the lost in this world deal with every single day.  Going through this world without Romans 8:28, or Jeremiah 29:11 or Psalm 139. It was heartbreaking and lonely and dark.

Yes, I was far from God. But now I know, He was never far from me. He knew just what I needed, and I am so thankful that even before I knew 2 Timothy was a book in the Bible, His promises found there held true… and even when I was faithless, He remained faithful.  That the One who knows the end from the beginning, knew that the child He was weaving together in my womb would be the very thing that led me back to Him…

With the clearest recollection, I remember the moment I pushed “play” on my answering machine and heard the nurse excitedly report “I was mistaken, Becky… I looked at last month’s results. We just got your test back and it looks like you DID ovulate this month!”

Hope.

The first glimmer of hope on the darkest of horizons. I knew that there was only a small chance that I would actually get pregnant after one ovulation… yet there was hope.

It was mid-May, and I was job coaching a client at a local nursing home. I never worked on Sundays, but this was an exception. It was early in the morning, and suddenly I felt sick. I ran to the bathroom and then returned to work. A few minutes later it happened again…

Splashing water on my face, in the bathroom of a nursing home that is no longer even there, I looked in the mirror and realized… it’s Mother’s Day. Could this be the most incredible mother’s day gift ever? Could I dare to hope that big?? I returned to my client, an older, out-spoken woman, who declared with no question in her mind “girl, you are pregnant”.

Five pregnancy tests later I finally believed her.

[Yes, five. I told you I was obsessed]

I had the most amazing pregnancy with this little one. In fact, that Mother’s Day was the only time I was even sick.  I knew even at that time that getting sick that morning was a special gift from God. It was a gift I didn’t deserve. To find out I was going to be a Mother, on Mother’s Day. Isn’t He beautiful?

And while that was a gift, I could not in my wildest imaginings know what a precious gift this child would be to my life. This little one that I dreamed would be a little girl, with lots of hair and dark eyes like her daddy.

And on January 17, 2001 that dream came true.

A brand new Tali Sue

We named her Tali Susanne. Talley was my maiden name, and it was an honor to pay homage to my own daddy, Joe Talley. But more than that, the baby name books revealed that Tali is a derivative of Talia, which is a Hebrew name that means "Dew from Heaven". It seemed appropriate, this child who felt like a miracle after a year and a half of the infertility roller coaster... but little could I know how prophetic her name would be.

As I sit here looking to my wall of pictures, the memories come flooding back. Her bright-eyed newborn picture. A child with an “old soul”, many of my friends would say. Always aware, always watching… absorbing her world. The toddler who would ask Mamaw how her hip was feeling. So tender, so empathetic.  The 2.5 year old so excited to take her first dance class… watching her through the glass as she bent down and forced her feet into first position with her hands. The big sister holding her prize and joy in the form of a squirmy, red newborn brother. The little girl who led me back to Jesus.

You know how babies are, you want to show them off. So a week after she was born, I dolled her up and headed to church. Now I had been attending church on and off for a while, but it was nothing serious… it just seemed to be the right thing to do.  Sitting in that pew that Sunday, I knew that she should be raised in a church, just as I had been. And so those intermittent trips to FBC Bicknell became regular.

And God began speaking to me. Calling to me. He wanted more than an hour of my time. He wanted me.

Still, I resisted.

My daughter, however, was falling in love with Jesus. She would dance in worship, while I worried what everyone would think of me if I raised my hands. And this kid talked about God all of the time. Everything she learned in children’s church became discussion later that day. She reminded me of the love I once had for Him.

Still, I resisted.

It’s not that I didn’t want Jesus. It’s that I did want the world. And I wouldn’t sacrifice the latter to have the former. I was comfortable in my sin, and I wanted to stay there. Couldn’t I just have them both?

And then, when Tali was 3 years old… we skipped church to go to the campground and visit with Mamaw and Papaw.  Tali was walking their puppy on a leash, she was watching the dog… she didn’t see where she was going… but her daddy did. He yelled out “Tali! Tali! Tali!” and began to run her direction. I turned just in time to see my precious little miracle falling backward into the campfire ring.

