Serial Friendship

I stayed up late last night, watching the movie “Stand by Me” on TV. Dan happened upon it while flipping channels, and I was sucked in quickly because I have such vivid memories of it from my adolescence. One of the last parts of the movie struck to the core of my heart:

“As time went on, we saw less and less of Teddy and Vern until eventually they became just two more faces in the halls. It happens sometimes. Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant."

I am in a season of my life where some friendships are dying off. There are numerous reasons for this, and I am partly to blame. But it pains me to lose friendships that were so intimate in my life.

I have always envied my husband. He has three boys he has known since early elementary school (*) and they have stayed friends for more than three decades. They went to college together and two of the three live nearby. The boys have matured into men and then fathers. We see them often, and our kids adore their kids. I always wanted to have a friendship that started in my toddler years or grade school and continued on to my adult years. The closest I’ve come is getting back in touch with the woman who was my best friend in 4th and 5th grades. My other “oldest” friends are my best friend from high school and my best friend from college. I connect with the former a few times a year. I haven’t spoken with the latter in years.

These were women who were mirrors of my own heart for a specific time of my life.

I think about other stages of my life, and there is a friend who matches each of them. I had a best friend at each of my jobs; my “work wife,” if you will. These were women who knew the inner workings of my life. One of them knew I was pregnant even before my husband knew! (Albeit just a few hours before him!)

When I became a stay at home mom, I developed a new set of  best friends through my mom’s group. These women saw me at my worst and still encouraged me and loved on me. We spent countless naptime hours on the phone, chatting and sharing childrearing tips. But the babies grew into school-aged kids, and my intimate friends evolved into acquaintances. Right now, one of those friendships is on its last legs and it upsets me. I keep trying to resuscitate our friendship, but it just. isn’t. working. The truth is our lives have simply changed and there is no one reason why the friendship is faltering; it’s dying because of distance and time and the lack of both.

On the surface, I have a hard time letting go because I feel like I’ve failed at friendship with her. But when I dig a little deeper, I also realize it’s hard to let go because I feel doing so will create another occurrence in a pattern of my life: am I a Serial Friend? Do I make intimate friendships only to back off when the relationship gets too vulnerable?

That thought makes me shudder because it runs tandem with one of the biggest fears of my life: that I will become my mother.

Some people collect stamps or coins or programs from Broadway musicals. My mother collected friends. She never met a stranger, and embarrassed me endlessly in my teenage years when she would talk to any-and every-one within ear shot at the grocery store. She was friendLY and also a good friend to others. A truly beautiful friend. When you needed someone to swoop in and save the day, Brenda was there. She was known to secretly fund people’s college educations. She let friends move in with her when their own lives hit the skids. She showed up unannounced to one friend’s final court date when the friend was getting divorced. She knew how to be a presence in other people’s lives, and gave without hesitation. What a beautiful role model for me, right? Not quite so fast.

My mother was a pro at being there for others but really really bad at letting others be there for her. She didn’t let people in the inner sanctum of her heart. No one got in: not me, not my siblings, and I’m pretty sure not my father. Friends were people SHE helped, not the other way around. She just couldn’t be a recipient, only a giver. When she was dying, she asked my sister and me to keep her friends away from the hospital. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a needy state. Oh, boy, were her friends angry at me and Mary! They would say to us, “But she’s my best friend!” The sad thing is she never would have said that in return because she didn’t have a best friend. When she died, Mary and I decided to give her eulogy because none of her friends knew her as well as she knew them.

I vowed to keep that from happening to me in my friendships. Doggone it, I want to be overly vulnerable with my friends! I want someone who can give a eulogy at my funeral! I’ll share my pain and the heartache, and help them through theirs as well. I cry and vent and rejoice and celebrate with my friends. And through the years, some of my friends have come to replace the family I lost. (The only problem with this is when my friends’ family events roll around, and I realize I am relegated to “friend” status in their lives, not family. That stings a bit.)

Now back to the Serial Friend question. Am I overthinking things? Am I exhausting and demanding of my friends (as those high school and college best friends so sweetly called me previously)? Is it not only okay but perfectly natural to have “busboy” Serial Friendships?

And doesn’t anyone want more, or is it just me?

*There is one footnote to this story. Remember those three boys my husband has known since early elementary school? True, I don’t have a friend from that long ago, but God has given me with the next best thing: friendship with the wives of those boys. My relationships with the friend-wives has run the gamut from faded to intense on its own long journey, but God is using these women to help me glimpse His presence. Through them, He shows me what endurance and faithfulness looks like. They are a blessing to me!

No Swimming at the Pool

Today I promised the kids we could go to the pool for an hour between lunch and Jackson’s naptime. But I didn’t foresee Jackson being slower than molasses while eating his lunch. It took him FORTY-FIVE minutes to eat one measly pb&j sandwich. Katie ate her whole meal and got her swimsuit and sunscreen on before he was even three-fourths of the way finished. After giving him multiple warnings, I finally broke the bad news: he wouldn’t be allowed to swim because he took too long to eat. Therefore, he wouldn’t have time to get his swimsuit and sunscreen on so he must sit out today. No swimming allowed!

He did NOT like that news. There was much crying and begging of me to change my mind, but I stuck to my guns. I let him pick a book to read at the pool, and we headed out.

Katie got right in the pool, and Jackson sat beside me. Here’s the amazing part: he didn’t whine. He asked only one time if he could get in the pool. I reminded him he was not allowed, and he left the issue alone. He busied himself throwing toys into the pool for Katie to retrieve, and turned out to do just fine at the pool. At one point, he sat near the lifeguard and I overheard him saying, “I can’t swim today because I didn’t eat my lunch.”

I snapped a photo with my phone.

I felt like a mean mom for keeping him from having fun, but he honestly didn’t seem angry anymore. He accepted the consequence and let it go. Yay for us!

