The End of the Early Years

When I first heard of my mom’s group, it was officially a chapter of the international MOMS Club. A woman at church named Marie told me about it when she noticed my large pregnant belly. She told me about this mom’s club she was in, and I just shrugged her off. I wasn’t the type to join clubs like that. Play dates weren’t my thing. Besides, it was my first pregnancy and I didn’t think I’d need a group of moms to help me through motherhood. Really; how hard could it be?!

And then Tuesday, June 17, 2003 happened. I became a mom. It started off pretty well, until I took her home four days later. The panic set in and hit full throttle the following Monday. I remember being in the pediatrician’s waiting room for our first checkup, and I looked up Marie’s phone number. I called her from the waiting room to ask about that mom’s club she mentioned. Two days later, I met the group for the first time at a local park play date.

From the moment I said hello to these women, I knew I had found a place where I would be accepted and encouraged. One woman could tell that I was shell-shocked and in the beginning throes of postpartum depression. She sought me out while the kids played (and I held my fussy baby), and gave me some of the best parenting advice I’ve ever received: It will get better.

I joined the group, and found kindred souls. My parents died when my first child turned one, and I lacked any direction for the hardcore parenting issues. The women in my mom’s group became my saving grace. We discussed every single aspect of parenting: discipline issues (Time Outs or not?), breastfeeding vs. formula feeding, how to get my daughter to sleep through the night, how to introduce new foods, how to adapt my marriage around a new focus, and so many other things. In the group, I found women who would give me a break from holding my infant (I felt like all I ever did was hold her in those early months!) and women who would call me after play dates to make sure I was doing okay because they sensed despair in my eyes earlier that morning. I met people who have different backgrounds than me and much different parenting styles, but we all had one thing in common: raising our babies the best way we knew how.

But mom’s group went beyond parenting: I found some of my best friends through the group, and encouraged my already-existing-friends to join the group so they could share in what I’d found too. I found exercise buddies who trained for (and completed!) half marathons with me.

My kids made friends they still play with.

I learned so much about the town we live in and what cool things are available to do. (Who knew you could tour the trash center?)

I’ve traveled to other states and visited some members who have moved away.

I’ve road-tripped to Kansas City to attend a parenting workshop, and to Chicago for IKEA shopping trips.

One member inspired then encouraged me to start writing a blog.

I learned how to cook new things I never would have tried. (I still make Megan’s Biscuits and Gravy Casserole and Brina’s Buffalo Chicken Dip!)Others outfitted my children with outgrown wardrobes. We’ve shared inspiring books through a now-defunct book club. And even though it isn’t a religious-based group, I can trace my salvation back to two women I met through this group.

The impact from saying yes to one little invitation is astounding.

One day, I looked around and realized I was one of the moms in the group who was welcoming other parents (we had dads by then too!), and checking on them after play dates when they had despair in their eyes. That was one of the best parts of my mom’s group: I got to pay the gift of encouragement forward, to a set of parents who were new to the gig and still blindly feeling their way around.

And now, my time is up. I’ve been in the group for nine years, and both my kids are school-age. The end of July marks the end of my membership, and the end of an incredibly challenging, rewarding, growth-inducing chapter of my life. It’s been so much more than a play date; it’s been a living, breathing part of my life for nine years. I’ve seen 134 members come and go (yep, I counted ‘em!), and each one of them left a mark on my soul.

To all of you who ever were or still are part of my mom’s group: thank you for all the ways you’ve been a part of my family’s life!

“So much of me is made of what I learned from you. You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine by being my friend.” (from Wicked)