Everyone else ran to her- Jim was almost to her already. My brother was right behind. But I couldn’t go. I couldn’t face what I might see. I turned my face to the sky and covering my eyes with my hands I cried out… Oh Jesus, please protect her. Please protect her. Please protect her.

Shouts interrupted my prayers- “Water! Water!” I turned to see a cooler sitting nearby. Throwing the last few items left from a long weekend camping out on the ground, Jim plunged her into the icy water. My mind reminded me that ice isn’t good for burns, but we had no other options and so we had to make do. I remember looking at her little face… the sheer terror in her eyes. She wasn’t even crying- just looking back up at us in fear.  We didn’t bother to check her over- we just got immediately in the car and went to the hospital.

It was there, with her on my lap in the front seat, wrapped in a wet towel, that I looked at her little hand, now twice its size. I remember thinking that it looked like a lion's paw. Yellowish with blisters that covered the entire underside of her fingers and palm.  Surely her back was just as bad. She was laying on a bed of hot coals, her legs dangling over the edge of a steel fire ring. Surely we were on our way to Wishard, a hospital with a burn unit a couple of hours away. I prayed in her ear for her to have the strength to show her hand to the doctors and nurses. To be courageous as they treated her wounds. For God to protect her body from shock.

And you know, although my heart had resisted His call time and time and time again… He heeded every one of those prayers. Because He knows the end from the beginning. He knew just what I needed.

Jesus indeed protected her as she lay in that fire ring. Unexplainably, her hand was the only significant injury. Her back had one minor burn, and although her legs were dirty from the fire ring- the ring that sizzled and crackled when my family poured water on the remainder of the coals- they were not hurt.  Her left hand had a few small burns. But her right hand. It was bad.

She had to go through 10 days of painful debridement and twice daily bandage changes. And she was so brave.  I couldn’t help but think of the irony that, having just started going to SonShine Kids she had memorized only one Bible verse in her little life. Isaiah 41:10:

Tali, the day before her accident.

So do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Pulling up to the hospital every morning, she would say “do I have to go in, Mommy?” and when I told her we had to, to make her hand better… she would get out of the car, take my hand, and walk in bravely. I never had to carry this three year old child, kicking and screaming into the place that would cause her such pain. She walked in of her own accord. What courage!

When debridement was over, and I can’t even describe to you what that time in that little room was like, she would go to her therapist… and give them a hug. As if to comfort them.  What grace!

And when debridement got particularly bad, and I was questioning why He would allow this to happen to my little girl, why not me… her comment to the song on the radio broke in to my thoughts… “Hey mommy! This song is about my best friend, God!” Less than fifteen minutes after enduring the pain of scalpels and scissors, she reminded me that God was still her best friend. What faith!

When I felt that things were looking hopeless, and the PT on a Sunday morning warned that she was seeing little improvement, Tali went to church and raised her hand in worship… and what were the words being sung?? “I never said you woudn’t have to walk through the fire…” What love!

Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will strengthen you with my righteous right hand.

She recited this verse during this time. And I learned that it was true.  

It was then, that God began to wreck my heart. He showed me His son, through my daughter.  Through her courage, her grace, her faith, and her love… I met Jesus in an entirely different way.  It set me on the path to real relationship... a relationship that is everything to me now.  And then, just to put the icing on the cake (after all, He is a lavish Father), He began to heal her hand that day… so that no grafts or surgeries or even physical therapy was required.

Tali’s love for Jesus has only grown over the last eight years. And that courage, grace, faith, and love that were first evidenced in a three year old have carried her far with the Lord. She has a zeal for Him. Jesus is her first love, and she always keeps that in perspective.  Recently given a chance to take an additional dance class a week (which she wants to do so badly), she told me she just couldn’t, because Monday is Bible Study night and her week “just isn’t right without Bible Study”.  When she heard about kids enslaved in Africa, she didn’t just feel sorry for them, she did something, joining with a friend and launching Kids 4 Freedom.  When her teacher gave her the chance to teach a Bible Study during recess one day a week, she didn’t question the call and said yes.