Nine

Dear Katie,

I left the house this morning, with everyone still tucked in bed. I paused outside your door, so badly wanting to open it and wish you a wonderfully happy birthday. But last night at bedtime you told me you’d rather sleep in late, then have Daddy bring you breakfast in bed. My heart told me to go in your room for just a peek, but my head told me to grant your big birthday wish. So I stood outside your door, asked God to give you a fantastic day, and I tiptoed down the stairs so I could head off to work.

Today was the first day in quite a few Sundays that you haven’t gone to work with me. For the past 6 or so weeks, you’ve asked me to let you go to work with me. Since my job means I am there for both the 9am and 11am Sunday services, taking you to work with me means you are there for about 5 hours straight. At first, I worried that you would distract me too much from my job. Then I worried that you would distract the classroom leaders too much from their jobs. And then you threw me a curve ball and said you wanted to start serving in the Preschool room. Whuh? My girl actually wants to volunteer and help teach little ones about Jesus? So I let you try it once. I asked one of my top-notch leaders to “adopt” you for the service, and let you be a room helper.

That “once” has grown into a regular gig for you. I’ve checked with the classroom leaders multiple times, to confirm that you are a help and not a hindrance, and they tell me you are a blessing to them. You are thoroughly enjoying making friendships in the room, and have bonded with one little boy especially. Gus is your new pal, and you both look forward to seeing each other every weekend.

I am so thrilled that God has been shaping me into a new person through this job, and He’s also molding my girl into a servant after His heart.

Because I’m afraid of you getting burned out at Mommy’s job, I have made a deal with you the past few weeks: you can volunteer at the 9am service, but you must worship at the 11am so you can continue to learn about God. Then this past weekend, my boss came out of the Preschool room and made a beeline to me. He said you asked him if you could lead worship in the Preschool room at 11am, but that you needed my permission to serve at 11am as well. OF COURSE I said yes, because the idea of my daughter leading other little hearts to Jesus is an immediate AMEN. So you stayed in the room for the 11am service, but it turned out to be a little miscommunication: you didn’t want to lead worship, you were hoping to actually lead the entire class in the teaching portion of the service. Huh? Be still my heart!

You, my little girl, actually wanted to face your fear of being in front of a room full of people. I have never personally witnessed you standing in front of a large group of people for any reason whatsoever. But now? The Spirit is speaking to your heart and giving you confidence to lead others.

My boss has decided to schedule you to co-teach a lesson in July. And I am doing my part: I am staying OUT OF THE WAY of this brand new growth in your life.

So, why am I sharing all these details in your annual birthday letter? Because one day I know you will read it, and I want you to see how God has been faithful for so many years, taking you on a journey straight into His heart. He has great plans for you, little one.

Every day, I am blessed to be your mother and get an intimate view into your sweet heart. Your tenderness for Jesus compels me to be a better model to you and your brother. I want so badly to be someone you can admire, trust, and believe when I tell you about the realities of this life. Thank you for being a joy and a role model in your own way to me: by showing me how to let God use us for His glory.

You are one fantastic person, Katie. I couldn’t be more proud to call you mine!

Love, Mommy

Bearing Fruit

Daily Guideposts from 10/26/96:

Every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit. (John 15:2)

“Cut back the grapes,” I once ordered my teenage son, and went on about my work, vaguely aware of the young figure chopping away. When I looked up later, I was aghast. He’d cut the vines clear to the ground!

“You’ve ruined them!” I wailed. “We’ll never have grapes again.” It looked hopeless. We had to build a big fire just to get rid of what he’d cut down. Yet the next year the vines grew back stronger than ever, the grapes so abundant they bowed trellises – more than enough to give away.

And I think that applies to my life, too – those terrible cuttings and trials by fire. I look back sometimes, shocked but grateful as I remember the pain and problems I had to suffer. I wept and protested at the time; I only wanted to be spared. Yet now I realize how essential they were to my growth. How much pride and self-pity had to go, how much hostility and unforgiveness. Habits that only made the tribulations worse and disturbed my faith in God.

Why didn’t God answer my prayers? Why did He let bad things happen? But I finally understood. Experience taught me: When we suffer, He wants us to be strong and to learn from what we must endure. To grow in sympathy and understanding, so that we can help others in their times of crisis and despair. Only then can we, too, bear abundant fruit.

Dear Lord, please help all those who are hurting. Comfort them as You and Your children have comforted me. – Marjorie Holmes

 

The devotion above was in the 1996 issue of Daily Guideposts. I received the book from Dad as a Christmas gift every year, up until he died. The year my brother Jackson died, I was reading Daily Guideposts every morning after I woke.

Jackson died on October 26, 1996. I’m sure I read that day’s devotion without even a second thought as to what the day would hold. A few hours after waking, I got the call from Bonnie that Jackson had died. He had simply let go and moved on. That call literally changed the entire course of my life. It was the first brick in a huge wall I built between me and God. I was angry at God for letting Jackson die. After all, I had made a bargain: if God would keep Jackson alive, I would do anything He wanted. I would be a “good girl” and go to church and pray and be nice and a model citizen and all that jazz. Bonnie’s call broke the covenant between me and God. I turned away from Him and didn’t give Him the slightest peek into my heart for many years.

Some time later, I went back to that day’s devotion in my Daily Guideposts. I thought maybe there would be some answer to make sense of that awful day. When I read the last paragraph, it kind of pissed me off. It said:

“Why didn’t God answer my prayers? Why did He let bad things happen? But I finally understood. Experience taught me: When we suffer, He wants us to be strong and to learn from what we must endure. To grow in sympathy and understanding, so that we can help others in their times of crisis and despair. Only then can we, too, bear abundant fruit.”

The truth is, I didn’t WANT to be strong or learn or endure. I didn’t WANT to “help others in their times of crisis and despair.” And I most certainly did NOT want to bear “abundant fruit.” Give me a break! I just wanted my brother back!

Tonight, fifteen and a half years after my brother died, I came across that devotion and read it again. It makes me ache for that devastated girl I used to be, the one who turned away from God and hardened her heart for years because she thought He didn’t keep His promises. My heart falters to think I turned away from the One who could have carried me through all those years of grief.

