My first guest blog!!! Jann is a great friend who I have known for a long time. She is an amazing mom, wife, and a great example what it looks life to follow God with all your heart.
I am so thankful for her influence in my life.
Read my guest blog entry at http://thereflectionofhim.blogspot.com
Then stick around for a while and let her words feed your soul.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
In Need of Trees
I've wanted to write a number of times in the last two weeks. However, I have been wiping noses, administering meds, and getting the house ready for Christmas. I need all ten fingers to type and they have been very busy. But, I'm not complaining. Or, at least, I am really focusing on not complaining or letting my heart drift down that tempting road.
It's poison...and, I've learned this the hard way.
This is my daily challenge. I wake up every morning with great intentions. I want so badly to be a person who is thankful. It is one of my deepest desires to be able to approach the tasks of the day with a heart of gratitude. But everyday, well, almost everyday, I feel like I'm failing.
Often, it is when things get hard.
I sit in my big blue chair in the Little Man's room giving him a bottle or settling him down for a nap. My mind wanders with to-do lists and want-to-do lists. I am hopeful. This time he is going to take his bottle and not fight me. This time he is going to lay down for his nap and fall peacefully asleep. Then, especially when I want it the most, those hopes resemble the likes of someone taking a baseball bat to a mirror...dashed...crashed...shards and fragments.
It is in these moments that I fail more than thrive. I am so ashamed to admit it. My sweet baby, whom 6 and a half months later I still can't quite figure out, doesn't understand why mommy is crying again. My sweet toddler peaks through the door and whispers, "Let's be happy mommy!!!"
"Yes, let's be happy," is what I really want to say but instead all that comes out of my mouth is a harsh "Shhhhh..." and all that wells up in my heart are the reasons I can blame someone else for this mess of a moment.
My mind flies from loved one to loved one...it's all their faults. I chuckle as I write it because it is so ridiculous, but, in the moment...in the mess...I have to find someone to blame. Why do I think this will make it any better? I don't know.
It seems that when I can't get things under control fear enters the picture. As those scheming voices get louder I begin to believe the jagged thoughts that are racing through my mind and then my heart takes in more of that poison.
I complain, not necessarily out loud, but I do. I take the posture of someone who thinks they are entitled. It's really embarrassing actually. If I were only to widen my focus and see the healthy, hearty boy in my arms and listen to the bright sweet voice on the other side of the door I might see the blessings. I might find something to be thankful for.
Everyday I'm learning over again to stop placing my expectations in people, timetables and to-do lists. This constant habit that has it's vice on on me ushers me into a "complaint fest". When my expectations are not met my heart wells up with anxiety and I find myself taking the bait. The words and thoughts sit on my heart and eventually sink in causing bitterness and self-pity...the antithesis of joy.
This is hard for me. I'm a smiley person. Joy is something that has always come easy. I look at my two sweet children and feel the guilt well up because I am so blessed, so lucky to be their mama but for the life of me I can't muster up the joy.
This is when I know something must be done. If I go on this way the poison that is overtaking me will begin to overflow onto the people around me, the little people especially.
So, I go to the Word.
It really is amazing. I don't know how to actually describe it, but, every time, I experience healing. I experience refreshing. I experience conviction that leads to repentance that leads to a seed of gratitude, a seed that if watered grows exponentially.
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life."
Proverbs 13:12
I have had a few days living with a sick heart. What I need is a good look at the trees of life, the desires fulfilled. These are what restore me. These oaks, these trees draw in the living water that replenishes and refreshes.
Joy wells up and the complaining voices fade.
In high school I realized I needed to wear glasses. I borrowed my friends on the bus ride home one day. I will never forget what the trees looked like...such beauty, such detail, such life.
Tonight I am remembering desires fulfilled.
The man I married...
The babies sleeping in their beds...
The life long friends...
the family who loves and cares...
the opportunities...
the promises kept...
the smiles...the belly laughs...the joy.
I know the struggle is not over. Tomorrow holds new challenges. So, tonight I'm praying.
Lord, help me. Help me see. Remind me to water these seeds you planted tonight. May they grow into trees of life. Strong ones with deep roots, not easily blown over by the winds of adversity.
Thank you for fulfilling so much of my heart's desire.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Crying Out
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| Sweet baby kisses...it doesn't get any better than this. |
Sniff, sniff, sip. Sniff, sniff, sip. This is me right now. No, I'm not crying at this moment but I feel like I've been hit by a bus. It is with a bad head cold and a re-heated cup of coffee that I find myself typing this morning.
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| Mommy and the Bug with our sick eyes...all four of us are sniffling. |
This week started high and came crashing down. Monday, I was so happy. We had just come off the long weekend, we celebrated and had a grand ol' time. The kiddos were extra loved on with all the extra people around. They were happy little cherubs. That was the calm before the storm...literally.
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| Christmas at Disneyland...LOVE IT. |
If you've read A Lesson from Amy, the night that finally gave me something to write about and what started my blog entries, you know I have a sweet Little Man who has had trouble sleeping. It has been a long road since that 8 week old caused me to cry out to God in a way I hadn't in a long while.
Well, this week brought me to my knees again.
Not only is Little Man's night sleep a problem, his napping is not very spectacular either. Just like his big sister he has been a cat napper...with moments of break through that cause me to hope we are turning a corner. Then with the next day or the next nap my hopes are dashed...and so goes our days.