And so I continue to learn from her. From her dedication to her priorities… from her conviction to the be a world-changer, never complacent with the knowledge that “someone else” will do it… from her trusting the call God has on her life, and following it whole heartedly (okay, okay, so I’m still learning this last lesson, but with His help I am working on it)… 

When I look back over the last eleven years… I can’t imagine my life without Tali. To say that she changed my life is an understatement… she has changed my eternity.  She is not perfect (for more on that you can read this post), but she is in love with Jesus, and He is working her toward perfection, just as He is all of us!  And I am so thankful that, in the book of my life, He wrote in this beautiful child to be a part of that process. Not just for me, but for her daddy as well.

He truly knew, just what we needed when he knit her together. He knew that our hearts were far from Him.  He also know that a little child shall lead them. He sent us a precious gift in Tali Sue.

Beautiful Tali, loving on her Daddy God

Our “Dew from Heaven”. Certainly, that is exactly what this child is… precious dew from His hand, sent to quench this dry and weary land. She started with the arid desert of my heart, and then turned her gentle gift of grace on her daddy, leading him to church when my invitations sounded like nagging.  She now prays for others in our family to know the relationship she knows.  She shares her love for her Savior with her friends at school in her Bible Study.  And my heart is preparing itself for the continued plans the Lord has for her… to quench the desert places of the world with His grace and love. He isn't done with her yet.

Birthdays are meant for celebrating, and so today I celebrate my beautiful daughter. The one who knew I was worried about the storm this morning, and so texted me "Love You" just before entering school and turning her phone off. The child whom I am given the responsibility of teaching, guiding, encouraging… This child who has done all of those things for me. 

I love you, Tali Sue... there are not enough words to express how big that love is... Thank you for who you are... 

And thank you Father, for giving this special, precious gift to someone like me. What grace...

21: our cat, echo

As you know, tonight I was sharing a bit of the who-I-was at a women's revival... so while I was away I asked Tali if she wanted to do a guest blog based on a conversation we had a couple of days ago. As you can see below, she was more than happy to oblige... hope it blesses your heart...

We have this cat named Echo. Yes we love him to death but he just wants love and to be noticed. He is a gray striped cat and very cute. We love him, but sometimes he loves us too much.

My mom and I were driving on our way to Evansville. We were trying to think up some blog ideas. I said some things, my mom said some things. I finally said the cat! My mom kind of stared at me for a while. She finally said, “How can I say I am thankful for that annoying cat?” So this is what I said,

“Well Echo nudges at us, meows too much; even while you are on your computer he goes and sits right down on the keyboard.”  She still didn’t get what I was saying and I bet some of you don’t. So I told her the point; Echo is like Jesus. I know what some of you are thinking; a cat, like Jesus? She said, “How is Echo like Jesus?” I said, “Jesus always wanting our love and to be noticed. Jesus sometimes will nudge at us saying listen to me do as I say.” My mom got the idea. She liked so much she let me blog about it! I hope you liked this blog. 

10: tali sue

It started with an email from her teacher in the morning… “Just wanted to let you know…”

That evening, as she was getting ready for bed there was finally time to ask her about it.

“So, how was school today?”

Immediately, big brown eyes became pools of tears glistening in the soft glow of the lamp. Bottom lip quivering she began to tell me about her day. About her friend at school who wanted to compare science answers to hers. How she felt when her teacher caught her.

“So you knew you were in trouble the moment she saw you?”

Head bowed… “yes...”

“So you knew you were doing something wrong?”

A tear slips down her cheek… “yes…”

“I see.”

The silence hung between us.  I asked God to give me the words that would refine rather than condemn. Her lesson was learned.  Her punishment at school appropriate. An “F” on the assignment she worked so hard on the night before, and worse… she was not allowed to teach her weekly Bible Study during recess.

“We are held to a different standard, you know…” And she nods.

She knows.

And I am so thankful for that. My beautiful Tali Sue… not perfect, but like all of us… she is working on it. I didn’t have to grill her to get the truth, she just let it spill out of her, as though she knew confession would be good for her soul.  And it was.

Knowing that at some point this month, I would write about Tali… I could never have imagined what the writing prompt would have been.  I’ve never had a call or an email or a note from a teacher like that before.  Especially not for Tali… yet it was a reminder to me that she really is just a little girl, trying to figure out this world.  What it looks like to live set apart.

