Well, not really lunch, it's only 8 a.m. But with a postless week behind me and the holiday week ahead, I'm guessing I might as well hang a sign on this blog that indicates things will be a little slow for awhile.
I was tagged by Dawn and it's perfect timing; I needed a kick in the butt to get in the holiday mood. I love Christmas time but for some reason, I just wasn't ready for it yet. Can it really be December 15th already? Really?!? Didn't we just finish off the leftover Thanksgiving turkey? Big sigh. So here's hoping this holiday post gets me in the mood, and just for fun, I've decided to answer all questions, no matter what, with only one word...I call it "Turbo Tag."
1. Egg nog or Hot Chocolate? Chocolate
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Wrap
3. Colored lights or white? White
4. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope
5. When do you put your decorations up? December-ish
6. Favorite holiday dish? David ;)
7. Favorite childhood memory? Tree
8. When/how did you learn the truth about Santa? Truth?!
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Depends
10. How do you decorate the tree? Nicely
11. Snow...love it or dread it? Love
12. Can you ice skate? NO!
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Sure
14. What is the most important thing about the holidays to you? gratitude
15. Favorite holiday dessert? undecided
16. Favorite Christmas tradition? PJs
17. What tops your tree? Nada
18. Do you prefer giving or receiving? Yes :)
19. Favorite Christmas song? this
20. Candy canes. Yum or yuck? Yum
21. What do you want for Christmas? this
22. Do you attend an annual Christmas party? no :(
23. Do you dress up for Christmas Eve or wear P.J.'s? huh?
24. Do you own a Santa hat? No
25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with? family
Dawn tagged just about everyone I know so I'll just encourage anyone reading who's up for it to join the fun! Merry Christmas everyone!
1. Egg nog or Hot Chocolate? Chocolate
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Wrap
3. Colored lights or white? White
4. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope
5. When do you put your decorations up? December-ish
6. Favorite holiday dish? David ;)
7. Favorite childhood memory? Tree
8. When/how did you learn the truth about Santa? Truth?!
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Depends
10. How do you decorate the tree? Nicely
11. Snow...love it or dread it? Love
12. Can you ice skate? NO!
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Sure
14. What is the most important thing about the holidays to you? gratitude
15. Favorite holiday dessert? undecided
16. Favorite Christmas tradition? PJs
17. What tops your tree? Nada
18. Do you prefer giving or receiving? Yes :)
19. Favorite Christmas song? this
20. Candy canes. Yum or yuck? Yum
21. What do you want for Christmas? this
22. Do you attend an annual Christmas party? no :(
23. Do you dress up for Christmas Eve or wear P.J.'s? huh?
24. Do you own a Santa hat? No
25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with? family
Dawn tagged just about everyone I know so I'll just encourage anyone reading who's up for it to join the fun! Merry Christmas everyone!
hey...listen up...just so you can corroborate my story...the Tooth Fairy does not come out in the rain, sad but true. Got it?
I knew I was forgetting something when I headed to bed last night. Ugh.
I knew I was forgetting something when I headed to bed last night. Ugh.
These are letters to Santa that I transcribed for Lily and Luke in December of 2005, when they were 3 1/2 and 2 1/2. Since David lived here in NC at the time, I mailed them to him, knowing they'd bring a smile to his face. I gave them the Dear Santa, and then they jumped in...
Dear Santa,
I have been good this year. Please bring me a little teddy bear with a bottle. And a four wheeler so I can ride it with my teddy bear. And I need a helmet, not a new one because I already have one. But it's lost so I do need a new one. Anyways Grandma ordered my four wheeler for Santa to bring me. I don't know what else to say.
Lily
It is so Lily to flat out tell Santa that she's been good, leaving no room for him to make that call. I also love how she acknowledges that Grandma has it covered. I guess she just thought of Santa as a glorified delivery man.
Dear Santa,
Happy Birthday. I want a big bicycle and a big motorcycle.
