{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.

two little men

Isn't it strange how God can use the most common things... things that may seem so insignificant to others... to speak directly to your heart?

He did that to me on Saturday night as I was scrolling through my Facebook wall on my phone. I came across this check in at Mi Pueblo, where a small group of us had gathered to discuss the Micah 6:8 Project...

Had she tagged us in a different order, I wonder if I would have even noticed. I wonder if I would have stopped. I wonder if I would have cried...

But tagged as we were, my heart was assaulted by the vision of two little boys, both on the water... 

One, my son. My very own profile picture. I love this picture of Zach, such JOY, such ABANDON, such FREEDOM. He was at the lake with friends, a place of recreation and fun and laughs and adventure. 

But not for the little boy in the next picture. Not for the little man captured by Christy Farhar. The lake for him... a place of bondage. Work. Pain. Enslaved in Lake Volta's fishing industry along with 7,000 other children. The joy of the little white boy next to him, surely a distant memory... if he has ever known it. 

And as I thought about this... 

Oh, how I wept. 

I wondered... what would I do, if it were my Zach enslaved on that lake?. What ends would I go to rescue him, to bring him home, to let him know that I love him... to make sure He is safe and secure? How much money would I spend? What sacrifice would I make? My very own son, the one whom I love from the depths of who I am... how far would I go?

But the truth is, friends, the little man in Christy's picture is no less our son. He is no less our flesh and blood. He is no less valuable. No less in need of a hope and a future. No less in the eyes of God. Just because I have not yet put my arms around his little brown body... He is no less mine to care for. 

He is no less yours.

Think about your own children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews... if they were trapped in slavery, forced to work fourteen hour days, fed one inadequate meal, uneducated... how far would you go? What sacrifice would you make?

I challenge you... to let your mind go there. Really rest in that pain for a moment. Because in the Kingdom, he is ours. And if you would go to the ends of the earth to rescue the one you love, should you not be willing to do the same for the one He loves? Should our hearts not break for the things that break His? How far would you go?

Yesterday in church, Seth shared the story of the Grapevine Faith football game against the Gainesville State School in Texas. How the whole town of Grapevine rallied around the boys from Gainesville- the boys brought in on a maximum security bus with twelve armed guards. How the parents of the Grapevine players sat behind the Gainesville boys, cheering them on to hit their very own sons. How the cheerleaders stood in a line and cheered on the Tornadoes, even though the front of their uniforms said "Lions". How they rooted for the Gainesville boys instead of their own kids... because that's what Jesus would have them to do. 

And the whole time he was talking, as the tears made their way down my cheeks, I thought of the picture of two little men on my Facebook wall. One I do not know, and one that I would die for... and the Lord challenged my heart... would you root for this little naked child over your own? Would you cause your own son to sacrifice from abundance, so that this one could have the most basic of necessities... food, clothing, freedom.

photo by Christopher Knopf, September 2012

That is my challenge for you today, friends. Look into these eyes... and see the one you love. Wrap your mind, even if just for a moment, around the kind of life these children in Ghana know. 

And then resolve in your heart to do something to help. Don't just look in his face and then closing your browser window, forget. What does the Lord require of you? But to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 He requires us to look into this face... and then to reach down our very own hands to help. He requires it, friends. Acts of justice are not something the Lord takes lightly... and when He called us to be His hands and feet, sometimes it will look just like this.

I realize that not everyone will walk in this dusty African soil, take the broken by the hand and lead them into a new life. But there are ways you can help from right there, where you are... whether you are on your couch or at your kitchen table or sitting at your desk at work or in your car... There are ways that you can reach out a hand to the least of these. To the ones who can never repay you. To the ones whom, if you would bend your knee and look in their eyes you will realize look an awful lot like the ones you love the most. Wherever you are, whether you have much or little, there is something that YOU can do. 

You can partner with us at the Micah 6:8 Project to build a residential and vocational center so that more children can be brought home off the lake. Our partners promise a monthly gift of any amount, and will be the backbone of this project, sustaining it for years to come. Bringing a hope and a future.

Or you can join us in our first annual Prayer 5k. For gifts of $35 or $50, you can join us in our goal of raising $5000 and 5000 prayers for this project... making a way for a mission team to travel to Ghana in November to look at land that has been provided by the very hand of God, land that is ours for the taking if it meets our needs. Land that will allow us to build the orphanage to house kids who deserve the same education, freedom, love, hope that we desire for all of our own children to have.

Are you willing? 