That the same little girl that sits every evening making duct tape bows that save children out of slavery, can get caught cheating in school. That the little girl who knows all of the answers in Sunday School, sometimes slips on the answers in life. That the little girl that would choose to go to a prayer meeting over a birthday party, sinks into step with the world sometimes.

But how I love her heart. How I love her desire to serve, to care for others, to be a friend. How I love her transparency when I ask her “how was school today”… her giggle when I ask about her boyfriend… the way she dances her way through life… the way she looks at the world…her quick wit... her confidence… her beautiful, beautiful spirit…

How I love her passion for Jesus, and her boldness to share Him with others.   How I love her willingness to be changed and refined by Him. Her desire to be set apart… even if she is still learning to walk that out.

Beautiful, sweet spirited Tali Sue... I love you. And you know what else... Jesus does too. 

say what?

sitting at the computer, i heard zach laughing and yelling as tali chased him through the house... this is what i overheard next

tali- AAAaaAAAaaAAAAHHHhhHHhhHhhHHHhH!!!!!! [as she catches zach]

zach- oh man, i hate wedgie night.

tali- shoot!

zach- oh well, you can do wedgie night tomorrow.

tali- yeah, since i didn't get your underwear on that one.

they then walked together into their bedroom, sat down, and chatted about whatever was on tv.

as i looked on in utter confusion.

Amazing

As we drove in to have supper tonight, I clicked off the "Jesus music" in the car and switched over to 89.1 for Jim. The kids were so wound up, that it really wasn't until much later, when we stopped for gas on our way home, that we could even hear anything coming through those little speakers... Suddenly Tali pipes in "Mom, is this a good song?" Listening for a minute I realized that, in fact, it wasn't a great song for the kids and answered her accordingly. "Well, where's our church music then?" I love that Tali and Zach both dig on mommy's Christian music... but am more than aware that at times it rubs a little thin on my man. And as he was currently pumping gas in single digit temperatures, I felt a little compromise was in order.

However, as he climbed back in the truck, she asked again - this time getting specific... "Mommy, can you play number 15?" Aaaah, number 15. That may work. You see my friend Carol accidentally stuck a song on the end of my Third Day cd (technically she gave me a cd intended for someone else I think). She wasn't even aware that she had done so until I mentioned it at a much later date. The song found at number 15 is My Savior, My God by Aaron Shust. It's a song that Roger, Courtney, and Jonathan sing frequently (and beautifully), one that Jim has heard them perform twice now, and one that he really likes.

A glance at him told me that he was okay with the genre change. I start the song and look out the window, praising the Lord that somehow He has managed to carve out this moment for our family. To speak to my hubby through this powerful song. To bring us closer together, and to continually woo us into His will.

And then the chorus hit...
First came Tali's voice, strong and proud. Then I could hear Zach singing with all his might.
And finally, I realized Jim was singing too. Quietly at first, but then building.

At first I could just sit there, still looking out the window, afraid to look at Jim and mess up the moment. I had tears in my eyes and a heart nearly exploding with the beauty of it all. I know, it's just a song... I know it's not that big of a deal to some... But I have never had the joy of hearing my family sing praises to the Lord together before. Not all three of them. Never.

In fact, there was a time that I couldn't even imagine it happening. But I'm not skilled to understand... what God has willed what God has planned.... So I thanked God. I thanked Him and thanked Him and thanked Him...

And then I sang too. And it was a thing of beauty.


My Savior, My God. Aaron Shust
I am not skilled to understand
What God has willed, what God has planned
I only know at His right hand
Stands One who is my Savior

I take Him at His word and deed
Christ died to save me this I read
And in my heart I find a need
For Him to be my Savior

That He would leave His place on high
And come for sinful man to die
You count it strange, so once did I
Before I knew my Savior

My Savior loves, my Savior lives
My Savior's always there for me
My God He was, my God He is
My God He's always gonna be

Yes, living, dying let me bring
My strength, my solace from this spring
That He who lives to be my King
Once died to be my Savior

That He would leave His place on High
And come for sinful men to die
You count it strange so once did I
Before I knew my Savior

My Savior loves, My Savior lives
My Savior's always there for me
My God He was, My God He is,
My God He's always gonna be (x6)

My Savior lives, My Savior loves
My Savior lives, My Savior loves