And the winners are....

Congratulations to Mary Kelso and Danielle Miller!  My lovely daughter, Amy, drew your names for our giveaway!  I'll get your CaringKids Chore Cards this week! 

Thanks to everyone for entering!  More giveaways coming soon!

A New Voice: Eve's Story - Part 2

Today's blog is Part 2 by a guest blogger. In several weeks, she will reveal her true identity, but for now, we're calling her Eve.  If you missed If They Only Knew: Eve's Story Part 1, be sure to go back and read it before continuing on with today's story.

If you know of women who are struggling with forgiving themselves for mistakes in their past, please lead them to this story.  Eve's story is one of years of pain, but ultimately a life of joy, peace and redemption!  You won't want to miss it!

A New Voice

           

“What a Beautiful day!”  I thought to myself.  I slowed my pace as I walked across school grounds that early spring day.  Scanning the campus, I can’t help but feel as though I’m alone in a crowd.   Students rush past me… busy, busy.   Everyone has somewhere to go - their next class, to meet a friend at the coffee shop or back to the dorms to sleep off last night’s party. 

 

It’s times like these when I feel so alone and my mind starts to wander.  The voices in my head begin their battle for my attention and I wish it would stop!  One voice is saying all the right things – the things I deserve to hear,  “Murderer!  You think you’ve fooled everyone, but what if people really knew who the real Eve Newman is?  Murderer… murderer… murderer!”    I shake my head to stop the internal noise and take a deep breath.  Every condemning word the voice said was true and I claimed those words for myself. 

 

Yet, somewhere deep inside, somewhere in the depths of my soul, that is if I still have a soul, a still small voice kept whispering… calling to me really, “Eve.  Eve.  I AM here.”  Tears fill my eyes as I’m drawn towards to warmth and light in the Voice, “Eve, I love you.”   

 

“Who are these voices,” I wonder.  “And why does the One seem to “feel” for me?  It must to be my self-pity,” I tell myself and with renewed determination to control my thoughts, I tell myself it “has to stop”.

 

I don’t deserve to feel pity.  Even from myself.  “Suck it up, Eve,” I quickly climb the stairs of my dorm building, “you’re just gonna have to live with what you’ve done!”

 

*******

 

I’m really going to miss my roommate, Joanna, when summer break gets here - I feel so drawn to her sweet spirit.  There’s something different about Joanna though.  I’ve never known anyone who reads their Bible almost every day and prays before she eats – even in the packed cafeteria.  She’s so real and beautiful in every way. 

 

I try not to be weird about it and freak her out, but there’s something about her I can’t get enough of.  Sometimes, I’ll lie in my bunk and just watch her.  I can’t help but envy the joy and light that seems to seep out of her! 

 

Even today, I chuckle when I remember the first time she asked me if I wanted to go to church with her on a Sunday morning.  “Wouldn’t that be funny?”  My voice was dripping with sarcasm, "The building would probably catch fire the moment I step foot in the parking lot!” 

 

Joanna’s eyes were full of a sweet, sincere love as she put her arm around me,   “Evie, God love us all, no matter what we’ve done!”   The words hung like a gift in the air between us, begging me to claim it for my own, but I surprised even myself with my loud hysterical laughter.  If she only knew what I had done, she wouldn't be saying that. 

 

“I’m serious, Eve!”  Joanna refused to back down.

 

“Oh, Joanna, I love you!”  Her kindness melted my heart, “you are so sweet! 

 

"Eve,” Joanna’s voice became soft… comforting really, “have you ever asked God to come into your life?" 

 

The sick feeling I have become all too familiar with crawls up my spine, “I don’t deserve Him, Joanna,” I simply state. 

 

I jerked my head up surprised now by her laughter.  Seemingly unfazed at my explanation of how God felt about Eve Newman, Joanna turned to grab her purse, “Eve, come with me tonight to Campus Crusades.” 

 

“What’s that?” I ask.

 

“Campus Crusades for Christ is like church for college kids - kids who want to worship and follow Jesus.”

 

“Yikes,” I think and quickly shake my head, "I can’t.  I have to study." 

 

Joanna stood in the door for a moment, “Ok,” she relents, “but I’m gonna pray for you today, Eve!” 

 

I grin at her, "Be careful, that could be dangerous!”  I turn and stare out the dorm window.   Tulips were blooming in a garden across the street, a startling reminder that my baby would have been nearly 2 years old by now.   I wondered if it was a boy or a girl.  Somehow I feel in my heart it was a girl.  

 

I rubbed my hands on my jeans and looked away.  I had to corral my thoughts!  Going “there” was never good.  I was a horrible person and deserved nothing good!  Joanna’s voice startles me as she closes the door, “You’ll see, Eve!  One day you’ll see!  God loves even you!”

 

The relief I find from hiding the real me from Joanna once again is short lived by the ever present sorrow in my heart, "Oh, if only.  If only I hadn't... if only I'd never done this, or done that,” I bury my head in my hands, “if she only knew!"  

 

The still, small Voice inside prods me to go with her, but I know I can’t.  Just a short time ago I would have gone with her in a heartbeat.  Flopping back on my bed, I sighed.  Oh how I long to have the old me back.  The “me” that didn’t have a care in the world.  The happy-go-lucky girl that laughed all the time.  The me that had dreams and loved to sing.  I have no voice or reason to sing now it seems.