But in turning away, I learned the answer to the question, “Why did He let bad things happen?” Through the deepest pain and complete fracture of the life I used to know, I learned what the author wrote is true: “To grow in sympathy and understanding, so that we can help others in their times of crisis and despair.” In the last fifteen years, I have learned the truth written by another author in 2 Corinthians 1:4 that says, “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.”

God didn’t cause Jackson to die. He didn’t break a covenant with me. He didn’t abandon me or turn His back on me. In fact, He wanted to hold me closer but I wouldn’t let Him. I scorned Him and spat at Him, and blamed Him for my loss. Because of how deeply He loves me, He allowed me to do that and didn’t force me to turn back to Him. He just kept loving me, bringing good to me, and patiently wooed me with his love songs until my ears were open to hear them again. It took almost five years, but I eventually hit an even deeper low than the one I felt on October 26, 1996. And at the bottom of that despair, the only one who was left beside me is the One I scorned. He loved me and gently whispered to me until I found my way back into the light.

And guess how He did it? With yet another Daily Guideposts devotion. But that’s a story for another time…

Status Updates

I haven’t had a date with my blog the way I’ve been pining for lately, but I have been updating my Facebook status regularly. I decided to post some of my recent status updates to give a glimpse into my life. Besides, some of my non-Facebook friends might like to know what’s been going on in my life!

• It's raining. What a GREAT day for curly hair and a little boy's answered prayer! (5/31/12)
• Jackson's bedtime prayer: "God, please help Mommy have her hair curly tomorrow. Amen." I wore my hair straight today. Apparently he prefers curly! Guess I'm gonna need to answer some prayers tomorrow. (5/30/12)
• If God doesn't have summer ripened peaches in heaven, I'm gonna have to ask Him to rethink paradise for me. (5/30/12)
• ‎"Food additives and condiments... not preservatives." [A quote from European Vacation] (5/25/12)
• Leaving so soon?! Goodbye Florida! :( I'll try not to whine. (5/23/12)
• ‎'Tis so sweet... (5/17/12)
• One of the first times I ever attended The Crossing, I saw a video of baptisms just like this. I felt God whispering to my heart as I watched these people at this church truly celebrate God's love. Back then, I didn't quite understand grace or redemption or even the fact that God might want me for more than just a once-a-week obligatory visit with Him. But I knew by watching a video like this that there was something deeper out there, and I knew I had to find it. This video shows our 2011 baptism celebration. Oh, joy! (5/14/12)
• Highlight of my day so far: making silly faces with a little boy in the car beside me. It makes traffic so much more fun!
  And it's a reminder that I keep becoming more and more like my mother. Before I know it, I'll be calling "Howdy Doo! How are you?!" to strangers. Oh, lawd! (5/14/12)
• After a work day at Strong Tower Ranch with the Outreach team from The Crossing, I did a full-body check on my girl for ticks. I thought of my friend DeAnne, wishing Lyme Disease didn't exist. Thank you for inspiring me to keep a better eye on my family's health, DeAnne! (5/12/12)
• Learning about Islam, Buddhism, Mormonism, Judaism, Hinduism and Christianity tonight at church. There are cool stations set up with each religion's holy texts and symbols. I love that my church doesn't shy away from questions. (5/7/12)
• There's nothing like an hour in a crowded airport to remind me of humanity's desperate need for a Rescuer. (5/6/12)
• Saying goodbye to ATL. Great worship at Buckhead Church, then lunch with one of my long-time friends. It's been a good weekend! (5/6/12)
• Toured my old house yesterday and today I get to tour my old stomping grounds. It's a great day for a reunion! (5/5/12)
• Someone please tell me why the Atlanta airport has mechanical trash cans. (5/4/12)
• Ready for takeoff! Can't wait to arrive in ATL for a weekend adventure with my sugar, and catching up with old friends. Yeehaw! (5/4/12)
• She rode the bus and on the way to school, asked Jesus to be her Forever Friend. That happened two years ago today. Happy anniversary to my baby girl! (4/30/12)
• Here we go! One last week of planning before my 20th high school reunion. I'm looking forward to going home AND seeing some great old friends! (4/28/12)
• Happy wedding day to my friends Steve and Amanda. I can't wait for the festivities to start! And I'm so lucky that my friend Michael trusts me enough to allow me to be his second shooter again. Love and photography are two of my favorite things. It's going to be a fantastic day! (4/27/12)
• Six glorious hours: no mommying, no wifering, no employeeing. Just me as me! Don't interrupt unless the house is on fire. (4/26/12)
• I'm hugging my kids a few extra minutes longer this morning. Life can change so suddenly. (4/25/12)
• The highlight of my day so far is hearing my five-year-old belt out these lyrics: "Oh, death! Where is your sting?" I'm grateful for that little boy changing my outlook on the day. (4/20/12)
• ‎"I hear these people asking me/How do I know what I believe?/Well I'm not the same me/And that's all the proof I need./I found love, I found Your grace./You stole my heart that day." Britt Nicole, All This Time (4/18/12)
• I can't wait to end this day and get another chance tomorrow. Please, God, help me feel better in the morning! On a positive note: I just had 2 bites of banana and so far, so good. (4/15/12)
• Thank God for Facebook. I can look at my friends' race stats to cheer them on in the GO St. Louis race while I'm sick in bed. Go Team Living Water! On a side note, anyone had food poisoning? How did you know? (4/15/12)
• “It's time to bring this ship into the shore, throw away the oars forever...” REO Speedwagon was on the radio. It's charmingly (?) vintage now. Yikes! (4/12/12)
• Still wrapping my brain around a fantastic honor my friend Gina asked of me this weekend. It's an answer to something I've been asking of God for so long, and to hear the news on Easter weekend makes it even more beautiful! (4/8/12)
• The auditorium is full. People are worshiping in our lobby at the first Easter Sunday service at The Crossing at Mid Rivers. Jesus is alive and speaking! (4/8/12)
• You are so loved! [John 3:16] (4/8/12)
• First Saturday worship service at The Crossing at Mid Rivers. God's message rang out loud and clear. I continue to be amazed by those who pour their heart into serving so others can hear about grace and redemption. I am surrounded by some fantastic people who Jesus uses to shine so brightly! (4/7/12)
• Today is very likely THE day they crucified my Lord. I had no idea until I read this in my devotional: "From historical references in Luke's Gospel, we can date the Lord's death to a Passover between the years AD 27 and 34. Scripture also indicates Jesus was slain on a Friday. Passover Friday occurred in the years 30 and 33, with the most likely date being April 7, 30." Near to the Heart of God by Robert Morgan (4/7/12)
• Jackson asked me this morning when he is going to die. We talked about it and what happens after death. When I told him that he'll get to meet Uncle Jackson, Steeley, and Grandmama finally, his smile shone with joy. Because of the cross, I have hope on this Good Friday. I get to tell my boy that death is NOT the end of the story! (4/6/12)
• Another perk of my job is that I worship where I work. There is nothing more inspirational than hearing Easter worship rehearsal while I am sitting in my cubicle. What a soul-satisfying joy! (4/5/12)
• She asked me to be her maid of honor, so I got to stand beside her while she vowed to be his wife. For 20 years, I have been blessed to witness the growth of a marriage that has deepened and become more committed through loss, deployments, and many struggles. Today, I am honored to say happy anniversary to my best friend and to her husband, who has become my brother (and one of the people I admire most in this world). Congratulations on 20 years of marriage, Mary! (4/4/12)
• Sweetest words my son has ever spoken: "Can we lay here for just one more minute?" The wild child actually asking for another minute of cuddling?! Be still my heart! (4/3/12)
• "I challenge you to relinquish the fantasy of an uncluttered world. ...Do not let your to-do list (written or mental) become an idol directing your life." Jesus Calling by Sarah Young (4/1/12)
• The highlight of his day was also the highlight of mine. Thirty seconds in the Ticket Blaster made his birthday unforgettable! (3/28/12)
• OH... It's "Zou Bisou Bisou," not "Zooby Zooby Zoo." No wonder I couldn't find it on iTunes. God forbid I ever visit France. They'll kick me out before I even get through the airport! (3/26/12)
• Lessons from the front row: 1) Fight the impulse to go introduce yourself to the band. Even though they are so close to you and feel like besties now, there is still an arena full of people behind you. 2) EVERYONE can see you. People you didn't even know were at the concert will text you saying, "I see you!" The front row is NOT a place to pick wedgies. 3) You may find yourself standing when no one else in the arena is. Keep standing anyway. It's not about them. 4) The front row is really loud, but it rocks. It feels like a private concert. Awesome! (3/24/12)
• I am a failure as a mother: my daughter has never eaten a Twinkie. She didn't know what one was, and thought the only definition was dressing like someone else. Thank God she has a father who is knowledgeable about sweets. He remedied the situation today and fed her the first of many Twinkies! Next up, he's on a mission to find Chocodiles. Yum! (3/24/12)
• Best way to start my day: when my eight year old bursts into my room saying, "Mommy, come see the sunrise. It's beautiful!!!"
  I love how God gave her a heart of gratitude for His beauty with eyes wide in wonder at His creation. (3/21/12)
• Thomas Ken died 301 years ago today. "Who was he?!" you ask? He wrote these words: "Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;/Praise Him, all creatures here below;/Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;/Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." (3/19/12)
• I just spoke to Hannah. She is headed home from the hospital with a closed head injury, which means a concussion. She has a major headache and has to take a break from soccer for a while, but the crisis is over. Thanks for your prayers, everyone! (3/9/12)
• Prayers needed for my niece, Hannah. She got a nasty soccer ball to the head tonight, and is at the hospital. And pray for my sister Mary, who is an hour away and frantically trying to drive (safely) to be with her baby. God, cover both of them with your protection! (3/9/12)
• Got hacked today. I have spent the evening reading up on privacy policies, removing myself from lists, and changing passwords and settings. (3/6/12)

