More Than a Backpack

Our church is hosting a backpack drive. It is something we do every year. Last year my husband packed a backpack for a middle/high school student. This year I was really excited to get my niece involved. So Saturday morning, while on our yearly trip to Big Canoe, Ga. we packed up and after making a quick stop for some produce at the local farmers market, we pulled into the Dollar General.

I let Makaylin know that this was a special day, that we weren't shopping for her, but for another child. She was curious and so we talked about why. We talked about how when kids start kindergarten, like she will in a year, the school asks for them to have a backpack and all kinds of school supplies. We discussed how school supplies cost money and how sometimes there are kids whose families have a hard time affording those supplies. I may be biased, but she's a pretty bright little 4 year old and this seemed to make sense to her.

We rolled into the store and I will be honest, I was nervous. Dollar General is a kids dream! There was so much for her to see, so much for her to say, "I want that." But we headed straight for the school supplies and got cracking. The first thing she saw was a Frozen backpack and next thing I know she was fast at work. Her own little personal mission to make another little girls day a happy one. It was so neat to see her smile and see her little brain work through what she wanted to get. Everything she picked she picked with love.

"Oh she will love this Aunt Mel!!" 

"Oh this is the best! Here let me put it in the cart." 

"The flower folders are so beautiful (giving them a hug). She will think they're perfect (putting them in the cart)." 

If Uncle Andrew accidentally slipped something in the cart, he would get a "remember Uncle Andrew give it to me first." This was big business she was attending to and she had to make sure every item passed her little hand inspection. 

It was a wonderful experience! 

One I am so glad we got to do together. But, it was what came after that made this story not only so much more than a backpack for the general experience, but also so much more than a backpack for our car ride back to the cabin. You see, as we were checking out, Makaylin was telling the lady that the backpack wasn't for her but another little girl. The lady, being sweet and trying to encourage her, said, "your mommy and daddy must be so proud of you." We get this often, people thinking that she (or my other niece and nephew or the kids I nanny for) is our child. It just happens. Most of the time she just says, "that's my Aunt Mel." But this was different. On this day she chose to say, "My daddy is in heaven." 

Now this was probably because we had already been talking about him on the way to the farmers market. She heard his name in a song Babe and I were discussing and said, "don't talk about my daddy." I let her know it was someone else named John, but that she could talk about her daddy whenever she wanted to. And from there the questions came... "Why does he have to stay in heaven? Does God love daddy more than me and that's why he had to go to heaven? When can I go to heaven? I want my daddy to come down." 

It's those questions that wrench at the heart, but it's also those questions and more importantly the answers to them that set us all free... "He stays there because God made heaven so wonderful that we want to stay with Him, but daddy's always watching over you. No, baby, God's heart is so big he loves everyone equally, no matter what we do, God's love is big enough to love all His people. It's not time for you to go to Heaven now, God wants you here with us, we live life here on Earth for a while to learn to love well and to teach other people about Jesus. And I want to see your daddy too sweet girl, but someday we will get to see him again and all be together in Heaven forever, that's how Heaven works we get to live with God and Jesus in a real, never die, forever." 

She had changed the subject after that. Quickly switching from the deep questions of life to thoughts on pool swimming and rock sliding as only kids can. 

So it was there on the surface when that sweet lady mentioned her daddy. You could see the look on the woman's face, but we assured her that yes, we are a very proud aunt and uncle, that Makaylin's parents were proud of her, thanked her and walked out. And then it opened sweet conversation about what her attitude that day revealed. We told Makaylin that we were so proud of her. We asked her who else would be proud of how happy she was to be giving to someone else. She replied, "My mommy." And we asked who else, "My daddy!" To which we replied, "Yes, baby, even in Heaven your daddy can still be so proud of you." And we asked who else, "God!!" "Yes, big girl, God is so proud of you. Did you know that what you did today helped you have a heart like Jesus. You gave to someone else without thinking of yourself. You loved and cared for someone who needed help and that's how Jesus loves us. And God is very proud of you!" 

God is proud of her and I am proud of her.
I am thankful for her sweet heart. 

I am thankful for the chance to have heart talks about her daddy. 

I hope it helped her heart, but I know it helped mine. 

I am thankful for backpacks for a sweet little girl somewhere in Orlando. 

And I am thankful that a Frozen backpack has the ability to be so much more than a backpack. 