Are you willing to sacrifice from your own child's abundance, so that the children of Ghana may have the most basic of necessities? Is it worth $50 to look into the eyes of this little boy and know you have done something to help? Oh, if that were my Zachary wrapped in brown skin... oh, there is no sacrifice that would be too great... am I willing to open my eyes to the truth that this one I have never met, is no less mine? No less a part of my heart? 

I see it now. I see it in a whole new way. Two pictures of little men on lakes, lakes that are a world apart geographically and emotionally... a casual scroll down my Facebook wall... and my heart is wrecked. I can't stop crying. I can't stop wondering what more can I do? 

If you feel as helpless to help as I do, I would ask you to visit The Micah 6:8 Project to see how you CAN help. Give a financial gift of any amount. Join us in our Prayer 5k (a 5k that involves no walking or running, instead 3.5 days of prayer for this project and the lives it will touch). There are only five days left to register, and we are only a third of the way to our goal of one hundred people to participate... one hundred people. Surely there are one hundred of you whose hearts will break for the things that break His? Surely there are one hundred of you who are willing to sacrifice $35 or $50 to bring freedom to the lives of children... surely...surely there are.

I am willing. I have looked into those dark brown eyes and seen my own children. Are you willing to do the same? Are you willing to love on Jesus the way He really asked us to love on Him, not through arms raised or voices loud... but by loving the very least of these? Pray about it friends... and then do something...

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress. James 1:27

Father, would you move our hearts? Lord would you break our hearts for what breaks yours? Will you bring each of us an individual revelation of that which you've required of us... what it really looks like to act justly? to love mercy? to walk humbly? Would you open our eyes to the needs of this world and show us, Father, that if we sacrifice for you, that if we give in the way you have asked us to give... that we will not have to worry about a thing. That you are the God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and that you have us covered? Move on hearts today! Father I ask that you bring abundant support for the Micah 6:8 Project, that you would continue to confirm your will for this home in Ghana by bringing the project exactly what it needs! Lord I thank you that you are a God who is able... a God who is able to humble my heart and show me where I have failed to break, a God who is able to do this incredible thing in Ghana, a God who is able to use something like a check in at a Mexican restaurant to challenge my heart and change my mindset... I love you so much... Let us do this for YOUR glory!

learning to stop.

I lay on the couch, laptop propped on a pillow on top of me. It’s a familiar evening routine, mommy editing pictures, or uploading sessions to her website, or blogging, or typing case notes. Since {in a blink} has taken off, my life has become very, very busy. And while I am thankful for what God is up to, and how He has blessed our family with the extra income to help us get out of debt, it can be hard sometimes to put in the hours that are necessary… and to love on my babies like they need. Especially the one with blonde hair and big brown eyes.

I am just being honest here.

I didn’t really realize how busy my life had gotten until last night, as he chattered on and I focused intently on a text message conversation and picture edits and catching up on emails and checking the status of a photo delivery, and he said “Mom, did you hear a word I just said?”

The answer was “no”. Not a single word. {mother.of.the.year}

He and I were home alone, and to this minute it makes me cry because I STILL do not know what he was talking about. I asked him to repeat himself, and instead of re-hashing it, he marveled at how I could look like I am listening, and instead my mind be a hundred other places. He wasn’t upset, in fact he thought it was funny.

But I didn’t think it was funny at all.

Lately, 4H projects and a flurry of craft glue, fabric, ribbon, paint, and glitter have given Tali and I the quality time that works for her.  She is an acts of service type lover… showing her love by carrying babies, vacuuming (one of my favorites), helping in children’s church, getting you a refill on your sweet tea, and running to the car to grab something you forgot. And so my taking copious amounts of time to sit with her as she creates, offering my expertise and opinions (many of which are rejected!)… unexpected trips to Vincennes to get that one item she just has to have… Digging through my craft storage and offering her free reign of my stash… shows her that I love her.

But that doesn’t work for Zach. I can do things for him, paint him something cool, buy him all of the things that his heart desires, even sit and talk with him and say the most encouraging things (which is why those words unheard didn’t faze him)… and none of those things speak love like the language of touch…of being together in a tangible way.

As I lay there tapping away on my keyboard, I sensed a critter crawling to me. Pressing his forehead against my cheek the critter whispered, “I haven’t laid with you in a long time”…

My almost ten-year-old little man… football player, catcher extraordinaire, bike rider, rough houser, model builder, straight-A student, video gamer… wanted to cuddle with his momma.

I want to say I put the computer down immediately. I did not. There is so much to get done. My to-do list grows and grows and grows and I never seem to get ahead of it. If I could just finish editing this one more session, I could put that satisfying line through their name on my list. Another hour or two and I will be done…I want to tell you that the natural thing for me was to cuddle my son. But stopping does not come naturally to me at all. Being still requires a conscious decision. 

