Topsy Turvy

It's so amazing to me how fast things can change.

Just about the time life seems to fall into a predictable routine something can suddenly derail and completely reroute your present course, oftentimes requiring a paradigm shift in your way of thinking.  Sometimes these changes happen gradually, in slow steps that you can see and prepare for in advance.  Other times it's seemingly overnight with no warning at all.  And then there are those weird times that it's a little bit of both... things changing slowly right in front of you giving you a sense of something to come but then that something arrives much faster than anticipated leaving you breathless and anxious with an overall sense of chaos and confusion.

Well, such has been my life over the past several months.  I saw something coming, wasn't sure of the details exactly, but definitely something coming that would bring about change, but when it hit it happened so fast it left my head spinning.  This change is right, timely, and in God's will for our lives.  Just because it happened fast doesn't mean it happened in a hasty, thrown together decision at the last minute.

After much prayer and careful consideration, my family and I have resigned this past October from the work at Greater Faith Tabernacle in Greenville, MS where my husband has been Pastor for the past two years.  This has been one of the most difficult decisions of our lives.  We dearly love each and every member and will miss them greatly.  

When you give your life over to God and place everything in His hands in complete surrender, and pray daily that He would order your steps and lead you in His will, it's not that shocking to be seemingly uprooted from one situation only to be planted in another.  Such is the life of ministry... this I well know.  All of my life, from the very day I was born, I have lived in the home of a minister.  Being raised in the Truth and watching my parents prayerfully respond to callings and burdens throughout my life, I have come to understand concept of change.  I married a minister, who was also raised in the home of a minister, so both my husband and I have a hold on the importance of following the will of God for our lives.  Sometimes that will can lead you through doors you were fully anticipating walking through, sometimes it doesn't.  The important thing is knowing the voice of God, and correctly responding to it.

We are now living in Oxford, MS and working with Pastor Glen Williams at Christ the Rock Apostolic Church.  My husband has been installed as Youth Pastor (and Pastor's Assistant).  This church holds a very special place in my heart, as it was founded by my Dad when I was a teenager.  I couldn't be happier about this change, being much closer to friends and family, as well as the school my children were based out of while we were homeschooling in Greenville.  (The school, Oxford Christian Academy, is an extension of the ministry of the church we now attend.). We lived with my parents for the first 4 months until the dust settled and we could get our feet back under us.  I honestly felt sorry for them!  It was a crowded, crazy few months but it was wonderful being with them so much.  I had missed them more than words could say.  In February of this year (Valentine's Day, to be exact!) the Lord blessed us with a beautiful home.  I was amazed at how it all just fell into place.  It was only another confirmation of what we already knew, we were right where we were supposed to be.  Things are still in boxes in the garage and everything is not exactly like we want it, but we feel so at home here.  

Another major change in my life has occurred, one I would have never seen coming.  I'm now learning the family business at The Denture Lab, working for my father-in-law.   This nurse is no longer a nurse, but instead a dental technician in training!  Ha!  Who'd have ever thought I'd learn to make dentures.  :)  I honestly love it.  

The days and weeks quickly turned into months.  It feels as though time has been let loose, like a child who's finally been told they can unwrap their Christmas presents.  It's difficult to describe, but it feels as though I'm sitting back watching my life change before my eyes but not really participating in it.  "Dreamlike" is the best word I can think of to describe it.  I've been having to remind myself that this is really happening.  Every day we've been back home has gone by in a flurried whirlwind of activity.  From moving day till now, the days have just ran together for me.  There's been something major going on just about every time I find a minute to sit down and catch my breath.  November birthdays, Christmas, and the New Year have all zoomed before my eyes.  I've seen winter hit with a fury that has finally let go, and now Spring is all around us.  I am utterly amazed at how quickly time has flown by.  The girls have grown so much since leaving Greenville.  All three of them are in new shoe and dress sizes.  I can't keep up!

