Our Christmas vacation has been marred a bit by technology. On Monday, Chuck bought a wifi extender. It was supposed to be no big deal they said. It was supposed to be an easy installation they said. It would allow every room of our house receive strong, fast signals they said. Hmmm. Technology is not always everything it’s cracked up to be.
Santa brought the kids Disney’s Infinity 2.0 with all the Marvel Avengers. It would’ve been awesome had our Play Station 3 not needed an update and Play Station hadn’t been hacked. The update took hours. Hours are more manageable for an adult than for 9 and 11 year old kids.
This morning, over breakfast, my daughter said, “I wonder what Bible times would’ve been like if everyone had laptops and smart phones. Do you think people like Paul would’ve been able to talk to more people about Jesus? Like maybe he could have just texted his friends to come over to grill some burgers and talk about Jesus.”
Hmmm. As I cleaned up the kitchen I couldn’t help but think about that possibility. The Nativity? Selfies of Mary and Baby Jesus? Joseph taking Instagram photos with soft vignettes and hashtags #blessedbabymomma #sonofgod ?
I shook that one off.
Sermon on the Mount live streaming? Fishes and loaves miracle on YouTube? Pentecost via Skype?
Technology has changed our lives for the better in so many areas but we rely so heavily on it that the slightest glitch seem to render us practically useless. Shelby’s question made me think about Paul, and all the others on mission in the bible, and how good they were at being present. They loved the ones they could while they could where they could.
One of my goals for 2015 is to be more present. To put my phone down, close the laptop cover, and look into the eyes of those around me. I want to show love where it’s needed and receive love when it’s given. To make the best of technology when I can but not be ruled by it. What are some of your goals for next year?
The Time Came
It’s been one of those mornings. The kind where there’s too many tasks and not enough minutes. Everyone needed to be somewhere, doing something, and everyone needed my full attention. It’s Christmas Break and everyone is full of cheer and ready to go.
I’m still working though. Christmas Eve is kind of a big deal when you work for the church so there’s still planning to do and tasks to tackle.
I’m also working my Wildtree business. It’s a business but also a ministry. I want to help people find peace in their kitchen and be better prepared for healthy family meals. I fully realize the irony here, folks. I’m stressed over helping people de-stress.
There’s laundry to fold and dogs to be walked and groceries to be shopped. I’ve got lists all over the counter and my phone is chiming reminders every five minutes.
Stop!
That’s the word I heard in the middle of a pity party I was planning in my head.
Stop!
Okay, God. What do I do?
I went into my bedroom to sit in my rocker. I opened my Celebrate Recovery Bible because, frankly, I needed the Word of God to come packaged with recovery. I shut my eyes and held it for a minute, just trying to find my center.
God? I can’t find my center.
Stop!
I opened to Luke 2. It was the only passage I could think of in the moment…I’m sure because of all the Christmas planning as of late. I read. Slowly. I read.
Suddenly a phrase practically jumped off the page. I phrase I’ve read a thousand times before…
the time came.
Mary and Joseph had traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be counted in the census. Mary was with child. The Child. And while they were there…
the time came.
The time. The time that all creation had been waiting for. The time that the eternal clock had been ticking towards. The time. Jesus.
He was God’s promise fulfilled in a tiny baby. He was the All-in-All. He was The Everlasting. He was Time. It was His Time.
Suddenly my time seemed insignificant. My tasks and my lists and my alarms could all be on hold for a bit. Jesus has come. I could sit in that peace for a minute. That’s where I’d find my center.
My time had come. The time for me to get over myself. The time for me to remember that Christmas is about the amazing gift of Jesus and the salvation that he gives. The time had come to be still and know His Peace.
My lists and tasks were still waiting on me when I came out of the room. I still had family waiting on me. Nothing about my day had changed. I had changed. I didn’t need to be frazzled and chaotic. I didn’t need to huff and stomp. I found my center and it is Jesus.
Celebration of Grace
I read a quote the other day that said, “The art of really celebrating life isn’t about getting it right – but about receiving Grace. The sinners and the sick, the broken, the discouraged, the wounded, and burdened – we are the ones who get to celebrate grace!” It was Ann Voskamp who said the words but they could have come straight from my own heart.
It’s a theory I’ve been wrestling with for quite some time. We live in a society that screams “Get it right!” every day. Your pie must be firm but soft and your home must be clean enough for health but with enough mess to make others comfortable. Your hair can not be gray and your eyebrows must be full…because thin eyebrows are soooo last year. Your parenting must be without flaws and your schedule must be the perfect balance of home, work, school, party,etc. Your children must be well behaved yet not robots and your spouse should always be supportive and have a twinkling gleam to his or her teeth when smiling.