But that head lay there next to mine. Little boy knees crouched on the floor by the couch. Just wanting to be close.

And I knew… I knew… these moments are fleeting. They will not be here forever. Zachary, here, near, wanting to lay on the couch with his momma. With me. No one in the world will do. Just me. One of these days he is going to grow up. He will move out and move on. This moment is fleeting…

And so I closed my computer and set it on the floor. Pushing my way to the back of the couch I made room. And with the lift of a blanket, Zach knew the invitation had been issued.

And so we cuddled.

All eighty pounds of him, pressed against me. Heavy and long.

I thought of the seven pound baby I laid on this very same couch with. How snuggly he fit, nestled against my body. And now, his head alone lay in that space. His body stretched the length of mine, falling only inches short of the top of my feet.

And yet. He still fit.

I rubbed his arm, now strong with the throwing of baseballs all summer. I ran fingers through hair bleached blonde from long hours at the local pool. I listened to a voice deepening, asking questions about the show flickering in the TV.

We talked, we watched… but mostly… we were just there. And in that was the love.

My cell phone chimed. A new text message.  I saw my son’s eyes glance toward the phone, and then to me.  He waited for me to reach for it (he knows his momma well).  But I let it lay. And then again, and again, and again, and again. Five messages lay in wait. But I didn’t move toward the phone. Those conversations are important. But not so important as this.  

Zach didn’t need me busy. He just needed me.

For an hour we lay together. For an hour I thanked God for this time, for slowing me down, for showing me the error of my way… for showing me how I had let the doing interfere with the being. I thanked Him for this little boy growing toward manhood. This one who makes me laugh with his witty humor. This one who hates to clean but loves to cook.  This one who brushes it off when mom has spaced out again and didn’t hear what he was chattering on about. This one who mops the floor after a spaghetti supper, even when mommy isn’t there to remind him to be helpful. This one who looks up to his daddy and so knows what a man should be. This one who works hard to achieve in sports what comes naturally to other kids. This one with a smile that melts my heart and stops my world and reminds me what is important. This one who… still fits in my arms.

This one who turned into my body, and head on my chest, fell asleep last night. 

As moms... it's easy to let the busy get in the way. The cleaning, or the working, or the cooking, or the preparing, or the washing, or the cell phone, or the computer... I am the worst. I do not do nothing well. I do not do stopping well. I am always going, and thinking and doing... most of the time two or three things at once. 

But last night, God used a kid with a heart for football and a penchant for fart jokes  to teach me how to stop. 

And to be.

And to love.

He showed me that the stopping was not nothing. It was something. It was everything. That the to-do list can wait. Photo edits will still be there. But this moment... this moment is precious and it is fleeting and that I have to slow down... or I am going to miss it. And I don't want to miss a thing in this amazing little man's life. I don't want him thinking my computer was more important than his cuddle. I don't know what this means for the future, or turn around time on photo edits, or working full time, or volunteering... but I know that I will do a better job at embracing the stopping, and the being, and the loving. In the end... it's all that will really matter.

Zachary... thank you for being patient with mommy when her mind is somewhere else and it should be with you. Thank you for laughing with me, and for loving me just the way I am. Thank you for sharing me with so many other people and things, and for being confident in my love no matter how poorly I show it. Zach, thank you so much for helping mommy slow down, to set the world aside, and remember what is really important. Thank you for helping me be the mommy you need me to be. I love you buddy... and just so you know... even when your toes stretch beyond mine on the couch... there will always be room. You will always fit.

Parental Whiplash: an update

About six weeks ago, my heart hit the floor when I realized that my son, whom we had trusted with a Kindle Fire that was tied to our checking account had… as we have come to call know it around here… “lost his ever loving mind” for 24 hours and cost us over $200.  I blogged about it shortly after, feel free to go read about it here if you missed the first go-round.

My husband and I struggled with what would be an appropriate punishment. What is big enough? What is too big? How do you navigate such uncharted territories as a nine-year-old overdrawing a checking account?

We started with the confiscation of the Kindle, of course, and the determination that he would have to pay his father back the money he owed him.  We had him sit and figure how many hours his daddy had to work to earn the amount of money he spent on fictional armor for a person in a video game.  And then, for every time he pressed “buy” he had to write a sentence of apology.

There was much late night discussion between Jim and I… Zach had been so forthcoming, so honest, so upstanding since the time we realized what he had done. Between us we knew his lesson had been learned… yet we had to follow through with the punishment we set forth. We worried that he would become disillusioned… our family had just instituted a chore chart which enabled the kids to earn a little money every week… at $12 a week it was going to take a LONG time to pay his daddy off. How long would he keep doing the chores without any tangible reward? Were we setting ourselves up for a three month battle to make him do the right thing?

