has a gift, and you can too

For the past 4 weeks or so, I've been carrying a present into the Sunday school class that I teach. I teach an all-ladies Sunday school class. There are no age requirements; no status requirement other than you must have XX chromosomes. We have ladies in there who are in their twenties and starting careers to ladies who are close to retiring and some who want to retire. I have some ladies who have never been married, some going through divorce, some who are widows, and some who are cancer survivors. In general, there are some amazing women in this class. But even as amazing as they are many of them have been walking around for years carrying an unopened present, and what's more is they are carrying around the PERFECT gift UNOPENED.

This next Sunday they have been preparing a list of events in their lives and have been working on ways to introduce God and how He worked it all out for their good, so that when the opportunity arises they will be prepared to give an answer for the hope that is in them (1 Peter). They are going to be stretched the Sunday outside their comfort zone. As I explained to them, when you prepare your answer you don't have to give all the dirt. What you have to give is enough to let the other woman know that you can connect to what she is going through and what she is feeling. Once the connection is made then you move forward focusing on God's hand in it all. Truth is, sometimes we don't see God's hand until we look back.

Then the Sunday after that I'm going to be teaching on spiritual gifts. I'm excited about it. They are going to start carrying around small, wrapped gifts, and when they are asked about them they are to respond it is their spiritual gift. It is to start conversations and open doors. I want women especially to be excited about their spiritual gift(s). We will cover it for about 4 weeks before they take the test, and then we are going to have people who exercise their gift inside the body of Christ come in and talk about the strengths and weaknesses of each gift. I want these ladies to identify with someone else and connect with someone else with a similar giftedness. You see, I never knew anyone with my spiritual gift. It wasn't taught about it at all. It wasn't until some friends of mine had a horrific accident that I heard of another person sharing my gift. I confess I asked God to take it away from me – How vain is that? How self-centered is that? How immature was that? If I had just been educated, disciple or mentored in it maybe I would have understood and appreciated it more.

When we are serving in our giftedness, we are energized. When we are serving outside of our giftedness because of whatever reason, we become exhausted, discouraged and even depressed. Our giftedness is not of our own doing. It is a grace gift from the Lover of my soul and your soul knowing our strengths and weaknesses and how He wants to use us to better and further His kingdom, His agenda. How humbling is that? He wants to use me.

My goal is to blog as we go along this study, and I hope you are encouraged to seek out your spiritual gift, discover what God wants you to do with it, and then obey (submit).

I hope you'll come along with my class. I'd love your feedback, and I'd covet your prayers even more.

Pearce turns white!

I have one of the most beautiful little boys on the face of the planet. I know I am biased, but sometimes, honestly, it is his saving grace that allows him to make it to the next day. Last night while he was taking his bath, he had lathered the soap on his hands and fingers and had reapplied to his arms several times. Then it dawned on him, "I'm turning white! That's not in the book! I'm not supposed to turn white!" I was so startled by his comment that I was trying to formulate some answer, but what answer could I possibly come up with for my Hispanic son who was adopted by two VERY critically Caucasian parents? Some might even say pigment challenged. Then he looked up with those big black eyes, grinned and said, "I'm kidding. I'm not really turning white." He rolled on his tummy to rinse off. Where in the world does he come up with this stuff? Normally I'm pretty good at staying ahead of him, but this one came out of nowhere.What do you do when something comes out of nowhere that requires a response? I was trying to gather my wits, and in a split second I was formulating my thoughts on how God made us all different. Then I had thought I'd go over his adoption story with him and how I know that God had his path chosen before he was born, and that his path was to lead to me. Can you believe all that went through my head? When in reality, he didn't need my insight or wisdom after all. Maybe instead of trying to fix every problem, make everything better, and do all the things I think I should do…maybe I should wait. The Bible says those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength. Lord knows I need all my strength with my boy. Maybe I should wait to see how my children process it and help them figure it out in their own way because I may make more of a problem than what was originally there!
Lord, give me wisdom!

Knows I have no rear-end because daddy spanked it off

Day 14 of our Daniel's Fast, and what have I learned?

There are some things that never change…at least they don't change without the strength and courage that only God can afford.

