Wow, it's been so long since I've been over here. For record keeping sake, I wanted to get over here and make a short note of our three day Christmas tradition. Watch the video below to see how it all got started.
To read more about our rethinking of how we approach Christmas, see our first Christmas of Presence in 2008.
I will be back soon with pictures of our activities.
If you're a friend on facebook, you can view our digital Christmas Card there. There are pictures of other children on there that I don't have permission to share publicly.
Blessings,
Dana
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Visit with the Payne's
Posted on June 8, 2011
Or part of them that is...
Back in January, Kenny Payne and two of his kids came to visit and tell the church about the work that he's doing with the Sparrow's Hope Orphanage in Ukraine. Kenny is the minister that Adam did his youth ministry internship under. We worked with them again when we were in Panama City Florida and Kenny was in and out of the country as our Missions Minister at Palo Alto.
Leanna, the oldest in the picture was around Chloe's age when I met her and Adam and I just fell in love with her. It's hard to believe that she's now and adult! Since then, Kenny and Lora have added Dima whom they adopted from Ukraine and it was a fun surprise when Lora and I ended up pregnant at the same time and they have another one Emma's age, Lexi. We hope to get to see Lora and Lexi some time in the near future. But it always blesses us to spend time with any of them.
While they were here, I started looking through some old photo albums for some pictures of Leanna. And though I didn't find what I was looking for there. I did find this cherished surprise:
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Happy Birthday Mom-- 60 years..
Dear Mom,
I started this post about thirty minutes ago and have written and deleted and written and deleted...and after a half hour, the only words I have past "Dear Mom" are the ones contained in the sentence you are currently reading. I want to write something beautiful that honors you...something that will do justice to how much I value each of your sixty years. I want to say the kind of words that people say about someone once they're gone, except I want to say them to you NOW. I want to write words that will make turning sixty feel like a victory...I mean after all, you have survived a lot.
But...here's the thing: I haven't been able to write ANYTHING for months. I've been thinking and reflecting and then thinking and reflecting some more and I've decided that I'm in the throws of an early mid-life crisis. This crisis it seems, may be your fault. I know, I know, I promised a victory for you somewhere in all of this. Just hang in here with me. I realize that the blame I'm placing on you is not in the least bit fair. Even so, let's be honest and say it...mother to mother: we know that fairness makes no difference at all when it comes to children, mothers and blame. You see, I crossed the thresh hold into my thirties without giving it much thought. But, I have found that you turning sixty, has given me a new perspective. Let me see if I can explain....
Do you remember our trip to Panama City Beach when I was 6-years-old? I'm sure you do. That was the trip that YOU chipped my tooth. We had gone with some friends whose daughter was Denise's, age (6 years older than me). I was 3 years younger than I would have been if things had gone according to your original plan (You know, the plan in which I was also going to be named "Danny"). You were paying your usual penance for having a "tilted uterus", by filling the role of my playmate (since you were unable to get pregnant with me in time to make me a viable playmate for all the other children in our lives). I was wearing a little purple bikini covered in little white hearts with ruffles on the top and I was dreaming of the day that I would take your place as the most beautiful woman in the world (when I would look the way you did in your blue bikini). I had a deep sense of pity for all of the poor mothers who were laying on the beach because they didn't have a 6-year-old as cool as I was to share a day at the beach with. I mean, they were so bored that they looked as if they might have actually fallen asleep! You and I were riding the waves in the ocean...you on one side of the raft and me on the other. We were laughing and chatting. I remember feeling like I was on top of the world and you were obviously having the best day of your life because you were lucky enough to have someone as fun as me to play with. And then, reality slapped me right upside the head (a phenomenon that I have since discovered to be a constantly recurring theme in my life). This particular time, reality came in the form of a giant wave...just as you decided you could no longer stand my adorable 6-year-old cuteness and leaned in for a kiss. Now that I am a mother myself, I know the panic that you must have felt as you struggled to find your footing so you could keep me safely above the undertow. But at the time, in the safety provided by your presence, I instead found freedom to express my fury regarding your impeccable timing.
At this point in the story, things get a little foggy. I do recall my toes finding the ocean floor again as I stormed off saying, "I WANT MY DADDY!" I also recall the irritation I felt over your ability to laugh at my quirky little personality, while I felt you should have been begging my forgiveness for the injustice forced upon me due to your inability to control the ocean tide. That ability to laugh, by the way, is one that I have seemed to have inherited and it has proven invaluable in embracing the quirks of MY delectable second child.
I still have a habit of narrating my own version of life. Is my glass half empty or half full? My hopelessly romantic nature often leaves my glass filled past the rim and overflowing. This results in the most amazing life...until life hits a bump and I'm left looking like I wet my pants. Okay maybe that isn't the best analogy for a story about playing in the ocean since we are, after all, already wet. But, it's still fitting for my life since my bubble regularly gets burst in a wide variety of settings.
But you know what else is memorable to me about this story? (I mean other than the chipped tooth that I sported for years?) According to my calculations, you were MY age. That was 27 years ago and it seems like yesterday, even to me.
Mom, I promise that I listened when you told me how fast it was all going to go by! One month into Emma's life, (when despite my attempts to soak up every second, I couldn't see where the month had gone), I knew that you were right. I know that they are growing up WAY faster than I have wanted them to. But what I haven't considered until now, is how old I'm going to be when we get there.
So what is it that makes growing older so difficult? I mean, the alternative isn't exactly an option we'd want to choose. I'll admit that looking in the mirror and noticing that the lines on my forehead have gotten deeper isn't fun. But, as unsettling as that can be, I don't think it's the problem. I think that (not so deep inside me), there is a fear that I will breeze through these years so exhausted by today's trials that I won't make the days valuable for tomorrow. I'm afraid that I might somehow live these wonderful days so lost inside myself that I never get in the ocean to play.
So THIS is what I want you to know:
When I wake up in the mornings and look into the mirror and see that woman in the blue bikini staring back at me, (Okay so I seriously doubt I'll be sporting a bikini anytime soon), I ask her what I can do that day to make me be the the kind of mother that you are. I constantly ask myself how you would have handled all sorts of situations. Those questions usually leave me running for the camera when Chloe gets into my makeup...or leaving the house a mess to go outside to play...or taking a break from making a grocery list to play Candyland,...or even deepening the lines in my forehead by getting up at 4 a.m. to work in the silence that I need to write a blog post. Asking those questions also gives me the assurance that when I choose to make the grocery list instead of reading "The Cat in The Hat" (for the ONE HUNDREDTH TIME!), or when I DO get frustrated about the 26th masterpiece that has been created on the wall with crayons or fingerpaint, that my love for them will prevail against those frustrations. Because of you, I know, that there is a way that tomorrow I'll be able to live with today. When the next 27 years have passed even faster than the last, if I am somehow able to know that I have reached sixty years old, with my kids feeling about me the way I do about you, I will claim it for the victory it is...with no regrets.
To the mother I dream of being, Happy 60th birthday! I hope you celebrate it as the victory it is.
