Not Enough

Not Enough

There is often a great disconnect between how we see ourselves and how God sees us. We feel led to do something. We’re sure it’s God direction. Even still, our insecurities about who we are and what we’re not cause us to doubt God and ourselves. We rehearse thoughts like, “I’m not skilled enough, not strong enough, not important enough, not talented enough. I’m just not enough!”

I’ve talked to other women who struggle, just like me, to see how God could use them. We’re not alone though. In Judges, we meet Gideon. He wrestled with the same line of thinking. (Judges 6-7)

God sits down with Gideon and calls him to a mighty task. Save Israel from the Midianites (Jud 6:14). God even starts the conversation by calling Gideon a “Mighty Warrior”, yet he struggled to believe that he was right the man for the job.

Here’s an abbreviated version of how it plays out in these two chapters:

Gideon doubts: If you’re here, why is there so much hard stuff happening? (Jud 6:13)
God reassures: Go in the strength you have, you’re enough. I am sending you. (Jud 6:14)
Gideon doubts: My strength? You know my clan is the weakest and I’m the least in my family, right? (Jud 6:15)
God reassures: I will be with you. (Jud 6:16)
Gideon questions: Can I have sign? Is this really you God? (Jud 6:17)
God reassures: I will. I am. (Jud 6:18-21)
Gideon fears: It really is you! (Jud 6:22)
God reassures: Do not be afraid. (Jud 6:23)
Gideon questions: Can I have another sign? (Jud 6:36-37)
God reassures: God gives Gideon another sign. (Jud 6:38)
Gideon questions: Um, how about just one more? (Jud 6:39)
God reassures: God gives Gideon yet another sign. (Jud 6:40)
Gideon obeys and God prepares: Gideon follows God’s instructions for choosing the men who will become the army that God uses to bring victory. God widdles down 3000 men to 300. (Jud 7:1-7)
God delivers on His promise: Gideon and a small army of 300 men take down the Midianites. (Jud 7:19-34)

I just love how exceedingly patient God is with Gideon in these passages. It most certainly gives me hope. God loves and leads us through our insecurities. I’ve got plenty, so I’m thankful that He doesn’t give up on me. He is patient with our doubt. He knows we don’t feel like we’re enough.

He is enough!

I am so tracking with Gideon on this one. Up, down, up, down, round and round. You?

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Forgiving the Unforgivable

Forgiving the Unforgivable

Have you ever said or thought, “I could never forgive so and so for…”? Admittedly, at times, I’ve thought and verbalized these words. In light of an unspeakable hurt, or so I thought, forgiveness seemed unthinkable. How on earth could such deliberate attempts to hurt be forgiven?

Truth be told, we can be pretty petty in our quest to withhold forgiveness, can’t we? But what about when it’s not petty at all? What about when an abuser needs forgiveness? What about when a husband/wife abandons you? What about the drunk driver that took a child? Life can throw some hard punches, but it’s usually people that deliver the blows that hurt the most and the deepest.

I recently sat down with Laura Hillenbrand’s book, Unbroken. The book is the awe inspiring and gut wrenching true story of Olympic athlete and World War II hostage survivor, Louis Zamperini. It is a beautiful story of forgiveness. Be certain, the subject of Zamperini’s forgiveness is undeserving beyond what most of us can conceive.

During a rescue mission, Zamperini and his fellow airmen meet face-to-face with the unthinkable after a crash sets them on a 30+ day journey at sea. They fight off sharks (literally), bullets, the elements, hopelessness, starvation and insanity. The end is fast approaching for drifting airmen, when a Japanese Naval ship sails into view.

It looks like hope. It looks like rescue. The Japanese Naval ship was instead the beginning of a nightmare journey that would test the human spirit beyond limits.

The enemy ship ushered Zamperini into a horrific nightmare at the hands of Japanese concentration camps. The unthinkable happens, the unfathomable happens, the most atrocious treatment one can imagine happens; then, Zamperini meets “The Bird” and things get worse.