Aimee, Rachel, Amanda, Gretchen, Jennifer, Heidi, Julie, Jamie, Lynna, Jennifer, Michelle, Michelle, Jennifer, Elizabeth, Jessica, Melissa, Heather, Erin, Whitney, Shannon, Lauri, Alieceia, Rachelle, Carol, Mary Jane, Andrea, Christina, Stacy, Amy, Leslie, Kelley, Kristin, Danelle, Patricia, Dena, Carla, Jana, Angie, Andrea, Janine, Patricia, Alice, Tina, Reisha, Donne, Krista, Molly, Brina, Erin, Ginger, Nick, Christina, Jill, Chris, Emily, Heather, Lisa, Shannon, Amy, Judy, Rachel, Laura, Mary, Tiffani, Leigh, Brooke, Sarah, Michele, Sarah, Carrie, Crystal, Mandy, Stacey, Wendy, Lea, Tori, Jennifer, Donna, Hope, Olivia, Beth, Joe, Suzy, Angie, Paula, Cynthia, Kim, Kim, Lissa, Lyndi, Petrissa, Kim, Denise, Emily, Cristyn, Christy, Michelle, Becky, Rebecca, Jodie, Peggy, Megan, Holly, Harini, Susan, Angie, Kim, Miriam, Kathy, Monica, Mary, Tammy, Jessica, Helen, Danielle, Kerry, Jeanne, Kelly, Julia, Michelle, Marie, Tammy, Shannon, Karen, Teresa, Sharon, Cathy, Nikki, Jennifer, Brett, Jenn, Jennifer, Elizabeth, Kurt, Renae

Job Reflections

Today marks six months since I started working at my church. In that time, the nice and tidy little shoebox of my life has been unlidded, dumped onto the floor, and sorted out in an entirely new way.

When I started working, I envisioned that my new job would just fold neatly into my already-established life and routine. I thought it would be just an addition to my world, with the added bonus of a paycheck. Yippee! Oh, how I laugh at that thought now.

I started working, and everything in my life came to a halt. Things started immediately unraveling around me (computer crashing, kids’ illnesses, email hacked, food poisoning, Dan’s work load doubled) and then there were the other circumstances of life: Jackson had to start at a new school. Special events at church: a party called Blastoff, this little church event called Easter, then Child Dedication classes and the year culminated in our church’s baptism celebration. And then I added in a few other chaotic events (I planned my high school reunion and traveled to Georgia, then traveled to Florida for a separate trip, and there was this ill-timed big project I plopped on myself by having 2,000 of my mom’s old photos scanned).

I knew life was unraveling so it could be re-woven from the ground up. I knew I needed a new perspective if I was going to be successful at this job – and especially if I was going to fully allow God to direct my life.

God used all these events to mold me (and He still continues to mold me) and to help me learn obedience. There’s a reason I haven’t had a chance to blog about all the changes in my life these last six months. If I had written about it in the first or second month, there would have been lots of tearful words and confusion. That was the stage where I considered quitting the job. But in my rational moments, I knew I wanted (and needed!) it. I had enough perspective to know the job wasn’t the problem; it was the new routine that made me struggle.

I spent so much time treading water and protecting my boundaries those first few months. I said NO to every single thing that wasn’t related to my job, my husband and kids, or planning my class reunion. It was a maturation for me to learn limits and boundaries. When I was young, I said yes because I could. I knew I would be successful even if it was something I didn’t enjoy or was naturally good at. Now I say no because I know I don’t have to do it!

I conserved my energy because the new routine was exhausting me. (I have taken more naps since I started this job than all the naps over the past five years combined.) And then in the third and fourth month, I realized I wasn’t living. I was getting the job(s) done, but there was no joy in my life. So I said yes to a few choice things: one of them was facilitating a class at church. I am an extrovert, and I knew I needed relationship with other people to energize my soul.

One night on the way home from class, I remembered a quote I read (and it used to be a banner on my blog) that says, “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” That reminded me of something I wrote in my baptism application in 2009, when I equated my life with Jesus as a dance. For many years, I tried to dance on my own. After a while, I realized dancing alone really stinks. So I decided to start dancing with Jesus. I wrote, “I’m taking Christ’s hand and finishing the dance with Him.” On the night I drove home and remember the “dancing in the rain” quote, I realized I hadn’t been dancing very much since January 24. I was too darn overwhelmed to dance; I mostly stood still on the dance floor and hoped I wouldn’t trip and fall flat on my face. I vowed to start changing that, and start dancing again.

In the fifth and sixth months of the new job, I found my rhythm and asked Jesus to lead the dance again. That was around the time of the baptism celebration, and it filled my heart with newfound joy. I was also learning more about my job – getting to know my 100+ volunteers, having discussions about Jesus’ impact on my life, and building a community of coworkers and coworshipers.