My mom likes to tell people about when I was a baby I refused bedtime. As soon as I heard it was bedtime, I would begin to run up and down the hall back and forth until I would pass out from sheer exhaustion. When I was in elementary, my dad told me to apologize to my mom…for what I don't remember. So, he bent me over and spanked me. He stood me up, told me to apologize, and I was crying – I REFUSED! He bent me back over and spanked me three more times. Standing back up, I was told to apologize to my mom. I said, "No, sir." I'm crying. She's crying. He bent me back over, spanked me three more times, and stood me up. I'm crying. She's crying. He's crying. "Apologize to your mother." "I'm sorry!" I blurted out and ran to my room. I was spanked so often daddy use to tell people I didn't have a rear-end because he beat it off of me.

My issue. My stubbornness. My unwillingness to SUBMIT. Submit to my parents. Submit to my God.

Recently, my mom came into my Sunday school class and taught five Sundays on submission. FIVE SUNDAYS! Apparently, I'm not the only one with the issue of submission. It is one thing to hear about submission from a man, a preacher, but it is another thing to receive it from a godly, growing Christian, lady. So, I wrestled with my issue of submission and thought I had it licked, but last Sunday Pastor Rick preached on strongholds…it was still there. That very morning, I had not submitted to my husband…a shock I know. I was supposed to have kept my mouth shut and let God handle it, but I didn't. So, I had to apologize to Patrick for what I said and when I said it. Then I had to submit to God's will for my life. As a result of this act of submitting and surrendering my will, I will be starting seminary this summer to obtain two women's ministry certificates and my MACE – Master in Arts in Christian Education.

This past week in addition to doing the Daniel's fast, I fasted my laptop. During this time, God showed me that when I use it to minister and reach out to others for His purpose, then it is a good investment of my time. Then He allowed me to see that I would have time to study for my Master's if I limited that use to ministering and reaching out. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. God has a plan for me. He has ordained my footsteps, but it is a choice whether or not I choose to submit. And I choose to submit. I covet any and all prayers, and I pray that if you are doing this fast that you will post what God is doing in your life so His light might shine through you.

Contemplates Differences (More than one way to skin a cat.)

If you've read any of my previous blogs you know just how different my parents are. My mom is a classy lady who is put together and organized. My daddy…not so much. Occasionally, mom would leave my sister and me in the care, custody, and control of our father. Now when daddy disciplined, he disciplined from his choleric side which was big enough to make a lasting impression if you know what I mean. Other than that, he is completely sanguine. Lori and I would often complain to him that the way he was doing things was all wrong. Why? Because he wasn't doing it mom's way which was after all the only way. Mom never procrastinated. Daddy could wing almost anything. Mom had a calm appearance but was most likely paddling like crazy beneath the surface. Daddy would be swimming in figure eights just because it was fun and because he got someone to follow him. Mom was steady as you go, and daddy seemed to burst forth at the most unexpected times with spontaneity. And Lori and I thought all of this was normal…actually, we just thought mom was normal. Mom had her coupons and paperwork neat, tidy and in alphabetical order. Daddy had mounds of paper on his desk, but if you asked him for something, most of the time he could find it.

Variety is the spice of life, isn't it? Normally, I quite enjoy variety and spontaneity…until it comes to my house, my kids, my life, etc. My husband is very laid back and is the youngest sibling. I am very choleric that has mellowed a lot over the years and have had some of the edges knocked off. I am also the oldest of two. Over the past year, God has been teaching me to accept our differences, to keep my mouth shut, to be appreciative of things when Patrick does something, and to allow the differences is exist in our home. It has not been pretty. It has not been fun for me, but I know it's what I need to do in order to grow. After all, as my daddy says, "There is more than one way to skin a cat." (That's really rather gross, isn't it?) I am by no means to the point of just accepting things and rolling with it, but I have come a long way especially since we were first married.

When Patrick and I were first married I was extremely type A. All of my bowls were stacked neatly as well as the lids. My pantry was organized to where I could take a quick glance to see if I was low in some vegetable by looking in its spot. My underwear was perfectly folded and neatly placed in the drawer. I had no dust bunnies. This drove my poor husband INSANE! So, he did his best to drive me crazy. The Tupperware bowls that were above the sink were completely out of sequence and thrown into the cabinet and since I was the next one to open the door, I ended up wearing them on my head! There are still differences, but my mom has assured me that most couples meet somewhere in the middle after being married for a certain period of time. (I can't wait for the period of time, by the way!)