All those things are lovely, although I now have to paint on eyebrows after years of over-plucking to get the “perfect thin” and sometimes my work/party balance is off. It’s too much. Really. I’m done.
God calls me, as the old alter-call hymn says, just as I am. Broken. Wounded. Burdened. Thin browed. He takes it all and wraps me in a giant blanket of grace where I get to curl up in his arms and experience his love.
In this season of frivolity and celebration I am often tempted with the perfect sparkle and just the right amount of twinkle. I want the brass music to be loud and clear and the bells to be bright and clear. I want just the right sprinkling of glitter.
That wasn’t how the season started though. It started thousands of years ago in a dirty stable with a teen mom. There were sheep and probably cows. It was less than ideal and I feel certain there were no icicle lights. It wasn’t how a king should enter the world. It was smelly. It was broken. It was discouraging. It was full of grace.
God became man so that we might celebrate grace. He did it for the sick and the broken and the wounded. He did it for moms like me who get over stressed and drink too much wine and eat too much pie. He did it for the dad who stresses over finances and therefore works too many hours. He did it for the kids that can’t sit still and for the grouchy old people that throw rocks at kids. (Okay, I’ve never actually seen that happen anywhere other than a Bugs Bunny cartoon. But it could happen. And grace would be there.)
The celebration comes from the gift of grace. The celebration is the grace. I’m grateful for the offering of grace.
Why I Love Thanksgiving
There are so many things I love about Thanksgiving. The food, the people, the relaxed atmosphere of the day…
Thanksgiving has been an evolution for Chuck and I. It didn’t start off as a merry, easy, fun day. At the start of our marriage we did as most young, married couples do. We relied on family to schedule our holidays for us. The only problem with that is that most of the family saw us only in their after thoughts. We had several years of realizing everyone was either out of town or not coming to visit only days or hours before the big day. Add to the mix awkward relations with other branches of the family tree (I’m sure no one else out there has that, right?) and we came quickly to the realization that we needed to set our own holiday schedule and tradition. We were married and had kids on the way so why not?
We decided to not wait on invitation any more from family or friends but to set our own plan in motion of how we wanted to celebrate. We set down the guideline that anyone can come as long as they enjoy eating and relaxing and don’t want to participate in drama or stuffiness. Thanksgiving is for giving thanks, not headaches.
We make way too much food every year. We start the day with Bloody Mary’s and move on to beer and wine after noon. We chop, slice, marinade, baste, saute, and fry until the house is full of the richest smells our noses and hearts can handle. We say Grace in a big circle, holding hands with whoever decided to join us. Sometimes that includes family. Sometimes it includes friends. Sometimes we have coworkers or neighbors show up. Sometimes it’s a grand mixture of all the above.
I never set the table – it’s all buffet style from the kitchen. We use the big, thick, sectioned paper plates because really, who wants to do dishes after all that eating and drinking? Not this girl! We talk about sports, religion, faith, politics…all the things you are supposed to avoid in mixed company. We share the ways God has showed up and surprised the socks off of us. We hug through the memories of aches when God had to carry us this year. We laugh at all the blessings and goodness.The kids run wild, high on too much cheese and pie and then crash hard early because the day has been filled with fun and very few boundaries.
The food is so much a part of the day but less because of it being food and more because of the relationships that swirl around the making and the prep and the eating and the clean up. It’s a day full of love and laughter and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would never be so bold to say that our way of doing Thanksgiving is better than anyone else’s. It’s just the way we figured out that it works for us. And I’m so thankful we figured it out.
Here’s something else I’ve figured out. It’s my corn casserole. I’ve tried several recipes over the years in hopes of recreating the magical version my mom used to make. This is pretty darn close.
15 oz can yellow and white sweet corn, whole kernel, drained
15 oz can cream style corn
8 oz box of Jiffy corn muffin mix
1 cup plain Greek yogurt or sour cream
1 stick (half cup) of butter, melted
In a big bowl, stir all of the above ingredients together until just mixed. Pour into a greased casserole pan (8×8 for thicker casserole; 9×12 for thinner). Bake at 350 degrees for 45 – 60 minutes, or until golden and firm in the middle. This recipe serves about six people. I usually double or triple it for Thanksgiving. You’ll probably have to adjust the baking time if you double it.
Why We Walked
It’s been almost seven years since our dear friends, Tony and Amber Bender, released their baby girl into the arms of Jesus.