 

Where had the laughter and joy gone?  I picked at a loose string on the red quilt my mom had bought me as a graduation present.  Just where the joy and laughter had gone was really no mystery to me at all.  It had died along with the best of me… and my baby. 

 

In the silence of my dorm room, the dark moments of that summer came over me like a flood.  This time I gave in and allow the memories to take me back to that day. 

 

It was a hot, I remember, a beautiful summer morning.  Even now, I could still picture Jimmy’s smug face that August day when he pulled into the driveway.  Opening the passenger window, he called out, “Let’s go!”   I remembered the mixture of terror and excitement pulsing through my veins as I jumped into his car.  Our plans were to do some shopping and grab some lunch - or so I thought.  I had another goal though.  This day out together would be a great chance for us to discuss “the problem”.

 

Little did I know, Jimmy had ulterior motives as well!

 

I was quiet as Jim put a CD in the player.  I’ll never forget the annoying rock song he was playing as we sped out onto the highway.  I smiled nervously, “So… how do we do this?”  Hoping to see some excitement come from him.

 

“Do what, Eve?” I swung my head to look at him in surprise.

 

"How do we tell our parents?" I didn’t hide how shocked I was that he felt the need to ask what I was talking about.  

 

Jim kept his eyes steadily on the road and simply said, "We don’t." 

 

“What do you mean, Jim?”  My heart was pounding.  "Look Eve, do this for me, ok?"  He chucks a white envelope onto my lap and cash spills out.  

 

“What’s this for?” I dreaded to hear the answer.

 

"Come on, babe,” he softens a bit, but keeps looking forward.  “I’ll be the first one in my family to ever to go college.  I don’t want to keep working at a gas station all my life!  Having a kid would ruin that dream!”  He paused to let it sink in for a moment, then went on, “And think how devastated your parents would be if they found out how you messed up big time.”  I mentally cringed at the thought of seeing the disappointment on my mom and dad’s faces. 

 

Jim continued, “They won’t understand, and besides you want to go off to State with me, right?  Or do you want to wait tables the rest of your life?"  His words feel a knife in my heart and I start gasping for breath. 

 

“Stop the car!” I say through clenched teeth. 

 

Ignoring my plea, Jim keeps talking as calmly as if we’re discussing the weather, "its all set up for ya, babe. Just go in and do it and we’ll never talk about it again.”  He sounds pleased with his plan to take care of our “problem”.  His smile remains smugly on his face, “Do this and things will still be perfect for us." 

 

The interior of the car reeked from the smell of weed .  Desperate now, my voice raised to a level I wasn’t accustomed to, “Pull over now, Jim!  I’m going to throw up!”   

 

Jim realized how serious I was and quickly jerked his car to the side of the road.  As I leaned out the door, retching into the gravel, I looked up out across the grassy field along the highway.  “RUN!”  I hear a voice pounding in my head, “RUN!” 

 

Instead, I shut the door and look at him, "You can’t be serious?"  My voice is nearly a whisper.  He looks at me with disgust that I had just vomited, little did he know or care it was the words coming from his mouth that made me sick.

 

"What’s the big deal?”  Jim seems annoyed at my emotion.  “People do it all the time!”

 

“What’s… what’s the big… deal?”  My voice is high pitched and shaking.  I stare out the window… numb.  "Why?  Why didn’t you tell me about this before we left?”  I hold the envelope up in his face.  I feel cold and angry all over – and it’s evident. 

 

“Because!”  Jim’s demeanor is changing before my eyes, “I knew you wouldn’t go!   This is not something Eve Newman would ever do.”  I am startled at the sneer on Jim’s face and the sarcasm dripping from his tongue. 

 

“Sleeping with you should have been one of those things too!”  I mutter under my breath.  I sit staring at the cash in my lap.  Suddenly, I am so repulsed by Jim; I wish I had never met him.  He calmly lights a cigarette as we ease off the highway and for the first time in my life I feel hatred. 

 

I sit listless and broken the last miles of the trip, my mind spinning at the sudden turn of events.  Jimmy turns the car down a long drive behind a large office building.  The scene before me would embed itself in my soul.  There on the sidewalk stood several people.  They walked back and forth holding signs and I felt like a baseball bat had just hit me across the face. 

 

A buzzing sound filled my senses and all I could focus on was one large red sign.  Its letters were orange, curving upwards to look like the flames of hell itself.  The message in those flames left no question in my mind of my destiny, and those three words would follow me into that clinic, to college, and everywhere I went for years to come.

 

Three words that changed my life for a long, long time.

 

“GOD HATES YOU”.

 

TO BE CONTINUED…

A Giveaway!

Everybody loves a giveaway, right?  I've been wanting to do one for a while, and finally decided it was time! 

With summer vacation coming up, I know you moms out there may be wondering how to keep those kiddos busy!   Sooo...  I'm giving away not ONE, but TWO packets of the CaringKids Chore Cards to TWO happy winners!  If you're not a mom, these will make a great gift to the kids in your life! 

To enter, simply comment below or you can inbox me or comment on the Facebook link that may have led you here.

I'll enter your name TWICE if you also suggest this blog on Facebook or Twitter (just let me know if you do).