With life seemingly flipped all topsy turvy, I'm reminded of something I used to enjoy doing as a child.  I'd lay on the couch with my head dangling off the side and look at everything around me upside down.  Things took on a new appearance when viewed from a different perspective.  For just a moment I was out of the rut of the everyday norm.  With my blond wisps of hair flopped around my ears, my cheeks turning pink, and my head starting to feel dizzy and heavy, I'd take in the room around me.  The light fixture turned into a weird looking table.  The ceiling became a bumpy floor.  Chairs and tables suddenly defied gravity.  It was so cool!  (there wasn't much to occupy my time as an only child.  I did what I could.)  :)  But now I kind of see life that way.  Our world can be turned upside down and things still be positive, especially when we live in faith by putting our trust in the One who created it in the first place.  The next time you get thrown a curveball in life and you start to feel the pressures of change, go flip your head upside down somewhere and find a cool table like I did.  It will make you feel better, I promise!  Take another look from a different perspective.

Not to sound cliche', but the saying is really true; the more things change, the more they stay the same.  We may not see some things coming ahead of time, or we may actually be prepared for it and watch it happen without shock.  We may feel a sense of change without knowing the full reason.  Whatever the situation, whatever my past or present course, whatever mysteries may lie ahead around the next bend, I rest in the knowledge that my God's got this.  Whoever said the following knew what they were talking about, "I may not know what tomorrow holds, but I'm glad I know who holds tomorrow."

Chalkboards in the Morning

It seems as though I haven't had any inspiration for a "year in review" post.  Yes, much has happened.  And yes, there are many goals I have in mind for the year ahead.  But unlike last year, I don't have the desire to do a month by month walk back in time.  Last year was quite different; our lives had completely changed.  This time, I prefer to keep my thoughts tucked away about 2012.  Besides, those closest to me who actually read my blog know the main highlights anyway.

To wrap it all up in one neat, little bundle that I could stuff in a tiny shell and send zooming over the information highway directly to your screen:  God is merciful.  That's all that really matters.  His mercy is from everlasting to everlasting, mercies that are fresh and new each morning.  When day breaks the darkness of night and the sky awakens slowly from pitch black to a hazy gray to a beautiful light blue.  His mercy likewise changes the color of our heart's horizon.  And as sure as the sunrise, as sure as the kiss of dew on each blade of grass, as sure as dawn of another day, we are given the most valuable prize ever won:  the chance to try again.

My Dad once made what I believe to be one of the most awesome points I've ever heard on mercy.  Remember when soda companies first started the trend of prizes won under the cap or at the bottom of the can?  So many times we read over and over, "Please try again", to which my Dad taught that was the greatest prize we could ever win in our lifetime:  the chance to try again. 

I am reminded of my old 4th grade classroom chalkboard.  It was actually several huge chalkboards fitted together that covered an entire wall.  Mrs. Harris chose a student at the end of each school day, right before the last recess, for the coveted (yes, coveted) job of washing the boards.  The lucky student would go fill the old tin bucket with soap and water, and with a huge, over-sized sponge he or she would wash clean all the writings and lessons of the day.  I have no idea why it was such a desired occupation rather than going outside to the playground for that last spin on the merry-go-round with the boom box blaring in the center, that last game of kick ball with Principal Wood, that last swing on the swing set while singing to the top of one's lungs, that last opportunity to catch a yellow jacket in the half drank can of grape soda.  I waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity to my 8 year old mind for my chance to wash the boards.  Finally, it came.  I was never so happy to clean something.  (How I wish I still felt that happiness while doing housework!)  I dipped that giant sponge in the pail of tepid, sudsy water, stepped up onto the stool designated for the washer, and from top to bottom, all the way from one side of the wall to the other, I wiped clean every mark.