Holy Ground

Here’s how I know God exists:

And here’s further proof:

It doesn’t look like much, does it? It’s not much more than a photo of something I did this weekend: help friends paint their new house.

But God was present in this room. It was holy ground as I got to witness my two friends talk to one of their friends about Jesus. The conversation started like any regular conversation. All three of us couples go to the same church. Dan and I started attending first, then we invited the new homeowner friends. They were not interested in religion, but God changed their lives through our church. After a while, they invited couple #3. The husband of couple #3 had a bit of animosity towards God, but he is in the process of melting.

This weekend, I listened to couple #2 explain Jesus to husband #3. I just sat in the corner, painting the trim around a window, and listened to the Holy Spirit weave its way into the hearts of those around me. I am so thankful I was facing away from everyone else in the room because my grin was so huge, they would have thought I’d gone insane if they had seen my face. The whole time I listened, I praised Jesus for revealing Himself to us even in the middle of mundane tasks.

What a beautiful moment I got to share with my Creator and the people He loves. Amen!

Transformation

Remember this big fat caterpillar that we captured last September?

Last month, I put a newspaper in the recycling pile on top of our beer fridge in the garage and this is what I saw.

Our caterpillar emerged from his cocoon! It only took him six and a half months, but it was worth the wait.

Pete the Polyphemus moth (as we named him) was glorious and gorgeous in every single way.

We know for sure he is a male, because of his bushy antenna. Male polyphemus moths have bushy antenna so they can detect the pheromones that females emit for mating.

The sad news is this: once eclosion (hatching) is complete for a polyphemus moth, they live only about a week.

That means our guy didn’t live long after these photos. It’s sad to think it took months of darkness for him to have such a short time to spread his wings. We should keep that in mind as we go through our own lives. Sometimes the darkness lasts a while because it’s when the most important transformations occur. Transforming is the goal, the purpose, the journey; NOT the transformation.

The time after the transformation is short because that’s really not the point of it all; in the act of transforming is where we find our authentic selves.