I'm so excited about my Monday guest blogger, "Eve", and the story she has to tell.  Today we were editing Monday's story and let me tell ya, Monday can't come fast enough!  Through the next several weeks, you'll hear a story of heartbreak, sorrow and, ultimately, peace and redemption!

Please join me in spreading the word about Eve's Story - I would love for as many women as possible to hear about her journey.

The giveaway goes from now until Monday, May 30th, at 9:00 AM!

Chasing Balloons

One of the things many women ask me about is how I stay organized.  I don’t for a second think I have mastered this to a tee, but I love trying new ways to help our home run smoothly and decided you might enjoy getting in on the discussion with me.

My goal is to blog each week (Wednesdays) about different areas of home life – ways to organize, cleaning tips, parenting, etc.  I welcome your comments, ideas, etc.  This mothering thing isn’t a one-size-fits-all answer, but encouraging one another in it is vital! The best part about caring for your home and family – you’ll always find some new idea to try!  If it works for your family – great!  If not, try something else! 

There’s always room for improvement in the area of organization, but I do enjoy a clean, orderly home, and it’s not by my own doing.  My mom handed her work ethic down to me and it’s one of the best gifts she gave me.  At 52 her age, she still can out work me sometimes!    

As a young wife, I learned invaluable lessons by reading Emilie Barnes myriad of books – she is my hero, and more recently discovered a little book called “The Treasure of Careful Planning” by Donna Kauffman.  I in no way want to take away from what these women have taught me through their writing, so I would encourage you to buy their books!  They are full of wonderful ideas – and much more extensive than what I have here!

So, here goes…

Why Organize?

It was the first day of school, the kids were excited, backpacks packed, teeth brushed, clean sneakers poking out under new shorts and T-shirts.  Tim was home and taking the kids to school was going to be a family affair.  Kobe would be my only child left at home all day, and I always imagined I'd be clicking my heels on our way home from school.

But looking at my kids that morning, I began to experience unexpected moisture in  my eyes, a strange lump in my throat, and difficulty smiling and I was shocked!  I’ve always been an eye-roller at the too-often heard, “enjoy them while they’re young” kind of stuff.  Those older women must have lost their minds when raising their kids if they couldn’t remember how slowly the days of teething, potty training, and never-wear-black-cause-it-shows-snot-streaks-on-your-shoulder creeped by!  I had been a responsible, devoted mother of four for eleven years.  The light at the end of the tunnel was getting lighter and I thought I’d be giddy! 

But I wasn’t.

The kids ran outside that morning to climb into the van.  Kobe was holding a helium balloon, and (of course) it got away.  Cue the wailing voices!  I saw the balloon skirt across the lawn slowly, the helium already having lost most of its power, so I was sure a few quick steps and I’d easily capture it.   

In my mind’s eye, I could already see the look on Kobe’s face, “Dude, my mom is like, so cool!”  I wanted to be like, so cool, so I ran quickly towards the balloon, but that crazy thing kept floating further and further away, always just out of my grasp.  It was so… so close I was sure I’d be able to get it.  I kept running, arms outstretched, Tim was yelling to “let it go” but I could still hear Kobe crying and I was more determined to be his hero!

So I ran.  I ran as hard and as fast as I could across the lawn and into the field.   I jumped rows of beans, sank deep into the dirt – even lost my shoes.  Finally, I stopped.  The balloon hung in mid-air for a moment then slowly floated away.  I had to let it go.  I turned around, hot, sweaty and dirty to see my kids and Tim standing up by the barn looking at me.  I felt like I had failed them somehow.  And that’s when it hit me.

“Nice.  Good timing there, God!”  Always love a great illustration when I’m not in the mood!  But He was right in what He was showing me.  They’re here – with me - for such a short time, and soon, there will be nothing I can do, but watch them go off into the world.  It made me ask myself, am I doing all I can to enjoy the moments I have with them?  I certainly don’t want to be standing at a distance someday feeling like I wasn’t the mother and wife I could’ve, should’ve, would’ve been if…

On days when I wonder why I bother with all my lists, plans and goals, I remember that moment in the bean field.  I do it for them!  My family is one of my greatest passions and purposes on this planet and I aim to do my job well. 

In the coming weeks, I hope you’ll join me in exploring new and old ways to serve our families more efficiently – which ultimately, gives us more free moments to enjoy with them!

Portraits of Redemption: David

I knew I had to do it.  From the very beginning of this series, I believed in my heart that David was part of the story.  So why it was taking so long to write his chapter was beyond me. 

I’d sit down tell the story of David - how he should have been on the battlefield with his men instead of committing adultery with Bathsheba… the fact that he was a leader – a King… the ironic coincidence that he was called a man after God’s own heart – still he failed. 

But I couldn’t do it!

David knew better, I’d argue!  He had all these credentials, and failed everyone (and God) miserably!  That alone confused… and intrigued me at the same time.  To be honest, it angered me, too!

I knew how after starting the affair with Bathsheba, David went on to murder her husband – another attempt to hide what he’d done.  But one day, Nathan the prophet knocked on his door.  It was only then that David fessed up to his wrongdoings.

I can only imagine the headlines that created!  Or worse yet, the jokes about King David all over talk radio!  Our society today thrives on the sins of another.  Just look at the spin the Ted Haggard story created… or Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart.  Take it to the political scene and you’ve got an endless supply of stories.  Lists and lists of people who “knew better” and still they failed!    

