Lessons Learned from My Children

Last night my four year-old son came in our room crying because he’d had a bad dream. We let him crawl into bed between us and I started running my fingers through his head and over his face to calm him down and help him fall back asleep. A very short time later I noticed that he was, in fact, asleep. I was astonished at how quickly he fell asleep. After all, he’d just had a nightmare that caused him to come in our room and crawl in bed with us, crying. When I have nightmares like that, I’m afraid to go back to sleep for fear the dream will continue. But here was my sweet little boy, already asleep, because he knew he was safe because his Mommy and Daddy were there and would protect him. As soon as I thought this, I realized that I also have a Father who protects me, cuddles me, loves me. Psalms 56:3 states “But when I am afraid, I will put my trust in You.” So why should I fear? If my four year-old son has the faith in me to protect him and keep him safe, why shouldn’t I trust an all-powerful, all-knowing God? This shouldn’t just extend to my own nightmares. This should extend to my life. I am by nature, a worrywart, much to my husband’s chagrin. Why should I worry? God has got this, whatever “this” may be. I need to learn a lesson from my children and put my full trust and sense of peace in my Father who loves me.

By the way, my seven year-old daughter joined us—also after a nightmare—roughly two hours later. She, too, fell asleep shortly after snuggling with me.

Romans 8:31 – “What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?”

“Lead Me”

I have been hearing this song on our radio lately in the car and it kept getting in my head. I love lyrical-type songs; I think they’re very pretty so the fact that it was stuck in my head didn’t surprise me, but the only part I could remember were the words “lead me.” Finally, I looked it up on Google tonight and watched a YouTube video with lyrics. It is “Lead Me” by Sanctus Real and it is truly a gorgeous song! It is told in the point of view of a man who has a wife and kids who want him to lead them and be head of his household. The third verse asks God to lead him so that he can lead them. Being a woman, obviously I am not meant to be head of the household, a job I am more than happy to allow my husband to fill, and so don’t feel an exact kinship with the vocalist; still, I find myself echoing the man’s thoughts. I need my Lord to lead me so that I can be a great parent to my children and wife to my husband. I think the lyrics at the end could very well be every parent’s prayer:

“So Father, give me the strength
To be everything I'm called to be
Oh, Father, show me the way
To lead them
Won't You lead me?
To lead them with strong hands
To stand up when they can't
Don't want to leave them hungry for love,
Chasing things that I could give up
I'll show them I'm willing to fight
And give them the best of my life
So we can call this our home
Lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone
Father, lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone”

(Lord, don’t let me miss a moment of my children’s lives for things I could give up!)

In other, related, news, Corey will be ordained as a deacon tomorrow morning in church. Father, lead him too. I praise You that he has answered this call and is setting such a wonderful example for myself and especially our children.

If you would like to hear the song that inspired this post, you can watch it here.

Beautiful, inspiring song.

The 5 People You Are Around the Most

Recently, I came across this picture on Pinterest and I got to thinking, “You know, that’s absolutely right.” Think about it, when you were a kid, you imitated those you were around most. You develop the same mannerisms as your parents, you quote the adults in your life (sometimes to their embarrassment), you laugh like your grandfather, you put your hands on your hips like you saw your neighbor’s kid doing. The same goes for adolescence: you say the same things your friends say and act and dress like your peers. In adulthood, we still do it. We eat things we never thought we ever would because our spouse eats it (I hated coleslaw before Corey), we say things that our friends say, if we move somewhere else—or even sometimes just visit—we pick up the local dialect. If I go visit family in Tennessee, I come back with a similar twang as them. In fact, I’ve noticed that I’ve picked up my husband’s thick country accent since we’ve started dating. I’m from the South, so I have an accent, but it wasn’t really thick until I started hanging around the man that is now my husband.