Happy Birthday. A four wheeler, a big motorcycle that goes fast like chtttt, chtttt, chtttt.
Luke
I'm sure Santa appreciated the birthday props Luke sent his way, especially since, thanks to Jesus, no one even asks about Santa's birthday. And in true boy fashion, Luke's letter comes complete with sound effects. What is it with boys and sound effects? As a guy himself, I'm sure Santa knew just what chttt, chttt, chttt meant.
Dear Santa,
I have been good this year. Please bring me a little teddy bear with a bottle. And a four wheeler so I can ride it with my teddy bear. And I need a helmet, not a new one because I already have one. But it's lost so I do need a new one. Anyways Grandma ordered my four wheeler for Santa to bring me. I don't know what else to say.
Lily
It is so Lily to flat out tell Santa that she's been good, leaving no room for him to make that call. I also love how she acknowledges that Grandma has it covered. I guess she just thought of Santa as a glorified delivery man.
Dear Santa,
Happy Birthday. I want a big bicycle and a big motorcycle.
Happy Birthday. A four wheeler, a big motorcycle that goes fast like chtttt, chtttt, chtttt.
Luke
I'm sure Santa appreciated the birthday props Luke sent his way, especially since, thanks to Jesus, no one even asks about Santa's birthday. And in true boy fashion, Luke's letter comes complete with sound effects. What is it with boys and sound effects? As a guy himself, I'm sure Santa knew just what chttt, chttt, chttt meant.
Dear Luke,
First, let me say that I love you so much. More than words. With that said, I am writing this letter for you to read in the distant future, maybe 40 or 50 years from now. Perhaps you could read it the day you drop me off at the nursing home, so you can think of it every time you grimace at the thought of visiting me because the odor cocktail of pee-pee, bleach and cafeteria is more than you can stand. Please, keep this in mind:
On 12/7/08, you walked out of your room and said, "I puked." That was the understatement of the century. Son, you exploded. All over your bed, floor and train table. It.was.dripping. Your father could barely enter the room and because I didn't want to clean up after both of you, I sent him away and faced the aftermath of the vomit volcano myself.
I won't go into further detail about just how disgusting this clean up process was, but I will say that not a moment of the time I spent on my knees, scrubbing at the terracotta colored stains on my carpet, holding my breath to avoid the stench, gasping for air only when needed to stay conscious...not a moment of that time did I resent you. I felt sorry for your pale, shaky little body. I felt concerned that you might have a rough night ahead. I loved you as much in that moment as I do in the tender moments of your groggy morning smiles and bed time kisses.
Don't mistake this letter as an attempt to guilt you into caring for me personally as I age. Not at all. I am well aware that were you to do so, I would most likely end up the responsibility of your lovely wife. I pray for her often, and playing second fiddle to the big sister you think walks on water will be enough of a strain on your marriage, let's not add elder care. Go ahead, find me a good facility. But visit; visit often. Bring the kids. Stay awhile. Because after last night, you owe me one.
Your Loving Mother
First, let me say that I love you so much. More than words. With that said, I am writing this letter for you to read in the distant future, maybe 40 or 50 years from now. Perhaps you could read it the day you drop me off at the nursing home, so you can think of it every time you grimace at the thought of visiting me because the odor cocktail of pee-pee, bleach and cafeteria is more than you can stand. Please, keep this in mind:
On 12/7/08, you walked out of your room and said, "I puked." That was the understatement of the century. Son, you exploded. All over your bed, floor and train table. It.was.dripping. Your father could barely enter the room and because I didn't want to clean up after both of you, I sent him away and faced the aftermath of the vomit volcano myself.
I won't go into further detail about just how disgusting this clean up process was, but I will say that not a moment of the time I spent on my knees, scrubbing at the terracotta colored stains on my carpet, holding my breath to avoid the stench, gasping for air only when needed to stay conscious...not a moment of that time did I resent you. I felt sorry for your pale, shaky little body. I felt concerned that you might have a rough night ahead. I loved you as much in that moment as I do in the tender moments of your groggy morning smiles and bed time kisses.
