If it's not an emergency, then ask Papa!

Today has been one of those days.  It's been one of those weeks actually, and it's only Wednesday.  But, to fully explain the story, I have to go back a few days more.

Sunday evening, we had some friends over for dinner.  The adults were inside talking, while the 4 kids were out on the trampoline.  Suddenly I hear: "Hannah, are you OK?" No response.  Again, "Hannah??"  I have that momentary panic--the kind that you don't let anyone else see.  Your mind races to the worst possible scenarios, and then back again.  When I heard her start crying, it was actually a relief.

She came in, covered in grass, and explained she had fallen out of the trampoline (and onto her head and back).  We have a net enclosure, and this accident took skills that only my oldest has (for getting hurt in unusual ways).  Fast forward to the next day and many dizzy hours later, I was concerned that she had a concussion, and went off to the doctor.  She was given a very thorough exam, and now seems to be doing fine.

Last night, Sydney gets out of bed to report that she has pain in her lungs when she takes deep breaths.  It was obvious that it wasn't an emergency, but still, I was concerned.  Today, after playing in a bounce house (no, I did not let Hannah join in), she started gasping and clutching her throat saying that it was closing up.

For those that have kids with asthma, severe allergies or other medical ailments, you know what your heart feels like when you are on the brink of "Do I call 911?" or "Do I have what it takes to handle this situation?"  Well, by God's grace, I handled it.  But once the immediate threat was over, my body and mind went into shut down mode.  I got so tired and overwhelmed that I had to call in re-enforcements.

So, I now sit on the couch, after not taking a nap (that I was instructed to do), waiting for the word on what the doctor said.  I feel half like a big lazy jerk for not going with Bob to the doctor, but half so taxed that I can't imagine doing anything but sitting here.

Prayers for my sanity will be greatly appreciated.

Second Hand Clothing

My mother-in-law is the queen of garage sales.  She gets out on a weekly basis and scours the city for treasures that others are ready to discard.  She takes pride in showing a Thomas Kinkade mantle piece that she got for a dollar, or the $30 cookbook that she snagged for fifty cents.

One of her biggest gifts to our family has been a never ending supply of second hand clothing. Having grown up with my fair share of neighborhood hand-me-downs, I've never thought twice about wearing someone else's former belongings.  She produces bags of clothing, especially for my girls, that have undoubtedly saved thousands of dollars from our budget.

Still in elementary school, my girls don't yet realize the negative connotation that our culture puts on the word "used".  I pray that they never have the experience of having a child look down on them for their appearance.  But, chances are, it will happen.  My goal is to help them be self assured and confident in who they are, not in how they look.

Now, I do want my girls to learn how to take care of themselves.  I want them to look nice, even stylish if we can swing it.  But the fact that a shirt cost a quarter in someone's driveway, rather than twenty or thirty bucks at the mall, shouldn't cause a bit of shame.

What is it that makes an individual stand with shoulders back and head held high?  Sure, money can give the appearance of self-assuredness, but catch them in the "raw", the wealthy are just human beings, full of flaws and problems (like everyone else) but covered with a designer label.

If I were to get a million dollars in the mail today, would I still wear garage sale clothes?  Probably.  I'd like the freedom to go and buy whatever was needed without budgetary concern, but I wouldn't want to give up the healthy pride I experience by knowing what a great deal I scored with the shirt I'm wearing.

I want to teach my girls good stewardship and how to be of exemplary character.  They are fearfully and wonderfully made, and no dollar amount will either add to, or diminish that fact.  I greatly desire for them to walk through life with confidence, knowing who they are in Christ.  The clothes may have been purchased at a discount, but their security comes from Him paying full price!

The joy of stillness

It's Sunday morning and my children spent the night at a friend's house.  I have the rare opportunity to sit in my bay window, enjoy the breeze and listen to the stillness around me.  With my husband sound asleep, I've had over an hour to read, pray, and relish the silence. 

Normally, I'm not very good at sitting still.  I'm quick to get restless and long to have my "to do" list full and efficient.  However, I recognize this morning, that these moments of peace are a gift, and I'm going to enjoy it.

These next few weeks will be very full.  I've been asked to be present for the birth of a dear friend's baby.  That should be happening any day now.  And with summer coming to a close, it's time to start sorting clothes, buying school supplies, and the like.