 Forgive my simple mind, but I see each new year like that chalkboard.  I think that the prospect of washing it all clean should be exciting, something to look forward to, to be happy about while we're doing it.  I also believe that the start of a brand new year is the perfect time to do a little soul searching, a little praying, a little fasting.  It only makes sense to me to do these things as the precious gift of the "chance to try again" is set before us.  Let the water of the Word wash you clean.  Detoxify your physical and spiritual self in a good fast.  Spend the dawn of each new day (beautifully painted with that fresh mercy!) on your knees in prayer before the rest of the world wakes up around you.

So once again, I find myself on that step stool at the chalk board, damp sponge in hand, the powdery scent of chalk in the air (because there's a lot on the board), and a smile on my face.  I'm remembering the past year I see written before me.  I see lots of laughter, lots of tears, a few achievements, a few mistakes, lessons learned, and a ton of blessings I could have never deserved.  So many memories.  Some I never want to forget, others I wish I could.  And through it all, another year of my life gone forever, there is one beautiful constant:  My God stayed the same.  The same He will be today, the same He will be tomorrow.  I take hold of my gift, and I start washing the slate clean, yet again.  I claim my prize brought with another new year wrapped in new mercy.

I will try again.

            

Not Good Enough

It was time for P.E. class at school, the time of day the little girl dreaded the most.  Quiet, shy, and basically withdrawn from most every student in the entire school, except for two other 6th graders, she never told anyone how much she loathed having to go to the gym every afternoon, not even her parents.  But being the obedient child she had always been, she never balked when the teacher announced P.E. time.  She would go to the girls bathroom, change into her modest culottes and tennis shoes with the rest of the girls from the Christian school, and bravely walk into the gym.

Some days she was lucky, when the teacher would instruct them to go out into the football field and run laps, something she could do on her own, with no one else watching or criticizing.  Other days the teacher would not be available for awhile and they would all be instructed to go into the gym and do some form of physical activity, where groups would usually form and she would be left alone to walk around the gym with no other distraction from her quiet thoughts.  She liked those days.

But today was not such a day.

The teacher announced "volleyball", and teams were formed.  As always, she was the last standing to be picked.  How she hated standing there every time there was a game where teams had to be formed.  She had to go to the side lacking a player, and it immediately began... the looks, the rolled eyes, the huffs and sighs.  How she hated P.E. time.

She took her place where she was told to stand, and the game began.  Stomach already in knots, heart racing, she tried her best to remain calm and just get through the game.  One more game.  "You can do this", she would tell herself inwardly.  "Just watch the ball and try to hit it."  "It's just you and the ball, no one else.  It's only a game."

The ball was served from the opposing team, and as if it searched her out willfully, it came straight over the net directly to her.  She attempted to hit it.  She missed.  Thus started the game with frazzled nerves and irritated teammates.

The game progressed, and points were scored on each side.  They managed to knock her out of the way when the ball came too close to her.  They grumbled and complained whenever she tried and missed.  And then it was her turn to serve.  The game was close, her team was losing by only a point.  "Oh, man... come on!", she heard an older teen girl say.  "Get it over with.", another said.  "We're gonna lose", echoed another.  She swallowed hard, closed her eyes briefly, held out the ball, and hit it with all her might.  She watched in silence as it veer off to the far right.  Protests and sneering remarks came from both sides, some laughed, some whispered to others or under their breath.  She couldn't take it any longer.  She didn't say a word as the tears fell from her young face.  She simply turned and walked away.

That was the last volleyball game she would ever play.

That little girl was me.

I'm not sure why that memory occurred to me today.   It came from nowhere, just out of the blue.  I haven't ever shared that memory with anyone, or ever explained why I like to watch volleyball but never play.  My senior year of high school, just having moved back to the area I had been away from for 4 years, I was given the job of keeping the score book for the Lady Warriors.  I went to each game, even attended every practice, and cheered them on with as much enthusiasm as the coach.  I loved being able to be apart, even if it meant sitting on the sidelines.  Watching those girls play so hard and win most games they played was a true joy.  But being in that same gym again brought back a few haunting memories every now and then.  Those old feelings of shame, of not being good enough, of never being picked on a team, of nervousness and dread, they would creep up every once in awhile.  But by that time I was a pro when it came to swallowing down unwanted feelings and hiding behind a smile.  Besides, what did it matter?  I was just a little girl.  It was all so silly.  Just a part of growing up.