Don't mistake this letter as an attempt to guilt you into caring for me personally as I age. Not at all. I am well aware that were you to do so, I would most likely end up the responsibility of your lovely wife. I pray for her often, and playing second fiddle to the big sister you think walks on water will be enough of a strain on your marriage, let's not add elder care. Go ahead, find me a good facility. But visit; visit often. Bring the kids. Stay awhile. Because after last night, you owe me one.
Your Loving Mother
Part Three has been sitting in my drafts folder for days, always feeling short of completion. In an effort to move on, this post started as a "sorry, there is no 3" and then turned into a Part Three all it's own. But really, it's just a moving on post; it's been good for me to dig deep and reflect on what has happened, what is happening and through it, gain renewed hope for what will happen.
As you can read in the previous posts, I'm not above admitting how hard this great adventure has been. But I hope somewhere in the last posts, on my blog in general, and in the way I live my life, it's obvious that I feel truly blessed to be living a great adventure at all. I am beyond thankful that God gripped our hearts and compelled us to dramatically change our lives for an opportunity to seek Him, know Him, and serve Him like never before.
In the past 3 years, I have laughed harder, sang louder, hugged tighter, worshipped higher, prayed lower, searched deeper, lived simpler, lingered longer, spoken truer, fought wiser, loved better. More. This has been a land of more. Not more money, not more possessions, not more power, not more fame...but more of everything that makes life worth living until He calls me home.
The greatest blessings have been the lessons, and the greatest lessons are usually learned in the struggles; the fire by which we are refined. And it's my whole-hearted prayer that I daily have the strength to say, I'll take it, Lord, whatever brings me closer to you, because You are enough. And on the days I don't think I have the strength to say it, it'll still be true.
As you can read in the previous posts, I'm not above admitting how hard this great adventure has been. But I hope somewhere in the last posts, on my blog in general, and in the way I live my life, it's obvious that I feel truly blessed to be living a great adventure at all. I am beyond thankful that God gripped our hearts and compelled us to dramatically change our lives for an opportunity to seek Him, know Him, and serve Him like never before.
In the past 3 years, I have laughed harder, sang louder, hugged tighter, worshipped higher, prayed lower, searched deeper, lived simpler, lingered longer, spoken truer, fought wiser, loved better. More. This has been a land of more. Not more money, not more possessions, not more power, not more fame...but more of everything that makes life worth living until He calls me home.
The greatest blessings have been the lessons, and the greatest lessons are usually learned in the struggles; the fire by which we are refined. And it's my whole-hearted prayer that I daily have the strength to say, I'll take it, Lord, whatever brings me closer to you, because You are enough. And on the days I don't think I have the strength to say it, it'll still be true.
Have you ever noticed that you can hear something your entire life, even study it for yourself, agree with it in your mind, but still struggle to know that you know it's true?
Enter Clayton King, a gifted evangelist, friend of our church, and guest speaker this past Sunday. I can't quote Clayton perfectly nor will I even attempt to express the impact of his "Who is Lord?" message, but I'd like to share with you what my heart heard. Something my ears have heard many times before, something my mind could agree with, but for some reason, on this day, the message reached my heart in a different way. Some of my "whys" could be answered by asking yet another question: Was Jesus enough for me? Is knowing more of Jesus than I ever have before enough to make all the struggle worthwhile? If He's indeed the only thing I have to show for this life, will I know and live like He's enough? Clayton said when you follow the Lord, the Lord may be all you get. Is He is enough?
I think so. maybe. yes. Yes. YES! He is enough. And the fog lifted.