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| Sick and sleepy...of course he slept for two hours while I held him this afternoon. |
On Wednesday this week I was having one of those "Super" days where nothing goes according to plan; the anxiety and frustration well up to the tipping point. I was either going to implode or explode...either way it was not going to be pretty. I put both kiddos in their beds and got in the shower, also known as my prayer closet, and cried out...I said my ugly thoughts out loud and prayed for mercy. As I turned the streaming water off I crossed my fingers, hoping that God would take pity on me and there would be silence. Alas, to no avail, the silenced shower head left ample room for the volume of my screaming children. My ears were burning with their wails and that voice of self-condemnation..."Wow...aren't you mother of the year..."
I quickly dressed and grabbed a hair brush to brush out my hair before my hands were full again...and lo and behold, I brushed back my hair to find, to my horror, two spots on the corners of my head BALDING!!! I kid you not, a few days ago there was hair and at that moment I saw scalp! Ugly, white scalp that had never seen the sun! SCALP. It's not even a pretty word. Tears immediately. I called the Fly and said through choking sobs, after I was sure he was by himself, "I'm losing my hair!!!!" He came home.
I cried and we discussed what it could be: hormones, Post Partum (even though this didn't happen with The Bug), because I stopped nursing, sleep deprivation, stress, etc. We knew a trip to the doc was in order for me but in the mean time I needed to sleep. The Fly banished me to the guest room and geared up for the storm ahead that night.
Bless his heart. At 5:30am he came into the guest room and asked if I could come into our bed to stay with both babies. He had to go outside and try to fix the Christmas lights that were "whapping" against the window. The wind had been blowing hard keeping the small people awake most of the night. The Bug does not sleep well in our bed...she's wild and easily distracted from sleep...so she was not interested in sleeping and kept waking up the Little Man. The howling wind and rattling walls did not help either but I didn't know about any of this until the gentle nudge just before dawn.
As the Fly stumbled out the door to work I was refreshed and ready to tackle this sleep issue with some clarity. Sure, I was minus a few strands of hair, but I was determined to fix our problem.
I began the morning praying for direction, more clarity and that I would be sensitive to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. I wanted to be a good mom that day to make up for my behavior the day before.
After some consideration I made my decision. Little Man was going to have to learn how to soothe himself to sleep, otherwise, his mama would be bald, his daddy would turn into a Zombie and his big sister would be calling all the shots.
Now let me be clear...I do not fall on either side of the fence in the cry it out, don't cry it out argument. Of course, I would prefer to not have to let me sweet babies cry but I had tried everything up to this point and this was my last resort. I do not judge you if you let your babies sleep with you until they're 5, (as I did with my parents...probably why I'm so concerned about my kids sleeping in their own beds,) and I don't judge you if you let your little ones cry to teach them to fall asleep on their own....A mama's got to do what a mama's got to do...she's got to love her babies and she has to be sane...at least a little bit anyway.
So the training began. I went in at five minutes, then ten minutes, then 15 minutes, then 20 minutes. I really don't remember much as it was a constant cry fest. During one of the intervals I opened my Bible. I had been feeling a little convicted since I have read almost every sleep book there is (please excuse this slight exaggeration...but I have read a lot!) and hardly cracked The Word open in the last few days. I came across Psalm 86 and not only did it speak to me but it shouted at me!
Psalm 86
A prayer of David. 1 Hear me, LORD, and answer me,for I am poor and needy.
2 Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; 3 have mercy on me, Lord,
for I call to you all day long.
4 Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
for I put my trust in you.
5 You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
abounding in love to all who call to you.
6 Hear my prayer, LORD;
listen to my cry for mercy.
7 When I am in distress, I call to you,
because you answer me.
I cried this out as my son cried out. I cried out. The Bug was playing and I was praying. Again, I found myself begging God for sleep for my sweet baby. I just knew that if he could soothe himself to sleep we would all be better for it.
Now, this is where I wish I could wrap up this entry nice and neat with a sweet message on how God answers our prayers but it wasn't nice and neat at all.
All day that day and the next I let my sweet son cry it out. Every time I left his crib he would sob. It was a different kind of sob. The kind that said to my soul, "Mommy, please don't leave me!" I ached. I cried. I rearranged furniture. I played worship music. I played Christmas music. I prayed more. The Bug prayed with me. Yet, he still cried. There were a few times he fell asleep for about 15 or 20 minutes and I rejoiced thinking, "Finally!" but it would not last.
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| I created this to keep my hands busy |
By 4:00pm yesterday I was done. He had been crying for an hour and a half. Even typing it makes my skin crawl and my eyes water. I let him cry. I let him cry for 90 minutes. Finally, I went in and picked him up. In seconds he was soothed...and then, a giant, heart melting smile that brought on mixed feelings of relief and guilt.
We stopped the process that night. We came home from a Christmas party and he was teething badly and very stuffed up. He slept snuggled in close to his daddy. This morning he woke up sick. I'm trying not to blame myself but it's hard.
I just want him to sleep. I want him to be healthy. I want him to love his crib. As I've been reflecting on all of this I am once again reminded that God's perspective is so much greater than mine.
I was really angry. Why wouldn't he answer these prayers. It wasn't like I was asking for everything I touched to be turned to gold...I was asking for the basic needs of my child.
Then today a whisper aroused my heart. I have been working through the book of Ruth, slowly. In the beginning of the second chapter it talks about how Ruth happened to be in Boaz's part of the field. The book of Ruth is a beautiful example of God's providence and how what we might consider happenstance is actually part of the larger perspective only He can see.
When I read through that I asked God what happenstance was upon me that day? Looking back I now understand that I happened upon a struggle that day. I may not like it or understand, it but it was part of my story...it was part of the Little Man's story.
With these thoughts my perspective has changed. I happen to have a son who does not sleep well. This is part of my story. A person I love happens to have a baby who is having the hardest time nursing. This is part of her story. Three other people I love happen to have a hard time getting pregnant. It's painful, but it's part of their stories.