But the most incredible thing happened.  The surprise and the pride I experienced in the days immediately after ‘the incident’ only grew.  Zachary not only owned his poor decision to press buy 29 times, but he worked hard to pay off his debt. Week in and week out, he kept tabs on his chore sheet as to how much he owed his daddy. When offered the chance to learn how to mow and earn $10 each time, he jumped at it.  Offers to clean out the car for a little extra were enthusiastically embraced. He didn't ask to have his Kindle back a single time. He didn't ask for any extras at the store, not so much as a candy bar. He was gracious and appreciative when he still got to go skating (a Friday night tradition) after a week of restriction from that activity. 

I was amazed.

Zach is, to put it lightly, one of the least patient children I have ever met. He gets it from his momma, who also does not function well in the ‘wait’. Seeing his sister slide money in her “spend”, “save”, and “give” envelopes had to be so hard for him. There were times he questioned whether or not he would ever see the end of that $213.  But he never, ever stopped working at it. He never once threw a fit, or gave up, or got mad… and the occasional pout was of the most minor variety [truly, who can fault the kid an occasional forlorn look or slow walk into the other room? Consequences suck sometimes.]

A week ago, as school let out, Zach proudly brought his report card to me. All A’s… all year. His daddy has always told the kids that if they obtain perfect attendance for an entire school year, he would give them $50 at the end of the year. The result of this offer has been myself making runs to the school at 8:30am to pick up children who didn’t tell me they were sick, because they didn’t want to miss school!  About a year ago, I told Zach on the trip back home that perfect attendance was great, but perfect grades would be even better- all A’s and mommy would give him $100. Apparently this kid just needs a goal, because he set out the next school year to get that $100 from me. And he did.

I made that deal with the kids in a moment of frustration, my second trip in a month to pick up a sick kid from school. But God knew. God had a plan for that. He is in the business of grace, and He KNEW that at just a time as this, that little boy was going to need to have a chunk of money he earned FAIR AND SQUARE. He knew that at just this time, a mom and a dad were going to be looking for a way to expedite the paying off of a debt so their son could move into the next phase of giving and saving. He knew just what we were going to need, and over a yea ago, He made a way.

He is so good, isn’t He?

And so, Zach had earned $100 that he applied to his debt… bringing it down to $50. Which brought about another late night conversation with his daddy. Jim was worried that Zach would become discouraged working and working with nothing but numbers on a paper to show for it. We agreed that he needed to finish paying us off, but decided to let him keep 50% of his money every week and apply the other 50% to his debt.

I talked to Zach about it the next day. I told him we were really proud of the way he had worked hard to pay us off, and that we wanted him to start having some of his chore money. I told him about the compromise we had come up with the night before… but Zach quickly responded… “I don’t want to do that”.

I fully expected him to leap for joy to know he would have some spending money for the summer. Instead he went on… “That will take forever to pay off. I just want to keep giving everything to daddy”.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t even know how to respond for a minute. Finally I said, with tears in my eyes “That was a really wise decision, Zach, a really wise decision.”  For a moment, I felt like I knew what our Father must feel when He looks upon us with those sweet words “Well done, good and faithful one…”  Those words don’t come because we never make mistakes, they come because we have a heart that desires to do the right thing and a willingness to turn toward Him when we find ourselves on the wrong path. It’s owning up to the decisions we have made, growing through the consequences, and accepting His grace. It comes from our reaching a place where we say "my all for you!"

In that moment, I knew there was room for grace in our growing-our-kids-plan as well. Another late night conversation, and Jim's reaction was the same as mine. Not only had the lesson been learned, but we could see definite growth in our son over the process of walking out of this mistake. We both agreed to forgive the last bit of Zachary’s debt (he had done some mowing and other extras to bring it down to below $40). I spoke about it with a few friends to get their input (it takes a village, people), and all agreed with our heart to extend grace to our son.

Zach was subdued when I told him.

Grace is sometimes a difficult gift to receive, isn’t it?

He did accept it though. And with this last week’s chore & mowing money, he paid his sister back for the portion of her gift card he had also burned through and had $12 to slip into his respective envelopes.

Debt paid, in full. 

(He is even getting his Kindle back after living up to our challenge of a week or two ago to make it to June 1st without any more impulsive decisions).

The correlation to the grace we receive from our Heavenly Father is impossible to miss. Yes, Zach paid off his debt… but every penny he paid was originally his daddy’s in the first place.