I love you,
Dana
PS: Despite the frugality that I also inherited from you, I intend on investing in a non-generic box of Kleenex with aloe comfort for my nose before I write another sappy blog post.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A Celebration fit for a King-- An "Advent Conspiracy" Christmas
I'll be working hard today to get all loose strings tied and put away so that we can experience the wonderful tradition that we started a couple of years ago, when we first heard about the "Advent Conspiracy".
We started noticing that as the Christmas season approached, it was accompanied by a feeling of dread and followed by a feeling of relief with it's passing. We realized that our loss of love for the season was due to the hectic pace, stress and over-commercialization that has come to characterized the season. This combined with the encouragement we felt from the "Advent Conspiracy"movement, led us to re-imagine the way we do Christmas. We have cut the number of gifts down for the kids to one present from each of us and one present to each other. I carve three days out of Christmas vacation where we do nothing but play. I cook food, I get all of the housework done and I get everything organized ahead of time. Then we have gifts that we open every so often over the course of three days...but, these gifts are things like cookie cutters with instructions that say: "make cookies for the couple down the street" ... a tub of icing that says: "Bake Jesus a birthday cake" ... or a book that says: "read this book together". We call it "A Christmas of Presence". We watch movies and tell stories and play hide-&-seek in the dark. We talk about what Christmas means. On Christmas morning, we do a scavenger hunt that leads the girls to their one "big gift" and then celebrate with birthday cake for breakfast (Don't judge. It's once a year! ;) ).
So far, the girls have been completely on-board. They ask a lot more questions about what games we're going to play than what gifts they're going to get. It's the one time of year that I feel like I get it right. I guess it's like a three day Sabbath.. I've tried hard to incorporate the Sabbath into our lives on a weekly basis. I think there is a great need for us to learn to "be still and know that He is God". But, I have to admit that I haven't had much success with that particular endeavor.
You can read about the events that led up to the start of this new tradition in 2008 and about our second "Christmas of Presence" in 2009. To summarize: We do minimal gift giving, and we use the money that we would have used for all those other gifts (that we didn't actually need) to help someone else. In 2008, we sent money to an organization that builds wells in areas without accessible clean water. In 2009 and 2010, we spread it around to several different needs that we had heard about. I had gotten to the point that I dreaded Christmas because of what it had become: a celebration of consumerism. Would you believe that I haven't stepped a foot into a Wal-mart or the mall this entire holiday season? Can I tell you how freeing that is? It's renewed our love for the season and Christmas has reclaimed it's place as the best thing we do all year!
This year, we have added a few exciting elements to our celebration. We have an older couple at church, who our girls lovingly refer to as "Mr. Belton" and "Mrs. Ruby". Mr. Belton and Mrs. Ruby just decided on a whim to visit to our church one Sunday morning. We have no, (and I mean literally NO) elderly people at our church besides them (though if you ever experience Mrs. Ruby's spunk, you'll have a hard time thinking of her as an 82-year-old). It shouldn't have surprised me that they chose to stay and call our church home. You can feel the love radiating from the building upon approach.. But, since we have no programs for seniors, or anything geared specifically towards that age group, I didn't figure we had much to offer them. I'm still not sure that we do, but they have offered us so much. It just so happens that they don't have any grandchildren living nearby to love on, and my children don't have any grandparents living nearby to love on them (though they get PLENTY of it long-distance and when we visit Alabama). Mr. Belton and Mrs. Ruby came and shared Thanksgiving with us . They will be sharing Christmas with us as well. They have added a whole new element of love to our lives, and it certainly doesn't hurt that Mrs. Ruby is the best dessert maker in the world. We have been so blessed by them.
Our church also serves a meal down at the Rescue Mission on the fourth Saturday of the month. It just happened to turn out that the fourth Saturday fell on Christmas day this year. It seemed obvious that we should celebrate Jesus' birth best in a place where He would most likely be, and my conscience just wouldn't allow me to cancel a thing like that in the name of celebrating the Savior of the world (who so often spoke of loving "the least of these"). With all the holiday traveling and gatherings, I was a little concerned that I might end up providing a meal to 50 hungry men by myself. As it turns out, I will have no such fate. We're going to have quite a crowd serving down at the mission and afterwards, we'll be meeting back for dessert back at our house. They've left very little of the cooking up to me, which will most definitely will work to the advantage of the men we will be feeding. Our church didn't have to be convinced that we should spend Christmas night this way. It was obvious to them as well. I can't think of a better way to celebrate Christmas, and, I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am to be a part of this family that loves Jesus and His world so much.
Sunday after church, we will be heading over to Alabama to spend Christmas with our families, and once again I have the same kind of anticipation I had when I was a child, and a I have a hope for a Christmas magic greater than any we've ever experienced before. It is my prayer that we will make memories for our children...of a celebration that is fit for a King.
May you experience true Christmas magic, a real Peace on Earth. May you be blessed so that you may be a blessing to others.
Blessings,
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Haunted By Questions
I was excited to get a guest post slot over at the blog of Jason Boyett, author of O Me of Little Faith: True Confessions of a Spiritual Weakling
In his book, Jason gives a candid and honest account of the doubts that he encounters in his journey to faith as he seeks answers to the questions that many of us have asked ourselves but haven't had the guts to say them out loud. I love Jason's openness about a matter that so desperately needs discussed in circles of faith. Not to mention the fact that his quick wit and dry humor keeps me laughing the whole way through.
In his book, Jason gives a candid and honest account of the doubts that he encounters in his journey to faith as he seeks answers to the questions that many of us have asked ourselves but haven't had the guts to say them out loud. I love Jason's openness about a matter that so desperately needs discussed in circles of faith. Not to mention the fact that his quick wit and dry humor keeps me laughing the whole way through.So here's my post as first seen at "O Me of Little Faith". Thank you to those of you that left me comments over there. I apologize if you've already read it. I wanted to make sure I got it in my "faith" archives over here. Don't forget to check out all the other great posts on faith and doubt over at Jason's blog.
Haunted By Questions
The timing of this post is somewhat ironic. When I agreed to write it, I assumed I'd be past the crisis of faith I intended to write about. As it turns out, I'm still shoulder-deep in it, and trying to find a way forward.
It's really easy to have faith as I sit in my own little world, with my loving husband and my healthy children, when my life isn't being challenged and I feel like I've got God all figured out. If I could only find a way to keep my family and my friends from being touched by pain, I think I could keep up that charade. It's easy to do when everything is bright and sunny and we appear to be God's favorites...His "chosen ones."
But today, I'm thinking about a friend with a sick child and a mountain of medical bills that just keeps getting bigger. I'm haunted by a friend who got laid off from his job, a friend who wants a baby but seems to be unable to have one, a friend who is in constant pain with no identifiable reason, the friend who is staying in an relationship with an adulterous spouse for the sake of her children...and the friend who just couldn't do that. Today, I'm thinking about (dare I say it?), the friend who is gay and didn't ask to be.
