Drawing the Line

I've never been very good at drawing the line. Being a doormat is so much easier. Yes, sure, no problem, I'd love to, why not, it's only once a week...

Until,

...my kid goes berserk.

...I'm tempted to drive my van into a ditch rather than spend one more hour at AWANA.

...the weight of never measuring up has me dangling off a cliff.

...my dog-tired husband shakes his head and says, "Babe, why can't you just stay here with me?"


The terrible habit of giving until I break, is breaking more than me.

Two years ago, our son waged a battle with himself that I thought would finish me. I remember locking myself in the bathroom and crying my eyes out as he banged on door, screaming every ugly word he knew. I didn't want to come out. Days became weeks, weeks became months and the storm still raged. I didn't want to be his mama anymore. I wanted to quit.

But I still directed VBS that year... and the next.

That's me...loving on 100 kids that don't belong to me, while my own is beating down the door to get my attention.

It's the rotten, painful truth.

I almost lost our son. I almost let the doctors and their "plans" and the pills take over.

Only by the grace of God have we recovered. I married the most merciful man on this planet. He leads us with gentle hands and a kind heart. He speaks words of hope and encouragement to his weary wife and troubled child. He never gives up. He plods on everyday. He leads us through.

Our boy.... is thriving. Tonight was his acting debut and his daddy and I couldn't have been any prouder.


And yet, I have continued the cycle of being willy-nilly when it comes to boundaries. I like to think of myself as a "busy mom". Being a hummingbird by nature, I flit and flutter from one thing to another... But seriously, what's the beauty in my commitment to an activity every Sunday afternoon for six solid weeks when Sunday is typically Wayne's only day off?

Yup, that's me too.

And I have to ask myself why?
Why do I feel so compelled to say yes?
Why do I put lipstick on a pig?

I'm learning that everything I commit to has a value. As a wife and mother, serving my family first carries eternal value.

It seems so simple. It is not.

Turning my heart towards home.

But here's the rub. I've been trying to flex my NO muscle a little more recently...And folks, the response hasn't been so groovy. It hurts my people-pleasing heart that some feel like I'm self-righteous and judgemental just because I used that two letter word.

There's a learning curve, right?


For we are God's fellow workers. You are God's field, God's building.

According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building upon it. Let each one take care how he builds upon it.  For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.  Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw— each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.  1 Corinthains 3:9-15

You matter to me...

Mrs.Stinson, one of the most beautiful people I know, celebrated her seventieth birthday this week. She gave me a job when I was eighteen, but honestly, it was far more than a job. She gave me my education. I remember my first day at Lynchburg Christian Academy's Early Learning Center. I was so nervous (and um, overweight) that I almost couldn't make it up the stairs! I remember being introduced to Mrs. Starling and Mrs. Bragg as their "new afternoon girl". I remember the dark classroom full of napping children. I remember Mrs. Starling showing me the ropes...It was obvious that she ran a tight ship! I remember Mrs. Bragg laugh...and how she became my instant friend.

The Early Learning Center was a haven for me.... Every school day, the "afternoon girls" met with Mrs. Stinson for prayer and a devotion before we went to our assigned classes. She took the time to really get to know us, but more importantly, she discipled us. I have to say that any person who has had the privilege to work for Dawna Stinson, is better for it. Her standards were high, but for everything she expected, she invested even more. Where would I be without her?

Those college years were hard ones. Away from family and all things familiar, I had to face some tough realities and I struggled to make good choices. One day in particular, I was walking down the ELC hallway, my face puffy and tear-stained, when Mrs. Stinson spotted me from the office. She steered me into a chair next to her desk and listened to me as I spilled out my broken heart. She comforted me with Scripture and led me in prayer. It was on this day that my life turned a corner.

Mrs. Stinson has held her post as director of the ELC for over thirty years and I was not the first "afternoon girl" to seek her counsel.

But I mattered to her.

Dozens and dozens of us have mattered to her.

God bless you, Mrs. Stinson. Thank you for seeing "me". Thank you for teaching me how to teach children. I learned more in those three years from you, Patsy, Linda, Sandra and all the other wonderful women, than from any class or ministry I've been apart of.

A child may not remember what you said; but he will always remember the way you made him feel.



These days....

My life revolves around six people. Morning, noon and night.

Do they know how much they matter to me?

Do I take the time, often enough, to reach them individually?

Wayne, you matter to me.

Ethan, you matter to me.