Zach, like us, was powerless to really pay off that debt. So we made a way for him to learn, to be refined, to grow and mature. It was never about the money. It was about the growing.

It’s a little like the Law, given by a Father to His people. A system of sacrifice and right-living to pay for the debt of their sin. A debt they could never really pay for. Animals given by the Father, returned to the Father in a ritual that looked a lot like check marks on a chore chart.

And then, in a moment of mind-blowing love… a Son sent to really forgive the debt. To pay the price in full.  A sacrifice of self to end all sacrifices. That last $40 forgiven, an overwhelming grace which really and truly forgave the entire debt. Forever. A debt forgiven that somehow ends with a “well done, good and faithful one” from the Master to the debtor.

It's incredible, isn't it??

I could not have imagined six weeks ago that the Kindle-debacle would have ended with a momma's heart swelling with pride for the young man my son is growing into. And my spirit finds such comfort in the knowledge that HE feels the same way about ME. That even in my failures, His love is unwavering... that, in fact, He knows how He will use those failures to His good purposes. That He knows the end from the beginning, and how we will walk through consequence, finding ourselves refined on the other side. That our Daddy God alone knows the path that will lead us to the greatest realization of His love and purpose. 

Regardless of where you are now, or where you have been... the Father has a plan and a purpose. He is not disappointed. In foretelling of Israel's deliverance, God says in Isaiah 27:4 "I am not angry". That verse struck my heart the first time I read it, and it rings there to this day. I am not angry. For many years, I related to a God who I felt was mostly mad. Mostly disappointed. Mostly frustrated. But here, in talking to a people who were captives because of their own decisions... people who would could have had peace like a river had they only listened to Him... people who instead had chosen to turn away from Him again and again and again... He says "I am not angry".

I think of that night in our living room, daddy confronting a son who had made a huge mistake. Tears in my eyes as I saw my husband take our son by the hands and start his discussion by saying "I love you so much, buddy". We were taken by surprise, disappointed, confused, hurt... yet if Jim, who is just a failed human parent like the rest of us, knows how to love his son well even in that moment... how much more must our Father in Heaven love us in all of ours?

I don't know where you are tonight, but I know from my own life there are things I am walking through even now that are not easy. Areas that I have made mistakes. Things I am still trying to sort out. What a comfort it is to hear my Daddy say "I am not angry". What a comfort to know that He is using this time to grow and refine, that He is is still proud to call me His child. He feels the same way about you, my friend.

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

when the answer is "no"

“Mom can I go to the blacktop?”... the blacktop being the parking lot at the church across the street from our house, the one that boasts a basketball goal at one end.  This has become a familiar refrain in our home since a couple of families with boys moved into the neighborhood.  After nine years of life on 5^th street, Zach finally has someone of the male persuasion to keep him company.  This is a big deal for a kid whose family only hangs out with other families full of girls and their booooring games, shows, dance parties, makeover sessions, duct tape bows and the like…

“Sure can buddy”. The blacktop is a familiar bike riding, hula-hooping, side-walk chalking location for my kids since I can see it from my living room.

“Mom, can I ride my bike around the block with Trey and Lee?”

This was a little different request. We live in a very, very small town (population in the triple digits), and I only recently started allowing he and his sister to ride around the block together. But it’s a nice day, and the kids in question are good kids, so… “I suppose so. You know the routine… if you hear a car, get in the grass and put your feet on the ground, even if the other two keep pedaling.”

“Mom, can I walk up to Trey’s house…? He and Damien are playing outside.”

This is a VERY new request. Trey’s house is only a few houses down on our quiet street. I know and trust his parents. But… we’ve never faced this option before. We’ve never had kids within walking distance of our house! Thinking back to my childhood I was walking to friends and school and church at a much younger age, so... “Yes you can. But if I come looking for you, you better either be OUTSIDE Trey’s house or walking home. No if, ands, or buts…” 

Fair enough- he was off.

A couple of more trips to the black top. Another ride around the block. Running into the house to get a football.  My son has never been so content on a Saturday in his entire life.  His entire day was full of “Yes’s”, and basketball, and football, and bike rides, and friends. That were boys.

And then, as evening drew near he brought one final request to me. “Mom, can I go to the ballpark? We are going to play cops and robbers. They want me to bring my nerf guns”. Now… the ballpark is one block behind our house. And I am not necessarily opposed to the notion of him going there with friends… but it was almost time for me to leave for a church service and his daddy wasn’t home yet. Having just gotten off the phone with Jim, I knew that there would be about a fifteen minute lapse in time between my needing to leave, and him arriving home.