Usually, I'm the person I've described in the beginning of that last paragraph, living a bright and sunny life on cloud nine, with a living and vibrant faith in a loving God. However, when that life is disturbed... when I'm in my darkest, most private hours, there is no mistaking how small my faith really is. A few months ago, my family lost a member to a life-long fight with Cystic Fibrosis. It was a long fight, fought by one of the most faithful of God's followers that I've ever known. A fight that looked like was going to be won. Then, in a sudden turn of events, my 39-year-old cousin was taken from us. I sincerely prayed prayers of confident faith that should have moved mountains. But for reasons that I don't understand (and that, in all honesty, probably wouldn't give me any comfort anyway), it appears to me that, at least for now, those prayers were not answered.
My questions about God and faith may not be those pondered by the average skeptic, but they're struggles nonetheless. I'm not sure that I have ever, in my life, doubted God's existence. Did you know that when an infant is born prematurely, its mother produces a different milk than what is produced for a full-term baby? Did you know that the milk produced in that situation is especially suited for that baby at that age? For me, even the small glimpses that I catch of the complexities of our world point to a Creator much greater than myself, and to an intentionality that isn't explained by chance or chaos.
Even though I have confidence in God's existence, I'm often plagued by two questions: "Does God know what He's doing?" and, if so, "Is He actually good?" I realize that those questions may appear disrespectful to God, and perhaps they are. But, I have this hunch that He can take it. Besides, the fact that I just admitted that I have those questions and asked them "out loud" doesn't make them any worse. God is already very aware of them.
In truth, these questions have taught me something. I am learning that my following Jesus is about a lot more than finding an escape route from Hell..or death...or pain. I want to be on the side of what's true and pure and good. When I look at the wonders of this world, I feel as if my choice to follow this God was right. But on other days, when the pain of the world is what I see, I'm haunted by questions. In my heart of hearts, I believe that whatever this is that we're all a part of -- this thing that we're all trying to make sense of -- is going to be overwhelmingly obvious once we are truly able to see the full goodness of God. I think we may even be somewhat amused that we never even entertained an idea that was even close to the reality of how it all works together and how good this God is. But for now, God's goodness is so out of reach from my limited perspective, that I don't think I could comprehend it, even if it could somehow be fully explained to me.
So for now, I step out and follow Him, admitting that some days, I'm uneasy about it all. In the end, I'm thankful that following Him requires faith and not sight; trust and not certainty; hope and not total comprehension. I'm pretty sure that faith cannot exist without questions, and I've got enough of those to go around.
It's really easy to have faith as I sit in my own little world, with my loving husband and my healthy children, when my life isn't being challenged and I feel like I've got God all figured out. If I could only find a way to keep my family and my friends from being touched by pain, I think I could keep up that charade. It's easy to do when everything is bright and sunny and we appear to be God's favorites...His "chosen ones."
But today, I'm thinking about a friend with a sick child and a mountain of medical bills that just keeps getting bigger. I'm haunted by a friend who got laid off from his job, a friend who wants a baby but seems to be unable to have one, a friend who is in constant pain with no identifiable reason, the friend who is staying in an relationship with an adulterous spouse for the sake of her children...and the friend who just couldn't do that. Today, I'm thinking about (dare I say it?), the friend who is gay and didn't ask to be.
Usually, I'm the person I've described in the beginning of that last paragraph, living a bright and sunny life on cloud nine, with a living and vibrant faith in a loving God. However, when that life is disturbed... when I'm in my darkest, most private hours, there is no mistaking how small my faith really is. A few months ago, my family lost a member to a life-long fight with Cystic Fibrosis. It was a long fight, fought by one of the most faithful of God's followers that I've ever known. A fight that looked like was going to be won. Then, in a sudden turn of events, my 39-year-old cousin was taken from us. I sincerely prayed prayers of confident faith that should have moved mountains. But for reasons that I don't understand (and that, in all honesty, probably wouldn't give me any comfort anyway), it appears to me that, at least for now, those prayers were not answered.
My questions about God and faith may not be those pondered by the average skeptic, but they're struggles nonetheless. I'm not sure that I have ever, in my life, doubted God's existence. Did you know that when an infant is born prematurely, its mother produces a different milk than what is produced for a full-term baby? Did you know that the milk produced in that situation is especially suited for that baby at that age? For me, even the small glimpses that I catch of the complexities of our world point to a Creator much greater than myself, and to an intentionality that isn't explained by chance or chaos.
Even though I have confidence in God's existence, I'm often plagued by two questions: "Does God know what He's doing?" and, if so, "Is He actually good?" I realize that those questions may appear disrespectful to God, and perhaps they are. But, I have this hunch that He can take it. Besides, the fact that I just admitted that I have those questions and asked them "out loud" doesn't make them any worse. God is already very aware of them.
In truth, these questions have taught me something. I am learning that my following Jesus is about a lot more than finding an escape route from Hell..or death...or pain. I want to be on the side of what's true and pure and good. When I look at the wonders of this world, I feel as if my choice to follow this God was right. But on other days, when the pain of the world is what I see, I'm haunted by questions. In my heart of hearts, I believe that whatever this is that we're all a part of -- this thing that we're all trying to make sense of -- is going to be overwhelmingly obvious once we are truly able to see the full goodness of God. I think we may even be somewhat amused that we never even entertained an idea that was even close to the reality of how it all works together and how good this God is. But for now, God's goodness is so out of reach from my limited perspective, that I don't think I could comprehend it, even if it could somehow be fully explained to me.
So for now, I step out and follow Him, admitting that some days, I'm uneasy about it all. In the end, I'm thankful that following Him requires faith and not sight; trust and not certainty; hope and not total comprehension. I'm pretty sure that faith cannot exist without questions, and I've got enough of those to go around.
Blessings,
Dana
Friday, November 05, 2010
... AND LOVE REMAINS
The hot sun rises and the grass withers; the little flower droops and falls, and its beauty fades away. In the same way, the rich will fade away with all of their achievements. NLT James 1:11
Over the course of my life, I've spent a lot of time studying James 1: 1-8. It's the go-to scripture when trials come into your life. I actually have most of that scripture memorized. Here's the "Dana Ellis Modern-Day-Paraphrased-Version":
When life does what life does, and gets tough; be happy about it. When we face trials, our faith is tested. And when our faith is tested, we develop perseverance and perseverance is the thing that develops character. So hang in there, and let perseverance develop. One day, you will look back on those trials and know that you are fully developed and not lacking in anything because you survived them.
If you lack wisdom, if you don't know what to do about these trials...Ask God. But, ask without doubting. Keep hold of your emotions and keep your head on straight and know that God is going to handle this. When you're unsure, you are like a wave tossed about the sea and blown around like the wind. Reacting to trials in that way causes a person to be wishy-washy and terribly unstable...and that never helps anything.
It might not be eloquent, but that's how it translates in my mind. And though I can't say that I've grown to the point that I am happy about facing trials, I have begun to endure them with the knowledge that there is a purpose for them. But, when I was reading Karen Kingsbury's "Above the Line" series (which I highly recommend) and James 1:11 was mentioned, I realized that I had been stopping short at verse 8. As it turns out, verse 11 actually validates why we should consider it pure joy.