And that brings us to now: the sixth month mark of one of the most formative changes in my life. The 10+ years after my high school graduation was one of them (college, meeting my husband, my parents’ divorce, losing my brother then Mom then Dad, and having children), but this last six months has given that decade a run for its money. It hasn’t been as emotional painfully as divorce and death, but God has been molding me just as much. I know this because I have a new perspective:

• The number one theme from this past six months (and even before that, because it started in the interview process) has been OBEDIENCE. I have wanted to run away, but God has whispered, “Stay.” So I did. I didn’t like the painful growth I was experiencing, but God told me to stick it out. He did so by using my boss and coworkers to encourage me, using his scripture to confirm I was exactly where I needed to be, and He gave me a sense of peace that just didn’t make sense. The theme came up on a daily basis in my job as a mother, and every time I talked to Jackson about obeying me, I felt God nudging me in the same way. Not in a smirky “aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black” way, but in a gently convicting way. So I just quit my whining and vowed to obey Him. I followed.
• I gained perspective on my perspective too. I go through life planning not just this coming weekend or even then next, but I plan months in advance. I’m a little too focused on what’s next instead of what’s now (see my post from last week to my niece, Hannah). I practiced a perspective change and instead of thinking of tomorrow or next week, I started thinking of only the next hour. I did that for a bit while in survival mode. Once I got through that feeling, I broadened the perspective to be the next few hours or maybe even the next day. But before I get too far ahead of myself, I have learned to reel myself back in and just focus on the NEXT BEST THING. Not the end result; only what the next minor step needs to be. That helps tremendously.
• One of the main concerns of my job is finding the right amount of volunteers to serve each weekend so we have the correct ratio of adults to children. The very first Sunday I worked, I came home and cried for hours. I felt helpless because I had no idea how a handful of volunteers would be able to cover so many deep needs. And then God started stepping His way into the CONTROL freak arena of my life. I have worked 24 Sundays now, and every single one of them has been an exercise in trusting His provision. Here’s an example: in our nursery area, we have had to close the room and not allow any more babies inside because we literally don’t have enough arms to hold the babies. Imagine how hard it is to turn away parents and tell them we have no room for their baby at church. Ugh! There was one specific weekend when we started the morning with two volunteers in the nursery. Based on our ratios, that means we only had room for six babies. At a church where about a thousand people attend two services every weekend, six babies was miserably paltry. I woke that morning stressing out about how to turn away families again. Yet by the time worship services started, God had provided enough extra volunteers that we didn’t have to close the room. I was dumbfounded all morning long when random volunteers walked up and asked if we needed extra hands in the  nursery. (They weren’t just random people; they were regular volunteers who were scheduled to be off that day and felt a nudge to check in and help.) God was using His biggest megaphone to shout to me: “I AM IN CONTROL. Let me handle it and it won’t fall apart. I got your back!” He still does this almost every single weekend without fail.
• I also learned SECURITY is an illusion when my computer crashed at the start of February. You’d think I’d be over it by now, wouldn’t you? Yes, I’m technically over it, but it’s a painful lesson that reverberates even today. It’s a broad theme of my life that I first learned when my brother died (the illusion of security goes hand in hand with taking life for granted), and it’s a lesson I apparently keep needing to learn as the years go by.
• These last six months, I have learned to DEPEND on others a lot more than I did before. I have that silly pride issue that is quite common: I feel the need to be self-sufficient so I’m not indebted to anyone and so I don’t appear weak and needy. *snort* THAT makes me laugh because I have felt so weak and needy since January 24th! I have depended on friends and neighbors and my husband a lot more than ever before. The hardest part has been this summer, trying to juggle a job while the kids are out of school. I’ve cashed in favors with friends left and right. It’s humbling to have to ask for help, but God knows my heart needs some humbling. He’s giving me lots of practice in it.
• Call it anal-retentive or obsessive-compulsive or whatever you want, but by nature, I’m a task oriented person. For six months, I have literally cried over the fact that my To Do List has been obliterated. There’s no way I can even put a dent in it, because it has grown exponentially. After bemoaning this fact and getting irritated that I. Can’t. Get. Anything. Done. I finally changed my focus and realized God isn’t calling me to balance my checkbook (although that IS important even if it is dreaded); He’s calling me to do KINGDOM WORK instead. When I get wrapped into my little world, I stop and ask myself whether this little tizzy I’m in is furthering His kingdom or mine. Usually, that’s all I need to stop being a whiny baby and get my big girl panties back on.
• The last lesson is one that I see God’s hand in from the first day of January. Remember when I wrote about picking scripture each year? I had no specific reason for selecting 2 Corinthians 5:7 for 2012. It simply spoke to me and I felt compelled to choose it for this year. I even wrote in that blog post, “I am praying God will whisper it to me throughout the year. When the highs and lows and dark days happen in 2012, I pray He will remind me to live by what my heart believes and not by what my eyes see.” Boy, howdy! God hasn’t been whispering it to me, He’s been shouting: “Walk by FAITH and not by sight, Elizabeth! What you see is a new routine full of questions about how this job is going to work. You worry about whether you can actually perform the job and whether your kids and husband can adapt to these changes. Stop trying to SEE the answers, Elizabeth. Believe me. Trust me. Stop trusting what you see and trust what I tell you instead. I have nothing but goodness planned for you. I chose you for this, and I will equip you with everything you need!”