Now, I’m a strong believer in justice!  I see things in black and white.  Grace and mercy are not always the easiest gifts for me to grant those who have let me down time and time again – especially those who “knew better”, and this time, I was siding with Nathan, David’s family, the palace cooks and the taxpayers in the villages.  They all had a right to be angry, hurt and disappointed. I could identify more easily with them than with a forgiving, redemptive God! 

Truth is, I’ve held an abundant dose of anger towards a “David” in my own life.  I felt I deserved the rights to this anger and I defended it with everything inside me!   My David had committed an injustice towards another when I was still a child… and it’s tormented me all these years.  I had watched from the sidelines for too long – my disgust growing more and more as I observed this person, who, like David, “knew better” but thought they could get away with it.

“Where’s the Nathan in my story?” I cried out to God.  The prophet had come and corrected David for his actions, and the heartfelt repentance (read his prayer below) David expressed would prove to anyone that he was sorry. 

Still, no “Nathans” were showing up to have a chat with my “David”.

Over time, I found a way to bury it deep within my heart until I convinced even myself that I felt nothing but apathy towards that person.  

But I discovered out how wrong I’ve been. 

The indifference I claimed to feel, was really a storm brewing deep in my soul.  Each time it threatened to rear its ugly head, I’ve shoved it deep inside – back where I thought it belonged. 

As humans, we find it easier to kick a man when he’s down.  The higher the pedestal from which he falls, the harder we kick. 

We seldom find any redeeming value in them.

But oh…

Oh, how He loves us!

Each one of us – whether we’re the Nathan, the Bathsheba… or the David in our life’s story.

I stood before God recently, a battle going on inside my soul.  He asked me to join Him in forgiving the David in my life – and I cried.

My heart said “no”, but my head knew it was what I must do.

God forgave David – a King of Israel… a man after God’s own heart… a man who failed even though he “knew better”.

Redemption is what God is all about.  If He was willing and able to redeem David after all he had done against God, could I see purpose in forgiving?  Carrying this burden would only cause me to sink into a pit of despair – giving it to God would relieve me from the weight.  I would be free from it!  Once again, I’d be walking on water!

So, I did.

And, I am!

I now knew why I’d been unable to write David’s story!  God showed me how He not only forgave David – He still had a purpose for him and Bathsheba.  They would eventually become the parents of King Solomon – a man full of wisdom and wealth who would go on to build the great Temple in Jerusalem.

Years later, their names would also be listed among the lineage of Jesus Christ, Himself.

God isn’t looking for perfect people.  David realized that.  In his prayer of repentance to God, he said,

“Going through the motions doesn't please you,
      a flawless performance is nothing to you.
   I learned God-worship
      when my pride was shattered.
   Heart-shattered lives ready for love

don't for a moment escape God's notice.”

How awesome to know, no matter who we are, what we’ve done, how far we’ve fallen, God longs to redeem us!

That, above all else, should give us hope!

David's Prayer

Psalm 51:

 ^1-3Generous in love—God, give grace! Huge in mercy—wipe out my bad record.
   Scrub away my guilt,
      soak out my sins in your laundry.
   I know how bad I've been;
      my sins are staring me down.

 ^4-6 You're the One I've violated, and you've seen
      it all, seen the full extent of my evil.
   You have all the facts before you;
      whatever you decide about me is fair.
   I've been out of step with you for a long time,
      in the wrong since before I was born.
   What you're after is truth from the inside out.
      Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life.

 ^7-15 Soak me in your laundry and I'll come out clean,
      scrub me and I'll have a snow-white life.
   Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
      set these once-broken bones to dancing.
   Don't look too close for blemishes,
      give me a clean bill of health.
   God, make a fresh start in me,
      shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
   Don't throw me out with the trash,
      or fail to breathe holiness in me.
   Bring me back from gray exile,
      put a fresh wind in my sails!
   Give me a job teaching rebels your ways
      so the lost can find their way home.
   Commute my death sentence, God, my salvation God,
      and I'll sing anthems to your life-giving ways.
   Unbutton my lips, dear God;
      I'll let loose with your praise.

 ^16-17 Going through the motions doesn't please you,
      a flawless performance is nothing to you.
   I learned God-worship
      when my pride was shattered.
   Heart-shattered lives ready for love
      don't for a moment escape God's notice.

If They Only Knew: Eve's Story Part 1

The Redemption Series I’ve been working on has given me an idea!  While the Bible is full of stories of redemption, there are so many of my friends who have told me their personal stories of redemption.  I can’t help but think that the world needs to hear it! 

So here’s the idea:  What’s your story?  We all have one!  I am opening up my blog on Monday’s for Modern Day Redemption Stories by guest bloggers.  I will continue to share what I am learning about redemption through Bible characters at other times, but I invite you to share how God has redeemed your life with us!

If you would be interested in becoming a guest blogger, contact me here.

My first guest blogger is by a woman I have admired for a long time!  Several months ago, she shared her story with me and I was in awe!  She has an incredible story and it will take several weeks to share it.  She’ll reveal her identity during the course of this series, but for now, we’ll call her Eve.