Even now I feel so embarrassed just thinking about it.  But looking back to that senior year, and remembering the 6th grade and how it impacted my life, I have come to realize the importance of talking things through with a friend.  Yes, it may be seemingly unimportant or even utter nonsense, but anytime feelings of self-loathing, or feelings that drastically effect one's sense of self worth are involved, I have found out the hard way it is very important to try to talk it out.  Because speaking your mind, especially about how you see yourself, is a way to overcome those feelings.   Keeping things bottled up inside for half your life can ultimately lead to a habit of bottling up every feeling, not just the bad ones.  I've often wondered how many people live their lives behind a mask, portraying one image but really living another, all the while bottling up feelings and emotions that really need to be shared with someone who truly cares for them. 

It may be a good idea to open the dusty trunk of childhood memories every now and then and go through a few.  I think the ones usually buried there are the ones we try to forget.  But in doing so we may just figure out a reason why we tend to do one thing or another today.  I am a firm believer in knowing the "why", not just the "what".  The "why" is much more vital!

Being a nurse, I have been trained to know the rationale behind each action.  That was actually my least favorite part of nursing school.  Not only were we trained to do a task perfectly, but if we were not able to explain why we did it, we would fail just as if we hadn't done a single step right.   Wow.  How much easier life would be if we could step back and ask ourselves why.  Maybe then we could figure out how to solve the problem.

Just some ramblings today from the recesses of a full mind.  Most of my blog posts are not this personal.  This one may even be a bit dull, but it's something I felt like writing.  Having that old memory come up again today, I wanted to ponder it a little... so I pondered out loud.  :)     

       

Treasures

It's amazing the things you can find while packing up your house to move somewhere else.  I have always been quite the pack rat.  I keep all sorts of cards, letters, and mementos, most of it all silly stuff in other's eyes, I'm sure.  While going through my many boxes and hiding spots for my life's collection of memories, I found things that made me smile, made me cry, made me laugh, made me furrow my brow in confusion as to why in the world I kept that... all sorts of emotions and faces.  I relived my short 31 years in a span of two hours while going through memories heaped in piles of papers and objects, envelopes and packages.  And while sneezing intermittently through the stirring dust, I realized my treasures in life were in front of me. 

I found a toy that had been given to me by my now desceased grandfather, whom I do not remember, as he died when I was just a baby.  I found pictures of school friends, birthday cards, my very first CD's (yeah, those things came out during my childhood... I feel old), deflated balloons, journals from just about every stage in my life, my favorite books that are now falling apart due to being read over and over... so many things.  I found precious things that are irreplaceable, such as letters and poems from my Dad.  Even found a few songs I had "written", lol.  And all this stuff was way before my dating, marriage, and baby years... I filled a plastic bin with stuff from Delbert, all the letters, cards, poems, and pictures from our dating and early marriage. And it took a huge plastic bin filled to the top to hold all my favorite baby things from my three beautiful girls, such as their hospital receiving blankets, going home outfits, baby books, and pictures.... oh my, the pictures.

The whole process made me realize that my treasures are not of any monetary value to others, but are priceless to me, because they are my memories.  It all represented friends and family, people who mean the world to me.  Scribbled coloring pages given to me by children I used to babysit who are now babysitting for me, silly home videos, (even found an old college speech video of Delbert, ha!), these things are what I treasure.  Not because of the things themselves, but because of what they represent.  A picture of my very first ultrasound as I laid eyes on Rachel for the first time reminded me of that entire first pregnancy.  A crushed paper cup I kept reminded me of the day my grandmother held it in one hand while I held the other as the doctor looked across the desk and told her she had cancer, which also reminded me of the day I held that same hand and told her I loved her when she took her last breath.