Addi was a sweet, bubbly little girl, not even two years old, when she was diagnosed with brain cancer. Even typing it brings a bitter taste to my mouth. We were all, all of us who love Tony and Amber and their children, devastated. Surgery after surgery and radiation all were tough battles that Addi fought. She gave everything she had and she did it with the sweetest smile.
Next to the day of my mom’s suicide, the day Addi succumbed to cancer has been the hardest day of my life. There were a handful of us lingering in the room, praying God might take her pain away. We whispered prayers as the tears fell as we waited on the angels to lift her spirit to heaven.
It was enough to do any parent in. And I can not think of a single person on the face of this earth that would’ve blamed Tony and Amber for curling up into a ball and retreating from life all together. The Bender’s weren’t done fighting though.
Cancer took their baby girl and they waged war on cancer. They took their two little boys for a vacation (if you call traveling to heal a vacation) and came back home swinging hard. They immediately formed Addi’s Faith Foundation in order to fund pediatric brain cancer research and to support other families that are facing this horrific battle. They promoted, they researched, they dug their heals in. Cancer would not win.Yesterday was the 6th Annual Walk by Faith 5k/10k and they raised close to $200,000 to further their cause. We walked (Seth ran) because we, too, want to fight. I led the sunrise service with my friend and coworker, Reese Foster, because above all, we want to remember that God brought them through this…every step of the way. We want to remember that God is bigger than cancer. We want to keep in mind that God is the author of life and that death is not what he wanted when he created life.
The community came out in full force because they love Tony and Amber, and their kids, Trent, Riley, and Olivia. The community came because no one wants to see cancer win – especially through the lives of babies.
Please click on the links above and pray about how God might be calling you to join in the battle.
I’m Thankful….
This is the time of year when everyone starts doing those thankful journals and thankful photo challenges and thankful…whatever.
November is officially thankful month. I get that because of Thanksgiving falling in November it is a natural time to reset our self-centered hearts and turn towards an attitude of gratitude. My friend, Kim, actually declared it “Attitude of Gratitude Month” with her small group of high schoolers. During the time when they normally share the happies and crappies of the week they have decided that for this month they will only share crappies. It’s an effort to refocus. I get it. I love it.
I’m not feeling it.
Every so often I have a blanket of despair that falls over my head. I’m not sure where it comes from. I dabble in depression from time to time and I can’t ever be sure when it’s going to show up at my door. I jumped into crazy full on, head first for a time in my life and I hope and pray and work really hard to avoid the lake at that particular camp ground now. But I still dabble in the blues, as much as I try not to. I’ll be okay. I’m praying. I’m taking my vitamins. I’m getting rest. I’m exercising. I’ll be fine.
So here’s my thankful list this week. You may find it a little desperate and some may seem like a stretch but, when you are climbing out of a pit there is no branch too small to grasp on to.
- I am thankful this week that no one in my immediate family has a birthday that requires a party of 10 screaming girls.
- I am thankful this week that I can wear flip flops in November in Houston.
- I am grateful for air conditioning.
- And cheese. I’m glad that cheese exists.
- I am thankful that it is not Red Ribbon Week at school more than once a year and that I don’t have to come up with crazy creative ways to say no to drugs.
- I love the lava lamp on my desk and I’m thankful that someone donated it to children’s ministry at our church.
- I’m thankful for naps.
That about covers it, other than the obvious family, friends, salvation, etc. That’s all I’ve got this week. Maybe next week I’ll be more creative and broad in my thankfulness.
Fellowships, Picnics, and Bounce Houses…Oh My!
There are lots of reasons why a church picnic is a bad idea. It’s crowded, people are sharing food that may or may not contain salmonella, people are already busy, it’s a lot of work for the church staff….okay, I can’t even type any more because I don’t think a church picnic is a bad idea.
We had a picnic at our church yesterday and it was awesome. Not because of the food or the bounce house or the pony rides…although all of those things were fabulous…but because of the people. The thing that most people are missing out on these days is an opportunity to slow down. I wish I had a dollar for every person that told me they weren’t coming to the church picnic because they had been way to busy on Saturday. If picnics and people aren’t your thing that’s find but if you are too busy on Saturday for fellowship on Sunday then you may need to rethink your weekend.
Someone told me a while back that “fellowship” is an old fashion word that I use too often. I can’t help but think the reason that person felt that way is because they have a big fellowship hole in their heart. There is something very peaceful and beautiful about coming together with a group of believers and sharing a potato salad. You see, it’s actually less about the potato salad and more about the group of believers. Our hearts are drawn together when we tune out the noise of the world and share stories of family together. Our minds can rest when we put our phones away and look into the eyes of someone we haven’t sat with in a while. Our souls can unite when we share bread and wine (or tea) with a cool breeze on our backs.