So today in church, this exact same sentiment was brought up by our preacher completely without his knowing that I’ve just recently seen and saved this very picture from Pinterest. His point was that we need to refresh our relationship with God. To do this, we should spend more time with Him. He even brought up the very fact that we act like the people we spend more time with: eating foods we never thought we would because our spouse eats it, acting like our co-workers, etc. So think about it, if we spend more time with God, won’t we begin acting more like Him?

We need to set aside time each day to spend time with God. It needs to be time away from all distractions, a time just for you and the God of all. Some people do this first thing in the morning, preferring to start their day with Him. I am NOT a morning person by any means, so I generally prefer to do this at night before bed. I find there are far fewer distractions and my house is much quieter when it is nighttime and everyone is in bed. I also like to talk to Him when I drive to work in the morning. Obviously I can’t read my Bible while driving, but praying and singing His praises are a great way for me to start my morning. In fact, I sing His praises whenever I can. It doesn’t matter what time you give Him, but give Him some time every day. Then, if He becomes someone you spend the most time with, you will be more like Him. It makes perfect sense.

So, what time will you give Him?

 

Listen to our church’s sermon here: http://gentianchurch.org/sermons/sermons.php Look for September 2, 2012 for this specific sermon (and the other points made, because the sermon wasn’t just about this), but feel free to listen to any of them.

Memorial Day 2012

So today we went out to Fort Mitchell National Cemetery where my grandparents are buried. I like to go there for Memorial Day because I think the cemetery is beautiful with all the flags up. Unlike Christmas, where there are only a handful of wreaths for every hero out there, for Memorial Day, there is a flag for every single stone. However, visiting out there comes with a price. You see, these are the grandparents that lived closest to me growing up. They were there for every major event in my life up until my high school graduation, and they only missed that because my grandmother (who had had a stroke before I could walk) was very afraid of being in large crowds for fear of being trampled if some emergency came up. They were at my wedding four years after that though and they adored Corey. Grandma always remarked at how handsome she thought Corey was and repeatedly told me that he was “a keeper.” Most of all, I know that they loved me. Unconditionally. And it was mutual. I remember when I was in fourth grade there was a fad going around where it was cool to wear really shiny black shoes with black laces that were, well, lacey, sort of like tulle. I wanted a pair so badly that I begged my mother for some. I found a pair I really wanted for $50. My mother, naturally, told me I was out of my mind, but the next time my grandfather came to town, he went and bought them for me. Go figure by that time, they were going out of style (and were horribly uncomfortable), so they barely got worn. But, oh, how I loved them for that short while! Mine, unlike my friends’ shoes, had little metal plates on the toe and I loved to pretend they doubled as tap shoes, even though the bottoms made no sound at all.

I often think about how much they’ve missed in recent years. I was fortunate that they knew I was having Bree. My grandfather didn’t live long enough to ever meet her, although he knew I was pregnant, and my grandmother was whisked away to Mississippi with her family (she was actually my mother’s stepmother so her family was not necessarily mine) shortly after God called him Home, so neither of them got to see my children in person, though I faithfully sent pictures to my grandmother once she was in Mississippi. I think about how much they would have loved and been delighted with my children, and the smile that comes is bittersweet. They would have spoiled my children like they did my cousins, siblings, and me. I think about how proud they would be of all of us, and what we’ve become. They would adore my cousin’s husband as much as they did Corey and they would have delighted in her children too. They would have been so proud of my other cousin, who recently graduated high school and has already started college classes by doing joint enrollment in high school like I did. They would brag about how smart we all are, how wonderful our spouses are, how beautiful our children are. They would delight in every little thing about us now just like they did back then because that’s what grandparents are all about.

I say all of this for Memorial Day because, while my grandfather was an American hero, who served in both Korea and Vietnam, serving the army for 30+ years and retiring as SGM Ralph Helton, I never knew him as SGM Ralph Helton. I knew him only as Pap-Pap, the man who would let me sit in his lap and tell me stories of his scars, tease me about being a “Bad Cat”, and let me kiss the top of his head so I could pretend to be Snow White and he could be Dopey. These men and women that we honor this weekend were not just soldiers. They were husbands, wives, parents, grandparents, siblings, children, aunts, and uncles. They were friends and loved ones with their own individual stories to tell. I miss my grandfather with all of my heart, and even though his life was lost in a battle with cancer, and not any war with man, I honor his memory and miss him with all of my heart.