Sam, you matter to me.

Annie, you matter to me.

Phoebe, you matter to me.

Ruby, you matter to me.

These past few years, God has shown me that this family of ours is my work, it is my ministry, it is my calling. I'm weak and I fumble. There are days where I would hide from myself if I could.... But more often than not, joy bubbles over at the dinner table. And it's my prayer that these five children know that they don't just matter to mama, they matter to Him!

It's so important to know that you matter.



Last Saturday night, we were pulling out of the Kroger shopping center when we saw her standing in the freezing rain holding up a cardboard sign. The sign said something about FAMILY but honestly, I didn't really want to read the rest of it. Both of us noticed the pain on her face. After we'd gone by Wayne said, "I've got ten bucks in my wallet, let's turn around and go back."

I almost did.

But what if she does have a family and giving her ten bucks just takes her further away from them?

Ten bucks is ten bucks. Just turn around and give her the ten bucks.

We battled it out for ten minutes going down the interstate.

What is the right thing to do?

How can we really help?

By now it was getting dark and we knew she wouldn't be standing out there much longer. I finally pulled into a Dollar General and went inside and bought as much as I could with $15.00.  We headed back up the interstate and spotted her just as she was folding up her sign. Wayne rolled down his window and handed her the bags. She sobbed.

Her name is Heather and it doesn't matter why she was out there. She was out there.

I didn't feel any sense of satisfaction. Our gift was pretty meager.

It's plagued my thoughts and prayers all week. Because, I know that we are expected to do something. Just what?

And then on the radio this morning, the DJ was speaking about his experience on the streets for two nights, digging in the trash for food, recycling a used water bottle, asking for help.... and feeling  completely isolated. He said that 99% of the people who passed him refused to make eye contact....

Don't we though?

The DJ went on to say, "In whatever way you feel led to help, make the effort to let these people know that they matter.... that they matter to you."

Words from heaven direct to my heart.

You matter to Me.

And the King will answer and say to them, Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these my Brethren, you did it to Me.  Matthew 25:40

What's Wrong With Me?

We were sitting around my sister's kitchen table on Christmas night, when the conversation went where it always goes with women....to weight. Or in other words, the constant pursuit to be beautiful, because isn't beautiful being thin?

My whole entire life we've discussed and debated the best route to weight loss. We've swapped diets and shared exercise tips. We've moaned about our weakness over chocolate and salsa. We've been pea green with envy when one of us succeeded and smug when she gained it all back.....

A cycle of guilt and discontentment.

I lost a butt-load (literally) of weight when I was nineteen and yet, my future mother-in-law still described me as "hippie".  Fifteen years and five babies later, I realize that I hit the pinnacle of thin-ness way back then.....Alas, my hips are even more hippie-er.

Am I a lost cause?

What's wrong with me?

Seriously.

Last night, my nearly ten year old daughter came up to me and said, " Mommy, look how fat I got over Christmas, my pajamas are too little. I just don't want to get a wrinkly butt." This child of mine is gorgeous, inwardly and outwardly. Her pajamas are snug because she's worn them for two years... But I know where her fears are based and who's guilty of teaching them to her.

"You know what Annie, I think I'm beautiful, do you?" She looked at me in stunned silence, and slowly nodded, "Yes Mommy, I think you are beautiful."

Why can't I be? Is there something wrong with accepting the love of my husband and children just as I am at this very moment? Would my friends be friendlier if there was less of me? Does the shape of my silhouette have to measure my contentment?

Was I at my happiest as a thin but hippie nineteen year old?

Nope.

There is something beautiful about the look in my husband's eyes when he comes home from work. He comes home to me.

There is something beautiful about how my man-child will sit at the kitchen table as I fix dinner and talk about basketball. He shares his dreams with me.

There is something beautiful about how my three little girls stand at the bathroom mirror and watch me put on make-up.  I remember watching my own mama in the same way.They are learning their definition of beauty from me.

There is something beautiful about friendships that can survive both time and space. From these rare gems I have re-shaped what "beautiful" means to me.

So there you go....In 2013, I am resolute to be as beautiful as I can be.

Happy New year!

On Fifteen Years....

I failed my Marriage and Family class three days before our wedding. In my defense, the professor was a pig, sleeping through his final was an act of pure rebellion. This however, speaks volumes about my twenty-year -old self....

And yet, God knew just what I needed.