If They Only Knew

Part 1

The Voice in the Spotlight

            Oh what a grand day this is!  Homecoming, the most anticipated day of the school year, other than graduation. 

I’ve got it made, good enough grades, getting out of this small town and going off to college in the fall, a cool car, and my legs are so tan.  I’m sure I won’t be voted the queen, so I won’t have to worry about that pressure, but I really can’t wait to wear my awesome gold dress and go to the senior dance afterwards.  I love being a senior, but why do I have this heavy tugging inside that I can’t shake?

            I’m so lucky to have this chance to be homecoming queen, but really who would vote for me?  I guess I’m nice enough, I go out of my way to talk to the dorks in study hall and there was that time I stuck up for the weird kid in gym glass and asked him to be my running partner.  And there are always the outcast not so pretty girls at lunch I sit with once in a while.  

No, they can see right through me I’m sure.  Sometimes I’m positive my forehead lights up like a neon digital sign that flashes “murderer, murderer” on those occasions someone brings up “that” topic.  I’m sure they can see me go pale and then start sweating. 

“Oh well,” I remind myself, “I’ll leave for State soon and they’ll all forget me and I won’t have to pretend I’m so perfect.”

            As mom finishes zipping up my amazing long shiny gold dress and I turn around in the mirror, I feel my heart skip a beat!  I look great!  Why can't I feel great inside?   As my best friend Jenny puts more blush on my face I hug her and tell her it should be her going out there. 

She laughs and says, “Yeah right, I’d trip and besides you’re the one everyone loves.”

“Oh Jenny,” I say to myself, “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t lose my best friend, you just wouldn’t understand.”  

As we take some quick photos with the guy candidates, Jimmy walks up behind my mom and glares at me.  I know he wants to yell at me and hit Scotty who has his arm around me - poor guy can’t help it he’s my escort to go down the aisle in the gym. 

I suddenly feel like I’m going to throw up and hurry back to the dressing room to grab my water bottle. 

“Isn’t that dress a little too tight Eve?”  I knew he’d follow me, but I didn’t want to risk throwing up in the hall way in front of everyone. 

“Don’t ruin this night for me, Jim.” 

“I still don’t see how you even got nominated!” his words hold plenty of meaning and my face burns with shame. 

“Whatever Jim, you’re just jealous I have to walk with Scotty.

Jimmy refuses to give up, “he better not touch you again!” 

“Oh get over yourself, maybe you’d have more friends if you’d grow up Jimmy!”  As I stormed past him, he grabbed my arm and spun me around, “Maybe I should do something about all your friends.  I could tell them something that would change their minds about you.” His voice was menacing and sent shivers up my spine.

“Shut up Jimmy, why can’t you drop it and let it go, what am I supposed to do?”  I ask.  “You’re the one who made me do it!”  My words do little to hurt him and Jimmy simply chuckles and walks out. 

The flood of emotions makes me dizzy from the pain stabbing in my heart.  I wish I could pray, but I’m so not worthy, how could I even think of asking Him for help. 

“Come on, honey,” mom’s words surprised me and brought me back to earth, “show time!”  I paste a big smile on my face and head towards the gym. 

           I stand in the back of the line, freshmen couples first, sophomores, juniors and the 3 nominated senior couples last - Scotty and I being the very last.  We smile at each other as we overhear a group of Junior high girls oohing and awing over my dress.  The one girl says, “Hey I voted for Eve, she’s so pretty!”  My heart fluttered at her words.  Another girl says that she too had voted for me.  I shake my head in disbelief.

As Mrs. Anderson announces it’s time for what we’ve all been waiting for, our seniors.  The lights go off and there’s a soft glow illuminating the long red walkway to the stage.   As Scotty and I step arm in arm into the gym doorway I gasp at the amount of people packed into the huge gymnasium. 

Scotty utters, “Holy Cow, there must be two thousand people here!” 

“It is the biggest game of the year,” I respond. 

Our names are announced, accolades read, and we slowly make our way to the stage.  The crowd is hushed as they wait for Mrs. Anderson to proceed, “And our King and Queen are….Eve Newman and Scotty Meyer!”

The gymnasium erupts in cheers and whistles and the student section jumps up and down as they throw confetti all over.  Camera flashes go off as we make our way to the front of the stage to receive our crowns.  Scotty receives his crown and stands back while I step forward and bend down a bit so last year’s royalty can crown me.  A huge bouquet of roses is thrust into my arms and I feel the bright spotlight hit me.  I look out to the crowd and see waves of people cheering my name and taking pictures.   The local news reporter lifts his huge camera to get a close up of us. 

As I stand there in shock, taking it all in, a heavy dark blanket of shame, guilt, condemnation and fear creeps over my body.  The joyful noises start to become blocked out.  Somehow I manage a big smile and wave at the cheering crowd, but the only voice I can hear is chanting loudly in my head…

“If they only knew… If they only knew… If… they… only… knew!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

A Visit From Vincy!

Below is an article published in today's Sturgis Journal about a wonderful woman many in our community know through the radio waves of WFRN.

Vincy visited my church, Firm Foundation Ministries, for our annual Mother Daughter Sister Friend Luncheon where she did an incredible job of sharing her testimony and her story left an impact on many of us.  I told her later that her life reminded me of the Broken Pots story I posted here recently - which so many of us can also relate to!  She truly has allowed God to let His beauty shine through her life!