I love you, Pap-Pap and Grandma. I know you are watching me from Heaven and are very proud of the woman I am and will become. I aim to keep it that way. One day, we will see each other again, and Pap-Pap, you’d better make sure you’re not wearing that stupid toupee when I get there because I’m kissing your head again! Grandma, we will take that walk that you always wanted to take but had a stroke before I could learn to walk with you. We can all take it down the Streets of Gold.

Happy Memorial Day, everybody! Please remember to thank a soldier for what they’ve done each and every day for the sacrifices they’ve made. After all, they are not just soldiers, but people, with loved ones and stories to tell.

God bless our troops and may God bless the USA!

Dogwoods, and Why I LOVE them!

I love it when the dogwoods bloom. I love dogwoods for a couple of reasons: one, because many happy hours were spent underneath our dogwood in our front yard as I was growing up. I played there, did homework there, even fell asleep there on a couple of occasions. The second is because of the legend of the dogwood, which was told to me by a friend when I was in second grade. Here is the legend:
"At the time of Crucifixion the dogwood had been the size of the oak and other forest trees. So firm and strong was the tree that it was chosen as the timber for the cross. To be used thus for such a cruel purpose greatly distressed the tree, and Jesus nailed upon it, sensed this.
In His gentle pity for all sorrow and suffering Jesus said to the tree:
" Because of your regret and pity for My suffering, never again shall the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used as a cross. Henceforth it shall be slender and bent and twisted and its blossoms shall be in the form of a cross--two long and two short petals. And in the center of the outer edge of each petal there will be nail prints, brown with rust and stained with red, and in the center of the flower will be a crown of thorns, and all who see it will remember." "
As a result of my love for dogwoods, the arch that we were married under was decorated with fake dogwood blossoms. Those same blossoms now decorate my dining room chandelier and have decorated our dining room chandeliers in every house we've owned (and maybe the one we rented, but I can't remember that.) I always stop and remember His love each spring when the real dogwoods bloom, and I am captivated by just how gorgeous they are to me. Have a blessed spring day, everybody! :o)

All I Need to Know About Marriage, I Learned by Watching Others

Ok, so this is out of the ordinary in that it does not have a Christian song title, nor will it be my typical blog. I was thinking today about relationships, marriage specifically. I was thinking about how Turkey Bill was reminding me Sunday about how he used to grab Aunt Esther's hand and bring her to his lap and she would just sit there. It was something that I witnessed many times over my life before Aunt Esther's death three years ago. We would all sit in the kitchen--Aunt Esther's domain since she was always trying to feed everybody--and Turkey Bill would be sitting there, drinking his coffee and talking to us. Aunt Esther would walk by and, seemingly without thought, he'd reach out and grab her hand, and pull her to his lap, and there they'd sit, just happy to be with each other. It was one of the things that made me decide I wanted a marriage like theirs. Turkey Bill and Aunt Esther were devoted to each other in ways that is a rare treat to witness. They were truly best friends. I decided as a young child that (a) Turkey Bill would adopt me (since they never had children), I'd have two daddys, and I would be his daughter, (b) I wanted my one-day husband and I to share a love like theirs. I wanted my husband to be my best friend. I wanted to be as openly affectionate as Turkey Bill and Aunt Esther were. So I started thinking of all the marriages I witnessed growing up, and how each one of them has taught me something, because the truth is, whether we realize it or not, we learn from watching our elders in everything, even marriage. Turkey Bill and Aunt Esther taught me what I wanted my marriage to be like: best friends who show their love and affection every time they come near each other. My parents, who by accident of living with me, taught me the ups and downs of marriage, and how, no matter what, you don't just give up on each other for stupid (and sometimes not-so-stupid) stuff. Even though they themselves were children of divorced parents, they managed to stick with each other through thick and thin. Since I saw their personal roller coaster, I admire them all the more for it. Pap-Pap and Grandma were only married a few years (less than five, actually), when Grandma had a stroke. Pap-Pap then spent the next 20+ years taking care of his bride, who no longer had use of her left arm at all and could barely walk. Even though life had given them lemons, they stuck with it. Nana and Wint showed me that love and marriage can even happen late in life (my cousin and I were flower girls in their wedding). Grandma Miller and Grandpa Dave showed me how even totally opposite people can manage to make a life together. There are so many other couples I could name that played a positive role in my definition of marriage, that I couldn't possibly name them all and what they showed me, but you get the gist. All the while, I'm sure that none of these people realized that simply by living life, they were setting a life-long example of a small impressionable child nearby. I did marry my best friend, and we are openly affectionate, and we will stick together through thick and thin and love each other even when we're old enough to have 8 year-old granddaughters. Thank you, Turkey Bill, Aunt Esther, Mama, Daddy, Pap-Pap, Grandma, Nana, Wint, Grandma, and Grandpa. The moral of this story is, that we must now set the example for the small, impressionable children near us. They may very well set their own lives based on what they see.