20th Reunion

When I was a junior in high school, the time came for class officer elections. I had been Junior Class Secretary, and thought I’d like to “move up” for senior year. I considered running for Senior Class President until I found out Scott and Manuel were running for the position. I thought there was no way I’d win against them. Besides, the class president is traditionally the one to plan all the class reunions until the end of time. I did NOT want that job, so I decided to run for Senior Class Vice President instead. I led a great campaign, reminiscent of Reese Witherspoon in the movie Election – you know, “Pick Flick!” and all that. Here’s my fancy campaign sign that covered one ENTIRE wall of the high school cafeteria.

Yep. I was bold.

I won the election and ended up being the voice of reason with three laid back class officers. I drove them nuts all year long, being uptight and worrying about Prom plans, graduation speeches, and being emcee of special events. Yes, very typical of me.

Fast forward twenty years, and I’m still uptight but now I’m worrying about the class reunion. Because, of course, I still ended up being the one to plan the five year, ten year, and twenty year reunions for my high school graduating class.

My twenty year reunion was last weekend, May 5,  in Atlanta GA. I planned it, along with a handful of other classmates who are detail-oriented like me. I thought it wouldn’t be too difficult to plan because we hired a company that specializes in planning reunions, but it turned out to be a pretty rough ride. I planned it from out-of-state, and Facebook made things more difficult as alumni started contacting me instead of the reunion company. By the time the reunion rolled around, I just wanted to Get. It. Over. With. and be done with all the planning!

I knew it would be a fun weekend; I was getting to fly home with my husband – sans children! – and have adult time. What could be bad about that? But I didn’t expect it to be the incredibly great weekend it turned out to be.

It started on Friday after our plane landed in Atlanta. We ate at The Varsity in downtown Atlanta. This is the world’s largest drive in restaurant. The food is greasy and messy, but it’s a staple in Atlanta. The onion rings are the most God awful piece of fried slime I’ve ever eaten, and every bite was simply glorious. Yum!

We drove to the suburbs, close to where I grew up, and checked into our hotel. We had a great view of the Atlanta skyline (far away, but still visible) and relaxed for about five minutes – I couldn’t WAIT to get in the car and drive to the neighborhood where I grew up. We saw my old house, and the gracious new owner gave us a tour. It really is a beautiful thing to see my house loved again by a great family.

We also stopped and visited with some old neighbors, and listening to them talk made me miss my parents all over again.

Friday night’s dinner was a highlight of the weekend for me. We met up with a dear old friend named Misty. She is the woman who was holding my hand during a prayer in high school, when I decided to follow Jesus the first time. She has since become a preacher’s wife, and has been battling cancer for the last two years of her life. Her story is heart-wrenching, but her face still shines with a smile and an inner light. I was blessed to be able to give her a gift from nine anonymous people who wanted to touch her life, and seeing the joy on her face was like getting a personal glimpse into heaven.

A group of friends joined us for dinner, and we had such a good time laughing and telling stories. Two friends joined us for drinks at the hotel afterwards, and we had a beautiful conversation about church and Jesus and reaching out to others.

Saturday started with a tour of my old high school, which is in the middle of being renovated. It was fascinating to see how the builders are salvaging pieces of the past and building a fancy new building. And this photo is proof that I am the ultimate high school dork: I actually wore my senior class t-shirt to the tour!

The best part of the tour is when four former teachers showed up to say hello to the alumni. I got to see my homeroom teacher (who was also the sponsor of the school newspaper when I was editor).

And my favorite Latin teacher showed up too. She was close friends with my family, so seeing her was like a whispered hello from my missing loved ones.

After the tour, we headed to the reunion hotel to check in and get ready for the evening. While Dan napped in the room, I went to the lobby to finish up notes for my welcome speech. I sat alone for a few minutes, then other classmates started checking in at the front desk. One had a cooler with him and before I knew it, we were all standing around greeting each other and giving huge hugs. Honestly: there was such genuine joy in seeing each other again, and I started getting so excited about the evening. I reluctantly said goodbye so I could get dressed for the party and wake Dan.

We went down to the reunion banquet room, and joined the party. At one point, I stood across the room and took a moment to watch people as they registered and walked in. I’ve never been to any other school reunion, so I don’t have much to compare it to. But I will tell you I watched people squeal and hug and welcome each other like the long-lost friends they were. It made me wonder if that’s what heaven will be like. I didn’t feel any sort of stand-offish attitudes, and I didn’t see any people who were stuck in the same high school cliques from twenty years ago. People were happy to see each other, meet other spouses, and catch up on each other’s lives. And that’s another thing: the spouses! I watched spouses have almost more fun than the alumni at our class reunion. We had to break up the fun for a class photo, then we watched our senior class video and looked at photos from high school days.

Then the dancing started, and everyone really enjoyed themselves. For me, all the planning was encapsulated in this one photo from the evening:

It’s my friend, Misty, who was on the verge of death a year ago. This photo shows her alive, happy, and dancing her little heart out. If that’s the only good memory that came from the night, it would have been more than worth all the work.

And speaking of all the work, I had at least 15 people approach me and thank me for all the work I put into planning the reunion. That’s not what it was about for me; I would have done it even if no one knew I was planning it. However, it was an added kindness to have my classmates’ support and encouragement.

As if that wasn’t enough, God blew me away through four separate conversations. I won’t go into details because it’ll sound like I’m tooting my own horn, but I will say this: four people had in-depth conversations with me, thanking me for ways I have changed their lives. It touched me so deeply to hear their words, and I know without a doubt it was the Holy Spirit reminding me who I am deep in my soul. At first, I started to shrug off the conversations, and then I felt God putting His arm on my shoulder and telling me to just sit and soak it in, and let these people love me with their words. I was so humbled that they cared enough to share their hearts with me – at a class reunion, no less!

My evening ended in one of the best ways possible: I got to dance to OUR song with the most handsome man at the party. I don’t get to dance much these days, so this was extra special for me. We ended the night with drinks at a nearby bar, then bedtime at 2:30am.

The next morning, we made it to nearby Buckhead Church. This is one of five churches in the Atlanta area that does what my St. Louis church does: the pastor preaches at one location, and he’s broadcast live to the other locations. It was a great worship service, complete with two baptisms and a meaningful message from the lead pastor, Andy Stanley. After the service, Dan and I got to tour one floor of their children’s ministry and I took lots of photos for ideas to try at my job.