I really didn't know the man beside me at the altar and he really didn't know me. I remember how he gazed at me in my gown, and I do mean gazed, all lovey-dovey, it still makes me nauseous to think about it. He was completely over the moon for me, truly smitten with his bride. He would have sewed me into his back pocket if he could have... (he probably still would).  His admiration alarmed me. I knew I'd disappoint him.

We were married um, two weeks before I threw the car keys at his head. The lovey-dovey dimmed just a smidge.

Those first few years were sweet and painful all at the same time and I wouldn't trade them for anything.... But I don't miss the awkwardness. I know that the best part of our marriage is right now. We are fifteen years in, with five kids and a dog. Date night is an annual event, privacy is non-existent, and in our free time we drive a shuttle for short people. But isn't this where we also wanted to be?

Cramming seven chairs around a table made for six.

Listening to endless chatter.

Cheering on a little swimmer, a football player, a basketball star, and two adorable tumblers.

Stealing a kiss here and there... making our tweens gag.

Stretching and pulling to make it all come together.

We are a match, made in heaven by a merciful and loving Savior.

I could not ask for more.

 

Our life together is FULL.

 

 

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

 

 

The Waiting Ends.... Sunday!

I typed my heart into an an email and sent it into cyber-space. Waiting for a response makes me nervous, makes me doubt, makes me wish I hadn't exposed myself.

A sense of isolation and loneliness cling to me. I want to slip into a cocoon of self-preservation. On the very day, at the very moment that I declared my intention to do just that, the phone rang.

"Hey, Reag"

There is only one person on this whole planet that calls me Reag and I'm willing to delay my trip into depression to talk with her.

Wayne spied Jess's name on the caller ID and smiled with relief. Crisis diverted.

 She had called to check in one last time. One last chat before her world goes crazy.

The Thai princess is coming home!

Jess, her husband, their gorgeous son and her wonderful parents are flying to Thailand this Sunday. Traveling across the globe to complete their family. Sweet Nu Ja's been waiting for them in an orphanage.

It seems like they have been aching to hold her for a million years..

I'll be stalking their blog daily, waiting anxiously to see that little girl in her mama's arms.

It's been a honor to witness both of their adoption journeys. That she included me, even down to their final preparations, is a gift I will cherish all of my life. It's changed me.

With each of my pregnancies, those last few days sent me over the edge of looniness. I was ready to hold my baby, ready to have my body back, ready for the pain. I drank blackberry tea, I walked up hills, I went shopping, I massaged my ankles, I painted my toes, I shaved my legs, I cleaned out closets and I cried, "Lord, please let this baby come today!". The anticipation was killer. I showed up early to every one of their births, yep, all five of them. The midwife shook her head and I pleaded, "Please don't send me home!"

The labor was always worse than I remembered. And even though I screamed, "I can't do this!", there was no going back....

The hellish pain was richly rewarded.

I can't help but draw a comparison.

This adoption has been a long, agonizing wait. They have faced it with tenacity and grace. A foreshadowing of future victories. There has been no retreat.The sky is the limit, little Nu Ja.... Nobody is holding you back. And whoa to anyone who would try... Your mama takes down gang bangers for a living!

Jess, you are my hero. You inspire me and give me courage. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.

Hebrews 12:1

 

Death By Politics

The word which came to Jeremiah from the Lord, saying: "Arise and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause you to hear My words."Then I went down to the potter's house, and there he was, making something at the wheel. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter; so he made it again into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to make. Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter?" says the Lord. "Look, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand...

Jeremiah 18: 1-6

 

Election posts are lighting up my Facebook feed. As the first Tuesday of November gets closer my reaction to each status is more passionate. I am tempted to argue my point and try to persuade or enlighten those who would disagree with me. How can I not have a strong opinion? Being named after Ronald Reagan's wife, it was either sink or swim with a brand like that in the 1980's.

 

I remember coming home from school in the fourth grade and announcing to my family that John F. Kennedy had been our country's finest president. My father almost swallowed his false teeth. I hadn't learned that in his house. The very next day he made me deliver a note to my teacher that read, "The Bay of Pigs??? "

 

Mortification at its finest.

 

That being said, I inherited my daddy's love of country, his passion, and his sharp tongue.

 

I grew up to become a pastor's wife and he might still be a preacher, if I hadn't crumbled.