Words for Wednesday: Grief and Glory

I have been absent from this space for a few weeks. Life was in that flux of space between grief and joy and I wasn't sure which emotions and feelings I felt like sharing (or really which ones I even felt) and so I didn't write at all. Which, I have realized in turn, is bad for my soul. I discovered a while ago that, even if I never post publicly, I need to share the words that choke up my heart. In writing, just for myself, over coffee, with others, internally, externally and most importantly with Jesus. 

I am not usually one to shy away from openness. I share a lot on here, because I feel that in sharing pain and our own walk with suffering we all help one another. Reading things where people share their hearts helps me realize I am not alone. But on the wake of the second anniversary of my brothers death I felt things that were new, things I wasn't sure how to voice and so I tried to block them out and not think on them. And then a sermon preached this past weekend was the gentle reminder I needed of the Glory that there can be in suffering. 

Zach Van Dyke, of Summit Church, preached on Romans Chapter 5 (verses 1-8). He preached about the desire for  a happy place, he referenced Inside Out, he quoted Chronicles of Narnia, he shared joy and sadness and he shared that Christianity is not stoicism (listen here). As Christians our hearts will be broken a million times over and it doesn't mean that we can't suffer, that we can't feel sadness or pain or that when we do we should hold it all in. The Glory is IN the suffering. It is in the broken moments when our tears roll down our cheeks and mix with Jesus'. It is the understanding that when we suffer we can also know we are not alone. Jesus' truest Glory came through His most ultimate suffering and it was the thing that saved the entire world. 

Suffering and grief are part of the picture of what makes us human. In this world we will suffer. But slowly time heals and suffering and sadness mix with joy and that joy is amplified by the pain that hides underneath. This second anniversary of John Wayne being gone was a strange mix of those feelings. Two days before was my mother's 60th birthday and my sister's 35th and we did the best we could to celebrate that day with joy, but there is a lingering undertone. It is the chance to be together with family and close friends to celebrate, but the reminder of what's missing is forever there and so the laughter and the tears blend together in a mess of BBQ and key lime pie. And that's ok. 

Last year the grief was so fresh. This year it left us each trying hard to go about our daily business, some even working longer hours that day to have less time at home. We didn't meet up again, instead leaving the celebration of birth our time together as a family. We reached out to each other via texts and we responded to each others Facebook messages on my his still active page. Calls were harder, as if the sound of a voice would be the cutting edge we needed to break past the floodgates until we all went under together. I am not sure if that was the best means to get us through the day, but it was what we all seemed to need. An unspoken bond that would carry us into the day after. And sometimes that's all it is when sadness and joy morph into a relationship with one another; an unspoken bond of understanding that, though the two might seem polar opposites, they need one another in way that other emotions don't. The reminder that this isn't all there is. 

Words for Wednesday: Beautifully You!

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You,

Why do you question yourself?

Always questioning your worth in the world, your beauty.

You are beautiful,

the most stunningly, beautiful, unique thing there ever was.

No one can ever be as beautiful as you,

for you are the only you there will ever be. 

You were formed with purpose 

and loved from before you even took a breath. 

When your strength waivers think on these things. 

And if you can't then turn to me, 

turn to me and I'll remind you. 

Hold tight to who you are, 

clutch your strength tightly, 

through the valleys and the mountains 

and along each journey you take 

through all the 'yous' in your life. 

You, 

You are strong!

You,

You are beautiful! 

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The quote by Tyler Knott Gregson has always been one that stops me anytime I stumble across it. From time to time we all falter, our strength waivers and we feel alone. We have people in our lives that question their beauty and it breaks our hearts. Or there are days we question our own. If today is a day that you need the reminder of just how beautiful you are, I hope this helps! I hope you remember that there can never be another person more beautiful, more unique, than you! You are the only you that God ever made and that is a beautiful and worthy thing. 

Words for Wednesday: Living Water

There I was, on the side of a dirt road, surrounded by nothing but green; green lush land and dirty brown water. The water was pumping through a hose, into a huge water tank. It stunk, it had thick brown film floating on top and it was going to help us drill, drill a well to bring clean water to families in Costa Rica. And I thought, "how funny, that such dirty water was ultimately going to lead to clean water." Clean water, the kind that would keep sickness at bay and provide a healthier standard of living. And then I realized how fitting it was. 

Because that is how God works in us. 