Our problem does not lie in the happenstance but instead how we view it. We all happen upon struggles; it is the posture we choose to take that determines how it affects our story. We have a choice on how to view these moments as circumstance or happenstance. We can easily view it as a punishment, we can easily view it as being forgotten. It is much harder to view it as a piece of the narrative that reveals the redemptive work of Christ in our lives.
We have all cried out, whether it be as a helpless infant or helpless adult. We have all experienced our prayers not being answered. But, today, I want to remember that my God hears me. My God sees my tears. My God has compassion on me. And, that is why I have the privilege of seeing my circumstances as his hand-picked happenstances. It's part of my story.
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| Love those rolls. |
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Saturday, November 26, 2011
Can't Help Lovin' dat Man
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| He's not "scurred"!!! |
This weekend (well, Thursday through Sunday) was full. It was not just our bellies that experienced a filling, but our beings. We were thankful. We celebrated. We had birthday parties and went to Disneyland.
One of the birthday's happened to be Fly's. He turned 30. (Yes, I am older, but only by 18 days; these are the longest 18 days of my life!)
In honor of his big 3-0 here are 30 reasons why I love my Fly and am so blessed to do life with him:
1. He humors my love for musicals and by default has learned the songs to most of my favorites.
2. He washes my car every Saturday and cleans out the inside...this sometimes pains him but he still does it. (The inside of my car can often resemble the closet of a messy teenager.)
3. He's the most loyal man I know.
4. He looks good in every picture:)...he's so photogenic.
5. Being an uncle changed him for good...being a dad made him that much better. His nieces and his kids have no doubt in their minds that Uncle or Daddy love them and will go to the end of the world for each of them.
6. He sees right through fake concern. His a pretty discerning guy.
7. He can make our babies fall asleep in seconds in his arms.
8. He is full of adventure. Ask him about how he illegally rode a turtle in Maui and sought out the hammerheads...not a good idea if you ask me...but adventurous just the same.
9. He's not just adventurous. He is brave. I am never afraid when he is with me.
10. He sings silly songs. He changes all the lyrics to different songs to be silly...and sometimes slightly inapporpriate.
11. He surprises me because he knows I love surprises.
12. He is a planner.
13. He is a saver.
14. He hugs me and his kids.
15. He tells each of us he loves us...often.
16. He doesn't care what people think about him...he always does what he thinks is right.
17. He does dishes and laundry without complaint or a second thought.
18. He loves music. Music speaks to him. I'm pretty sure that's how God gets his attention:).
19. He loves gummy bears...and has passed his love for them to The Bug.
20. I love how I fit right under his head. He is a whole foot taller than me so my head hits his chest. It's my favorite place.
21. He knows when I need a Starbucks.
22. He is my pillar of strength.
23. He loves God and is an example of God's love to me and our kids.
24. He's selfless. When there are five coconut crusted shrimp he always lets me have three and he eats two. In all the time that I have know him he has never eaten the third one. I have tried everything. He will even let me throw it away because he knows I really want it and I won't just let it go to waste!
25. He doesn't watch scary shows and movies when I am around because he knows I don't like them.
26. He reads my blog...every entry.
27. He supports me and my dreams for our future, even the unconventional ones.
28. He makes me laugh. He makes me laugh all the time.
29. He sees us as teammates; we are in this game together.
30. He doesn't pretend to be perfect...instead he practices grace. For that, I am most thankful.
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| Silly Daddy |
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| The nieces and the Bug |
It's a good list. However, there are days when I forget these things and my heart becomes embittered with him. I am not proud of those days. But, if you ask any married couple, it's a part of the journey. On those days I try to remember that my daddy always told me not to go to bed angry with someone. So, I often try to forgive before we fall asleep. I touch my toes to his to signal the I'm sorry's and I forgive you's. And, if we've had enough time that's all it takes. We choose grace; we choose it for ourselves and each other. If God's mercies are new every morning who are we to hold a grudge. That's our secret...that's why we still like each other.
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| The 30 year olds |
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| So
selfless, that for his birthday he got me my new wedding ring. (A bad
guy stole my original...if you don't know the story you can read it here
The Glad Game) It was a stunning surprise. |
My prayer is that 30 years from now it is as easy to come up with 60 reasons why I love this man as it was to come up with 30. I pray that there will be at least another 30 years of silly songs, coconut shrimp and toe touching.
I love you Fly. Happy Birthday.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Sowing Season
So...I'm learning to sew. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I am slowly but surely domesticating.
Last year for my birthday I asked for a sewing machine. I had these beautiful images conjured up in this dreamy little head of mine of me, late at night, sitting at my sewing machine, creating masterpieces...costumes, curtains, pillowcases and anything else I could do with paisley fabric.
However, no one told me that being pregnant with a toddler who could run circles around you on your good day would mean that every chance I could sit I did just that. Often that sitting turned into laying down. The laying down caused my eyelids to get heavy. The rest is history. The moment that kiddo would go down for a nap I was out. Being pregnant is hard work. Being the Bug's mama is hard work. Put the two together and I remember why it's difficult for me to form coherent sentences after 6pm.
So...the sewing machine...sat in it's box for a year and week or so until finally, this week, I did it. I opened the box. I slid the squeaky Styrofoam right out of that box. I opened the directions and started with page one. I took a deep breath and began to read word for word the description of each little piece and what it's function was. It kind of felt like reading Spanish. I took enough Spanish in high school and college to make out the gist of what something says...granted it takes me a while. I know enough "head knowledge" about sewing to know things like the bobbin is an important feature. I'm not really sure what it does but I know that without it, there will be no sewing. (My friends who do sew....or have tried to teach me little bits are laughing at me now.)