I’m not going to lie. A planned and programmed picnic like we had yesterday is a lot of work. Someone had to book the petting zoo with the baby goats and tiny ponies for rides. Someone had to drive to the fire department to pick up the dunk tank and fill it with ice and water so the children could squeal with delight as their pastor fell hard and fast into a big splash. A large group of people had to move tables, chairs, garbage cans, extension cords, etc. Desserts had to be organized. Bubbles had to be blown. Speakers had to be set up so that fun music could play just loud enough for people to sing along but not so loud that it interrupts conversations. It literally takes a village to put on a big picnic like we did yesterday.
What doesn’t take a lot of work, however, is to make a phone call or shoot a text out to 3-5 families and say, “Hey, we are meeting at the park after church next week. Everyone is bringing their own lunch. We are going to let the kids play and we are going to watch them from a safe distance while we talk and catch up on life.”
What’s super easy is to announce to your Sunday School class that next week you’re going to meet at a restaurant with an outdoor play place so the kids can eat their grilled cheese and then run like monkeys while the grown ups share an iced tea or beer and share a few highlights from their week.
Fellowship doesn’t have to be hard. It doesn’t have to involve a petting zoo. Fellowship can be for the whole church or neighborhood or just a handful of families and friends. Fellowship doesn’t have to be programmed to the max and have a photo booth (although a photo booth will bring outrageous laughter) but instead can be easy and thrown together. It doesn’t have to have a semi-professional cooking crew or even a potluck lunch but could be bologna sandwiches with Pringles on the side. Fellowship is good for the soul and calming to the mind. It’s good for the body of Christ to sit down and get to know each other. So grab a basket, throw some fruit and crackers in it and call some friends. Head to the park. Go to someones back yard. Pop a beverage, put your phone away, and look someone in the eye. It’s called fellowship and we can bring it back.
Letting Go of Homemaker Perfection
I’m not a full time homemaker but it certainly is a very large piece of my life as a wife and mother. I have spent a lot of hours in frustration because I wanted to be perfect at homemaking. I wanted every room to be clean and tidy. I wanted the laundry to smell fresh and be free of wrinkles. I wanted every meal to appear as if the photographers from Martha Stewart Living had just left my kitchen only moments before.
The problem with equating homemaking to perfection is that it exhausts you to no end. The laundry will never be done at my house. Never. Unless my family decides to convert to nudism for a weekend so I can get all caught up then it simply won’t ever be a real thing. I can keep fairly current on a good week but it won’t ever be complete. I’ve made peace with that.
My house will never be perfectly clean in every corner. I gave myself some grace a few years back and hired a cleaning team that comes to visit twice a month. I love them with my whole heart because they can do magic with a broom and some bleach. They come while I’m at work and I try to never come home while they are there because I don’t want to break their spell. I do without a few other things so I can ensure that I will always be able to pay them. But even with all of their loveliness, there are still areas of my house that harbor dirt. My horse dog sheds profusely and no matter how much you sweep, vacuum, or dust, his hair will find a way to remain stuck to a curtain or pillow somewhere.
I love to cook but the idea of picture perfect meals is simply not a reality. I’m working hard to be more prepared for meals and evening time in general (See some tips here.) but it doesn’t always look the way I want it to. Even on the weeks when my meals are planned, prepped, and ready to go, someone in my family decides that they don’t have a taste for cauliflower or beans or whatever my delectable side is, and my meal is no longer a success. Sometimes homework is extra trying and math spills all over the table while we down our pork chops. Every now and again the husband gets tied up in a last minute meeting at work and the kids and I are so ravished that we eat without him. Dinner time is not always like the cover of a magazine.
What I am learning, however, is that making a house a home is about creating a space where
everyone can be authentic. It’s about allowing time for peace to settle. It’s making space for grace to flood into all the crevices so that love can bloom out of the hard places. It looks like a pretty flower that pops up in the middle of a sidewalk. It doesn’t happen with magic. It happens when a seed is planted. I haven’t mastered it yet but I’ve seen glimpses of it and I know that the beauty can be so grand that I want to keep at it. I want to be a blessing to my family in the time I have them. I want to keep tossing seeds of hope all over the place and see where the beauty pops up. I may never be a Pinterest worthy homemaker but I want to be a one who makes sure the love of Jesus is evident in her home.