He uses the brown, the dirty, the gunk-filled "stuff" that takes up our hearts and clouds our minds. He uses it to create something new. The drill works by pushing the dirty water through metal pipes to break up the dirt below. The dirt is then pushed out of the hole by the force of the water and emptied into pits. Pits that we shovel the dirt out of so that it doesn't clog the pipes up and end up back in the hole it just got removed from. 

__________________________________________________

God works in us the same way. 

He uses the muck and the sin

 and He washes it clean. 

__________________________________________________

Like the dirt, we often fight against the pressure, fight to keep control for ourselves, fight to hold onto the things that brought us a false sense of comfort. But He keeps working, slow and steady, always there. He works right through the "rocks" and the "tough earth" and He pushes it out. And He gives us the freedom to shovel it away. He asks us to be a part of the process, to be in relationship with Him and help dig ourselves out of the messes we make. He put the "shovel" there for us, when He sent His son. He gave us the ultimate help. And He keeps working in us. 

He works in us when we forget to pick up the shovel, when we our arms are tired and we feel like giving up and the dirt slips past and back down the hole, letting sin back in. He keeps working and drilling and cleaning, until finally we hit "pay dirt" and the fresh water can flow freely. And that's when all the work spills over and it's not just for us anymore, it's not just in us, but it's all around us. It's all around us, flowing out clean and fresh so that others can rejoice and share in it too. 

God's love is like that in us. It's like muddy Costa Rican water that, when worked through a drill, comes out clean and pure and life sustaining! And it's a glorious thing! 

The work being done through Agua Viva Serves is wonderful and life giving, not just for those in Costa Rica, but for those that get the opportunity to share in the work that is being done. If you would like to know more about the work they do or want put a team together to go you can find more about them at Agua Viva Serves. You can donate and help support their mission here. 

Call Me Like You See Me

We were running late. We usually are. 

I know it drives Babe crazy sometimes. He loves me for it though. 

We walked in and sat in overflow, just as the sermon started. 

I got up again to fix my coffee. I am trying to cut back on sugar, but it was too bitter. 

When I got up, I got waylaid. That can happen when you work where you attend service. 

I missed a good portion of the sermon (though I can and will catch it on podcast). 

So this is what I was left with... 

I left the sermon right after hearing, 

"How do you want to be described?" 

And heard words like oxymoron and living how you are perceived, as I walked out to sweeten the bitter taste in my mouth. 

I walked back in on these words, right as the sermon was wrapping up. 

"... I am mortal, sinful man." Said a prince, who had previously been denied entry twice before when trying to enter using his title. 

"Then let him come in." said the same monk who had twice turned him down. 

I know the middle of that sermon had to be great. I had heard it was wonderful. But even the little I heard has stuck with me. I found it fitting, the parts that I was able to take in and how they wound together. In a lot of ways that's what it is all about, isn't it... grace? 

We mess up, we falter and- often- we pray that the world will miss it. We pray that they will see us by "titles" or by things that help boost our self-image. But God always knows when we miss a step. He knows our sin and yet, He still lets us come in. In fact, He asks us to bring our sins to Him. To leave them at the feet of the cross and carry on. He has forgiven them. But have we forgiven ourselves? Are we still trying to hold onto titles or are we laying things out in the open so that we can leave them behind? 

The last few days I have wondered about how I would want to be described by others. Wondered about what I value most in myself. And I came up with two things... 

I want to be described as loyal. Loyal to my friends, loyal to my husband, to my family and to God. I want people to know that they can depend on me and for them to know how dearly I value each of them.

But I also want to be known as someone who can sin well. Does that sound strange? It did to me, the first time I thought it. But I want to be a person who can ask forgiveness. I want to name my sin. I want to hold my human nature on my sleeve so that I see if for what it's worth. I know I will sin. I will fall short of Godliness, all the time, because I am human. But I also know that I can strive to be more like Jesus; to hold closer to the "still, small voice" inside my soul and hear it with a deeper clarity. 

And so, I want to ask forgiveness for the things that I have done. Not just to God, but to whomever it was that my sin hurt. Even if it is just myself; though I find that often times, someone else has been hurt in the process. I want to be described as someone who isn't afraid to share her heart, her struggles and her mistakes. 

I sit here typing with sweaty palms, because that scares me. Sharing my sin with God- my failures, my mistakes- seems somewhat easier than sharing them with the world. 

God? 