I was asked to write up a short article about her visit and here it is:

Radio Host Featured at Banquet

Vincy Willamowski, popular co-host of WFRN’s morning show, was the keynote speaker at Firm Foundation Ministries’ annual Mother’s Day banquet this past Saturday, May 7^th.   Approximately 175 ladies attended to hear Willamowski’s personal testimony.

Vincy encouraged the women to “let go, in order to hold on” in order to find peace.  She candidly shared experiences from her own past, deeply touching the lives of each woman present. 

Melody Wilson attended the event with her two young daughters as well as her mother, Joy Gerber.  “It was so encouraging to see the absolute power of God’s forgiveness in Vincy’s life.  She went through so many things, but because she was able, through God’s strength, to choose to forgive, Vincy found healing and freedom,” Melody said.

Accompanied by daughters as well, Nicole Lugo shared how Vincy’s testimony encouraged her,  “I loved being able to see that the joyful Vincy we all know from the radio has also struggled with some of the same things many of us struggle with.  It brings hope and encouragement knowing we too can be an overcomer!”

To order a CD of Willamowski’s testimony, contact FFM at 269-467-6805.

Why "Walking On Water"?

So what makes Lynette Carpenter think she can walk on water?  After watching a recent Mythbusters, I’m sure some of you would get a kick out of seeing me try!

Believe me, I’m not so cocky to believe that I am parallel to Peter in my saintly-ness, but I do have a story to tell… and I hope it helps you hop out of the boat with me.

If there was a Fearaholics Anonymous, I would have joined.  I can see the circle of people sitting there, embarrassed and ashamed to admit that they were desperate enough to come… maybe even a little surprised at who else had shown up.

Throughout my childhood and on into my adult years, I was fearful.  I mean just flat-out scared.  I was scared of… well, you name it, and it probably would make the list.  As a kid, it was dogs, death and Communism. 

As a teenager – the probability of Jesus coming back before I had the privilege of getting my license, experiencing marital bliss and… well… you know. ;)  But, He never returned and soon I was driving, married and… yes, that too.

Once married, I would lie in bed worrying that something horrible would happen to Tim.  I lay shivering in a cold sweat imagining what could happen, what I would do, and where I would go. 

Then I had kids.

Now, any mom out there can tell you, if you thought you were a worry-wart before, just wait until those little angels arrive and your heart is forever beating outside of your chest.  Holding my newborn son and realizing how little control I had over his life was one of the scariest thoughts.  I worried about SIDS, Y2K and SARS.  My blood ran cold each time the news came on after 9/11.  I mentally lived through the peril of more catastrophes than anyone could expect to endure in a lifetime, and still I worried.

If that wasn’t enough, I decided the best use of the Internet was to self-diagnose myself with every illness in the book.  It started with a twitch in my big toe – ironically it was about the same time I heard Michael J Fox announced he had Parkinson’s Disease.  I wondered what it would be like for my children to care for a wheelchair-bound mother once I was unable to walk or talk.

Then I discovered aneurysms…and cancer….and, well, you get the picture. 

God spoke very clearly to me about my "hypochondriatic" ways, and I knew it was time to get help.  But admitting it to anyone was shameful and embarrassing.  I wondered what others would say if they knew my deep dark secret.  What would people think if they knew how crippled I was becoming by my fears?

Occasionally, I would find relief from the worries that were haunting me, but it was short-lived.  I learned to control my surroundings in a way that would shield me from whatever triggered my concerns, but still the mountain of fear grew.  Soon, even simple, everyday things would elicit terror and I desired more and more to stay tucked away from the world in the safety of my own home.

I stood looking at myself in the mirror one day – hating the woman I had become.  I longed for the peace and security I thought only Heaven could bring.  How I wished I was there already.  This world is full of so much chaos and turmoil, why should we have to live with it?  I can’t say that I considered suicide, but on that day, my depression had reached one of its lowest points. 

It was only a couple weeks later as I stood in a prayer service at a conference that I experienced something that would change my life forever.  As we stood, singing, praying and worshiping God, a woman (I don’t even remember what she looked like), came up behind me and began to pray.  She prayed things I thought only God and I knew about.  As she laid her hands on my shoulders, she said, “God, I ask that the thing that has been shadowing this woman her whole life would be removed.”  Like a blanket being pulled away from a window, I felt the warmth and light of God’s peace fill my body.  I was shaking!  I was giddy!  I was FREE!  I knew the chains of fear had left me, and somehow, this time, I knew it was for real!

In the coming days, God showed a side of Himself to me that I had never acknowledged before.  I knew He was in control.  I had admonished myself of that many times in my life, but I had never fully trusted Him!  God brought a verse to my attention that I accepted as a personal love note from Heaven.

“Oh the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God.  How unsearchable His judgments and His paths beyond tracing out!  Who has known the mind of the Lord?  Or who has been His counselor?  Who has ever given to God that God should repay him?  For from Him and to Him are all things.  To Him be glory forever, Amen.”  Romans 11:33-36

We can look at life and surmise how we think it’s going to turn out, but who has known the mind of the Lord?  His paths are BEYOND TRACING OUT!  It fills me with joy to know that God already has my days written out.  I accept the fact that there may be some days that I would not choose to have on my calendar – but knowing that... that He knows!  That gives me peace!