We had lunch with one of my best friends from high school, and had mimosas and delicious pub fries with BACON mayonnaise. Yuuuummm!

We headed to the airport, and I felt sad to say goodbye to a great weekend and my hometown. While we waited for our plane to taxi down the runway, I looked out the window and thought back on all the times I’ve flown in to and out of the Atlanta airport. I wondered how many times I did so with tears in my eyes. I remembered flying in after my brother died, and flying out after my honeymoon. That runway and those ugly orange-colored terminals stand out in my memory, because seeing them always meant home for me.

The flight took off, and I studied the terrain of my hometown with tears in my eyes. I hate saying goodbye to home again. And while I stared out the window, I had a hard time remembering what I was looking at because I haven’t lived there for twenty years.

Our plane climbed higher, and I got distracted by the cloud formations surrounding us. I got the camera out and started snapping photos, my heart full of gratitude for a satisfying weekend and for the beauty of God’s world right outside my airplane window.

It wasn’t until the plane started its descent that God broke into my thoughts and spoke deep truth to me. You see, I’ve spent twenty years grieving the fact that I’ll never go back “home” to live again. I’ve felt like a Georgia girl in my soul, never adopting Missouri as my home. Even though my husband and children are all born and bred Midwesterners, I never felt like Missouri was home to me. And then, I looked out the window of the airplane and saw a town that I know better than any other home on this earth. I saw landmarks I recognized, interstates I drive on regularly, and I felt God telling me to claim this town as my home. And, finally, I didn’t fight it. My heart accepted the truth and allowed Missouri to step inside and nestle. I know this is home for me now, and it’s where I belong. By this point, I’ve spent more of my life in Missouri than out of it, and it’s where God drew me back to Him. This weekend was a culmination of that, and He showed me that I am His no matter what my street address says.

Because

On my way in to work this morning, I was driving behind a big truck with three wooden pallets strapped to its roof. They were wobbling in the wind, and the thought occurred to me that the pallets could fly off at any moment and crash into my windshield. My imagination went to the worst case scenario, and I thought, “Wow. What if today was the day I died?”

My first reaction to that was a sense of joyful peace: I would get to be with Jesus today! Then before even two heartbeats could pass, my mind locked onto the image of my children’s faces. I thought: Jesus, not today. Ages five and eight are too young for my babies to say goodbye to their mommy. What would they remember of me after knowing me for such a short time?

If I were to die today, have I taught my children enough about their Father to sustain them until they might meet me again?

While I know my daughter was baptized this past summer, I worry that a huge loss in her life might cause her to turn from God, the same way I did when my brother died. And yet, I know my turning away wasn’t permanent. I know the Bible tells us that once we are God’s, nothing can change that. So I rest and trust in that.

Still, I wonder what she would remember of me if this morning marked the last time she ever saw me alive. Would she remember the way I wake her before school, lying beside her and holding her in my arms? Or will she think of my sighs and short temper I had last night when she spilled in the kitchen and then grumped at me for asking her to take a shower? And, God forbid, will she somehow equate her bad attitude with the reason I died? (I have a friend whose dad died in high school from a heart attack. She loved him, and he loved her. But their last conversation was an argument, so she spent years thinking the argument raised his blood pressure and stressed his heart to death.)

What will Jackson remember of me? Laughter and cuddle time in the morning, when I force him to lay with me until the timer on my phone dings? (He’d much rather be up bouncing around already.) How vague and unformed would his memories of me be after getting just five years of life overlapping with mine? Years from now, would he smell my body spray and have some slight memory where it could have come from?

How do I make an investment in their lives today that will last until their last breaths?

Because in the midst of busy life and all the tasks that pepper my days, the Kingdom of God – and our eternity with Him – should always be the first priority on my list. It doesn’t matter one bit whether I got the laundry done or dinner made or replied to all the emails in my In Box if I haven’t done something for His Kingdom today. And the best way I know to build His Kingdom is to start in my little home with the lives He entrusted to me.

There was a day when I would have worried about an additional person in this mix. I would have worried about seeing Dan again, after my death. The beautiful thing that struck me this morning (Yes, in the midst of such morbid thoughts, there was rejoicing!) was the realization that my husband is going to join me after death. What a gift I can never repay to my Father!

And, no, I don’t believe just so I can get the eternal reward of Heaven. In my earlier years of life, that was the big carrot that dangled in front of me, and the reason for my need to check off the religious boxes on my To Do List of Life. The childish bargains I made with God have fallen away: IF I believe, then You will let me in the gates, right? They were replaced with a soul-deep awe of His grace for me as I finally understood that He wants me home with Him regardless of what I check off the list or what the “If/Then” pieces of the bargain entail. With Jesus, there is no “If/Then”: there’s just BECAUSE.

BECAUSE God is my Father, He wants me home with Him.

Jesus, help me to teach my children about your BECAUSE so one day they can share in the awe and joy of your grace. Show me how to love them in a way that points to You every single day. Amen.

Spilled Milk

Last Wednesday morning, Jackson spilled his cup of milk inside the refrigerator as we were walking out the door for the day.

Thursday morning, he spilled his bowl of cereal milk in his lap and on his chair and on the kitchen floor.

This morning (Tuesday), he spilled his milk on a stool and trash can behind his chair.

I sent him to time out so I could clean up the mess and fume about three! days! in! a! row! of spills. Once I calmed down (time out is sometimes more for me than for him), I walked over to talk to him about these recent spills. The first time I tried to talk, he got mad (I think he was ashamed) and rolled away from me and wouldn’t face me. I walked away to give him more time. The second time, he growled at me while I was talking. The third time, he gave me got rigid legs and whining. The fourth time, there was eye rolling but we worked through it eventually.

After 30 minutes of time out (four attempts at trying to parole him), we walked to the kitchen table where I had set up props so he could practice carrying his bowl from the table to the sink without spills. We spent five minutes practicing, and then went back to the morning routine of packing lunches and bags. THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES TOTAL.