Since losing my cousin Tony in May and my friend Susan in September, the past few months have really been for me a time of evaluating the things that I make priorities in my life. James 1:11 solidified those thoughts for me:
The hot sun rises and the grass withers; the little flower droops and falls, and its beauty fades away. In the same way, the rich will fade away with all of their achievements. NLT James 1:11
So often, life gets in the way and I find myself wasting a lot of my time, resources, energy, etc. on things that aren't permanent. I have really started trying to ask myself: "Am I investing in something eternal here? When it's all wrapped up and said and done is what I'm worrying about here going to matter?" And I'm learning that a lot of time, the answer is "no", I am learning that often, I, my family, my friends and the world will be better off if I turn my attention,f my time and my heart in another direction.
God, please help me to make your concerns my concerns. And please give me peace about those things on which I unnecessarily waste my time, effort and heart.
Blessings,
Dana
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Her First Love
Scene: A mother and two daughters in the car driving through town, passing a church.
Three year old, Chloe: That's where mom and dad got married.
Very old feeling mom: No, dad and I got married in Alabama. But that kind of looks like where we got married.
Chloe: I'm getting married
Seven year old, Emma: giggles
Mom: You are, who are you going to marry?
Chloe: I'm going to marry my daddy
.
Mom: (quickly wipes away tears and reaches for the phone to tell daddy the good news.. )
Three year old, Chloe: That's where mom and dad got married.
Very old feeling mom: No, dad and I got married in Alabama. But that kind of looks like where we got married.
Chloe: I'm getting married
Seven year old, Emma: giggles
Mom: You are, who are you going to marry?
Chloe: I'm going to marry my daddy
.
Mom: (quickly wipes away tears and reaches for the phone to tell daddy the good news.. )
But [she] treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. Luke 2:19
Blessings,
Dana
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Music Therapy.-- The Silence of God
Can I just be honest? I'm so tired of platitudes.. I love this song and it's really applicable to my life right now...
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I was lucky enough... Remembering Susan..
Susan and Tony with their twins, Jonah and Claire
I feel like I'm disturbing something sacred to try to put words around something that cannot be explained.. If you've spent any time around here at all, you know that lately, I have been trying to work through the grief that came from losing my cousin, at the end of May. You can catch a glimpse of those struggles in a guest post I wrote called, "Haunted By Questions".. For a little over a week now, we have been grieving the loss of a very dear friend.. And the questions continue to accumulate..
I will never forget that night that Susan died, yet, I cannot fully remember it. The words written in a message on facebook in a private message from a friend, will be forever etched in my mind. I can recall Emma coming into the room and asking what was wrong... But the gap in between, I hope I never remember... I never understood the physical manifestations that people say can come along with grief...but, when I finally gathered the strength to walk to the bathroom, and look in the mirror, I could see red streaks through one of my eyes where a blood vessel had burst. At first, I was embarrassed by my lack of control of emotion over the situation... And then, I was angry because I felt embarrassed. I tried once again to seek answers. In my Bible, I read about people who mourned a loss by tearing their clothes, pulling their hair and clawing at the air..and, I became frustrated with the rituals that have been put in place this day and age that suggest that mourning a person that we love deeply should abide by specific rules and have a specific presentation..
I almost wanted not to mention it here because I know that any effort to describe unchartered territory with my exhausted words will result in inadequacy. However, while I cannot begin to portray how much I love Susan and her family, I also can't move along with a journal about my family and faith without mentioning something that has changed my life so much...
There is so much that I've learned from the way that Susan lived life with full devotion, sacrifice and care for those she loved... I have never known a more faithful wife, mother or friend.. Nor have I known anyone who handed out grace so easily; a person who took life's trials and used them as formative experiences and opportunities to make herself better.. If you didn't know Susan, I'm so sorry that you missed out on the experience of her friendship, which turned out to be one of the best things this world has ever had to offer... And if you did...well, I love the words that Susan's aunt said at her funeral. If you were lucky enough to know Susan, you were lucky enough.
Susan's and my life had so many similarities that it was inevitable that are hearts would be linked in some way.. We didn't talk every day.. We saw each other every time traveling brought us near each other or we could find a youth ministry conference we could fit into our schedules. But mainly, we talked when life became overwhelming.. It would make sense that I would miss her most at a time like this...
So to Susan, I'll end this the way we ended every conversation we had: I wish we could live in the same place. I miss you and I love you!
You can see more of Susan's life over at her blog, Griffies Growth
Monday, July 19, 2010
Illusion- Disillusionment-- Faith?.. What your Preacher's Wife may not have told you..
I remember the first time the church fell off the pedestal for me.... I was 21 and newly married.. And as if being 21 and newly married wasn't difficult enough, I had married a youth minister and had suddenly become responsible for twenty to thirty kids. I was starry eyed and determined to be the most perfect "help-mate" for my husband as I loved a group of teenage girls into avoiding the same mistakes that I made as a teenager..
My husband, growing up inside the proverbial glass box as a preacher's kid, was much more realistic than I. But I had spent my life peering in the glass box from the outside. My preacher and his wife somehow had found following God, completely, at least tolerable. Life inside the glass box didn't at all seem enjoyable. Who has ever enjoyed swimming in blue jeans? And the list of words that couldn't be said was entirely too long. Did you know that saying "gosh" is actually a precursor to saying "God" and taking the Lord's name in vain and is no doubt a slippery slope to having the mouth of a sailor? But still, at the time, as stale and un-admirable as their lives were, their devotion to the life that they thought they should live was at least respectable. So, the times when I would run into the preacher and his wife out in town, I would eagerly pull at my skimpy, three-inches-above-my-knee-shorts in attempt to gain every inch of church-girl-modesty possible (out of respect for them of course). Who would have ever imagined then that I would one day be the proud owner of my own glass box?
I had tried everything I could think of to break things off with my then, fiancée.. Mainly because I couldn't imagine a life in pantyhose even though I would be wearing skirts that reached my ankles. But as love often does, it had it's way and I found myself becoming a minister's wife, determined to bring the church into the 20th century with a nice pair of capri pants and a stylish and nicely pressed, capped sleeve shirt. It wasn't long before I realized that pantyhose were the least of my problems.
Only two weeks married and in my new role, we were invited to the preacher's house for dinner. I was well versed in the expectations of a preacher's wife in throwing dinner parties, though using the word party in conjunction with preacher's wife, in this case, is irony in it's purest form. Regardless, the invitation was no surprise at all.
I was flabbergasted to find that our meeting wasn't a full evening of singing Kum-ba-ya, head bowed, no clapping of course. There was of course, plenty of time sat aside for reverent formalities. And I knew I had dishonored my husband when everyone quieted and stared at me as I stole a croûton from my salad before we said the prayer. But, only momentarily before moving as quickly as possible to the prayer as if to preserve my soul as much as possible after my great sin. And, I proceeded to learn a truth my heart was not yet ready to learn. Though eating before a prayer was a cause for confession on Sunday morning, nonchalantly discussing "church politics" with the assumption that God dis-liked the same people in the church that we did, was clearly acceptable.
I remember my husband's surprise as I cried the whole way home that night. One, because my pride was hurt because I was clearly, unaware of minister's wife etiquette. But, more so, because the secret behind the illusion that I had believed had been revealed. I was newly walking in reality within my own glass box, with full knowledge that there was nowhere on earth to go to catch a glimpse of Heaven, or so I believed that night. I remember, even more clearly, my surprise at my husband's surprise and the realization from his reaction that what I had just experienced was far within the norm of the happenings of the church. I clearly had bitten off way more than I could chew.