To date I have not turned it on or has a piece of fabric graced the "Needle Plate" but it is out of the box. And that, my friends, is a victory in itself.
What was it that inspired me to finally dive in and at least look at the real thing rather than stare at the picture every time I came across it? First, I am in the process of some de-cluttering and the sewing machine lives in the cluttered, catch all, guest room. Second, I was working on a Bible Study I have been doing on my own in the book of Ruth and it reintroduced the idea of "sowing and reaping" to me. The study asked me a question, "Are you in a season of sowing or reaping?" It stumped me...but it also made me think of that machine...sitting in it's box...waiting to be used.
Am I in a season of sowing or reaping? The Bible uses these terms in a variety of passages. The idea comes from the farming process of sowing seed and reaping harvest. God's Word likens it to our journey through life. There are seasons of pouring in...into ourselves, our relationships, our community, our world and so on. Then there are seasons of reaping when we see all of our hard work pay off.
The study brought me to Psalm 126. Verses 5 and 6 say this,
5 Those who sow in tears
Shall reap in joy.
6 He who continually goes forth weeping,
Bearing seed for sowing,
Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
Bringing his sheaves with him.
This is the New King James Version...it's my favorite because it sounds so much like Shakespeare:). Don't judge...I love Shakespeare.
This passage reminded me that the season of sowing is a hard one. It reminded me that it takes blood, sweat and tears for a harvest to be produced. It reminded me that even though I may have many tears throughout my life my God can use them to produce harvest. This was a good reminder.
It was a good reminder because after some reflection I realized that I am in a sowing season...a sowing season that may actually be one of the very hardest I will ever face. I like to call this sowing season, "Motherhood."
This is a season in which God has entrusted me with His creations. He has equipped me to guide them and teach them. He has given me the ability to nourish not only their bellies but also their minds and their hearts. He has given me the chance to sow into these little ones the truths, the convictions, the passions, the desires to be people who live for the plan He has for each of them; a plan that is designed to reap more than just their own personal successes.
I sat with the Psalm for a little while...marinating in the words. I thought about tears...my tears. I have a lot of tears. My tear button is so sensitive that sometimes I think it malfunctions. I can be doing dishes and all of sudden tears are streaming down my face. The funny thing is that a sentence like that is usually followed with a "for no reason at all"...no, my malfunctioning comes from my reasoning. I may be crying while I'm doing the dishes out of joy because the Bug finally ate a vegetable I didn't have to hide. It's a sign of growing, maturing...I small sign of reaping from all the sowing I have been doing to get her to eat healthy foods.
I'm serious, people. Real tears.
This, as hormone induced as it might sound, is not a new thing for me. My mother has said for a very long time, "Allison wears her heart on her sleeve." This is code for, "Allison cries...a lot." People that know me well...or even just sort of well...are nodding their heads in agreement.
But, I'm not ashamed. My tears are what bring me to my knees, whether it be out of desperation or joy...celebration or repentance. My tears shape my prayers and my relationship with God. My tears are the only way I know how to express my deep passions and compassion. After reading this Psalm I now know that my tears are not in vain. They are not just a girl thing. My tears are part of the sowing process. My tears, followed with authentic intention and action can reap a harvest of joy.
I have only been a mother for 2 years, 6 months and 13 days. In that time have cried a lot. I have prayed a lot. I have taught my little ones a lot. However, this is just the beginning. I know these years are dear and precious and even easy compared to what is to come.
Therefore, my prayer for this season is that I learn to sow.
I pray that I learn to sow into my children the knowledge that there is a God that loves them, who created them with a plan and a purpose. This purpose is beyond themselves. I want to sow into them a deep compassion for others; a true knowledge and understanding of the power of God's Word to heal and make whole. I want to sow in them life lessons that will help them make wise decisions. I want to sow in them the tangible experience of grace. I want them to know they will make mistakes...their parents will make mistakes, but grace, grace is why we are able to pick ourselves up, forgive, and see all circumstances as opportunities to experience more of who God is.
This is a lot of responsibility.
I am thankful that I am not alone in the process. I have the Fly...who is awesome. He really is. He loves his kids in a way that I could not have foreseen. I knew he would be a good dad but he is a GREAT dad. I am so thankful that I get to partner with him in this sowing season. I could not do it without him. When he digs deep for the extra patience or when he rolls around on the ground producing deep belly laughs I feel the tears well up and I thank God.
I am in a sowing season...probably the hardest...but also rewarding. I move forward knowing my tears have the ability to produce something if they compel me to act intentionally. I hope they do. I want to take my sowing seriously so that I can rejoice at the Harvest.
With all this said, I still want to learn how to actually sew. I have often experienced what is going on with me Spiritually manifest physically:). So...maybe in this sowing season...I will sew. And I pray, as my sewing skills increase my "sowing skills" will reap with joy.
Last year for my birthday I asked for a sewing machine. I had these beautiful images conjured up in this dreamy little head of mine of me, late at night, sitting at my sewing machine, creating masterpieces...costumes, curtains, pillowcases and anything else I could do with paisley fabric.
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| The Machine |
However, no one told me that being pregnant with a toddler who could run circles around you on your good day would mean that every chance I could sit I did just that. Often that sitting turned into laying down. The laying down caused my eyelids to get heavy. The rest is history. The moment that kiddo would go down for a nap I was out. Being pregnant is hard work. Being the Bug's mama is hard work. Put the two together and I remember why it's difficult for me to form coherent sentences after 6pm.