 

I thought "politic-ing" was one of my obligations. You see, these little Baptist churches are set in their ways, good or bad....they are set. Having to sit through business meeting after business meeting and watch as the little old ladies took the cue from the deacon of the week whether to raise their hand to vote or not, literally rattled me to my core. I was convinced that if these church members knew what was just and right, things would turn around.

 

It wasn't long before two groups formed in these meetings, pro-pastor versus the preacher-eaters. Most of these gatherings were merely planned lynchings disguised by a covered dish luncheon. I tried so hard to support my husband. I stood up when I should have kept quiet. I kept records and held grudges. I was a full time politician...and I was desperate for the win.

 

The victories and losses took a toll, how could they not? For some, it may have been Sunday afternoon amusement. For us, it was everything. 

 

After three years, I could take no more.

 

I realize now that I had it all wrong, painfully wrong. It was never God's plan for us to go there and  change those people. He sent us there to serve them.

 

And there was service, in between the battles. Sweet moments that we will cherish forever. But I have to ask myself, "Would it have been different if I hadn't fought? If I had put my energy into just being Wayne's wife?'

Death by politics.

 

 

Yesterday we were sitting on the sidelines of a youth football game when Sam said, "Mom, look over there, that's Bryan!" All I could see were twenty-five boys in bulky pads, wearing heavy helmets. "Mom, he's #65, do you see him?" I was squinting to make out his face when I found his smile. He didn't seem the least bit embarrassed when I went over there and hugged him in front of his whole team.

 

Bryan had been our neighbor. He showed up on our doorstep every afternoon, everyday. He and his twin sister were faithful friends to our kids. They came with us to VBS and the Fall Festival each year. They swam in our kitty pool, they helped us build our snowmen, they knocked on our door every Christmas day to show off their presents. Both Bryan and Brittani had prayed to receive Jesus in their hearts in our backyard.

We were too dense to see the forest for the trees. Honestly, I used to cuss under my breath when the door bell rang.

The day we moved moved away, deflated both spiritually and financially, that little boy stood in our front yard and cried.

 

Bryan represents the sweetest of sweet. I never had to convince him of anything, I just had to open up the door and let him in.

 

And that's exactly how I want our family to continue in the ministry, with the intention to serve. We don't have to beg the world to love Jesus. We don't have to be swept up in the emotional tides of politics. Being politically "right" doesn't save anyone. It's the feet washers that move mountains. When we believe in Christ so passionately that we are willing to risk our own comforts...the win will be inevitable.

I am one screwed up hunk of clay, completely marred. And I'm thankful, so very, very thankful that we rest in the Potter's hands.... and He's going to make something beautiful out of us!

  

 

What I've Gained By Losing

"Mom, what good came from your dad dying?" asks my nine year old daughter, as she sweeps the kitchen floor.

Instinctively, I just want to shush her and change the subject. Her random question is like an arrow straight into my heart. I have way too much to do today.....and I don't really want to think about it.

But the deed is done.

She and her brothers have done this to me before. They ask completely innocent questions that send me reeling back to the point of loss.

"Mom, remember when you lost those babies? Did that make you sad?"

"I miss our old house, do you?"

"If she's your sister why don't you talk to each other?"

"Why didn't that church call Dad?"

Losing hurts....

The fact is, the center of my universe died on November 24, 1992. Although it's been nearly twenty years, I still miss him.

 Everyday.

A part of me wants to tell my little girl, "No honey, nothing good came from losing my daddy." You see, I remember how it all changed after he died. I can still feel the emptiness. Our family, that I thought was bound tight, kind of unravelled without him. He made us feel safe. Without him, we lost that strong sense of security and direction.

 Truth is, Baby Girl, life goes on.... and God put people in my life who stood in the gap for me.

They were standing there on November 24...

They're standing here with me today.

I've been showered by goodness and I've been the recipient of much love and compassion. Losing my dad left an enormous hole in my heart, but all these years later, I can see what I've gained. I can count the life of my father as a blessing. I can appreciate how others have served me and in return, I can serve others.

 Each loss I've suffered has developed more real estate in my heart. More room to grow, more room to love.

I want to minister as I have been ministered to. I want to mother as I have been mothered. I want to give back....

No! In all these things we will do even more than win! We owe it all to Christ, who has loved us. I am absolutely sure that not even death or life can seperate us from God's love. Not even angels or demons, the present or the future, or any powers can do that. Not even the highest places or the lowest, or anything else in all creation can do that. Nothing at all can ever seperate us from God's love because of what Christ Jesus our Lord has done. Romans 8:37-39