I would like to say that this was the only isolated incident in our time of ministry and that other than it, it has been all rainbows and butterflies. But this particular incident is actually mild compared to some that we've experienced. There were many times that I would have walked away totally, could I have gotten away with it. This is not to say that in our time in ministry, we haven't met wonderful followers of Jesus. Or, that the people in that house that night weren't those followers. And, there have been wonderful glorious moments when we have gathered as a church to lovingly care for someone in need that I have, no doubt, felt as if I was catching a glimpse of Heaven. The truth is, the church is made up of humans.. Humans, even those who proclaim to follow Jesus, are fallable. In our fallen state, we often mis-represent Jesus. So this disillusionment that I've experienced with the church often leads me to a crossroad; crossroad where I once again choose to either walk away because of a broken people, or to press along toward, as my husband says, "making God's dream for the world a reality" as He uses us and molds us and one day makes us whole. As I'm faced with the choice, again and again, I know that there is only one way that provides any hope at all. Today, I choose to leave my smudges of fingerprints on my glass box and ask that God helps me to see others with the grace that He sees me..
Blessings,
Dana
My husband, growing up inside the proverbial glass box as a preacher's kid, was much more realistic than I. But I had spent my life peering in the glass box from the outside. My preacher and his wife somehow had found following God, completely, at least tolerable. Life inside the glass box didn't at all seem enjoyable. Who has ever enjoyed swimming in blue jeans? And the list of words that couldn't be said was entirely too long. Did you know that saying "gosh" is actually a precursor to saying "God" and taking the Lord's name in vain and is no doubt a slippery slope to having the mouth of a sailor? But still, at the time, as stale and un-admirable as their lives were, their devotion to the life that they thought they should live was at least respectable. So, the times when I would run into the preacher and his wife out in town, I would eagerly pull at my skimpy, three-inches-above-my-knee-shorts in attempt to gain every inch of church-girl-modesty possible (out of respect for them of course). Who would have ever imagined then that I would one day be the proud owner of my own glass box?
I had tried everything I could think of to break things off with my then, fiancée.. Mainly because I couldn't imagine a life in pantyhose even though I would be wearing skirts that reached my ankles. But as love often does, it had it's way and I found myself becoming a minister's wife, determined to bring the church into the 20th century with a nice pair of capri pants and a stylish and nicely pressed, capped sleeve shirt. It wasn't long before I realized that pantyhose were the least of my problems.
Only two weeks married and in my new role, we were invited to the preacher's house for dinner. I was well versed in the expectations of a preacher's wife in throwing dinner parties, though using the word party in conjunction with preacher's wife, in this case, is irony in it's purest form. Regardless, the invitation was no surprise at all.
I was flabbergasted to find that our meeting wasn't a full evening of singing Kum-ba-ya, head bowed, no clapping of course. There was of course, plenty of time sat aside for reverent formalities. And I knew I had dishonored my husband when everyone quieted and stared at me as I stole a croûton from my salad before we said the prayer. But, only momentarily before moving as quickly as possible to the prayer as if to preserve my soul as much as possible after my great sin. And, I proceeded to learn a truth my heart was not yet ready to learn. Though eating before a prayer was a cause for confession on Sunday morning, nonchalantly discussing "church politics" with the assumption that God dis-liked the same people in the church that we did, was clearly acceptable.
I remember my husband's surprise as I cried the whole way home that night. One, because my pride was hurt because I was clearly, unaware of minister's wife etiquette. But, more so, because the secret behind the illusion that I had believed had been revealed. I was newly walking in reality within my own glass box, with full knowledge that there was nowhere on earth to go to catch a glimpse of Heaven, or so I believed that night. I remember, even more clearly, my surprise at my husband's surprise and the realization from his reaction that what I had just experienced was far within the norm of the happenings of the church. I clearly had bitten off way more than I could chew.
I would like to say that this was the only isolated incident in our time of ministry and that other than it, it has been all rainbows and butterflies. But this particular incident is actually mild compared to some that we've experienced. There were many times that I would have walked away totally, could I have gotten away with it. This is not to say that in our time in ministry, we haven't met wonderful followers of Jesus. Or, that the people in that house that night weren't those followers. And, there have been wonderful glorious moments when we have gathered as a church to lovingly care for someone in need that I have, no doubt, felt as if I was catching a glimpse of Heaven. The truth is, the church is made up of humans.. Humans, even those who proclaim to follow Jesus, are fallable. In our fallen state, we often mis-represent Jesus. So this disillusionment that I've experienced with the church often leads me to a crossroad; crossroad where I once again choose to either walk away because of a broken people, or to press along toward, as my husband says, "making God's dream for the world a reality" as He uses us and molds us and one day makes us whole. As I'm faced with the choice, again and again, I know that there is only one way that provides any hope at all. Today, I choose to leave my smudges of fingerprints on my glass box and ask that God helps me to see others with the grace that He sees me..
Blessings,
Dana
Sunday, May 30, 2010
When words are not enough...
Tony and me at my wedding reception. He greeted my guests as my "cousin Bubba"
I walked out of the visitation on Wed. night
and saw this rainbow right over the funeral home and
made a mad dash for my camera.
Chloe said it was "Tony's rainbow".
PS: It had not been raining..
The truth about me is... I'm angry.. I could tell you what an awesome service it was and how it tied everything together with a neat little bow and how we all went away with a warm and fuzzy feeling in our hearts. But that would be a lie.. And leave it up to me to say all the things we're not supposed to say.. The service: beautiful? yes. Honoring? absolutely! Was God there? I have no doubt.. But, while I wanted to thank God for the beautiful life that Tony lived, the selfish part of my heart was screaming, I hate this. I am angry.. I know what you're thinking.. I'm the preacher's wife. I should never have doubts. Especially not about God.. And you know what? That makes me even more angry. And here's some news that shouldn't be new. God already knows.. It's not like I could hide it from him anyway.. But just to make sure He knew, I told him. I'm angry that my family is hurting and that there's nothing that I can do. I am angry that we didn't get our miracle the way we wanted it. That I had it all worked out in my mind, the people that needed their faith strengthened by seeing a miracle (myself included). And as He so often does, God said to me, "Dana, I don't need your help". And, that makes me angry again.. I'm angry because, though we all want to say that time heals all wounds, I know that it doesn't. While time may teach us how to live with the wound, it will never completely heal it. And I'm even angry at the suggestion that it should.. I'm angry at myself for being selfish. For not just being okay with letting him go and being healed. I'm angry that I'm scared. That people will be right. That everything will be okay. Because I'm not okay with just okay. I'm angry that faith has been confused with acceptance. That faith has been portrayed as believing without ever doubting.. I'm angry that I know that this won't be the last time I feel this kind of pain. Or worse, I'm afraid that I will give into my fears and guard my heart so that I will never have to feel it again. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this is left open. Because I just can't bare to close it.