So...the sewing machine...sat in it's box for a year and week or so until finally, this week, I did it. I opened the box. I slid the squeaky Styrofoam right out of that box. I opened the directions and started with page one. I took a deep breath and began to read word for word the description of each little piece and what it's function was. It kind of felt like reading Spanish. I took enough Spanish in high school and college to make out the gist of what something says...granted it takes me a while. I know enough "head knowledge" about sewing to know things like the bobbin is an important feature. I'm not really sure what it does but I know that without it, there will be no sewing. (My friends who do sew....or have tried to teach me little bits are laughing at me now.)
To date I have not turned it on or has a piece of fabric graced the "Needle Plate" but it is out of the box. And that, my friends, is a victory in itself.
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| Out of the box!!! |
What was it that inspired me to finally dive in and at least look at the real thing rather than stare at the picture every time I came across it? First, I am in the process of some de-cluttering and the sewing machine lives in the cluttered, catch all, guest room. Second, I was working on a Bible Study I have been doing on my own in the book of Ruth and it reintroduced the idea of "sowing and reaping" to me. The study asked me a question, "Are you in a season of sowing or reaping?" It stumped me...but it also made me think of that machine...sitting in it's box...waiting to be used.
Am I in a season of sowing or reaping? The Bible uses these terms in a variety of passages. The idea comes from the farming process of sowing seed and reaping harvest. God's Word likens it to our journey through life. There are seasons of pouring in...into ourselves, our relationships, our community, our world and so on. Then there are seasons of reaping when we see all of our hard work pay off.
The study brought me to Psalm 126. Verses 5 and 6 say this,
5 Those who sow in tears
Shall reap in joy.
6 He who continually goes forth weeping,
Bearing seed for sowing,
Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
Bringing his sheaves with him.
This is the New King James Version...it's my favorite because it sounds so much like Shakespeare:). Don't judge...I love Shakespeare.
This passage reminded me that the season of sowing is a hard one. It reminded me that it takes blood, sweat and tears for a harvest to be produced. It reminded me that even though I may have many tears throughout my life my God can use them to produce harvest. This was a good reminder.
It was a good reminder because after some reflection I realized that I am in a sowing season...a sowing season that may actually be one of the very hardest I will ever face. I like to call this sowing season, "Motherhood."
 |
| Me and Little Man |
This is a season in which God has entrusted me with His creations. He has equipped me to guide them and teach them. He has given me the ability to nourish not only their bellies but also their minds and their hearts. He has given me the chance to sow into these little ones the truths, the convictions, the passions, the desires to be people who live for the plan He has for each of them; a plan that is designed to reap more than just their own personal successes.
I sat with the Psalm for a little while...marinating in the words. I thought about tears...my tears. I have a lot of tears. My tear button is so sensitive that sometimes I think it malfunctions. I can be doing dishes and all of sudden tears are streaming down my face. The funny thing is that a sentence like that is usually followed with a "for no reason at all"...no, my malfunctioning comes from my reasoning. I may be crying while I'm doing the dishes out of joy because the Bug finally ate a vegetable I didn't have to hide. It's a sign of growing, maturing...I small sign of reaping from all the sowing I have been doing to get her to eat healthy foods.
 |
| So full of Life. |
I'm serious, people. Real tears.
This, as hormone induced as it might sound, is not a new thing for me. My mother has said for a very long time, "Allison wears her heart on her sleeve." This is code for, "Allison cries...a lot." People that know me well...or even just sort of well...are nodding their heads in agreement.
But, I'm not ashamed. My tears are what bring me to my knees, whether it be out of desperation or joy...celebration or repentance. My tears shape my prayers and my relationship with God. My tears are the only way I know how to express my deep passions and compassion. After reading this Psalm I now know that my tears are not in vain. They are not just a girl thing. My tears are part of the sowing process. My tears, followed with authentic intention and action can reap a harvest of joy.
I have only been a mother for 2 years, 6 months and 13 days. In that time have cried a lot. I have prayed a lot. I have taught my little ones a lot. However, this is just the beginning. I know these years are dear and precious and even easy compared to what is to come.
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| Awesome Hair Day |
Therefore, my prayer for this season is that I learn to sow.
I pray that I learn to sow into my children the knowledge that there is a God that loves them, who created them with a plan and a purpose. This purpose is beyond themselves. I want to sow into them a deep compassion for others; a true knowledge and understanding of the power of God's Word to heal and make whole. I want to sow in them life lessons that will help them make wise decisions. I want to sow in them the tangible experience of grace. I want them to know they will make mistakes...their parents will make mistakes, but grace, grace is why we are able to pick ourselves up, forgive, and see all circumstances as opportunities to experience more of who God is.
This is a lot of responsibility.
I am thankful that I am not alone in the process. I have the Fly...who is awesome. He really is. He loves his kids in a way that I could not have foreseen. I knew he would be a good dad but he is a GREAT dad. I am so thankful that I get to partner with him in this sowing season. I could not do it without him. When he digs deep for the extra patience or when he rolls around on the ground producing deep belly laughs I feel the tears well up and I thank God.
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| Love that "Fly Guy" |
I am in a sowing season...probably the hardest...but also rewarding. I move forward knowing my tears have the ability to produce something if they compel me to act intentionally. I hope they do. I want to take my sowing seriously so that I can rejoice at the Harvest.
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| Melts me. |
With all this said, I still want to learn how to actually sew. I have often experienced what is going on with me Spiritually manifest physically:). So...maybe in this sowing season...I will sew. And I pray, as my sewing skills increase my "sowing skills" will reap with joy.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Blessed to Bless
I'm feeling inspired. Stirred up.
When people are using their lives to be blessings to other people I get excited. It makes me remember that we are capable of good.
I read on an email devotional something along these lines, "I am blessed to be a blessing."