“Buddy, I am going to answer you, but before I do I want you to please remember that mommy has said yes to everything you have asked today- playing outside, riding around the block, walking to Trey’s. She has even made a way for you to keep playing with your friends when mommy and daddy had to run errands… but because I am leaving, and I am not comfortable with you playing outside without mommy or daddy here, I have to say no. As soon as daddy gets home you can ask him about it.”

Immediately his face fell. Shoulders slumped. Feet plodded toward the door to deliver the terrible news to his friends. “Zach… mommy said yes to a lot of things today, please try not to be so disappointed with this one no”.

But there is disappointment in the “no”, isn’t there? Even with a whole day of “yes’s”, at that moment, only the “no” hung in the air.  And although I know Zach wanted to appreciate the many times I said “yes”... he just couldn’t hide his disappointment.

And I get it. Because a nerf gun fight at the local ballpark on a beautiful spring day… does sound like a good time.

I also get it, because so often, that is my response when my Father tells me “no”.

I forget the times I prayed, and He provided.

The times I sought His heart, and He revealed it to me.

The times I begged for healing, and He healed.

All I can hear is the “no”.

All I can hear is the disappointment.

Friends and family of mine are walking through the pain of one of God’s most difficult “no’s” today. A little boy that our entire community has rallied around in his fight with cancer went home to be with the Lord today. Thousands of people have cried out, begged, pleaded with God for a healing. For a miracle. For a life spared.

And I know that many are struggling through the same disappointment…

How could we pray so hard, for so long, to a God who is so good… Just to have Memphis die anyway?

Yesterday I joined some of my dearest friend's at the altar. Tears streamed down my face for this family, grieving so deeply, crying out from the depths of our souls for a miracle. But the miracle did not come, at least not in the way we would have it. This is a tough lesson for any of us... but especially so for Grace Ann... twelve years old, with a beautiful, gentle spirit and a soft, soft heart that feels not only her pain, but the pain of everyone around her. This child, struggling with the same "why" as so many adults today. The "why" that can not really be answered this side of eternity. I think of her, standing from the altar yesterday, the altar at which she poured out her entire heart before the Lord on behalf of her little cousin. Her face, contorted with the pain of this world, her bright orange shirt stained with droplets of salty tears.  I know that her prayers were full of hope and belief that God COULD heal. That God WOULD heal.

And so no matter how many times He has said “yes” before. No matter how many times He has provided. How many Red Seas He has parted. How many sick He has healed.

Her today is filled with the weight of his “no”.

And that’s okay.

He is a God that not only understands our grief, having experienced the pain and death of His own Son… He is a God that joins us in that grief. He is a God that treasures even our tears, catching each one in abottle, recording the cause for its fall in His book.  

I can tell my friends all the right things. I have shared scripture such as Isaiah 57:1. I can remind them that Memphis has received the ONLY perfect healing. I can assure my children that he is no longer in pain. I can share how he inspired people with his amazing smile, even through the pain. I can point to Romans 8:28, and encourage them to look forward to the way God will work even this dark time to the good. I can say all the right things… and they are true things…

But the truth is, there is still pain in the disappointment. Grief in the loss. Questioning in the “no”.

And that’s okay.

I am a failed, imperfect mother, and Zach’s disappointment was a minor one… but I understood.

And so I know, I trust, that our Heavenly Father, seated in perfection, understands our disappointment when we can’t fathom His “why”.  He is patient with our questions, and through the power of his Holy Spirit will guide us through the valley of the shadow of death, refining us and growing us and loving us all along the way.

I don’t know what you are facing today. What the disappointment in your life looks like. Maybe you are grieving the passing of this beautiful young man.  Maybe you are struggling through the disappointment of a closed door.  A lost job.  A failing marriage.  A prodigal child. Whatever the disappointment… take it to the Father. 

He is a good Daddy... He understands.

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.

18: life interrupted (friday flashback edition)

Flashback to 2006... The Boyles' family had finally gone digital and I could not wait to photograph my kids with my new camera. Tali didn't mind playing the part of model, so she put together a stylin' outfit and we set out for a front-yard-photoshoot... when this happened...

Zach circling in the driveway like a shark as Tali moved from pose to pose when... zooooooom... he flies through at *just* the right moment. These were literally among the very first pictures ever taken with that brand spanking new camera...!

Can't you hear the sound effect he's clearly making? I can't say for sure, but I'm sure it's a squealing-burnout-kind-of-sound. And the full out JOY on his face! This is NOT the picture I was hoping to get... but boy am I glad that I did. 


Yesterday was Zach's birthday... I just can't believe my little man is already 9 years old. One more year til double digits. I sat at his birthday dinner thinking about the day I found out I was pregnant with him...