But this morning, I have no immediate responsibilities.  Sure, I could start a load of laundry, or go clean the kitchen, but the busyness can wait.  As the coolness of the air brushes over my face, my heart is happy to just soak it all in.

Rather than continue to type out all the revelations that a moment like this could provide, I'm going to turn off my computer, shut my eyes and be still in the midst of the morning.  May your day be a blessed one, and may you also find time to just be still.

707

During a recent interview with Pastor Matthew Hagee, he shared about the 707 challenge he had issued to parents.  It's so simple, yet often times goes unfulfilled in many American homes.  The challenge is this: Spend 70 minutes with your child, 7 days a week. 
For work at home parents, this may come very naturally. I however, have noticed that even though we spend every weekday from noon until bedtime together (and almost every waking weekend hour), I often don't take the time to have focused time set aside for the girls. So, today we did a little craft project: masks. 

We had fun working together, and I hope this is the first of many such positive, productive afternoons we spend together before the school year starts again.

Sleeping Through the Storms

For almost three weeks now, I have been experiencing a host of physical and emotional symptoms that have led me to diagnose myself with everything from mono to a brain tumor.  Admittedly, I have a tendency to imagine the worst case scenarios, but when your body starts acting contrary to what you  know to be "normal", it doesn't take long to develop a list of possible ailments.

While I wait to see a doctor on the physical stuff, I'm left to battle the emotional part.  And for me, this is a life long fight, with periods where I feel the insurgents will get the best of me.  For those that deal with depressive tendencies, you know just what I mean.  I feel as though I have been under heavy fire for these last few weeks.

Today, after bawling on the phone for 20 minutes to my sister, I decided it was time to sit, pray and surrender.  I'm not ready to turn myself over to the emotional monsters that want to destroy my peace--but rather, I want to give up, and let the Lord fight this battle on my behalf.  I never had a fighting chance on my own anyway.

There is a painting that hangs over my couch that serves as a reminder of the hope I have.  It is actually the inspiration to the naming of this blog: Storm Sleeper.

This photograph doesn't do justice to the remarkable painting by Glen Strock.  But, as I gaze on the face of Jesus, asleep in the midst of howling wind and waves, how I long to have that kind of peace.  If you look carefully in the upper right hand corner, you will see two small boats.  No doubt the crew members are straining at the oars, desperate to escape calamity.  Sadly, I most often resemble the panicked crew.

While my natural inclination is to sleep in order to escape life's problems, I want to be able to (with confidence) shut my eyes, and rest perfectly, knowing that the Lord will never leave or forsake me.  He sees my needs and will meet them in His perfect timing.

If you will allow one more artistic plug, I want to share the lyrics of a powerful song that has often ministered to me on this very topic:

PEACE BE STILL

words and music by Chuck Elmore copyright 2010

V1 – Young night blue, light of heaven shines on me, this day of fullness comes to close
I’m staring down fears that the darkness makes me see
While the rest of the world lies in repose

V2 – Thoughts of not yet, and the thoughts of days before,
Sleep seems to stay a dream away
My mind is a boat and I’m straining at the oars
Through a tempest that keeps your peace at bay

Pre-chorus – Oh, the wind and the waves (the wind blows and the waters rise)
The wind and the waves (they salt my tears and they blind my eyes)
But you’ve told me to go (I go and I am going on Your word) speak, Lord

Chorus – Peace, be still, I Am, I Am, peace, be still, I Am, I Am, I Am

V3 – You’ve lifted me up as a city on a hill, a candle to shine on through the dark
And I have been sent like an arrow from your bow,
And You are not one to miss Your mark (pre-chorus and chorus)

Bridge – My body is Your temple, my life is Your throne,
Your law is on my mind, my heart, not on condemning stone
Your Spirit lives within me, Your touch comes through my hand
And with Your words, and in Your name I say

Chorus 2 – Peace, be still, I am because You are, peace, be still, I am because
You are I Am (repeat)

So, I close with an Amen and prayer that when next we meet, I will be at peace and still, whether in the midst of the storm, or safely planted on the shore.

Learning the Art of Friendship

With each additional year I travel into adulthood, I realize that there are some key lessons from childhood that I either didn't learn, or learned incorrectly.  "Friendship Fundamentals" seems to be a class I failed to sign up for.