It made me think. It made me pray. Then my eyes began to catch glimpses of this very idea. Like when I wear a piece of shiny jewelry and it catches the sunlight, I began to see people and hear people talk about the way they live this out. So, I decided since it is November, I would take the next few posts to mash up opportunities of thanks and giving....
Today, I am thankful to have the privilege of knowing a beautiful woman named Juli. She has been living in Kenya for a number of years being a blessing. She recently founded a ministry call Living Room Ministries. Through her vision and the help of others, Kimbilio Hospice was built. It is a 24 bed inpatient hospice that houses adults and children living with terminal illness.
Last weekend I had the privilege of hearing Juli tell stories about the people she has the honor of blessing. Every once in a while we get to hear what has been going on at Kimbilio (which means refuge in Swahili) at Hillside Community Church when she visits the states.
Two things she said that day have been dancing around my head since her words fell on my ears.
1) She talked about the fact that access and availability of pain medications, such as morphine, are a major challenge in Kenya. She shared, "For a population of nearly 40 million people, it is reported that only seven of Kenya's approximate 250 government hospitals have morphine."
When I was pregnant with the Little Man I had to rush to the hospital one afternoon because of some unrelenting stomach pains. They hurt me so badly. The doctor gave me a dose of morphine and the pain went away. They were never able to diagnose the problem but Little Man was fine and it seemed I was too.
The number of cancer patients in Kenya is climbing. Cancer is painful. It is chronically painful. I can't help but think about how desperate people are just to manage their pain...and how without a second thought I was able to have mine relieved.
Juli said that morphine is actually very inexpensive to provide...about $5. That is one less Starbucks drink. Imagine...$5 can offer relief. This has stirred me.
2) Juli told a story about a mother who traveled over 100 miles to get her son to a well-known herbalist that is near Kimbilio in Kipkaren. The little boy had a tumor appear on his face and his mother had heard that this herbalist may be able to do something for them. After a long journey for help none was found with the herbalist. The mother, not knowing where to go, caught a ride on the back of a motor bike. The driver told her he would take her to a place where they help people...where people get healed. He took her to Kimbilio. You can read the full story here.
As Juli was talking all I could think about was the name of her ministry...The Living Room. She had envisioned it to be a place that would offer compassion and care to the dying...what she did not know at the time was that God had so much life he would bring to those who came to her. When you hear her tell stories of people who came and were healed, people who came and were loved and left this world you can't help but be moved.
Her flier says, "On a daily basis the Living Room team extends compassion to the lives of the lonely and forgotten that God has never been able to forget."
God's words, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," have been very present in my life since September 14th of this year. That day I realized how fragile life is, how bad people can be but also through so many, how much good can come from pain, heartache and dire circumstances.
Juli reminds me that I have been given today and that makes me capable of giving. I can give my children hugs. I can give my husband my support. I can give the man who digs in the trash every trash day my bag of recyclables so he doesn't have to dig in one more can. I can give up my Starbucks tomorrow so my neighbor on the other side of the ocean can be relieved of pain. I can give more. There are opportunities everywhere, everyday I am given.
I don't know about you but I have been making a mental Christmas list. I have been thinking about what I want and need...now, I am not saying presents are wrong...but what if I needed and wanted a little less this year? Maybe I could be a blessing to someone else.
450 of you read my Glad Game post where I told the story of what happened on September 14th. If 450 people follow this link to Living Room Ministries and give $5 each that is $2,250. That's a lot of Morphine...that's a blessing.
When people are using their lives to be blessings to other people I get excited. It makes me remember that we are capable of good.
I read on an email devotional something along these lines, "I am blessed to be a blessing."
It made me think. It made me pray. Then my eyes began to catch glimpses of this very idea. Like when I wear a piece of shiny jewelry and it catches the sunlight, I began to see people and hear people talk about the way they live this out. So, I decided since it is November, I would take the next few posts to mash up opportunities of thanks and giving....
Today, I am thankful to have the privilege of knowing a beautiful woman named Juli. She has been living in Kenya for a number of years being a blessing. She recently founded a ministry call Living Room Ministries. Through her vision and the help of others, Kimbilio Hospice was built. It is a 24 bed inpatient hospice that houses adults and children living with terminal illness.
Last weekend I had the privilege of hearing Juli tell stories about the people she has the honor of blessing. Every once in a while we get to hear what has been going on at Kimbilio (which means refuge in Swahili) at Hillside Community Church when she visits the states.
Two things she said that day have been dancing around my head since her words fell on my ears.
1) She talked about the fact that access and availability of pain medications, such as morphine, are a major challenge in Kenya. She shared, "For a population of nearly 40 million people, it is reported that only seven of Kenya's approximate 250 government hospitals have morphine."
When I was pregnant with the Little Man I had to rush to the hospital one afternoon because of some unrelenting stomach pains. They hurt me so badly. The doctor gave me a dose of morphine and the pain went away. They were never able to diagnose the problem but Little Man was fine and it seemed I was too.
The number of cancer patients in Kenya is climbing. Cancer is painful. It is chronically painful. I can't help but think about how desperate people are just to manage their pain...and how without a second thought I was able to have mine relieved.
Juli said that morphine is actually very inexpensive to provide...about $5. That is one less Starbucks drink. Imagine...$5 can offer relief. This has stirred me.
2) Juli told a story about a mother who traveled over 100 miles to get her son to a well-known herbalist that is near Kimbilio in Kipkaren. The little boy had a tumor appear on his face and his mother had heard that this herbalist may be able to do something for them. After a long journey for help none was found with the herbalist. The mother, not knowing where to go, caught a ride on the back of a motor bike. The driver told her he would take her to a place where they help people...where people get healed. He took her to Kimbilio. You can read the full story here.