Mutsuhiro Watanbe, called “The Bird” by the pow’s, was turned down by his own country to serve as an officer. In a family decorated with achievements, it was the ultimate rejection for Watanbe who had set his sights on becoming an officer.  Rejection brought humiliation, and humiliation manifested itself as pure evil. One of the most evil men history would ever know.

Rejected by his own country, America’s Olympic star represented everything Watanbe could never obtain. Zamperini rouses his insecurity, and a deeper evil spreads like wildfire in the heart of Watanbe. He sets his sight on breaking Zamperini’s spirit. Subjected to cruelty designed to break him physically, mentally, and emotionally, Watanbe was relentless. He strived to strip him of all dignity and annihilate any will to survive.

He comes close a few times during the war, and for many years after the war the nightmares threaten to give The Bird his victory. Anger, resentment, fear, and hatred nearly take all that is precious to Zamperini. His loved ones watch as he sets out on a path of self-destruction.

Then one fateful day, Louie attends a Billy Graham revival at the prodding of his wife. That day a story of forgiveness begins to unfold. In an instant, the heart of Louie Zamperini is transformed by the love of Christ. Forgiveness. It seems unthinkable. Unforgivable.

Yet Louie would eventually stand before many of his tormentors and speak of the love and forgiveness of Christ. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to look into the face of men the beat him, spit on him, starved him, degraded him, tortured him, and deprived him of all things human, and say, “You are forgiven!!”

Zamperini was declined by Watanbe for a face-to-face meeting, but Zamperini is undeterred. In his usual determined spirit, he writes a heartfelt letter of forgiveness and the message of the Hope of Christ to his persecutor.

I found a video of Zamperini reading his letter aloud here. He says, “Love replaced hate.” Beautiful.

As a Christian, I know that I am commanded to forgive just as Christ forgave. It’s not always easy, and I have failed in this area more times than I care to admit. I have only the cross to look at to see someone else, Jesus, subjected to the horrific, the unthinkable, the unimaginable, and watch as a story of forgiveness unfolds. Mine. Yours. Sadly, I am often unwillingly to forgive even with the knowledge of the command to do so. Then, a story like Louie’s come along, and it restores compassion. It compels my heart to forgive. It’s the real deal kind of story on what it really means to forgive.

What do you think?

Could you forgive?

Is there someone that you can forgive and set yourself free from the soul eating bondage of withholding forgiveness?

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Not Quite Right

Not Quite Right

Has something ever stood out to you as just “not quite right”? I’m not always the most observant person, but last week there were several things that popped and said, “This ain’t right!”

First, at a convention in Nowhereville, Texas (aka Bastrop, Texas), I noticed the speed limit sign as I entered the resort. I asked several people if they noticed the sign, and no one I spoke with noticed this very strange speed limit sign.

Next, when I picked daughter up from her Mimi’s house, she happily served tea wearing sunglasses on the side of her head. What a crack up!

Third, pancakes and syrup isn’t strange at all…until you ponder it as a snow cone flavor. This is an advertisement for a new snow cone flavor at Bahama Bucks. Pancakes and syrup? Odd!

Finally, this odd little bottle hits the not quite right at a very personal level. It’s glucosamine. For all my young friends, that’s stuff for your joints to keep them moving like they should. I do believe I am too young for this! However, with a bum hip that is getting harder to move, it was time to take action. I never imagined at the ripe age of 39 I’d already be taking joint health meds. That’s just not right!!

What’s something that seemed odd recently to you? Something that struck you as not quite right? Do you notice those types of things?

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A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Insecurities

A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Insecurities

Last night, my sweet friend Kim and I went to a book signing. I blogged about it a few days ago. Being somewhat of a book nerd, it was very cool to get an autograph from someone I admire as a writer.

As I looked at the picture we were able to snap with the Jon Acuff, it dawned on me howcompletely insecure I can be sometimes. Most people don’t see me as insecure.  I don’t think so anyhow. Yet, what’s going inside that noggin of mine in this picture screams of insecurity.