He IS forgiveness. He wrote the book on it. He sent Jesus to let us know that we are always forgiven when we turn to Him. 

People? 

That is a different story. I know people, because I know my own heart. Forgiveness can be a hard thing for people. We are broken, we are human and we are easily hurt. 

So to show up at someone else's door, with a heart full of broken apologies, can be terrifying. But I want so badly to be known for that. 

I want to be known as someone who can knock at a door, with trembling knees and a shaky hand, and say, "It is me; broken and sorry and praying that you can forgive me." I want to be described that way. And even more than that? I want to be described as someone who, should I be the one standing on the opposite side of that door, never even needs to hear a knock before swinging wide the door and letting that person know that it is already forgiven. 

That's what I want to be described as... a loyal, humanly-broken, righteousness-seeking, well-sinning, forgiver. 

What about you?

How would you want to be described? 

My Savage Soul

So I guess I always knew that a part of my soul was a bit savage. It beats faster when I least want it to, it breaks without prompting, it will long for things that my mind knows are only going to break it further- but that is a different post for another day.

My soul is now a bit more savage, and always will be, because this weekend I took part in the Savage Race. It was set to be a 6.7 mile, 25-obstacle-filled race of impending doom. Except it was everything but that...

  Did it kick my fanny? Yes! 

Was a I sweaty? You bet!

Was I covered in mud? Oh, just from head to toe! 

Was I sad about any of it? Not in the least! 

I was enthralled!! I loved it! Minus the part where I almost threw up at breakfast and some cramps about a mile in, I lapped it up! It was no where near as bad as my nerves had let me believe. Not to be graphic, but I was literally on the egde of vomiting all through our carb loading breakfast. I thought, "If I can just throw up I will feel better." But I knew I needed my food! I was able to keep down every bit of my breakfast and then I continued on with my psyche my brain race prep by eating some beef jerky and a couple bits of banana during the 1.5 hr ride to the race. I pinned a few things, read that protein and bananas are good for a race, so of course I rolled with it. My race companions thought I was crazy, but considering they are also some of my life companions this wasn't anything new to them. I am weird and I embrace it- they've learned to also. But my protein and banana (and the avacado I added to my breakfast sandwich) must have helped me some (well that and mostly my prayer to up above as we pulled into the parking lot), because I felt like a Savage Queen!

Sna Squad (our team name; consisting of Babe, Oliver- said bro-in-law discussed here, Kerri- Oliver's girlfriend/my friend, and Queso/KC/Kevin- Andrew's youngest brother; also not to be forgotten was our honorary team member, Queso's girlfriend Morgan, who walked practically the entire race with us as the "professional" photographer and whose pictures I can NOT wait to see) took off at a Babe approved pace, which meant we were running. We made it almost all the way to the first obstacle and then the non-Babe approved pace set in, a nice leisurely "power" walk with intermittent spurts of running. This is the pace that consisted for the next 5.5 miles. Though we did get  a good burst of energy when we popped the electrolight chews that I had been saving in my sports bra for mile 3 (the same ones that everyone laughed at but then were wishing for more of after they helped immensely- and don't worry they were well wrapped in their original packaging I assure you) I would say we walked the good majority of the race.

I would like to say that I love running, but I don't! We are not friends!! Though I plan to partake in the wonders of obstacle races again, I can assure I will still not like to run. I have tried to learn to love it, it has just never hooked me. But alas, I will continue to try. My original thought statement, spoken to multiple people, before Saturday had been, "Yes! Come Saturday I never have to run EVER again!" Guess that's out the window now.

Did I train? Sure.

Was it consistent? Hardly! 

How far did my trianing go? Oh, I made it up to .9 miles running in one stretch (before I had to lay flat on the ground and let my body regroup for 10 minutes).

My main goal? Finish the monkey bars!! I was up to 39 monkey bars when I trained, the Sawtooth only has 32. 

Was I ready for the Sawtooth? Pshh, nope!!! You got me this time, but I am coming for you!!!

This was my last attempt, after going back when we looped around at the end of the race and were almost to the finish line. Officially Sawtooth was done for the day, but they let me give it another go. It still won.