Jim and I knew we wanted a second child. We both wanted a little boy even. We didn't want our kids to be too far apart. But the day we found out he was coming it was still a bit of a shock.

Okay, it was a LOT of a shock.

Financially we were in a mess. Our Tali was only 14 mos old at the time and it felt so soon. Our two bedroom house didn't feel big enough. We thought we would be in a better place. We were doing okay with one child but... two? How could we afford it? How would it work? How would we have enough space.

Our life was... interrupted.

It wasn't necessarily what we had penciled into our life's agendas... but much like the pictures above, Zach interrupted at just the right moment.

So today, I am so thankful for a life interrupted by plans much bigger than our own. I'm thankful Someone knows what He is doing so much more clearly than I do. I'm so thankful for Zach, and the special relationship he and his sister have precisely because he came so soon. I'm thankful that they must learn to share and cooperate precisely because they share a bedroom. I'm thankful for the times he has slid his big wheel right through a photoshoot, watched Toddlers and Tiaras with his sister, made us laugh with unexpected jokes.

Today I'm thankful for a life... interrupted in the most beautiful way imaginable.

02: zach

This morning I answered some emails, made a few phone calls, typed in a few case notes and decided what I really needed was a nice mid-morning shower to wake myself up. [How awesome is it that I have the kind of job that allows me to work from home, so that break times can be spent in a nice, hot shower? But I digress...] As I headed back to my work space with my glass of water, I stepped over something on the floor. Not unusual in this house, but looking down I realized it was my son's school binder. The one that only two months into the school year is already falling apart and being held together with shiny silver duct tape. The one that has his conduct sheet in it that must be initialed every night. The one with his agenda that requires a parent signature daily. The one holding all of his homework. 

I'm not going to lie. I looked at the stack of paperwork still calling my  name and thought "I do NOT have time for this"... 

But then I imagined him getting into his backpack, realizing this morning that he didn't have it. That sick, sinking feeling of realization that he was going to sit all of his recesses. So of course, wet hair and all, I headed toward his school, binder in hand.

I could have been aggravated, but really, I wasn't. Because all I could think about on the way to the school was how relieved he would be when that binder came walking into his classroom... and he would know... my mom came through for me. I got to be the hero today, and that was pretty cool.

Plus, it's not like I never left my binder (or paperwork, or report, or check book, or other-really-important-thing) at home before.

I keep thinking about that duct-tape repaired binder and the tornadic event that carries it back and forth to school every day. The one who rips holes in the knees of all of his jeans. The one who's bed always looks like a sasquatch spent the night in it with him. He is so different than his neat freak, clothes-has-to-be-just-right sister... and I love that about him!

He's obsessed with video games, but respects the "one hour a night" rule. He wants to play the games the other kids are playing, but doesn't argue with my "I don't think so" look at the video game store. He's a good kid. He has an amazing sense of humor. He loves to torment his sister. He loves to torment me. He also loves to sit next to me on the couch and cuddle. Begs me to rub his back, and his feet, and his face (yes, his face...) and I love that about him!

It's hard to imagine this straight A student was once a little boy who we wondered if he would ever find his words. Hours of speech therapy, patience, and prayer... we can't shut him up now. And I love that about him! 

Today, I am so thankful for my little man, Zachary. I am thankful for the young man he is growing into. I am thankful for the gentle way he holds baby Ty at church, and then the full out heart he plays football with later that same afternoon.  I am thankful for his laugh. I am even thankful for his mess. And days that he leaves his binder on the floor.

And I am so, so thankful for those times when he says "thank you Mommy".

Like tonight, when he told me that his binder showed up right before first recess. Just in time.

lessons in teamwork

Sunday was truly a red letter day for my little man. As he said while changing into pj's last night... "that was the best game of my life". And truly, it was the best game of his two year football career. Zach is always well used during football games- playing on both the offensive and defensive line and on all the special teams (in fact, he has played every minute of every game this season!)... but in this game he not only got to sack the quarterback, but then was put in many times as center, got to assist with field goals by holding the ball for the kicker, was able to return a kick-off... and the crowning moment, his coaches then put him in as running back and after a couple of tries he scored his first official TOUCHDOWN! I was so stinking excited for him! I'm not going to lie, I was pretty stoked for myself too because I happened to be on the sidelines taking pictures as it all unfolded. His coaches were so happy for him, each of them asking "Did you get it mom? Did you get the shot?" And from the sidelines, I could hear all of our friends and family yelling and cheering for him. It was electric! 