And just in case there's someone else out there that has those same fears.. Just in case there is someone else other than me that has had the ridiculously stupid thought that they'll try to keep themselves from everything that is good about life so that they can save themselves some pain, I'll share a quote that I found as I was desperately searching for words of comfort:
"Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more."
—Erica Jong
And so here I am again, raw and open.. Because I can never keep up a show of being something I am not. I have no doubt that we will come out of this deep abyss even stronger.. That the prayers and support of those we love will pull us out. And I know that through our screams we will continue to hear God whisper, "I am here". We will soon laugh about the good times and marvel at the miracles that came from Tony's story. But, for now, the abyss is deep and it is dark and I am weak and only time can teach us a new way of living.. So please give us grace as we learn to make peace with our new pain..
From the dove release at Tony's funeral.
It has to be the grace of God that allowed
me to catch this shot. Once I was asked to do it,
I got so nervous and was shaking so badly at the thought
of only having one chance, I just knew that everything
would come out blurry.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tony...
This is my perspective from my little corner of the world. I want to make clear that I do not think that this story is about me. There are a group of people over in Birmingham Alabama that have tremendous strength and faith that I only hope of one day obtaining and, I know that I will, because of the example that they have displayed for me.. Please also know, that a lot of this is what I've concluded from information coming from here and there. I have read countless medical journals and even e-mailed back and forth with several pulmonary doctors but still have only understood half of what I've been given. But, I keep being asked about what's going on and I keep waiting on a complete story to tell.. A story of healing one way or another. But, for whatever reason, Tony keeps hanging on.. And it makes me believe that for some reason that I don't understand, the importance is in the fight.
I have written about Tony before. He was born with Cystic Fibrosis and had a Lung Transplant in July 2009. You can read previous posts that explain those situations in more detail HERE. Around Thanksgiving, he went into the hospital with an infection.. He had many treatments going in and out of the hospital and a few surgeries, one even removing the part of the lung with the infection. When they removed a part of the lung, they thought they had taken care of the infection.. He went back in for a check up a few weeks ago and found out that the bacteria was growing back. We have since learned that the bacteria is
burkholderia gladioli. Until somewhere between 1996-1998, this bacteria was only thought to exist in plants. They have since learned that it is a common bacteria in adult CF patients.. Apparently, there are different bacterias common in CF patients at different ages. This particular bacteria typically lies dormant in the airways and sometimes is able to take hold after a lung transplant because the patient is immuno suppressed.
I think it's been a week now since I got the first call. It was either Monday or Tuesday. The days are all blurred together. My mother called quite hysterical saying that it didn't look like Tony was going to make it. The doctors had said that they were stumped. They were calling other transplant centers to ask for suggestions but they had tried everything they knew to try. The antibiotic was killing the bacteria in the culture, but not in his body. They spoke with some doctors in the pulmonary department at the University of North Carolina and began a new treatment. On Wed., they made the decision to put Tony on a ventilator so that he could rest and give the new treatment the chance to work. The family was called in several times because his stats had began to drop and then they would rebound again.
Through this all, I've been torn with what to pray.. It has been a rollercoaster of hope and doubt, fear and bravery, sadness and yes even some happiness. But, mostly bittersweetnesses. We all believe in an afterlife better than we could ever dream of. We know that if anyone has lived a life worthy of God's presence, it would be Tony. We know that through Tony, God has sent us two precious angels (his wife and son) that will help carry on his name. Yet still, I can't give up hope until his heart stops beating. And then, it would only be a new hope..
My cousin Tracy and I talked for a long time yesterday and she told me about a prayer that she had seen someone else write about him. It went something like this: Our faith longs for your will and knows that your will is best but our hearts pray for healing. We felt like that adequately expressed our thoughts and it has become my prayer as well.
I hadn't slept for more than a couple of hours for days (this is nothing compared to what the family that is there with him has gone through) but, I knew that if he does go (I just can't bring myself to say "when" he does go), I couldn't drive over there on that little amount of sleep. Plus, my family here all had a cold a couple of weeks ago and mine is still lingering in my chest. I don't think I'm getting over it because I haven't had any rest. So, I took something and went to bed at 8:00p.m. and woke at 5:00 a.m. There is so much more to say but my heart cannot find the words to express my feelings. My family covets your prayers and thanks you for the love and support we've felt from all over the nation.
You can read Tony's wife's caringbridge journal entries that give the latest updates HERE. What a miracle she is! Our family is so blessed that she chose us to be hers..
Blessings,
Dana
I have written about Tony before. He was born with Cystic Fibrosis and had a Lung Transplant in July 2009. You can read previous posts that explain those situations in more detail HERE. Around Thanksgiving, he went into the hospital with an infection.. He had many treatments going in and out of the hospital and a few surgeries, one even removing the part of the lung with the infection. When they removed a part of the lung, they thought they had taken care of the infection.. He went back in for a check up a few weeks ago and found out that the bacteria was growing back. We have since learned that the bacteria is
burkholderia gladioli. Until somewhere between 1996-1998, this bacteria was only thought to exist in plants. They have since learned that it is a common bacteria in adult CF patients.. Apparently, there are different bacterias common in CF patients at different ages. This particular bacteria typically lies dormant in the airways and sometimes is able to take hold after a lung transplant because the patient is immuno suppressed.
I think it's been a week now since I got the first call. It was either Monday or Tuesday. The days are all blurred together. My mother called quite hysterical saying that it didn't look like Tony was going to make it. The doctors had said that they were stumped. They were calling other transplant centers to ask for suggestions but they had tried everything they knew to try. The antibiotic was killing the bacteria in the culture, but not in his body. They spoke with some doctors in the pulmonary department at the University of North Carolina and began a new treatment. On Wed., they made the decision to put Tony on a ventilator so that he could rest and give the new treatment the chance to work. The family was called in several times because his stats had began to drop and then they would rebound again.
Through this all, I've been torn with what to pray.. It has been a rollercoaster of hope and doubt, fear and bravery, sadness and yes even some happiness. But, mostly bittersweetnesses. We all believe in an afterlife better than we could ever dream of. We know that if anyone has lived a life worthy of God's presence, it would be Tony. We know that through Tony, God has sent us two precious angels (his wife and son) that will help carry on his name. Yet still, I can't give up hope until his heart stops beating. And then, it would only be a new hope..
My cousin Tracy and I talked for a long time yesterday and she told me about a prayer that she had seen someone else write about him. It went something like this: Our faith longs for your will and knows that your will is best but our hearts pray for healing. We felt like that adequately expressed our thoughts and it has become my prayer as well.
I hadn't slept for more than a couple of hours for days (this is nothing compared to what the family that is there with him has gone through) but, I knew that if he does go (I just can't bring myself to say "when" he does go), I couldn't drive over there on that little amount of sleep. Plus, my family here all had a cold a couple of weeks ago and mine is still lingering in my chest. I don't think I'm getting over it because I haven't had any rest. So, I took something and went to bed at 8:00p.m. and woke at 5:00 a.m. There is so much more to say but my heart cannot find the words to express my feelings. My family covets your prayers and thanks you for the love and support we've felt from all over the nation.
You can read Tony's wife's caringbridge journal entries that give the latest updates HERE. What a miracle she is! Our family is so blessed that she chose us to be hers..