As he packed, I rested my forehead on the back door and prayed for patience. I had a moment of clarity and finally realized why I always feel like I never have enough time: it’s because the time I do have is sucked away in attempts to teach my monkeys how to act like civilized human beings.

So when you come to my house and there are crumbs everywhere, and we’re eating microwaved chicken nuggets instead of a real cooked meal, and there are toys strewn about, AND the floor is sticky from all the spilled milk… know it’s because I’ve spent my time raising productive members of society instead of trying to be a housekeeper.

This parenting thing is so exhausting some days. Sheesh.

So Much to Say

It’s been quiet here at Six Golden Coins. Way too quiet for my liking! You must know how very much I dislike that. I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve started on the laptop inside my brain in the last ten weeks. I want to share the day-to-day details of my life (craft projects and cute things the kids say and photos of the beauty around me), as well as the deep and profound changes my soul has undergone lately. There is so much to say and not enough time to say it.

Right now, I am busy simply trying to find balance in my life. My new job is wonderful and challenging and life-changing all at once, but it has thrown my life completely off center. I struggle to find time to do what I used to do in half the time, plus figure out how to still be a wife and mother (the working mother mommy guilt has sharp nails that scratch at my confidence). Throw in the other mundane flotsam of life (laundry, groceries, cooking – ha! – and trying to stay on top of balancing my checkbook), and I’m stretched thin. Oh, and there are these “little” things like a crashed computer and two hugely major events at work in the last ten weeks (one of them being Easter! At! A! Church! Job!). I hardly know which end is up some days.

But I do know this: it will slow down. It gets easier every day. And more than anything, I have learned stronger boundaries and what really shouldn’t make it on my list anyway. Sorry to say that blogging, while it is a true creative outlet for me, isn’t at the top of my list. I love it. I miss it. And I will be back to it. But right now, it’s in line behind these things:

Sumo wrestling on the front lawn.

Pie night.

Watching my boy finally master pumping his own swing.

Getting to know some awesome coworkers.

Standing in the front row, worshiping the One who makes me who I am.

Pink toenails for the birthday boy.

Thirty seconds in the ticket blaster.

Creations by the best amateur balloon guy in town.

An arena full of Girl Scout chaos. (Which, now that I think of it, should have been WAY down on the priority list. Sheesh!)

Stroking this sweet little nose that we are pet sitting.

And doing my tiny little part to make this happen at my church.

For now, blogging will just have to wait. I’ll squeeze it in when I have a few stolen moments (or feel like I’m really gonna burst and MUST. WRITE. NOW.), but this time of my life is a season of boundaries: learning, practicing, and strengthening them.

I’m not very far away, and I’ll be back soon!

Twenty Years

Their courtship was a little tumultuous. There were tears and breakups, then infatuation all over again. I watched her try to mend her heart over and over, and couldn’t understand why she kept going back to him if he kept breaking her heart. I was a teenager and didn’t quite get the concept of love, and how agony can coexist with ecstasy.

The day they got married, I was convinced he was going to break her heart again sometime down the road. I even went up to him and told him (in my most threatening 18-year-old girl’s voice) that I’d kill him if he broke her heart. Then we smiled and walked down the aisle, and I witnessed them make their marriage vows.

In the last twenty years, I’ve watched them grow and learn how to be a husband and wife and then a mother and father. Their marriage has actually become a model for my own in some ways. I have truly enjoyed watching them become new people together. Today, he has grown into someone I admire deeply. Imagine that! A man I thought would do nothing more than scar her heart has become someone whose advice I seek and who makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known.

Twenty years ago today, my sister became a wife. I also gained a brother who has guided me and taught me so many things.

Happy anniversary, Mary and Wally! I am so proud to celebrate with you!

Jackson’s 5th Birthday

Jackson,

I’ll start this letter with the obligatory, “Oh, I just can’t believe you’ve grown so big. Where has the time gone?” phrase. I’ll even repeat the same thing I see daily on my friends’ Facebook status updates: “Five years ago, a sweet boy came into our lives and forever changed it. I can’t imagine our family without his spirit and joy for life. We love you, Jackson!”

And I do mean those things; I really do! You have changed our lives: mine, your dad’s and your sister’s. And I really can’t believe you’ve grown so big. And yet…

Here’s the honest-to-God truth: my son, you have taken my world and smashed it to smithereens. You have filled it with more love and pure frustration than I ever thought possible before March 28, 2007. Since that day, you’ve been teaching me innumerable lessons about things like inborn differences of boys and girls, the importance of impulse control on the human condition, and true potty humor. I have given you so many hairy eyeball looks in the last five years, it’s amazing I still have muscular function in my eyebrows. (No wonder those new wrinkles have become so furrowed in my forehead!)

You have pushed me to the extreme edge of myself and my sanity. From the moment you arrived home from the hospital, I have had a lack of sleep as well as a lack of understanding how a little boy’s mind works. Just when I think I have you figured out, you try some new tactic. In the recent past, your modus operandi was slapping your own face when you got frustrated. (Where in the heck did you learn that?!) But this month’s newest tactic is plugging your ears when I say something you don’t want to hear (time for bed, be nice to your friend, sit in time out, stop.repeating.that.question!).

Then, just when I’m at the end of my rope, you become this vulnerable, I-need-your-love-desperately little boy. You come to me with tenderness and regret, knowing you’ve pushed harder than you should have for your independence. It’s like you change your mind for a moment and want to come curl up into Mommy to make sure I’m still dependable and willing to accept you back. And that’s the honest-to-God second truth: I will always take you back. A morning with you might feel like Chinese water torture some days (drip, drip, drip), but I will never tire of being the one you run to for reassurance and kisses.

I won’t go as far as to say I’ll trade all the tantrums for the apologetic make-up hugs you give me at the end of them. However, I will admit how much I love your still small body as it clings to me in those few moments of your sweet hugs. I also love the way you sit beside me at the dinner table, with one leg cocked perpendicular to your body so you can always have bodily contact with me. Your little foot hooks under my knee, because you are so much my boy that you can’t stand being separated from me for even a short meal.