1. Rarely rendered speechless, I could barely formulate a sentence. What’s up with that? It’s not star struck. It’s insecurity. What if I say something stupid? What if I say something that they don’t like? What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m a groupie or something? I had no idea I cared so much about what strangers think. Apparently, I do.

2. I was and am seriously obsessing about my Uma Thurman bangs (thanks for the analogy from my friend Michelle, you nailed it)! I did not ask for them, I do not want them, I don’t know what to do with them, and I may need counseling over the serious animosity I have for the stylist right now! Ok, so it’s not that big of a deal, but I do not like them.

3. Hugging is not my thing. I have spacial issues. Those that know and love me have come to terms with this. I’m getting better thanks to my baby sister Rachel and my friend Jenny. They are space invaders extraordinaire! That is compliment, by the way. They have taught me a lot about being affectionate, and I am really quite grateful for it. However, last night, I was so uncomfortable. Notice the gaping hole between me and Acuff and Kim and Acuff.

What about you? Ever feel insecure about things that just really don’t matter? Like Uma Thurman bangs??

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Getting Autographs. Is it weird, cool, or just flat out silly?

Getting Autographs. Is it weird, cool, or just flat out silly?

Tomorrow I will stand in line for the 3rd time in my almost 40 years to get an autograph. I’m trying to get someone to go with me, but if I can’t I may actually go alone. Maybe. If I have the nerve. It seems awkward to stand in line by myself, but I will likely do it because I really want to get an autograph. Jon Acuff will be at Books-A-Million at Grapevine Mills Mall signing for his new book Quitter.

It’s got me thinking. Isn’t it a little weird to actually wait in line to get an autograph from someone you’ve never met, and most likely will never see again? They smile. Possibly shake your hand. Time up. You are sent on your merry way as the dozens of other weird people await the same 3 seconds you get.  Howdy…a quick scribble…thanks for stopping by. I’m sure they’d chat if they could, but it’s an impossibility when hundreds (or more) people want to meet you at the same time.

I hate lines. I hate waiting. Hm. So why do we do it? Is it because they are famous? Because they sing the best harmony ever? They write short stories, fiction, poetry? Made the best movie of the century?

It’s possible I’m wrong about this, but I don’t think so. I think it’s because they have impacted us in a significant way. At least that’s why I’ve done it and will do it again tomorrow.

The first autograph I ever waited in line for was Steven Curtis Chapman. I would do it again, I think. Actually, he’d have to have his wife Mary Beth with him so I could get her to autograph her book, Choosing to See. Then, absolutely!  He is still my favorite after 20 years. Hands down. Don’t judge me, but I probably know every word to every song. His music intersected with my life at a time when I was seeking, and it spoke life and hope into a very weary soul.

The second was just last year. Pete Wilson, author of Plan B.  I’ve talked about his book a lot on here. A group of ladies and I have made it our small group for the Spring, and I try to post something for them here at least once a week. Try being the operative word. His book intersected with my life at time when every area seemed to be in Plan B mode.  I can’t even begin to tell you how many good things have come from the dozen or so books of his I’ve handed out.  Many of the people I’ve given it too have also passed on copies. It is definitely a viral kind of book.

And, tomorrow, I will stand in line to get a 3rd autograph from Jon Acuff. I’m not at a cross roads right now like before, but I’m an avid reader of his blog which just so happens to be one of the top 100 Christian blogs. I kind of hate being trendy, but he’s too funny not to follow the trend. Laughter is one of life’s greatest gifts, and he makes me laugh out loud. His blog and his book, Stuff Christians Like, intersected with my life at a time when I was really ready to laugh again. After a season of lots of sad things, I needed to laugh and laugh out loud. I love his writing style, and if he weren’t a dude I’d probably wanna be him when I grow up (even though I’m pretty sure I’m older than he is).

So, is it weird to stand in line and get an autograph? Is it weird to want an autograph at all? Have you done it? If so, who for? If not, is there someone’s autograph that you would like to get? AND, will someone please go with me so I don’t feel so weird? I’m pretty sure it’s less weird if I have someone in line with me!!