Oh, He has been faithful in every imaginable way. The last six months happened in a blink of an eye, but they have forever changed my soul and helped me become more like the person He wants me to be. Thank you for leading me, Jesus!

The Hope of Reunion

“In Christ alone my hope is found… And as He stands in victory,/Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me./For I am His and He is mine,/Bought with the precious blood of Christ.”

Without the hope I find in Him, every day would be despair for me. Imagine how it would feel to think there’s nothing left after we die. I would be bereft if I believed I’d never get to see my brother again. Or my mom. Or my dad. But that’s not the way life with Jesus works. I GET TO BE REUNITED. I get to see Him with my own eyes, and feel His arms around me.

To me, these photos are the closest I’ll ever get to experiencing heaven on this side of death. I can only imagine what it will be like to be held this way for eternity.

Waiting for Next

My 17-year-old niece is away at a YoungLife camp right now. She has been gone for almost a week, and has two more weeks until her parents pick her up. She’s there on a work crew, making things great for all the other kids who come to enjoy a week at camp. YoungLife has a website where you can view videos from the week at camp, and I’ve been watching a few of them to see what Hannah’s been up to.

I look at these videos, and see kids who are full of such beauty. Yes, I know they are all crazy teenagers and are there to have fun – and hopefully some time with God and their Bibles, etc. – but watching the videos helps me remember  my life at seventeen. I look at the girls in the video, and I see radiance and joy and promise. I’m 95% sure they don’t see that in themselves, because I know at seventeen I sure didn’t. I didn’t see my future laid out before me. I only focused on next and what my life was going to be like when I got out of whatever current stage I was in. I wanted to be on my own, away from Mom and Dad, finding my true love, and starting my life. I didn’t know I had already “started my life” and was fast-forwarding to my future. I didn’t know I would be married four years later, my parents would be divorced, my brother would be dying, and my parents would be fighting cancer and lupus.

I didn’t know the gift I was being given Every. Single. Day.

So I wrote my Hannah a short letter. Honestly, I was writing it to myself at age seventeen, wishing I could speak some truth into that self-focused, unconfident girl. Here’s what I wrote to Hannah/me:

Heenah,

I’ve been watching the video blogs from YoungLife, and realizing what an amazing gift you are living right now, this very moment. Yes, your Aunt Poozie is hokey. And, yes, I can get emotional and cheesy. But I just want to take a moment to tell you these things:

DON’T WAIT. Don’t hold back in life. Jump in with both feet, do things that scare you, and get out of your comfort zone. Reach out to someone you normally wouldn’t talk to. Laugh loudly. Cry. Trust. Pray. Don’t waste a single moment. You will never have another moment like this!

I love you and I’m so proud of you --

Poozie

And because nobody needs their Aunt Poozie to be a downer in their lives, here’s what I didn’t write but SO wanted to:

The years stretch out ahead of you, and you think there’s a lifetime of them still waiting for you. Oh, sweet girl, you have no idea how everything you’ve ever known will be forever changed in just one more short year. Your focus is on next and what else and once I. You haven’t stopped to look at now and today. Stop! You’re missing it! Today of all days, STOP. Know how quickly life goes from next to I wish I could go back…

It was eight years ago yesterday, right about this time, when your mom called me. Grandmama was in the hospital. We had no idea it would be the beginning of her end. She was dying and the years we thought stretched out ahead of us were gone. We had put faith and trust in those years: I thought a little more time would change us, and she and I would one day find common ground again.

Yes. We did find common ground. It was in the ICU of Northside Hospital in Atlanta. Not exactly the next I had in mind. And the one after that? The next next was saying goodbye to my father, your Steeley.