Today, my life goal is to keep my eyes on Him like Peter did on his epic adventure.  I'm learning not to rely on my own understanding of things.  I want to focus on Him with each step I take, and that, my friends, is the only way to walk on water!

If you are walking in darkness without a ray of light, trust in the Lord and rely on your God!  Isaiah 50:10

If you are unfamiliar with the story of Peter walking on water, click here for the full tale...  once there, scroll down to verse 22.

Feeling Martha Stewart-ish

Ever have those days where you no-likey your stuff anymore?  As a self-confessed cheap-$kate, I am always looking for ways to create beauty in my home for as little dough as possible!
 
Here's a little something I did recently...

A loooong time ago, I had a home show and bought this picture and another one to go with it.  They've been leaning against a wall in my basement for a while since I don't LOVE them anymore, so I decided to try to spruce them up and see if I'd fall in love again.

Tim and I made a trip (with our good friends Rob & Melody) to Hobby Lobby where Tim proceeded to embarrass the life out of me.  If you've ever been debating over which silk flowers would look best in your dining room and you suddenly hear your name being  HOLLERED (as in, a tip-your-head-back-no-reservations-"LAAAAA-NETTE) from across the store, you'll know exactly how I felt. (My apologies to Melody and HL employees, I'll come without Tim next time! (Rob get's no apology - he enjoyed it too much!))  No surprises, but I couldn't get that man out of the store fast enough.  Guess he knew what he was doing, cause I stopped finding things to buy REAL fast!  Ok, that had nothing to do with my project, but it was too funny not to share!

But, before the "episode", I had picked up some upholstery fabric and the next day Amy and I created our own wall art from those old pictures.  I just used a stapler to adhere the fabric to the back.  Here's the result:

I'm kinda over the whole "Live, Laugh, Love" thing, but the cheap-$kate in me decided I can LIVE with it, LAUGH at the memory, and LOVE my husband for keeping life full of unexpected surprises - we left HL before I could find the perfect thing for my shelf - bet you woulda left quick too!  :)

How have you found ways to organize or decorate an area in your home for next to nothing?

My Amazing Mom!

There are moments in time that ingrain themselves like a photograph in your memory.   It is those split seconds where time stands still.  Each sound, smell and sight forever captured for you alone to remember.

One particular moment came when I was very young – perhaps three or four years old.  I stood in the kitchen of our home staring up at my mother.  My (imaginary) friends, Vanilla and Banilla, stood there with me – their furrowed brows mirroring my own.

I cocked my head to the right as I realized that there was more to this woman, my mother, than I knew.  I had never considered it before and chances were, more than likely, I would need this information sometime in life – so I asked her, “Mommy, what’s your name?”  She smiled down at me, humored by the fact that something so… so simple… so evident to who she was, was still unknown to me, her own child.  

“Sarah…” I tried the name out for size and realized she was right.  I remembered the aunts calling her “Sarah” and even the occasional “Sarah-Kathryn”, pressed together to make one name, from her mother.

Today, my children relish the moments I share stories of my childhood, and I well remember hearing mom offer glimpses of hers.  Her stories took me to visits on Aunt Rosie’s farm.  Later, I hid in the back of Grandma’s car with her, giggling over a stolen trip to town without “all the other kids”.  We chuckled together over her brother calling the cows to repentance – and ruining seed bags from the all the fist pounding in the process.  

During my childhood, I firmly believed my parents were amazing and could fix anything!  Besides being a master seamstress (she created my wedding dress from three different patterns), her artistic abilities turned my messes into works of art.  By the time I reached womanhood, I thought I knew all there was to know about the woman I called “Mom”.  Yet, she continued to surprise me!

Despite a sometimes rocky relationship with her mother-in-law, my mom moved in to care for Grandma in the last weeks of her life.  I’ve never told my mom, but the care, the unselfish love, she gave to Grandma amazed me.  Never being a family who offered lots of hugs and words of love, I was surprised to see the generous doses of “I love you, Mom” as she smoothed back Grandma’s hair and the gentle ways she’d wipe Grandma’s lips after offering her a drink.  Mom seemed determine that Grandma know how deeply she was loved – as well as retain all sense of dignity until the very end – and, in my opinion, she succeeded.

After Grandma’s death, mom gifted Grandpa with that same love and compassion until he passed away four months later.

I have always believed my mother was caring and compassionate – almost to a fault, but I certainly didn’t expect the distance that sympathy would take her several years ago. 

Mom’s friend, Mary Lou, had been battling lupus for years.  The time had finally come when doctors said she was ready for a kidney transplant.  Without a second thought, my mom agreed to test to see if she would be compatible to donate a kidney to Mary Lou. 

Needless to say, I had second thoughts! 

Now, I love Mary Lou, but this is my mom we were talking about!  I argued the fact that surely there was someone else that should or could offer their own kidney!  Despite my fears, Mom was an exceptional match to Mary Lou and began the months of pre-op testing to prepare for donating her kidney.   