Busy Doesn’t Make You Good
I’ve been talking a lot lately about slowing down. It’s been at the front of my mind for many months and therefore, has been at the front of most of my conversations. I’m learning, for myself, to say no more often and hoping to inspire others to do the same. God created the heavens and the earth and all that went in them and rested before moving on to building relationship with creation. It’s a good lesson, really. How can I expect to build good relationships with others if I’m exhausted? God didn’t do it so why would I even try?
I’ve been quite taken back by the people I’ve encountered lately that see this as laziness or worse, have accused me of not being an involved parent. There are those that believe a “good” parent is one who is on every committee, goes to every function, knows all the names of all the other moms and lunches with them 8 days a week. Frankly I don’t have it in me. Nor do I have 8 days.
I’m not saying it’s wrong to be on the PTA or the planning committee of Scouts or dance or whatever organization your kids are a part of. The people that do the planning are amazing people full of organization and energy that I simply do not possess. I admire what they do and my kids reap the benefits of their hard work when it’s time for fall festivals, book fairs, and class picnics.
What I’m saying is wrong, however, is the need to do it all and the idea that you are only a good parent if you are juggling all the committee balls in the air. When we stretch ourselves so thin with our volunteering that we rarely have time to enjoy the people we are volunteering on behalf of our energy seems to go in vain. When we are angry and stressed over the commitments we’ve made on behalf of our children then how can we enjoy our children?
I want to help out at the school where possible. But I work full time so I can’t be there as much as I’d like. I’d like to serve on a committee here and there for the activities my kids join but I have to keep my motives in check. Am I helping because I want to make a difference or because it will make me look like a good mom? Is my volunteering something I can involve my kids in or is it something that is going to take me away from them? Do I want to build relationships with the other people of this organization? Is this where God is calling me to serve?
Sometimes saying no in one place allows me to offer a better yes somewhere else. Sometimes backing away from a few commitments gives me time to rest and give better effort and energy in a place where I might be needed even more. Jesus repeatedly set an example of stepping back from the crowd and resting in quite so he could be prepared for the next crowd. Work is good. Volunteering is good. God designed us to be people who work and are productive. The problem is when we don’t balance it out with time of rest. We do not become more righteous by filling our lives with busy.
What is God saying to you about slowing down?
Waiting for Bread
I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I have used the analogy of baking bread when talking about waiting on God. If I had a dollar for every time I could probably give up baking and just buy a couple loaves.
I’ve been baking a lot of bread lately…and with not a lot of success. I’m trying to make healthier choices for myself and for my family and decided that, since my kids take sandwiches several times a week in their lunch boxes, making bread at home would be a smart option. Not only can I control the ingredients but I get the benefit of slowing down, resting in the wait of the rising dough and slow baking process.
My friend Jamie gave me a recipe that she swears is fool-proof. She says she bakes a couple loaves a week and it’s super easy. It’s a throw-it-all-in kind of recipe and it really was easy. Except that my loaf turned out small. It was tasty and dense and cut nicely for sandwiches…if you like tiny, doll sized sandwiches.
I made it again, this time allowing extra rising time. It rose beautifully. But when I baked it it fell. So it was tasty and airy and it still cut nicely for sandwiches…if you like horse shoe shaped sandwiches. Jamie’s recipe might be fool-proof but it is clearly not Tamara-proof.
Last night I pulled out my Cooking Bible from Paula Deen and made old-fashioned white bread. Y’all there truly is something to putting your hands in the dough and kneading it into a smooth ball. I closed my eyes and wondered if that is what God felt when he reached into the earth and pulled out a man. I may have wondered too long though and my kneading may have been over zealous. I made two of the most beautiful loaves you’ve ever laid eyes on but they were so dense and heavy. I sliced an end off while the bread was still steaming and spread a very thin layer of butter on it. It melted instantly into the tiny pores just before I put it in my mouth. “Is this what heaven tastes like?” I wondered to myself. It was so delicious I almost shed a tear but I knew in my gut that as this bread cooled it would turn heavier and heavier. This morning my beautiful loaves could be used in a drive by to throw through someone’s window. They were as hard as bricks.
I’m not giving up in my bread quest. I will find the perfect recipe that works in Houston’s fall humidity and doesn’t mind my temperamental oven. I will find the instructions that are easy to follow and understand and don’t require me to take a day off work to fit all the steps in.
In the meantime I will continue to refer to bread making when I talk about waiting on the Lord. The analogy still holds true. And just like my oven cooks differently from my friend Jamie’s,God’s timing is rarely my own. His plan often looks totally different from mine so even when I follow the recipe, my bread might not be as tall or fluffy or brown. The instructions he gives someone else for their life might be different from what he’s calling me to do. I may need a whole new recipe. And a new oven. But that’s a different analogy for a different post on a different day.