Blessings,
Dana
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Happy Mother's Day! A Tribute to My Mother
This is actually a repost from last year. But last year, it was two weeks late. So I guess this kind of makes it early... Or a year late.. No matter, it's still true this year.
Adam has to be at church an hour and a half earlier than me because they are having a book discussion before church. Since we don't have classes in the morning, I take full advantage of my extra time at home since there would be no book discussing if my kids were there. Typically, the girls play nicely just until Adam leaves and soon after he makes his departure, the chaos begins. I have a long held hunch that they spend their time while daddy is at home, quietly plotting how to push mom over the edge once dad leaves. After a morning of harldy being seen, Adam walks out the door, and they appear right under my feet.
Anyway, I being the flip flop kind of girl that I am, just love the fact that I can find a pair of flip flops with a little bit of a heal on them and some beads on the straps and call them dress shoes. So, on this particular day (Mother's Day), I put on my "dressy" flip flops and noticed that my toe nail polish was chipped on the ends. In my normal Sunday single mother rush, I ran into the bathroom and grabbed the nail polish and touched up the ends of my toes. Declaring it a decent job unless someone looks closely, I moved on to the mirror for makeup. About that time, Chloe, stepped on my toe.. My freshly painted toenail!
In typical, Sunday morning rush fashion, I felt the irritation rising inside me. But, I repressed the irritation, in honor of the day, feeling the need to be a sweet, patient, mother, therefore earning the honor. And, I began to think about a particular Mother's Day with my mother....
I was about seven years old. I had only a few dollars that I am assuming that I got from her in the first place. So I went to Family Dollar with my dad and I bought my mom the most beautiful I had ever seen- three dollar-Pepto Bismal pink- plastic set of beads. Both necklace and bracelet. (Nice job of guiding that one dad).
Now I'm pretty crafty at handling this type of situations with my children. My solution would be something of this sort: "Oh wow, these are the most beautiful beads that I have ever seen. I don't have a dress to match this color of pink but I have the perfect pajamas! So tomorrow night, we are going to have a candlelit mother daughter pajama dinner! And I am going to make all of our favorite foods and then we are going to talk about all things that we love about each other and I am going to wear these beautiful beads". Now, I have no doubt that this would work with Emma and she would think I was the coolest mother in the world for it.
But heres the thing... Twenty four years later (yes I did count on my fingers), I remember the dress that my mother pulled out of the closet saying that it would go perfectly with those beads. That dress was not pink. It was more of a rose color and it did not match those horrible beads.. And I remember how she ooohed and ahhed as she had me clasp that necklace around her neck. And when we got to church and I realized that all the other mothers had corsages and I hadn't gotten my mother one. My mother told me not to brag because the other mothers only got a flower and not beautiful beads that they could wear over and over again. And I sat there next to my mother not yet fully understanding why she was truly the best mother in world but, feeling confident that I was definitely the best daughter in the world. And you know what? When I called her this year on Sunday morning to wish her a Happy Mother's Day, and mentioned the beads, she told me that she still had them and she still thought they were beautiful. And when I really think about it, I know that those sort of situations were probably, the most influential situations of my life. No matter how bad I fumble, my mom is always there, cheering me on, thinking I'm great. And I know that I will always have that security.
And so, there were all of those thoughts over a simple smudge in toenail polish. And inspired by my mother, I reached down and fluffed Chloe's hair and took a step in the direction of being the kind of mother mine was and wore my smudge to church. And it was a wonderful day!
Blessings,
Dana
Adam has to be at church an hour and a half earlier than me because they are having a book discussion before church. Since we don't have classes in the morning, I take full advantage of my extra time at home since there would be no book discussing if my kids were there. Typically, the girls play nicely just until Adam leaves and soon after he makes his departure, the chaos begins. I have a long held hunch that they spend their time while daddy is at home, quietly plotting how to push mom over the edge once dad leaves. After a morning of harldy being seen, Adam walks out the door, and they appear right under my feet.
Anyway, I being the flip flop kind of girl that I am, just love the fact that I can find a pair of flip flops with a little bit of a heal on them and some beads on the straps and call them dress shoes. So, on this particular day (Mother's Day), I put on my "dressy" flip flops and noticed that my toe nail polish was chipped on the ends. In my normal Sunday single mother rush, I ran into the bathroom and grabbed the nail polish and touched up the ends of my toes. Declaring it a decent job unless someone looks closely, I moved on to the mirror for makeup. About that time, Chloe, stepped on my toe.. My freshly painted toenail!
In typical, Sunday morning rush fashion, I felt the irritation rising inside me. But, I repressed the irritation, in honor of the day, feeling the need to be a sweet, patient, mother, therefore earning the honor. And, I began to think about a particular Mother's Day with my mother....
I was about seven years old. I had only a few dollars that I am assuming that I got from her in the first place. So I went to Family Dollar with my dad and I bought my mom the most beautiful I had ever seen- three dollar-Pepto Bismal pink- plastic set of beads. Both necklace and bracelet. (Nice job of guiding that one dad).
Now I'm pretty crafty at handling this type of situations with my children. My solution would be something of this sort: "Oh wow, these are the most beautiful beads that I have ever seen. I don't have a dress to match this color of pink but I have the perfect pajamas! So tomorrow night, we are going to have a candlelit mother daughter pajama dinner! And I am going to make all of our favorite foods and then we are going to talk about all things that we love about each other and I am going to wear these beautiful beads". Now, I have no doubt that this would work with Emma and she would think I was the coolest mother in the world for it.
But heres the thing... Twenty four years later (yes I did count on my fingers), I remember the dress that my mother pulled out of the closet saying that it would go perfectly with those beads. That dress was not pink. It was more of a rose color and it did not match those horrible beads.. And I remember how she ooohed and ahhed as she had me clasp that necklace around her neck. And when we got to church and I realized that all the other mothers had corsages and I hadn't gotten my mother one. My mother told me not to brag because the other mothers only got a flower and not beautiful beads that they could wear over and over again. And I sat there next to my mother not yet fully understanding why she was truly the best mother in world but, feeling confident that I was definitely the best daughter in the world. And you know what? When I called her this year on Sunday morning to wish her a Happy Mother's Day, and mentioned the beads, she told me that she still had them and she still thought they were beautiful. And when I really think about it, I know that those sort of situations were probably, the most influential situations of my life. No matter how bad I fumble, my mom is always there, cheering me on, thinking I'm great. And I know that I will always have that security.
And so, there were all of those thoughts over a simple smudge in toenail polish. And inspired by my mother, I reached down and fluffed Chloe's hair and took a step in the direction of being the kind of mother mine was and wore my smudge to church. And it was a wonderful day!
Blessings,
Dana
Monday, March 08, 2010
5 Unconventional Steps to a Healthy Marriage...
Have you ever met that couple that you just can't figure out why they're together? You know what I mean, the ones that get the, "I wonder what she has behind closed doors that we can't see" comments... Oh come on, you know you've thought it. Maybe you've thought it about me. I do often wonder if I'm that person. I mean, he's smart, funny, good looking and the best daddy that I could dream of my little girls having. He likes to cook. He sometimes cleans (usually with the motivation of some nagging from me) He takes out the garbage if I fuss enough.. Anyway, I've done what I do and I've over analyzed the situation.. I've asked myself what keeps him coming back for more.