I know that He's enough because I can say in all honesty that even on my darkest days I never wished that He hadn't called us here, because I know Him so much more. The first time Lily was sick and we didn't have health insurance, I was unsure of how we'd handle it, but I didn't wish to rewind to the past job. The first time I felt the sting of having my integrity questioned, I missed the comfort that comes from being surrounded only by those who love and trust unconditionally, but I didn't wish I'd never had the courage to step out of that comfort zone. The first holiday I called home and heard the laughter and noise of my family sitting down to a big meal, I'd have loved to be around that dinner table, but I didn't wish I'd never known the ache of missing home. The day Lily told me she wished I'd never made her leave her grandma, I ached for her to understand, but I didn't wish I hadn't changed her future. As I sat in the surgical waiting room while Luke was being operated on, I would have loved to be anywhere else but there, but I didn't wish he was covered in the "if it be His will" prayers of my past rather than the "it is His will" promises I now claim for my children. Last month when David called me and told me they were laying off and he wasn't sure if he was next, I prayed for this cup to pass, but I didn't wish he hadn't been courageous enough to take this job. Because God has always been enough, even when I didn't know or acknowledge or praise Him for being such, He was, and is, enough.
Living apart from almost every piece of my past has allowed me to embrace Him as the author of my future. Feeling like a lonely outsider enabled me to see what a perfect, trustworthy Friend I always have in Him. Starting over helped me recognize that His resources are limitless and His provision is sufficient. I could go on and on about the countless ways He has been able to better reveal Himself when the distractions of my comfort zone were removed. And man, oh man, for all the pieces of the puzzle I still don't have, I know I have Him. And He is enough. And the world needs to know that, and the world needs to see that, and maybe that's the picture of a faith-filled life that can reveal His glory to others more than I ever knew. I think it'd be so easy to say "God is good" if I was sitting here, entering year 3, and the picture I'd painted in my mind was the scene playing out in my life. But would I know Him the same? Maybe, maybe not. It's easy to praise Him when the bills are paid, and fridge is full, and the Christmas tree in the other room is surrounded by overflowing packages. It's easy to praise Him at times like those, but it's also very easy to forget to. But what about when those circumstances are not reality? Because they're certainly not mine today. Can I still say God is good? Heck yeah I can, and it's not so hard, and I certainly don't forget that I need Him because Lord knows, I need Him.
And the blessings I was waiting to see overflow in our lives because I trusted His Word and knew that He rewards those with earnestly seek Him? They've been there all along, and I feel purely silly for having to admit that I had limited my expectation of blessing to the things of this world that we can see and touch.
I promise I'm almost done...
Enter Clayton King, a gifted evangelist, friend of our church, and guest speaker this past Sunday. I can't quote Clayton perfectly nor will I even attempt to express the impact of his "Who is Lord?" message, but I'd like to share with you what my heart heard. Something my ears have heard many times before, something my mind could agree with, but for some reason, on this day, the message reached my heart in a different way. Some of my "whys" could be answered by asking yet another question: Was Jesus enough for me? Is knowing more of Jesus than I ever have before enough to make all the struggle worthwhile? If He's indeed the only thing I have to show for this life, will I know and live like He's enough? Clayton said when you follow the Lord, the Lord may be all you get. Is He is enough?
I think so. maybe. yes. Yes. YES! He is enough. And the fog lifted.
I know that He's enough because I can say in all honesty that even on my darkest days I never wished that He hadn't called us here, because I know Him so much more. The first time Lily was sick and we didn't have health insurance, I was unsure of how we'd handle it, but I didn't wish to rewind to the past job. The first time I felt the sting of having my integrity questioned, I missed the comfort that comes from being surrounded only by those who love and trust unconditionally, but I didn't wish I'd never had the courage to step out of that comfort zone. The first holiday I called home and heard the laughter and noise of my family sitting down to a big meal, I'd have loved to be around that dinner table, but I didn't wish I'd never known the ache of missing home. The day Lily told me she wished I'd never made her leave her grandma, I ached for her to understand, but I didn't wish I hadn't changed her future. As I sat in the surgical waiting room while Luke was being operated on, I would have loved to be anywhere else but there, but I didn't wish he was covered in the "if it be His will" prayers of my past rather than the "it is His will" promises I now claim for my children. Last month when David called me and told me they were laying off and he wasn't sure if he was next, I prayed for this cup to pass, but I didn't wish he hadn't been courageous enough to take this job. Because God has always been enough, even when I didn't know or acknowledge or praise Him for being such, He was, and is, enough.