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“What Not To Do” Mom’s Guide: Birthday Party Planning

“What Not To Do” Mom’s Guide: Birthday Party Planning

I love to plan. Well, I used to anyhow. I was really good at it too, but the past few years I’ve watched my uber planning skills slip through my fingers. I designed and printed all the birthday party invitations until last year. I painstakingly planned out the details of birthday cakes and party favors. I even ordered my daughters “I’m One” (and oh so stinking cute) tutu for her first birthday. Adults would be there? Great! I would make sure there was food for everyone. I was in my element. Ah, such a sweet, distant memory.

Planning and preparing for your child’s birthday party can be like having a side gig these days. Only the reward doesn’t come in cold hard cash, it comes in grins and giggles. Some mom’s have the planning thing down to a science. To be honest, I am in awe those mom’s. At the same time, I secretly wish they didn’t make me feel like such a slacker.

This year, I took poor party planning to an all time high. If you’re planning a party for your little one, here’s the what not to do list:

Don’t wait till the morning of to order your cake. Yeah, I know. Gasp. Who does that? Me!

Don’t forget to have your camera ready. When it’s full of pictures you haven’t downloaded to your computer, you’re in a big pickle. Do you delete the  pictures from your BFF’s 40th birthday party, scout pictures, or your son’s baseball game? That’s some tough choices!

Don’t forget to invite their friends. Thank goodness my husband did the invites this year or there would have been just us at the party! I didn’t review the list like he asked me too, so I left out some pretty important people. Hopefully, they will still love us anyhow!

Don’t forget to make room in your car to carry the cake that you ordered only a few hours ago. Why? Because if you don’t, your cake propped on top of car seat is a disaster waiting to happen. That cake, um, cup cakes for the tardy, now become nicely smashed together when you slam on your breaks.

Don’t be late! It’s slightly more than embarrassing when you’re late to your own kids birthday party. But, if you are gonna be late, why not top those cupcakes before you get there so you don’t add to the slacker mom image.

You know what I learned in all this though? My kids and their friends don’t care much about the perfect cake. They put zero thought into their invitations designed and printed by their mom. The party was awesome (or epic as my son would say), and everyone had an incredibly good time. We celebrated at Zone Action Park in Lewisville, and what boy doesn’t love Go Carts and video games? It was probably the best party we’ve had so far. Yeah, even without my version of perfect. Does this look like  a boy concerned about all those crazy details?

Birthday Boy

Their staff did a great job, I didn’t have to clean my house afterwards, I didn’t have to clean my house before, and I didn’t have to buy matching paper plates and cups. :)

In my attempt here to try to help a sister out on what not to do, here’s one to do: Relax, enjoy, because your kids want you more than they want some crazy mom version of perfect.

Special thanks to my husband who did all the stuff that really mattered! Booked the place and got the birthday boy there!

So which one are you? Uber planner or are you the last minute mom?

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Celebrating: Our Kids and a God-Only Story

Celebrating: Our Kids and a God-Only Story

Our sweet boy is 7 today! It’s so hard to believe it’s here already. At the risk of sounding cliche, it’s just going so fast! But it really is!

Seven years ago today, this crazy and joyful ride called parenting started for us. As I ponder this here in the early morning hours, Mother’s Day lingering just around the corner, I am reminded of all the days we get to celebrate with our kids. You see, both of our children are adopted. It’s not the journey we planned when we got married, but I wouldn’t trade one thing. How our story was written is just the way I would write it again.

It’s fun to have so many days to celebrate. Each one as important as the other. Each one with it’s own special memory.