Anything I say to you, my Hannah, is going to fly out of your memory before the vaporous words have left my mouth. You think the same things I thought: awful things happen to other people, not me. If someone had told me at seventeen that the coming years would be so painful, I wouldn’t have believed them anyway. The brightness of my future outshined any imagined darkness coming my way. That is, until next finally came.

Don’t wait ‘til next, Hannah. Live what you can now. Don’t be afraid! It’s so much better than any next you can imagine.

I. Love. YOU!

Sleep Away Camp

We did one of the hardest and best things for my daughter yesterday: we took her to her first extended sleep away camp.

I started attending camp when I was six years old. (And get this: it was for an entire month! I still can’t believe my parents were brave enough to send me away for a month. Or maybe not brave, just desperate for time away from three kids?)

My first camp was the same one my brother and sister attended every summer, and I begged my parents to send me to Camp Cherokee. I was finally old enough at age six, and I loved every single minute of it. I loved being able to make my own choices: arts and crafts today or archery? Maybe canoe time after rest time? And I loved “roughing it” by sleeping in a cabin, bathing in the lake, and drinking Bug Juice every day during snack time.

Yes, there were hard moments: I had one of the most vivid nightmares of my life at camp. (It still ranks in my top five worst ever.) And I remember being so homesick. In my little girl mind, I couldn’t imagine any pain in the world worse than being away from Mom, Dad and home. And then an hour later, I would get distracted and move on to the next activity or swim or skit night practice.

Going to camp taught me to be self reliant. It taught me I really could canoe and backpack an entire night’s worth of supplies to a “remote” area for overnight camping. Going to camp taught me choices and consequences are inseparable. It taught me how to make friends with people I wouldn’t normally seek out. It taught me independence from my parents, and gave me freedom I had never before experienced in my life. At camp, I found such incredible joy in receiving mail every day; I still have that joy with mail even today!

I went to camp every single summer until the last summer before my senior year in high school. I didn’t get to spend many summers at Camp Cherokee, but I still went to some sort of camp every year. There were two summers when I went to Girl Scout camp, which I hated. It wasn’t like “real” camp to me (Camp Cherokee), because there were too many rules and not enough freedom. My parents found a new camp for me to attend called Camp Toccoa. It was similar to Cherokee (with one major difference: BOYS!), and I loved it almost as much.

One of the things I always knew I would do as a parent was send my kids away to camp. So last summer, I decided to give Katie a shot at Girl Scout camp. She paired up with a buddy and they did two nights at a camp about an hour away. I think I was more excited about it than she was! When I picked her up after the two days, she said it was a great time. She and her friend sang the awful camp songs they learned, told us about silly stories they heard, and showed us the crafts they made. However, she hated the platform tents they slept in (“There was a big spider!”), and vowed never to go camping again. That’s when I vowed to find one she would really love!

I asked around and some of our friends told us about the camp they attended as children – and now send their own children. (In fact, their 16-year-old daughter is a counselor this week while Katie is there.) The time and the price were all right, and yesterday was the big day.

For the last few days, Katie has been telling people about how excited she is to camp. We arrived and she was happy and picked out a bunk and was ready to go explore. Her friend arrived (the only other person she knew prior to yesterday), and she was excited.

But then nerves crept in out of nowhere, and she started unraveling. She was in the bathroom and a silly problem with the toilet flushing shattered any confidence she had left, and she came unglued. I knew the longer we stayed with her (we were there about an hour and a half), the worse it was going to get. So I put on my brave mommy face and told her it was time for us to go. We gave hugs and said goodbye, and she asked me if I was crying (sweat was running down my face). I told her no (even though I felt like I wanted to!), but it’s okay if she felt sad. I gently directed her to her friend and she started walking away with the friend and the friend’s mom. I got in the car and Dan put it in gear and went about 6 inches when we saw her charge toward the car with her face screwed up into a look of panic. Dan stopped, I got out of the car, and I held her. Then I told him to wait and I walked with her and found her friend (who was also at her parents’ car, begging them to take her home).

I grabbed both their little hands and we walked down the road so the friend’s parents could leave. I found our friend’s daughter (the 16-year-old counselor) and told her the girls needed some love. Then I gave Katie a hug and a kiss, told her I loved her, and walked away. Oh, the pain!