I researched the dangers and mulled over the “what if’s” of the surgery, but mom looked at it so differently.  “It’s simple, Lynette,” she was relaxing on the sofa that Sunday afternoon, and tucked a blanket in snuggly around her ankles, “I’m healthy and she’s not.  I have something I can live without, but she can’t.  There really isn’t anything to question.”   Her matter-of-fact approach caught me by surprise, but I saw her point.

That day in the hospital created more photographs for my memory book – there’s the one of the doctors prepping her for surgery, my dad in the hallway acting more nervous than I’d ever seen him before in my life and our giddy-from-relief-that-she-was-ok-laughter once she came out of surgery, picked up her head, crossed her eyes and proclaimed, “I like Jo-Jo’s pretzels!”

Her compassion challenges me.  Despite the ups and downs in life, my mother continues to provide love and care to those in need.  In a world where selfishness is the norm, I see in my mother a person who wants the best for those around her - and that is a picture I want to emulate for my own children.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

I love you!

Corey's Mother's Day Plans

Tonight after school, I was going through Corey's schoolwork, and let me tell ya.. I always thought he was a sweetie, but talk about melting my heart!  I just couldn't resist sharing!

 

Translation: My mom is cute.  My mom is so nice.  My mom is fashionista (lol).  I want to paint my mom's toenails for Mother's Day.



 

Is he not the sweetest little boy?!  Love him!   

And to all you mommies out there - 

Happy Mother's Day!

Rahab - A Monologue

I know I recently wrote about Rahab, but her story captures my imagination.  This week, I had an assignment to write a monologue and chose her as my character.  As often happens when I'm writing, the story took a turn that even I didn't see coming.  I hope you will enjoy it!

Rahab - A Monologue

“Who does she think she is?” 

I heard their whispers, saw the looks of disdain on their faces as I walked by.  I knew the hatred they had for me.  Every single ounce of their loathing was mine to claim – and I deserved it.

 

To them, I was a filthy wretched whore.  I was the woman who welcomed their husbands into my home at night.  I was the one who wore beautiful clothing – bought with money their men gave me.  I had ruined more lives and broken more hearts than I could muster up the strength to think about.

They were right.

I… was… nothing.

Ducking my head, face burning with shame, I walked quickly back to the safety of my home.  There, I would be free to lift up my head.  I was free to remove the mask of shame I kept firmly in its place each time I walked out that door.

Hanging my shawl over a chair, I turned, a soft breeze through my window beckoned me.  Outside, a hummingbird flitted merrily near the azaleas I had watered just an hour before.  The orange-y, red flowers were bursting with color and beauty.  So sweet.  So… so pure.  I dropped my head in my hands, unable to hold back the tears any longer!  “Why?”  I sobbed, “Why do I even exist?  If only I’d never been born!”   My knees dropped from beneath me as I knelt crying.  I had never hurt so deeply. Even my soul felt as though it would shatter beneath the weight of my pain.

I don’t know how long I knelt there.  Was it a minute or was it an hour?  I truly don’t remember.  But as my sobs began to ease… it came.  A sweet, sweet presence filled my room.  I peeked up to see who or what was there… but I was alone.   All was quiet but for the buzzing of the hummingbird as it continued to feed on the azaleas.

I sat up straighter, the hair standing up on my neck.  What was this… this feeling of peace surrounding me?  Then the words that came filled my senses like nothing I’d ever experienced.  “You… are my… azalea.” 

What? What was this?  Had I gone crazy?  I felt as though I had gone truly mad – yet I heard it again!  “You… are my… azalea.”  My eyes burned as I stared deeply at the velvety petals on my windowsill and slowly the knowledge that God was speaking to me, Rahab... Rahab the prostitute, washed over me… and… I… melted.

“Your… your azalea?” My words were halting and fearful and… and disbelieving.

“Yes.”  His words were so pleasant.  So unlike anything I’d ever heard before!  “People see your beauty on the outside,” He said,  “but I’m like that hummingbird – I want what you hold deep within.  Inside is your life source – your soul – that’s what I’m after.  Will you give it to me?  Will you be my azalea?”

I shudder to think where I would be today, if not for that moment in time, for it was that evening when we first heard the rumblings of the coming Israelite army.  In the weeks ahead, our town would be demolished – leaving no one to survive.

That day by the azaleas changed me.  Before that, I felt I was unlovable.  I was broken, dirty and worthless.  I deserved nothing but hatred, punishment and death.  But that afternoon, God opened my eyes.  Before Him, I saw that I had value.  I was worth something to Him!  He… wanted… me!

If not for that, I would have never had the strength… the… the courage to reach out to those Israelite spies.  I would have never had the nerve to ask that I might be saved from the coming destruction.

Today, my life is new.  I have been blessed beyond words.  My husband is a good man who truly loves me… and I love him.  Just tonight, he came home from working in the vineyard – his hands clasped behind his back.  I giggled with anticipation, “What?  What do you have for me this time, Salmon?” I peeked around him trying to see what surprises he held.

The bright, orange-y red azaleas caught me by surprise and tears filled my eyes.  Salmon held me close as we swayed back and forth in the moonlight.  He knew my story and my heart hurt.  This time though, it hurt from the love that filled it so full I feared it would burst.  I sniffed in the fragrance of the azaleas and smiled, for now I knew that by giving God all I had within me, He had redeemed my life.   He saw the beauty buried deep within me and now, I would forever be His azalea.

©Lynette Carpenter 2011