  • Birth Day – It kinda floors me that I had no idea on this day 7 years ago that I was going to be a mom within 5 days. No clue! I hoped that one day it would happen, but had no idea that this day our chosen one had arrived. With our second, I actually got to be there when she was born. Both are equally amazing! I had no idea that God had answered our prayers already with our son. While we were still quite uncertain if our dreams would ever come true, God had already answered them!! Five days we walked around clueless as could be that our prayers had already been answered! Then we saw God meet a desire of our heart that we hadn’t really even verbalized with our daughter. To have another child. And, to meet some very specific desires for me, as a woman, to be in the room, cut the chord, walk through the pregnancy. In both cases, God was exceedingly good and showed off His awesomeness for our family in a big way.
  • The Day We Found Out – I remember distinctly what I was doing when I got the call that meant, “You’re gonna be parents.” I was golfing (well, sort of, I was on the golf course anyhow) when I got the call for our oldest, and standing in my garage when I learned the news about our youngest. It’s crystal clear. I can feel the excitement in my belly as I type.
  • The Day They Came Home – The day we brought them into our home. Maybe it’s different  for parents with biological children, I really don’t know, but the day they came into our home for the first time is like magic. Pure joy!
  • Adoption Day – That’s the day that all the legal stuff happens. It’s an important day. It’s an emotional day. It’s the “it’s time” moment for adoptive parents. You know, kind of like when a pregnant woman says, “It’s time”. It’s the moment of anticipation when all of you have dreamed of and hoped for becomes your reality.

Lots of milestones to celebrate!

There are also many days and people that I celebrate with thankfulness beyond these four miraculous days. Their families of origin. I could write a book about how much love I feel for both of their families. The beautiful relationship we have with our daughters birth mother and her entire family. The difficult times of infertility that led to the greatest blessing we’ve ever known. The friends that cried with us during that time of hoping and waiting, and then celebrated with us when our prayers were answered. Our family. They have loved these two babies from the day they were born with the same intensity that we do. A series of events that unfolded over a lifetime.  I can look back on them now and know that God was writing this story as far back to very early childhood. Events, some good and some not so much, that led to celebrating our children and all that has come with the package of being adoptive parents.

I just love how God put all the pieces together. It’s  a story He had been writing for 30 years. Wow! Sometimes I lose patience with God’s timing. I really wish He would move faster most of the time.  I really should remember that some things are worth waiting for, worth enduring, as He crafts the pages, chapters, and volumes involved in bringing about His perfect plan.

Happy Birthday Brody! In just a little over a  month, we’ll be celebrating our princess, Presley, as well.

You ever seen something play out in your life over a very long period of time only to realize that God had been working on it the entire time?

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Thank You Better Homes and Gardens

Thank You Better Homes and Gardens

Flipping through a Better Homes & Garden Magazine, I came across this little snippet. Studies show that religion and happiness are linked, but connecting with people ups the ante when it comes to happiness.

I’ll say it before anyone else does. Going to church doesn’t make us happy. Friends don’t make us happy. Happiness is overrated in my opinion anyhow.

Joy, the kind that remains when happiness gets the blues. That’s what I think we all long to experience. This BHG little snippet has a lot of wisdom in it. Get involved at a church. Connect with people there. Joy that sustains happens when connecting with our creator, at church and at home. It comes when we have friends that share the journey with us, validate us, improve us, pray with us.

If you’re in the small group that meets at my house tonight….No…I did not plan this! But, if you really wanna be happy…sounds like you better come!? :) LOL Just sayin’!

Studies show that religion and happiness are linked. But faithful church attendance may not be enough. In a large survey, those most likely to rate their life satisfaction as a perfect 10 went to services weekly and saw close friends there.  Church regulars without pals in the pews didn’t see the boost – they were less satisfied than infrequent attendees with friends, says study head Chaeyoon Lim, PHD, of the University of Wisconsin- Madison. So go to services, by all means – but don’t skip the coffee hour. Better Homes and Gardens

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It Should Have Been Me

It Should Have Been Me

I entered my first ever writing contest yesterday. This was my entry. A story just for Easter.

It Should Have Been Me

I watched him walking towards me. His steps were heavy and slow, and his eyes were lifeless. His clothes were wet with fresh blood and sweat.