In Elementary School, I didn't fit in with the "cool" kids, but also didn't have a heart willing to befriend the unpopular.  There were a few girls that I had some forced play dates with, but nothing much lasted beyond 5th grade.

Middle School didn't offer much help.  There were a few girls that I just loved, and had some genuinely great times with.  But, once puberty hit, I found myself dragging pitifully behind the pack.

In High School, I found a whole new makeup of personalities as I went to a school in another district.  It was easy for be to make friends with the guys. I was quick to fight back and wasn't pretty enough to be a girly distraction.

There were a few girls that also came into my life at this time.  Having been pretty sheltered from the social scene in my younger years, I warmed up quickly to the idea of sleep-overs and hormone induced drama.

Summertime music camp also formed some unique bonds with kids I wouldn't have normally been exposed to. One of those friendships went on to be my college roommate for a year.

But, after marrying young and having children soon after, it became very clear that I didn't invest the time needed to maintain a friendship.  It was increasingly difficult to nurture a relationship with other women.  I felt that my struggles were often too shameful to share, and with a few exceptions, I kept to myself.

A majority of the friendships that died off have to do with my financial situation.  While that sounds horribly shallow, let me explain.  The first 5 years of raising my children were the most difficult times of my life.  If I ever had an opportunity to get out with a friend, I was desperate to escape the noise and chaos of my home.  I wanted "adult time" but didn't have the resources to do pedicures or go out to coffee.  I felt that if we couldn't go "out" somewhere, that I shouldn't even bother. This was a big mistake.

Even though we now have a little more flexibility in our discretionary spending, I've burned a lot of bridges by neglecting those key years.  And the older that my children get, the less free time I have to invest into others outside my home and immediate family.

I have learned some hard lessons in the last few month about what it means to be a friend.  To any of you that I have hurt with my ignorance, indifference or isolation, I ask your forgiveness.  I want to be a friend and teach my children how to do the same.

Not Writing

Have you ever started a project with zeal, even with Divine inspiration behind it, only to find that months (even years) later it has come to nothing?

That is the sad reality of my writing (or my not writing).  Years ago, as I was walking through some very difficult times raising small children, I felt that the experiences and life lessons that had been given to me might provide help to others as I shared them in a book.  After all, writing was in my blood--my grandmother was a poet, my father a master thesis writer and playwright, and I had been writing tidbits for as long as I could remember.  Then, a few months ago, I got "the call."  One of those phone calls that I thought the Lord had put in my path to reignite the fire to get a book done. 

For the first two weeks (or so), I was charged up and everything seemed to be falling into place.  I was finding good time almost every day to get writing done.  Sources of inspiration seemed to be all around me.  A writing conference was lined up, and I was looking forward to meeting a key editor that could get me where I needed to be.

Then, life happened.  My grandfather's health deteriorated and he died a few weeks later.  The kids started summer break, and I never had any time alone.  My cousin died very unexpectedly and I needed to travel to Ohio.  Extra hours were needed at work.  My enthusiasm fizzled out.

So now what?  I don't really know.  The writer's conference is still out there, but my "in" seems to have disappeared.  It's still summer break and this is the first time that I've gotten anything accomplished in quite a while.  The lack of vision, coupled with discouragement, seems to have gotten the upper hand.  But I know that defeat is not the answer.

Just this morning I was reading a daily devotional from Oswald Chambers.  It said: "God gives us a vision, and then He takes us down to the valley to batter us into the shape of that vision. It is in the valley that so many of us give up and faint. Every God-given vision will become real if we will only have patience."  He goes on to say, "The vision that God gives is not some unattainable castle in the sky, but a vision of what God wants you to be down here. Allow the Potter to put you on His wheel and whirl you around as He desires. Then as surely as God is God, and you are you, you will turn out as an exact likeness of the vision. But don’t lose heart in the process. If you have ever had a vision from God, you may try as you will to be satisfied on a lower level, but God will never allow it."

So correct me if I'm wrong, but here's what I can expect: vision, battering, possible fainting, patience (hopefully), whirling, God's end work.

Oh Lord, help me have your vision for my life!  Let me not grow weary of being battered in the valleys of life.  Give me courage and patience.  Hold my head up through the dizziness and form me into your completed work.  Amen.