Now could you just sit still for longer than ten seconds at a time? I read once that a boy is “noise with dirt on it.” I’d take it one step further and say a boy is a noisy blur with dirt on it. You are up-down-up-down-run-jump-couch dive-spin-up-down-smack-run-bike-up-down-yell-collapse. That’s your day, condensed into 18 words.

I worry so much about you already: what will your Kindergarten teacher think of us when you start school in the fall? Will you ever learn how to settle down and LISTEN, so you can become a productive, civilized member of society? Will you become a leader or just a rebel? And will you ever be able to stifle that streak of independence, and depend on the One who always takes you back? Will you learn to surrender when He calls you to?

Oh, Jackson. You fill me with pride and fear, worry and joy. I love you, and then I’m so aware of how broken that love is. You have magnified my imperfections in a way I never expected, yet you and your sister have been the ones to model God’s love for His children in beautifully painful ways.

Thank you for that, and for changing me even when I don’t want to change anyMORE! I am crazy for you, because you literally drive me crazy. But at the end of the day, I wouldn’t have it any other way. These are the days I’ll look back on and laugh, knowing how my noisy blur of a boy helped me become more me as I helped him become a man.

I love you, darn stinker!

Parents Weekend at Church

Dan and I were invited to attend Katie’s class at church at the beginning of February. We have been in her classroom before, but it was for a weekend called Salvation Weekend, when the kids have one-on-one conversations about Jesus’ personal sacrifice for them. This time, Parents Weekend was just a chance to sit in on a normal weekend and watch what the kids learn and how the teachers do it.

First, the kids started with something called Hang Time. They hang out together and do things like crafts (mostly the girls do this), play air hockey or foosball, or play a board game or a video game. When hang time finishes (after about 10 minutes), the kids go into a room together and have large group worship time. A worship leader sings songs while a team of kids (called Live Out Loud kids) act as her backup singers. When worship finished, the large group leader welcomed the parents and then invited us to play Human Whack-a-Mole. Oh, boy!

First, the kids got under a board with holes in it. The parents were given inflatable hammers, and got to whack the kids as they popped their heads through the holes. And THEN the fun started: the parents got under the board and the kids got to whack them! It was really fun and funny.

After the game, we had a large group lesson. The weekend lesson was about friendships, and the leader talked about how surrounding ourselves with good friends can change our lives. The kids broke into groups of three and played a game where one person was blindfolded and the other two were supposed to navigate her through an obstacle course. One kid gave bad directions, and the other gave good directions. When the game was over, we talked about how quickly the blindfolded kid could tell what was good advice and what was bad advice, then about how we trust friends in our lives.

The kids got in their regular small groups (the same ones they meet with each week), and talked to their small group leaders about the lesson, what the Bible tells us about friendships, and ideas for how the kids can find trustworthy, Godly friends.

With the last 10 minutes of class, the kids were able to visit stations set up around the room. There was a journaling station, where kids could write about problems going on in their lives. There was a singing station, where the worship leader discussed the day’s worship song lyrics with the kids and then sang them again. There was an art station, where kids could use paint to express their feelings about God. There was also a prayer wall, where kids wrote their prayer requests on notecards and posted them on a wall. At the end of class, the classroom prayer team (which is a group of kids too!) takes the anonymous notecards home and prays over them throughout the week.

It was really interesting to be a part of Katie’s class and to see how our church breaks down some pretty big theological concepts for the kids to understand – and they laugh their heads off and have a blast at the same time.

Holy Yoga

My friend Jill is one of only two certified Holy Yoga instructors in the St. Louis area. At Christmas, she suggested the gift of Holy Yoga for friends as a way to celebrate Christmas in an Advent-Conspiracy-sort-of-way. I loved the idea, but knew I couldn’t get my act together and host a Holy Yoga retreat in the midst of the December rush (plus job interviews, recovering from surgery, etc.). So for my birthday this year, I decided to give a gift instead of receiving one. (But it’s actually one in the same, isn’t it?)

I invited some friends to celebrate with me by opening their hearts in a new way: worshiping our King with prayer, meditation and Holy Yoga. My friends showed up, wrapped me with dozens of hugs, then we settled ourselves onto our yoga mats and spent some time talking. I asked each woman to introduce herself and explain how we know each other, and it unexpectedly turned into an outpouring of love. The words my sweet friends said over me were such a blessing. When the introductions first started, my initial reaction was to play demure and all, “Oh, hush… you are so sweet!” And then I felt the Spirit stirring in my soul, telling me to just quiet the heck down and listen to the gift of words my friends were giving me. So I did, and I soaked it in, and I was blessed.

Jill started by explaining Holy Yoga: it is an experiential worship created to deepen people's connection to Christ. It isn’t your traditional yoga. Poses are used to worship Christ in our lives, and the names of the poses (postures) are named as a reflection of His glory. The Holy Yoga website says, “We do this by integrating His Word, prayer, worship and the physical practice of yoga to contemporary and Christian music.”

Then we started our class, which lasted about an hour. It was dark and quiet and peaceful, with lots of focused breathing and prayer. It was such a great break from the world, and we ended the session with some desserts and girl talk. As my friends left, I gave each one a rock that I hand-decorated with a word and a scripture reference.

It was really a wonderful birthday gift to myself and some dear friends, and I am so glad Jill offered herself in praise of our God!

Kindergarten Registration

Can you smell it? Change is in the air. My personal theme for 2012 seems to be CHANGE. Sometimes it’s painful. Sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes it’s been a long time coming. And, sometimes, it’s bittersweet.

These are my two, hanging out in the elementary school lobby (playing their vintage Gameboys) while I registered Jackson to start Kindergarten this fall. Yep… already. And on other days, I say “Not soon enough!” Because life is just learning to balance contrariness.

My New Job

These are the images I don’t want to forget from my first day on the job.

Father, I pray I never forget what an honor it is to work for you and with you. Amen!