God has created us all differently. We have different talents, gifts, strengths, and abilities. To expect our spouses, friends or children to do things like we do is not necessarily realistic, but sometimes it's the hardest to accept differences within our own family. It's easy for me to accept the difference someone might have at work or at church. I can be quite accepting of the different temperaments and gifts, but for some reason, I expect my children to fall in line. How absurd is that? My children while adopted are so similar to Patrick and I it's not even funny, but regardless of how similar they are, they are still different. I want to be more accepting of their differences this year. I want to parent them in their differences, praise them for their individual strengths, and encourage their creativity and gifts which means I have to loosen the reigns in an area or two. To find what works for one child is a challenge because when I figure it out the child moves on to a different stage. To discover and to stay on track for two children is tiring and difficult, but this is what I want to do. Because in order for my children to accept differences in others they need to feel accepted for their differences in our home.

We serve a creative God, an ingenious God. We also serve a God who has a sense of humor.

Thank you, Lord, for not making a vanilla world with all vanilla people! Help me to enjoy the spice of life that lives in my own home this year.

Is hanging on by my toes

Considering some of my friends need some humor this holiday season, I'd like to contribute a story from my daddy's red-necked past.

 

My daddy's mom was the meekest person I have ever known on the face of the planet. Had I not known grandma I would not know what meek meant. How she remained meek while raising 3 knot-headed, red-necked, trouble-making boys, I'll never know. My grandma was vertically challenged and portly, maybe even fluffy, but she was always so neat and clean. Daddy was a skinny, gangly runt with his dark hair slicked back.

Now when my daddy was in high school his daddy gave him an old, Nash Rambler. Nothing like the one pictured here. Because by old, I mean a rust-bucket that would back-fire. As a matter of fact, the brakes had to be pumped over and over, and he had to pray they would stop in time. It was old when daddy got it, but it didn't get any better. In order to open the door to this jewel, daddy had to put his foot on the car to yank open the door. When the person was seated, he would have to rare back and slam it shut, but that didn't mean it stayed shut. (Must not have had duct tape back then.)
 One day when daddy was a junior or senior in high school, he went to pick up grandma from her sister's house. He yanked the door open, got grandma settled and slammed the door. Once in the driver's position, he told grandma whatever she did "DON'T LEAN ON THE DOOR." With that being said, he backed out of the driveway and began driving home. He made a right turn off the street which was perfectly fine because his elbow was hooked on the arm rest, so it wouldn't fly open. Then he made a left turn. After completing the turn, he looked over at grandma and SHE WAS GONE! Her feet were hooked under the dash and her torso was hanging out of the car. He pulled over and laughing he helped her up reminding her not to lean on the door. Her rolled hair and make-up nicely applied was a mere memory for the brief spin had sense waves of wind through her freshly curled hair. She did not see the humor in any of it whatsoever, but of course, daddy did. To hear him tell it you would have tears running down your face.

I don't know about you, but this season, I've been holding on by my toes. I didn't plan anything extra. I turned things down, and yet life still about ran me over. The unpredictable happens. The predictable happens. Life happens. I challenge you to find the humor. Sometimes it's harder than others, but search for those pearls. Maybe you need to make a phone call to a friend you haven't seen in a long time and start telling about the funny things you did in your youth or maybe it's calling a storyteller who you know will get you to laughing in no time. I find when I laugh it relieves the weight on my shoulders even if it is momentary.
 Grandma is in heaven this Christmas. If she doesn't get sainthood (and we aren't Catholic), then I don't know who qualifies!

I wish you all a Merry Christmas.

Mary was a Momma

My son is 5 years old, and during this holiday season, I wonder when Mary was raising Jesus and she would look into His face, what did she wonder? What did she think? She didn't know what He was there to do. She didn't know the kind of end He would come to. She just knew that He was her baby boy. When He went into gales of laughter, she didn't see His purpose in life. She saw her baby boy. When He had nightmares or skinned His knee, she didn't see a Savior. She saw her boy. When she had to discipline Him, did she keep in mind He was God's son or did she just know He had to be brought into line…or did she have to discipline Him at all? The children she had after Him – would she compare them to Him? Mary was his momma.
Mary was a mom. If you are a mom, you know what that means. You know what it's like to hold that baby, to kiss those sweet cheeks. She was a momma responsible for raising a Savior. We think we have a daunting job raising God-loving kids today? Think about raising the Son of God. Ya'll, she was a young mom loving her baby not knowing she was raising a sacrifice, our sacrifice. I'm sorry, ya'll, but if I thought for one minute I would have to sacrifice my son or my daughter I would go on the run. You would see a side of me that you would consider dangerous. But God was gracious to Mary. He gave her what she needed when she needed it. The Bible said she pondered things in her heart. That was that momma's intuition. God was giving her glimpses to prepare her. He gives us what we need when we need it. He is gracious to us as we raise our children. He gives us glimpses and that momma's intuition to prepare us when we need it.