As Juli was talking all I could think about was the name of her ministry...The Living Room. She had envisioned it to be a place that would offer compassion and care to the dying...what she did not know at the time was that God had so much life he would bring to those who came to her. When you hear her tell stories of people who came and were healed, people who came and were loved and left this world you can't help but be moved.
Her flier says, "On a daily basis the Living Room team extends compassion to the lives of the lonely and forgotten that God has never been able to forget."
God's words, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," have been very present in my life since September 14th of this year. That day I realized how fragile life is, how bad people can be but also through so many, how much good can come from pain, heartache and dire circumstances.
Juli reminds me that I have been given today and that makes me capable of giving. I can give my children hugs. I can give my husband my support. I can give the man who digs in the trash every trash day my bag of recyclables so he doesn't have to dig in one more can. I can give up my Starbucks tomorrow so my neighbor on the other side of the ocean can be relieved of pain. I can give more. There are opportunities everywhere, everyday I am given.
I don't know about you but I have been making a mental Christmas list. I have been thinking about what I want and need...now, I am not saying presents are wrong...but what if I needed and wanted a little less this year? Maybe I could be a blessing to someone else.
450 of you read my Glad Game post where I told the story of what happened on September 14th. If 450 people follow this link to Living Room Ministries and give $5 each that is $2,250. That's a lot of Morphine...that's a blessing.
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| Kimbilio "Refuge" |
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Monday, November 7, 2011
30
Today is the day. I am 30. I have to tell the truth and say that I really was not looking forward to today. But, now that it is here, I am embracing it and truly feel excited about what it represents.
For a while there 30 scared me. My preconceived ideas were made up of images of myself as a much less attractive and much more boring version of myself. I really don't where these thoughts and images came from because when I look at my friends who are in there 30's, 40's and even 50's and 60's, I see beautiful women and attractive men who carry themselves with confidence. I see men and women who have lived life and have learned lessons. I see men and women who have lines on their faces that could represent their age but could also represent how often they've laughed and smiled.
And let me tell you, my friends, both, the men and women that have entered the decades past the twenties are so NOT boring. Actually they are far more interesting because the speak and live out of experience.
When I look back at the last decade I see 10 years of, "A Beautiful Mess." I started the decade as a young woman who had just fallen in love...with that man I would spend the rest of my life with and with my Savior. I was young, immature, bold in my dreams, confident that God had a great plan for me and a bit more arrogant and selfish than I would like to admit.
Those first 3 years of my twenties were crazy! I learned about my God and who He created me to be at an exponential rate. He set me on the fast track for sure. Thanks to my amazing university, Azusa Pacific University (Woot! Woot!) and the community I found there, and thanks to Hillside Community Church (Woot! Woot!) and the community I found there, I had people surrounding me on all sides pouring into me. There were a few key women who I will never be able to thank enough for their love and guidance and PRAYERS in that time.
During that time the Fly and I grew as individuals and together and although I would have said yes the day after our first Disneyland date...my sweet, wise, planner of a husband knew waiting was a better plan. I hate to admit it, and especially where so many will witness it, but he was right...at least once.
By the end of those first 3 years I had graduated college, started a masters and credential program, got a job teaching Kindergarten, got engaged, got married, got a job as a youth pastor to junior high students and moved into a cute little apartment with my new husband. I had learned not only that Jesus loved me and had a plan to use me in His Kingdom but I also learned of the amazing healing that one can experience by being in relationship with Him. I learned that my bad choices and mistakes no longer defined me. I learned that I was a "New Creation." I was given a second chance at doing life. I also learned of the tool that would come most handy in the next 7 years...prayer. My prayer life changed and instead of praying only prayers of defense and desperation I learned to pray from the offense...prayers that produced change...not because of me...but because I knew what my Jesus was capable of.
The next 6 years were good and hard in that way you feel after an intense workout...where you have to crawl to your shower to clean yourself up and drink 42 oz of gatorade or water because you are positive that there is nothing left inside of you. Working at Hillside was one of the greatest privileges and one of the greatest challenges I have had. As many of you know, I had planned a long career of entertaining people, not teaching rambunctious junior high students about how God loves them, has not forgotten them and has a great plan for each of their lives.
But, just like a good workout, those years were so good for me as much as I ached at times. They were rich with friendships, the kind that last and go deep. They were filled with lessons, the kind that make you cry, think, reflect and apply. They were filled with laughter, the kind that makes your belly hurt. They were filled with heartache, the kind where you don't know anything to do but cry out to a God you hope has not forsaken you or someone you care about. They were filled with teenagers, the kind that don't trust you right away, but once they learn you are for them and not against them, they hug you, talk to you and ask you to pray for them. They were filled with those teenager's parents, the kind that are in desperate need to know that their teenager is not going off the deep end, the kind that have taught me so much about being the kind of parent that raises kids who love God. They were filled with hopes both achieved and dashed. They were filled with creativity both stifled and unleashed. Those years impressed upon me the truth that I was placed on earth with a purpose that was more others-centered than self-centered. They were so messy and so beautiful.
The last three years though, those have been the hardest, but in the best way. The Bug came along and changed my life for the better. The Fly and I can not imagine our lives without our boisterous, joyful and life-filled Bug. Then came my Little Man...who I can tell is completely different than his big sister. His little personality is starting to show. He lets me hold him and hug him longer than she would:). And his deep belly laughs bring tears to my eyes. He is a giant Little Man who has brought even more joy into our lives.
The last three years have taught me even more how life is not about me...and that, in a strange way, is what I am most excited about. I feel like, in my twenties, it was all about figuring myself out...what I wanted, what I needed. Finally, I have found the joy in what it means to serve others...funny, you'd think I would have figured that out with working in ministry...and I did to a degree...but it has intensified recently.