Imagine and My Favorite Bible Story

I have been a Christian for many years and have studied the stories of Jesus many times. I have read through the Gospels and if someone asked me to pick my favorite story, without hesitation, I would say, "The one where the sinful woman washed Jesus' feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair," which is found in Luke 36-50. Before I explain further, let me show you what it says. "36 When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, He went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. 37 A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. 38 As she stood behind Him at His feet weeping, she began to wet His feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. 39 When the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he said to himself, “If this Man were a prophet, He would know who is touching Him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.” 40 Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. 41 “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” 43 Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said. 44 Then He turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. 46 You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. 47 Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” 48 Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” 49 The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” 50 Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”" (NIV) I love this story because I can see myself as that woman. The Bible does not give specifics of her "sinful life." Maybe she was promiscuous. Maybe she was a drunkard. Maybe her "sinful life" was nothing more than what I've done in my life. Whatever her sins, it doesn't matter, because in God's eyes, ALL sin is the same and has the same consequence. Humans have made some sins worse than others; God does not see it that way. So regardless of what her sins may have been, she was no worse off than myself before I asked God to forgive my sins. So I put myself in this woman's shoes. Knowing my Savior was sitting in someone else's house, eating a meal, I can't say that I wouldn't have snuck in to find my way to Him. After all, how many times will one come across the Savior on Earth? Upon seeing Him, I most likely WOULD have fallen at his feet, knowing I was not worthy to be in His presence, but determined to gaze upon His visage. Ancient customs of washing feet notwithstanding, I would definitely have cried at His feet, and then, realizing that my tears were wetting His feet, and having nothing to wipe them dry with, yes, I would have used my own hair to try to dry them, however pointless that would seem. I am a sinner, unworthy to be in His presence, much less kiss His feet, and yet I would show my gratitude for saving me in whatever small way I could. When I read that story, in my mind's eye, I AM that woman, and I cry every time I read that story. MercyMe had a wonderful song years ago. The lyrics of the chorus said, "Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel? Will I dance for You, Jesus, or in awe of You be still? Will I stand in Your presence, or to my knees will I fall? Will I sing 'Hallelujah'? Will I be able to speak at all? I can only imagine." I imagine that, most likely, I will be like this woman. I will fall to my knees and cry at His feet. I would love nothing more than to wash His feet with my tears and dry them with my hair. Then, and only then, will I be able to sing His praises in Heaven, because, while I have not committed any serious sins by human standards, I have still been forgiven of much. I am a sinner, and yet I know that God has erased it all through His Son, Christ Jesus! How awesome is that?! God bless y'all and have a wonderful day!