God knows what we can handle when we can handle it. He knew what Mary could manage and what would be too much. God is gracious that way. I don't know what my son or my daughter will go through in their lives. I don't know the struggles or difficulties they will have. I don't know who they will marry or if they will marry. If I knew what was around the corner, I would do my best to protect them and prevent them from ever being harmed or hurt, I would move heaven and earth to keep them safe. I am fierce about my kids. But by knowing what is ahead and protecting them from it, I would prevent them from growing and would limit their depth. Sometimes we have to place our children safely into the hands of the Almighty knowing that He loves them more and wants only the best for them. I feared putting my firstborn Erin into God's hand for fear that He would take her home to be with Him. But then I realized He would do whatever He needed to do, and I couldn't stop Him. By choosing to put her into God's hands, I chose to trust Him, and I acknowledge that He could take care of her better than I could. He could love her better than I could. Not only does He want the best, but He knows what is best even if it means that we or our children have to go through the hard and difficult times.

Just like we can't see what is going to happen in our own lives or the lives of our children, we have to choose to savor every minute we have with those we love. Mary just had to love and cherish the baby she held. She kissed those sweet cheeks and held Him to her. She held the Savior of the world in her arms and in her heart which is where we need to carry Him every day. It is so easy to love a sweet baby. Remember this season, that our salvation, the road to our redemption began with the birth of a baby to a momma named Mary. Put yourself in her shoes. Look at your children through her eyes the way she looked at her baby boy. Then remember the sacrifice her baby boy grew up to accomplish. My guess is Mary may have thought she couldn't handle seeing her baby boy now grown man hanging on a cross. The grief, the overwhelming grief she must have experienced, but God did not abandon that momma. He was with her every step of the way. There are some mommas who are grieving this season for a child who is lost, for a child who has died. My heart goes out to you. May the God of peace comfort you.

I know this seems as if I'm rambling, but I'm just writing down what comes to my heart and mind. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart – not then and not now. Cherish every day. Ponder things in your heart. Seek Christ first. Trust God with your loves. Merry Christmas.

Busy, busy, busy

Shopping for Christmas presents, picking up the children from school, going to events after school, and then there are the parties for school, church and work. To top it all off, I've received a new computer program that does some link analysis that I'll be doing for my whole unit; I'm working my desk and a coworker's desk; plus I've been handed a project that is going on three decades involving three different families that are now converging into one. I have practiced using the word "no." AND I didn't schedule a lot of parties. As a matter of fact, I backed out of some, but it doesn't seem to matter – more things are getting dumped in my lap at the end of this year. How does that happen?

The good thing is my time is in God's hands. My footsteps have been ordained if I will just walk in them. My focus remains clear. I just need to stay focused. It is okay if some things don't get done. People won't die. My friends won't disown me. Mass hysteria will not ensue. Riots will not take over on every front. Life will go on, and I will live to face another shopping season. BUT what impression have I left on people for this season. Have I shown them I know who is important that I know whose I am? Have I used gracious speech and exercise loving kindness? When someone assists me, did I acknowledge them and looked them in the face? Was I patient realizing the person behind the counter was another one of God's children? Because when all is said and done, what happens to me in this temporal moment doesn't compare to how I have treated others especially during this season when I should be reflecting my Father's disposition the most.

I encourage you to limit your coming and goings as much as possible. It's okay to say "No, thank you. We can't." I encourage you to breathe in through your nose and out with your mouth in big, deep breaths and see, acknowledge those around you. I encourage you to remember this is temporary -- the stress and fatigue you are feeling, but your witness may be what affects someone's life the most.

Keep your chin up. Keep your tiara in its place remembering your represent your Father.