One by one, the sea of people stepped away from him. Some whispered, others stared, but he was oblivious. As he inched closer, I could see that his clothes were ripped at the shoulder.  His bare skin covered in splinters. 

“It should have been me,” I whispered through my tears.

I covered my head in hopes that no one would recognize me. Not yet anyhow. They would have so many questions, but more likely they would have accusations.

“Where were you? Why weren’t you here?”

Was it just yesterday that I deserted my Master in his time of need? It didn’t seem possible. I had fled. My beloved Master knew it would happen. He had told me so, but I didn’t believe him. With every confidence a man can possess, I had given my word that I would never leave him. I would rather die than abandon him. I meant it to the very core of my being, but something entirely different happened.

My heart sank as I recalled the events of the previous night. Fear, yes, it was fear. In an instant I was overwhelmed by my wretched fear, and it set my feet in motion without a moment’s consideration.

How could I have done this? My Master had tried to prepare me. I thought I was. Oh the things I have seen on this journey with my Master. Miracles beyond human understanding I have seen with these eyes of mine. There are no words to describe the greatness I have witnessed.

A hearty gust of wind swept dust across the tops of my feet. My strength nearly failed me as I watched the dust settle between my toes. Before my fear compelled me to run, my Master had washed these very feet with his own hands and the strands of his hair. He was trying to teach me about serving. I had never felt such love before. My heart struggled as I tried to comprehend the depth of this love.

A small woman stopped beside me. Her face was streaked with tears. We stood silently together for several minutes. Both of us watched the weary man move slowly our way. Though she said nothing at first, I could hear her weeping.

“Did you know him?”

I dared not look directly at her for fear she might recognize me. Keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead, I answered, “Who? Simon?”

“No. Jesus. Did you know Jesus, the Christ?”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

We stood a few more moments together before she moved on. I watched her tiny frame become engulfed by the crowd.

“Yes I did,” I thought to myself. The words struck my heart with the force of an enemy sword. I knew him. I loved him. Yet, I hadn’t been there.

Simon, whom I had never met, stopped directly in front of me. Word had traveled quickly how a soldier had yanked him out from among the crowd, forcing him to carry the cross of my master, Jesus. His hands, the unwilling hands of a stranger, had been the ones that took up the cross of my Lord. I could see his hands clearly. They were marked by the same splinters that covered his shoulder.

Did He know that he did what I was afraid to do? While my hands trembled in fear, his hands carried the cross of Christ.

I don’t know why Simon, this stranger from Cyrene, stopped in front of me. I had come here to find him, and now he stood nearly within my arms reach. I had come to see for myself this man who was forced to do what I should have done. Should I approach him? Should I offer him comfort, food, shelter?

“I am so sorry.” The words leapt off my tongue. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but my heart and my deep sorrow could not contain it.

Simon turned towards me.  His eyes fixed on mine, and I could see the tears etched on his face through the dust, blood and sweat.

A man standing close to Simon lifted his hand and pointed in my direction. “Aren’t you one of the disciples? Aren’t you one of the followers of Jesus?”

The crowd turned in my direction. I nodded, keeping my eyes locked only on Simon. “It should have been me.”

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Games Big People Play

Games Big People Play

Plan B: Chapter 9, Me Too

We’ve all said the words at one point or another, I’m Fine. We smile, pretend, and mask our pain. In reality, we are not fine. Hurt, disappointment, and pain might be the season we are in, and yet the words roll off our tongue, I’m Fine.

A friend of mine says that FINE stands for Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. There is a lot of truth in that statement. It makes me chuckle sometimes, and other times it flat out annoys me becuase I’d rather just leave it at FINE. Why? Because I’m, yep, feeling Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional, and I’d prefer to just keep my mess to myself.  Geez! :)

What is it about grown-ups that lead us to pretend? Our imaginary play mates of youth are replaced with the great game of pretend for big people. We pretend that all is well when we are really heart broken. We pretend that all is just dandy when we are knee deep in sin, desperately longing for freedom. We become great pretenders, masking our reality, hoping no one will know the depth of our heart break.

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