Honestly, I am very proud of how I did (completed every other obstacle including the 40 foot Colossus and the tombs of claustrophobic nightmares, aka Colon Blow 5000). But I had wanted to beat those bars!! When Andrew and Oliver ran it by themselves last year, while I took photos, I only saw a handful of girls complete the Sawtooth. I wanted to be one of them. Unfortunatly this time that was not my moment. My goal for next year is at least to make it to the middle. I tried multiple times and almost got there, but our heat was so late in the day the bars had lost all their grip. It was wet hand on wet metal and it didn't go well. But I will be back!!

Lesson learned: 

Sometimes in life, you have to set a new goal. It doesn't mean the old one is impossible, it just means you have to work your way up to it. 

Overall, this was an amazingly empowering, bonding, fun experience! It is a great way to enjoy trying to stay fit and it helped me knock one thing off of my invisible bucket list- being able to complete a 'Real World/ Road Rules Challenge' like race. Babe has always (jokingly) told me I would never be able to do one and I was set on proving him wrong! And I proved it, not just to him or anyone else who might (ok, do) say I would be one of the first ones to "fall out", but I also proved it to myself. And that it a wonderful feeling!

Sidenote: My dear sweet husband and the man I love dearly is not necessairly built for large team races, at least when it come to the run vs. walk decision factor. He was probably a full "lap" ahead for a good portion of the race. We were all (save him) not really in shape for a full on run for almost 7 miles. We all knew this going into it. We all knew there would be lots of walking involved. However, his pure and loved soul was under the impression that if he ran ahead it would motivate the rest of us to do the same. But the trick was, if even one person was determined to be walking, then it just made sense for the rest of us not really wanting to run to slow back down. You see, either way, even if you ran to the next obstacle, we would still stop to wait on the rest of the team. So there was really no point in wearing oneself out and instead we just chatted, saved our energy for the next obstacle and embraced the mud- all while Babe enjoyed the solitude of his pounding feet, which he probably enjoyed anyways. That and helping us over hurtles- literally. Even when he chooses to forge his own way, he is still my hero!! See?

Lesson two learned: 

Sometimes in life, you have to hold on tight with both hands. So tight that your hands are bleeding and still you don't let go. You hold until someone can come along who can help, who can be that pull you need to keep yourself from going back down the hill you just fought tooth and nail to climb up. 

Because sometimes God gives you the strength to do it on your own and sometimes He knows that you are going to need a little extra help. So He extends the hand of someone that He has given you to walk through life with. 

With our cheer squad, Babe's mom and sister! 

Linking up for the Weekend Recap! with the Grapefruit Princess who had a race of her own this weekend... Think Pink! And go check her out! 

The Stranger I Married: The UnDisney Side of It All

If you read this post then you know that I found it humorous, the things I didn't know about the man I am married to. But I have also been thinking about the other things I don't know, or else no longer know, about him. I love all of him. Each facet of what makes him the man he is. And yet, there are things I don't know. There are things I don't know because time has made us strangers. This may sound wrong, this may sound distant, but it isn't. It is more than that and it is less than that, too. 

We are close; right now, we are closer than we have been in a very long time. We are close because we have poured into the people we have become, these new people with the same faces, though wrinkled some with the weight of the world. Marriage is not the beginning of a life with one person. It is the beginning of a commitment, to love one person with all the that they were, all that they are and all that they will come to be. 

And sometimes that will mean loving someone that is, in some ways, vastly different than the person you said "I do" to. I know this because when I compare my own face in the mirror to the face in the picture that adorns my mantle -the one of a 23 year old girl with the world at her fingertips- I see a stranger. I see someone that I myself am still learning to understand. I had so many questions about who I have become in my late 20s. That meant he had to have questions too right? They were the questions we were too scared to ask. Questions that when finally spoken out loud leave you hanging on to each decibel of speech that follows it.

Life has a way of doing that. Of making you scared to ask the questions that are begging for escape. The ones that whisper in the darkness... 

Are you really ok? Why do we keep waiting? Are you just as scared as I am? Do we want the same things we wanted five years ago? What are your dreams now? Where does life go from here? Where do we? 

Death, birth, trials, joy... they all have a way of chipping away pieces of your heart and adding others into new places. Your heart comes out changed; with holes where there had been beating flesh, mountains where there had been nothing. Pumping to a different rhythm, setting a tune for a new version of who you are from that point forward, until something comes along that will reshape it again. 

And so, in the wake, in the stillness between those moments you work to get to know the stranger you have married. You work to get to know the stranger in the mirror. 

And you get to fall in love -with both of them- all over again.