On the drive home, Dan and I talked about being homesick when we were younger. He spoke about being at camp his first time and missing his parents. I told him how desperate I was to go home after my parents drove me from Georgia to Missouri for college. I remember calling home, begging my mom to let me come back for just one weekend instead of having to wait for Thanksgiving break. She said no, and now I know exactly how she felt when she hung up the phone. It’s the same way I felt when I drove away from my baby yesterday afternoon: full of guilt and fear, yet knowing that it’s my job as her mother to prepare her for a life without me.

I am working myself out of a job. It’s heart-wrenching and also so perfectly right.

June 2012 Review

After last month’s post about my Facebook status updates, I had a brilliant brainstorm: instead of feeling like I’m always behind on the blog, why don’t I write at the end of each month and post highlights from it? It would take some of the pressure off, plus help me feel like I’m still keeping a record of my children’s lives. So here’s a look at this past June.

We started June with a lazy morning at a nearby lake.

Third grade had officially ended for Katie, but that week was the calm before the summer storm (i.e. Mommy’s Calendar Chaos of trying to fit a job, kid day camp activities, and regular life into this new routine). My friend Michelle and I took the kids to dig in the rocky sand with shovels and buckets, and we sat in folding chairs and talked about life. Thank God the sun was out. It’s the only reason we didn’t freeze into popsicles! Even though it was June 1, it was not very warm yet.

The next few weeks of June were filled jam-packed with one of the busiest times at my job: our church’s once-a-year baptism celebration. We had 358 people baptized, and it was one of the most exhausting and fulfilling days I’ve had in a long time. Exhausting because of the emotions and preparations for so many people at church in one day. Fulfilling because I was honored to photograph this:

And this:

And this:

Oh, and be a part of THIS (click on the word “this” to read more details from my friend Gina):

Baptism day was ALSO Father’s Day. And it was ALSO Katie’s 9th birthday. Since it just wasn’t physically possible for me to work from 7:30am until 9:30pm and celebrate all three events in the same day, we made the whole weekend a big celebration. That Friday, we took Katie swimming at our neighborhood pool. She enjoyed hanging out with neighbors and using Daddy as a diving board.

Katie also had quite the haul for her birthday. Dan and I gave her a telescope (thanks to a neighbor’s garage sale), Aunt Jen and Uncle Mike gave her a Kindle Touch, and Aunt Mimi and Uncle Wally sent her a Nintendo DSi. This photo shows the moment she opened the DSi. This photo does NOT show Jackson bursting into tears beside her because she got such a great gift and he didn’t. (And for the record, these gifts were all hand-me-downs.)

Saturday morning, we drove into St. Louis to find a bakery we read about in the paper. They make homemade oatmeal cream pies, which is one of Dan’s favorite treats. We bought two cupcakes and two oatmeal cream pies, then found a nearby park to eat them. When we were done, Dan drove back to the bakery to buy eight more cream pies. Yum!

Jackson REALLY wanted to buy Dan a set of Nerf guns for Father’s Day so they could battle with them. So when we got home from the bakery, we opened the Nerf guns and had a war! I love this photo of the kids attacking Dan.

June was also the month of day camp chaos. In order to keep the kids occupied while I work, I signed them up for lots of camps, visits with Grandma, Vacation Bible School, and Jackson’s regular Parents Day Out program. One of the cool things Jackson got to do was a two-week-long Safety Camp with the local police department. The kids learned about stranger danger, gun safety, poison control, bike helmet safety, following street signs, they got a visit from animal control, and had snacks and a cool graduation ceremony. It was lots of fun for him.

Katie had a Girl Scout milestone in June. She bridged to the new Junior designation, and her troop celebrated with a cookout at a local park.

While she’s so busy growing up, there are still moments here and there that remind me she’s still a little girl. This is one of those  moments. She had a neighbor over to play while Jackson napped, and the girls took their dolls to the treehouse to play. I watched them from the kitchen table, and it was one of those moments when my heart poured out gratitude for God. I know a day will come when the dolls aren’t played with anymore. The anticipation of that carved this moment into the memory bank of my soul.

The month ended with a birthday celebration for my friend Jennifer. A bunch of us couples surprised her by meeting at her favorite karaoke bar. Four of us five women (except for the chicken in the group) got up to sing “Love Shack.” Ayiyi! It was a fun time, and I learned I’m better at singing karaoke from the table instead of the stage.

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.