Sure it was just a youth football league. And our team was so far ahead that we didn't need another touchdown. But what an experience for him. And as I proudly proclaimed on Facebook after the fact... it was then that I officially became a football mom! Zach and I rushed home to check out the pics I had taken. He gave me the play by play through the game as we relived each moment in time captured on film. Great shot of the QB sack! Cool pics of him set to hike the ball! Action shots of him returning a kick-off! And of course the money shot of his first touch down! But of all the pics I took yesterday (a couple hundred!)... this is the picture that impacted me the most...

And it has nothing to do with the determination on my sons face... or the excitement I felt in this moment... or the cheers I could hear from his daddy...

It's because of the boys surrounding Zachary. His teammates, his friends... going before and behind, to the left and the right... complete protection as he runs the ball toward the end zone. They have him covered. This is what teamwork looks like. The boys I see in this picture are the ones that are usually running the ball... chasing the glory that lies just a few yards away while Zach stands in the gap for them on the line. But this time the roles are reversed and they are taking their job seriously. They've been there, they know when he gets to the end zone everyone will be yelling his name, not theirs... but they recognize their job as no less important. Protect the runner, make a hole, lead him through the chaos to the goal line.

It makes me cry to look at this picture.  And I can't help but think... what if we acted like this in the Body of Christ?  What if we worried less about who got the "glory" of a score on the board and more about just reaching the end zone? If entire church bodies would look at who's currently carrying the ball, and rally around them, cover them, protect them and carry them to the goal line. If rather than breaking out in jealousy when the church down the street experiences a "boom"... we would rejoice with them because we realize that it's not about the number of people in independent buildings... it's about the number of souls going to HEAVEN... it's about de-populating Hell. THAT'S the goal... and it doesn't matter if my church gets there this time, and yours the next, those points still go on the board...

I once read:
There is no limit to what can be accomplished when no one cares who gets the credit. {I've researched this quote, and it's attributed to at least three different people, so we are going to call it "Author Unkown"}

That's what I see in the picture of my son. A group of boys unconcerned with who gets the credit, single-mindedly focused on reaching the end zone... together.  And while these are just the boys caught on film actively protecting Zach, he pointed out that on a subsequent run someone on the line failed to block and he got creamed. That kid was in the position Zach usually plays... and in that moment he fully understood the importance of his job on the line. It takes a team to make a touchdown... it takes a Body to save the lost.


Can we, for the sake of the lost and dying of this world, tear down denominational {read man-made} walls and rejoice with one another? Cover one another? Protect one another? Realize that our common goal is not to fill our individual pews, but to populate Heaven? That we are about Kingdom Work not congregation building? That there are enough lost and dying in our communities that there should never be a cause for stealing sheep from another flock? After all, would a coach go and grab kids off the other team when he has kids ready to play standing on the sidelines?

And within our local bodies... what if we rallied around our Pastors the way we see these young boys rally around their QB? What if we flanked him/her... front, back, to the left and to the right. What if we stood in the gap in prayer, standing against the schemes of the enemy, being a first line of defense as he/she prepares the charge into the end zone? What if rather than criticizing, or neglecting, or tearing down... we built them up, encouraged, and protected? As Zach learned when he was in the back field... when the line fails, the play fails. Realize that your role in the Body is just as important as any other... whether you are on the line, or running the ball, or calling the plays... and if any one part of the Body fails... the line fails to block, the QB is slow on the hand off, the running back fumbles the ball... the play fails.  If you aren't standing in the gap, praying for your pastor every day (count me guilty...!) you are leaving him/her open to the schemes of the Enemy! If you get the message of salvation and fail to carry it into this lost and dying world, you've fumbled the play! Romans 12:3-8 says:
For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many parts, and these parts do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body...We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. [NIV]


God has gifted each of us differently. Our role is to realize what He has called us to do within the Body, and then do it with excellence. Give it 110% like I see these little boys doing in this picture. Single-mindedly working toward the common goal of reaching the LOST and growing His Kingdom! There is no limit, Church, to what we can accomplish when no one cares who gets the credit! It doesn't matter if you are on the line, or the kick-off team, run the ball or call the plays... it's about the Kingdom... and there is ONLY One who is deserving of the glory anyway! So rise up, friends... and take a lesson from this group of youth football players. After all, it's not about who's name goes in the book as haing made a TD... it's about whose name goes in the Lamb's Book of LIFE!


Psalm 133 {NLT}
How wonderful and pleasant it is
     when brothers live together in harmony!
For harmony is as precious as the anointing oil
     that was poured over Aaron's head,
     that ran down his beard
     and onto the border of his robe.
Harmony is as refreshing as the dew from Mount Hermon
     that falls on the mounts of Zion.
And there the LORD has pronounced his blessing,
     even life everlasting.