What's that verse?  "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."  (Matthew 6:21)            

Facebook Notes

I wanted to go ahead and put these on here, seeing as how they are basically blog posts anyway.

Memory Lane

Sunday, June 19, 2011

My Dad and I have always been very close. This being Father's Day, I tried to think back to my favorite memory with my Dad, there's so many to choose from. I could talk about Ludwig and Russnic... the infamous left and right hand puppets he created to help me understand my science homework when I was in first grade that immediately became our favorite past time for years. I could talk about him rocking me and singing to me for hours one night when my stomach hurt really bad and I couldn't sleep. I could talk about our reading chair... that old gray recliner that I would hop into with a book any time I wanted him to read to me... which was every day. I could talk about walking to The Country Kitchen when I was 4, that little mom and pop restaurant that used to be in New Albany, and how we would step on "turtles" and "alligators" on the way (the circle and rectangle shaped sewer tops in the sidewalk). I could talk about how he used to lay on his back, hold me up in the air, and make me "fly" around to McDonald's, or Walmart (gah), or anywhere else I wanted to "go". There are the times I would love to just sit and watch him do this really neat doodling with lines that I've only seen him do. And then there are the countless memories of his singing, preaching, and ministry. But by far... one memory stands out among all the others. I love snow. I always have. Dad was working the late night shift one winter, and it started snowing on his way home. When he got home, he woke me up and told me to put my shoes and coat on... didn't tell me why or where we were going. Then he walked with me outside while it snowed, all the way down Bankhead street on the sidewalk. We chit chatted the entire way with the snow quietly falling around us. It's a moment I will never, ever forget, and it only barely describes the wonderful man I am privileged to call Daddy.

Belly Button

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

About this time a year ago, I held Eliana Nicole in my arms for the very first time. What an easy birth compared to Rachel (12 hours), or even Jordan (6 hours). Ellie let me know she was contemplating making her grand appearance a few days ahead of time, but like now, she didn't get in too big of a hurry. We timed Braxton Hick's contractions about every 30 min. to an hour for a good two days before being induced in the hospital. But June 14 would have still been her birthday, with or without Pitocin. We were already at 5cm when they first checked me that morning. She may have been an easy delivery, with her being born exactly 11 minutes after they told be I was at 10 cm (I pushed for 2 hours with Rachel...ugh). But the pregnancy was another story. My body was older, more used, the heaviest it's ever been, and very, very tired during those 9 months. Enduring two glucose tolerance tests (with that gaggy thick syrup and blood draws for 4 hours), I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes during my third trimester, and thus began a diet change and many finger sticks. In the end, through all the aches, pains, and woes of pregnancy, I count myself beyond blessed to have been able to bring life into this world for the third time. I see it as a privilege, not a right. It is my body, no doubt. But at the moment of conception, a woman's body is taken over by a being that quite literally draws the very life out of her to feed itself. My body is not my own for 9 months, it's shared. And for the only time in my body's existence, it does not fight a foreign being or sees it as an intruder... it instead fully embraces it, protects it, and will draw vitamins and minerals from it's very bones to give to the little one growing inside if not provided through other means. Pregnancy is the only time a human body will give up the survival instinct of self preservation to give of itself to another beating heart. What an amazing, wonderful time. It may sound cliché', but it's worth it all. From the time my ears hear that first doppler heart beat, to the time my eyes first see the tiny beating heart on the screen, to the time my belly feels that first kick, to the time my arms feel the soft, newborn skin... it's worth it all. And every time I see that belly button, whether during a diaper change or bath time... I'm reminded of where we were connected together for a short time, and that even though we're now separated from that physical bond, we'll forever be inseparable through the bonds of love.