So, 30's, I welcome you...with open arms and smile that is beginning to leave permanent lines in my face. I know you will be messy. I know you will be hard but I also know you will be beautiful and full. There will be lots of laughing at the Fly, the Bug and the Little Man...and any others that might come along:)...there will be tears because they are part of life...and, let's be honest, part of my everyday. There will be more stories and I plan to tell them because I want to remember and I want to learn. There will be adventures and I embrace them...even the scary ones that I can't control.
I must get back to the kiddos now, Little Man is screeching and The Bug is running out of things to keep her occupied while I type. But stay tuned...I plan on writing more, even if they are just short quips of what's going on in the beautiful mess I live in.
Thank you family and friends who have shaped me and poured into my life. Today, I am celebrating you.
For a while there 30 scared me. My preconceived ideas were made up of images of myself as a much less attractive and much more boring version of myself. I really don't where these thoughts and images came from because when I look at my friends who are in there 30's, 40's and even 50's and 60's, I see beautiful women and attractive men who carry themselves with confidence. I see men and women who have lived life and have learned lessons. I see men and women who have lines on their faces that could represent their age but could also represent how often they've laughed and smiled.
And let me tell you, my friends, both, the men and women that have entered the decades past the twenties are so NOT boring. Actually they are far more interesting because the speak and live out of experience.
When I look back at the last decade I see 10 years of, "A Beautiful Mess." I started the decade as a young woman who had just fallen in love...with that man I would spend the rest of my life with and with my Savior. I was young, immature, bold in my dreams, confident that God had a great plan for me and a bit more arrogant and selfish than I would like to admit.
Those first 3 years of my twenties were crazy! I learned about my God and who He created me to be at an exponential rate. He set me on the fast track for sure. Thanks to my amazing university, Azusa Pacific University (Woot! Woot!) and the community I found there, and thanks to Hillside Community Church (Woot! Woot!) and the community I found there, I had people surrounding me on all sides pouring into me. There were a few key women who I will never be able to thank enough for their love and guidance and PRAYERS in that time.
During that time the Fly and I grew as individuals and together and although I would have said yes the day after our first Disneyland date...my sweet, wise, planner of a husband knew waiting was a better plan. I hate to admit it, and especially where so many will witness it, but he was right...at least once.
By the end of those first 3 years I had graduated college, started a masters and credential program, got a job teaching Kindergarten, got engaged, got married, got a job as a youth pastor to junior high students and moved into a cute little apartment with my new husband. I had learned not only that Jesus loved me and had a plan to use me in His Kingdom but I also learned of the amazing healing that one can experience by being in relationship with Him. I learned that my bad choices and mistakes no longer defined me. I learned that I was a "New Creation." I was given a second chance at doing life. I also learned of the tool that would come most handy in the next 7 years...prayer. My prayer life changed and instead of praying only prayers of defense and desperation I learned to pray from the offense...prayers that produced change...not because of me...but because I knew what my Jesus was capable of.
The next 6 years were good and hard in that way you feel after an intense workout...where you have to crawl to your shower to clean yourself up and drink 42 oz of gatorade or water because you are positive that there is nothing left inside of you. Working at Hillside was one of the greatest privileges and one of the greatest challenges I have had. As many of you know, I had planned a long career of entertaining people, not teaching rambunctious junior high students about how God loves them, has not forgotten them and has a great plan for each of their lives.
But, just like a good workout, those years were so good for me as much as I ached at times. They were rich with friendships, the kind that last and go deep. They were filled with lessons, the kind that make you cry, think, reflect and apply. They were filled with laughter, the kind that makes your belly hurt. They were filled with heartache, the kind where you don't know anything to do but cry out to a God you hope has not forsaken you or someone you care about. They were filled with teenagers, the kind that don't trust you right away, but once they learn you are for them and not against them, they hug you, talk to you and ask you to pray for them. They were filled with those teenager's parents, the kind that are in desperate need to know that their teenager is not going off the deep end, the kind that have taught me so much about being the kind of parent that raises kids who love God. They were filled with hopes both achieved and dashed. They were filled with creativity both stifled and unleashed. Those years impressed upon me the truth that I was placed on earth with a purpose that was more others-centered than self-centered. They were so messy and so beautiful.
The last three years though, those have been the hardest, but in the best way. The Bug came along and changed my life for the better. The Fly and I can not imagine our lives without our boisterous, joyful and life-filled Bug. Then came my Little Man...who I can tell is completely different than his big sister. His little personality is starting to show. He lets me hold him and hug him longer than she would:). And his deep belly laughs bring tears to my eyes. He is a giant Little Man who has brought even more joy into our lives.
The last three years have taught me even more how life is not about me...and that, in a strange way, is what I am most excited about. I feel like, in my twenties, it was all about figuring myself out...what I wanted, what I needed. Finally, I have found the joy in what it means to serve others...funny, you'd think I would have figured that out with working in ministry...and I did to a degree...but it has intensified recently.
So, 30's, I welcome you...with open arms and smile that is beginning to leave permanent lines in my face. I know you will be messy. I know you will be hard but I also know you will be beautiful and full. There will be lots of laughing at the Fly, the Bug and the Little Man...and any others that might come along:)...there will be tears because they are part of life...and, let's be honest, part of my everyday. There will be more stories and I plan to tell them because I want to remember and I want to learn. There will be adventures and I embrace them...even the scary ones that I can't control.
I must get back to the kiddos now, Little Man is screeching and The Bug is running out of things to keep her occupied while I type. But stay tuned...I plan on writing more, even if they are just short quips of what's going on in the beautiful mess I live in.
Thank you family and friends who have shaped me and poured into my life. Today, I am celebrating you.
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