Living apart from almost every piece of my past has allowed me to embrace Him as the author of my future. Feeling like a lonely outsider enabled me to see what a perfect, trustworthy Friend I always have in Him. Starting over helped me recognize that His resources are limitless and His provision is sufficient. I could go on and on about the countless ways He has been able to better reveal Himself when the distractions of my comfort zone were removed. And man, oh man, for all the pieces of the puzzle I still don't have, I know I have Him. And He is enough. And the world needs to know that, and the world needs to see that, and maybe that's the picture of a faith-filled life that can reveal His glory to others more than I ever knew. I think it'd be so easy to say "God is good" if I was sitting here, entering year 3, and the picture I'd painted in my mind was the scene playing out in my life. But would I know Him the same? Maybe, maybe not. It's easy to praise Him when the bills are paid, and fridge is full, and the Christmas tree in the other room is surrounded by overflowing packages. It's easy to praise Him at times like those, but it's also very easy to forget to. But what about when those circumstances are not reality? Because they're certainly not mine today. Can I still say God is good? Heck yeah I can, and it's not so hard, and I certainly don't forget that I need Him because Lord knows, I need Him.
And the blessings I was waiting to see overflow in our lives because I trusted His Word and knew that He rewards those with earnestly seek Him? They've been there all along, and I feel purely silly for having to admit that I had limited my expectation of blessing to the things of this world that we can see and touch.
I promise I'm almost done...
As I truly began to write from an overflow of my heart as I reflected on today being the 3 year anniversary of the day David moved from FL to NC, this post grew, and grew, and grew. So I'm still writing it, but I'm also dividing it, and here's Part One. And I didn't have a title otherwise, so this is really a win-win: a title for me, a shorter post for you :)
I was so wrong about our move to NC. So.very.wrong. I thought I had it all figured out. And as difficult as it was, it really made perfect sense to me. (Maybe that should have been the first clue that my expectations were off track, the "makes sense to me" should have been a red flag!) His ways are not my ways.
But here's what I thought: I thought making the decision to follow God's leading, and move here to be a part of the team launching Elevation Church, was the hardest thing I would ever do. I can't begin to tell you how we agonized over the decision. From the highs of knowing we were on the threshold of seeing God move in our lives like never before, to the lows of knowing we were leaving behind broken hearts who may never understand our decision, it was an exhausting emotional rollercoaster. I was certain that making the decision, and then carrying it out, would be the hard part. Telling our family. Explaining it to the kids. Watching David drive off without us. Living apart for the month of December; David in NC, the kids and I in FL. Saying painful goodbyes to loved ones; avoiding painful goodbyes with loved ones. Then moving here, knowing nothing about the city other than the facts we'd "googled" 100 times. Finding a new grocery store, a new pediatrician, making new friends, unpacking boxes, introducing myself and my children every time I stepped in a room. I thought that was the hard part. But oh, the pay off...I knew the pay off. There would be inexplicable blessings as the result of pouring ourselves into God's work: building a life-changing, community-impacting church...and we'd bask in the joy of living the comfortable but passionate life we'd always dreamed. Just get through the tough stuff and then live in the contentment and blessing we'd never known. And that would show everyone...all the eyes waiting to see if we'd make it, or if we'd made a mistake...that God is good and comes through in a big way for those who step out on faith. It made perfect sense, and so I waited. And waited and waited. I really didn't have a timeline, but I was certain it'd be sooner than later. And so I waited some more.
Then slowly I began to realize that making the decision to obey was not the hardest part. Moving to a new city was not the hardest part. Being unknown was not the hardest part. Homesickness was not the hardest part. Deciding to obey and carrying out that decision was not at all the hardest part. Living in the obedience, continuing to obey daily despite the struggles we encountered...that was really the hardest part. The picture I'd imagined...the picture of the David successfully cruising into a profitable new career, Erin as the dedicated wife and stay-at-home mom, both of us passionately and purposefully serving family and church; Lily and Luke living nothing but a happy-go-lucky childhood. Surely that would be the picture that showed the world, our world, that our "foolish" faith in God paid off, and He really does have big plans for ordinary people. I knew it might not happen overnight, but before long, the initial struggles of starting over would fade into a life where the tough stuff was far outweighed by the good stuff. That makes sense, right? Because why would it be so hard? Why should it be so hard? What purpose would that serve? Why after 3 years would David's job security be so uncertain? Why after 3 years would I be less sure my purpose than when I first started this journey? Why would both of my kids struggle so much with school? Why would they battle so many new health issues here? Why? Surely no one would look upon that picture and say, "Wow, a life of faith is the life for me!" And isn't that the point? To live a life that magnetically draws others into knowing the amazing God we serve?
So where had we gone wrong?
I was so wrong about our move to NC. So.very.wrong. I thought I had it all figured out. And as difficult as it was, it really made perfect sense to me. (Maybe that should have been the first clue that my expectations were off track, the "makes sense to me" should have been a red flag!) His ways are not my ways.
But here's what I thought: I thought making the decision to follow God's leading, and move here to be a part of the team launching Elevation Church, was the hardest thing I would ever do. I can't begin to tell you how we agonized over the decision. From the highs of knowing we were on the threshold of seeing God move in our lives like never before, to the lows of knowing we were leaving behind broken hearts who may never understand our decision, it was an exhausting emotional rollercoaster. I was certain that making the decision, and then carrying it out, would be the hard part. Telling our family. Explaining it to the kids. Watching David drive off without us. Living apart for the month of December; David in NC, the kids and I in FL. Saying painful goodbyes to loved ones; avoiding painful goodbyes with loved ones. Then moving here, knowing nothing about the city other than the facts we'd "googled" 100 times. Finding a new grocery store, a new pediatrician, making new friends, unpacking boxes, introducing myself and my children every time I stepped in a room. I thought that was the hard part. But oh, the pay off...I knew the pay off. There would be inexplicable blessings as the result of pouring ourselves into God's work: building a life-changing, community-impacting church...and we'd bask in the joy of living the comfortable but passionate life we'd always dreamed. Just get through the tough stuff and then live in the contentment and blessing we'd never known. And that would show everyone...all the eyes waiting to see if we'd make it, or if we'd made a mistake...that God is good and comes through in a big way for those who step out on faith. It made perfect sense, and so I waited. And waited and waited. I really didn't have a timeline, but I was certain it'd be sooner than later. And so I waited some more.
Then slowly I began to realize that making the decision to obey was not the hardest part. Moving to a new city was not the hardest part. Being unknown was not the hardest part. Homesickness was not the hardest part. Deciding to obey and carrying out that decision was not at all the hardest part. Living in the obedience, continuing to obey daily despite the struggles we encountered...that was really the hardest part. The picture I'd imagined...the picture of the David successfully cruising into a profitable new career, Erin as the dedicated wife and stay-at-home mom, both of us passionately and purposefully serving family and church; Lily and Luke living nothing but a happy-go-lucky childhood. Surely that would be the picture that showed the world, our world, that our "foolish" faith in God paid off, and He really does have big plans for ordinary people. I knew it might not happen overnight, but before long, the initial struggles of starting over would fade into a life where the tough stuff was far outweighed by the good stuff. That makes sense, right? Because why would it be so hard? Why should it be so hard? What purpose would that serve? Why after 3 years would David's job security be so uncertain? Why after 3 years would I be less sure my purpose than when I first started this journey? Why would both of my kids struggle so much with school? Why would they battle so many new health issues here? Why? Surely no one would look upon that picture and say, "Wow, a life of faith is the life for me!" And isn't that the point? To live a life that magnetically draws others into knowing the amazing God we serve?
So where had we gone wrong?
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