I'm hesitant to give marriage advice because obviously, a Buisiness degree does not make me qualified. However, I'm not always so easy to live with. And my husband sticks around.. And honestly, he rarely complains.. I mean yeah, he's a great guy. But, you put even a great guy in a horrible situation long enough and he'll complain. So, I'm wondering if maybe I am qualified to give a little advice in this area.. Besides, it's always fun to see if these sort of things are going to make some waves. So I told my husband what I was thinking and he said I should write a book.. Unfortunately, in this case, men are way less complicated than we are and there is nowhere near enough information to write a book. But regardless, it did make me wonder if I didn't have something worth while to contribute on this topic.
And I have a little secret to tell you.. All those books that we were forced to read about being a good wife..... You know, the ones that told you to decorate your home with feminine touches like gingham curtains and flowers. The ones that told you to pull out the fine china to show him how much you appreciate him. Yeah, those books were written by some uptight lady, forty years ago, who's husband was really frustrated. She's probably single now.. She may be widowed.. The poor guy died of boredom.. Point being: The book was written by a woman about what she thought made her a good wife, not what her husband thought made her a good wife.. So let me narrow this down.. There are five things that I've observed that keeps them coming home at night.. And my husband gives it his endorsement.. I mean, there is always the chance that we're just weird and this only applies to us but hey, just in case.. Take it for what it is...
1. Laugh at his jokes.. This one doesn't need a ton of explanation.. You get it.. Let him know you think he's funny.
2. Let him pass gas.. And laugh and say it was a good one. I have no idea why, but somehow, this makes you the coolest wife eva.
3. Call him Superman-- Okay, maybe not that directly but he wants to feel like he's your hero. And when I do call Adam that (jokingly) from time to time, I think he secretly likes it.
4. Play video games-- Maybe for your guy it's not video games but every guy has some toy. If you can't participate, be his biggest cheerleader. This is not your competition, this is your key to his heart.
And last but not least and please hear me out before you write me off..
5. Put out---Oh yes, the preacher's wife just told you to put out..And not with the attitude you have about doing the dishes. It can actually be fun you know. The dishes, not so much. Did you notice the title? Healthy Marriage? I've got some wonderful news for you.. God says it's okay.. He even encourages it.. And I think it's time that Christians start talking about it. This is important stuff.
Now I know you're tired. you've recently given birth and you've had a breastfeeding baby hanging on you all day. You used the potty (can't remember what the real word is) with your two year old tied around your ankles and with your six year old giving you, "a hairdo that daddy will love". You can't stand the thought of another person needing something from you. But let's think about this and do the math.. It's really just a much better investment. Because the fact is, sex covers a multitude of sins..
You can focus on these few things and not worry so much about all that stuff that has been stressing you out. The truth is, if your husband wakes up in the morning feeling like a Superman with a great sense of humor that you can't keep your hands off, he doesn't care if he has to dig a wrinkled shirt out of the clothes basket to wear to work. He'll probably even have fun making the suggestion to his friends of why it's wrinkled. He doesn't care if he eats a pop tart for breakfast. And he might just feel good enough to do those dishes. He may even cook dinner so you can rest up for the night ahead.. So skip the dishes and take a nap when the baby does. Your marriage will thank you..
Blessings,
Dana
I'm hesitant to give marriage advice because obviously, a Buisiness degree does not make me qualified. However, I'm not always so easy to live with. And my husband sticks around.. And honestly, he rarely complains.. I mean yeah, he's a great guy. But, you put even a great guy in a horrible situation long enough and he'll complain. So, I'm wondering if maybe I am qualified to give a little advice in this area.. Besides, it's always fun to see if these sort of things are going to make some waves. So I told my husband what I was thinking and he said I should write a book.. Unfortunately, in this case, men are way less complicated than we are and there is nowhere near enough information to write a book. But regardless, it did make me wonder if I didn't have something worth while to contribute on this topic.
And I have a little secret to tell you.. All those books that we were forced to read about being a good wife..... You know, the ones that told you to decorate your home with feminine touches like gingham curtains and flowers. The ones that told you to pull out the fine china to show him how much you appreciate him. Yeah, those books were written by some uptight lady, forty years ago, who's husband was really frustrated. She's probably single now.. She may be widowed.. The poor guy died of boredom.. Point being: The book was written by a woman about what she thought made her a good wife, not what her husband thought made her a good wife.. So let me narrow this down.. There are five things that I've observed that keeps them coming home at night.. And my husband gives it his endorsement.. I mean, there is always the chance that we're just weird and this only applies to us but hey, just in case.. Take it for what it is...
1. Laugh at his jokes.. This one doesn't need a ton of explanation.. You get it.. Let him know you think he's funny.
2. Let him pass gas.. And laugh and say it was a good one. I have no idea why, but somehow, this makes you the coolest wife eva.
3. Call him Superman-- Okay, maybe not that directly but he wants to feel like he's your hero. And when I do call Adam that (jokingly) from time to time, I think he secretly likes it.
4. Play video games-- Maybe for your guy it's not video games but every guy has some toy. If you can't participate, be his biggest cheerleader. This is not your competition, this is your key to his heart.
And last but not least and please hear me out before you write me off..
5. Put out---Oh yes, the preacher's wife just told you to put out..And not with the attitude you have about doing the dishes. It can actually be fun you know. The dishes, not so much. Did you notice the title? Healthy Marriage? I've got some wonderful news for you.. God says it's okay.. He even encourages it.. And I think it's time that Christians start talking about it. This is important stuff.
Now I know you're tired. you've recently given birth and you've had a breastfeeding baby hanging on you all day. You used the potty (can't remember what the real word is) with your two year old tied around your ankles and with your six year old giving you, "a hairdo that daddy will love". You can't stand the thought of another person needing something from you. But let's think about this and do the math.. It's really just a much better investment. Because the fact is, sex covers a multitude of sins..
You can focus on these few things and not worry so much about all that stuff that has been stressing you out. The truth is, if your husband wakes up in the morning feeling like a Superman with a great sense of humor that you can't keep your hands off, he doesn't care if he has to dig a wrinkled shirt out of the clothes basket to wear to work. He'll probably even have fun making the suggestion to his friends of why it's wrinkled. He doesn't care if he eats a pop tart for breakfast. And he might just feel good enough to do those dishes. He may even cook dinner so you can rest up for the night ahead.. So skip the dishes and take a nap when the baby does. Your marriage will thank you..
Blessings,
Dana
Saturday, February 20, 2010
When Heaven Touches Earth
It's not that I haven't had anything to write lately.. But that I've had too much to write.. In the past week, I've developed a marketing plan for K-mart to become a real competitor of Walmart, for Sixflags to rebound in it's industry (neither of these things did anyone ask me for or is paying me for but I'm sure I'd give it free to anyone that was willing to listen to me). I've tossed around ideas about heaven and contemplated if I'm focusing my life in a direction in which Heaven will feel like home to me. I've dreamed up different paths our church should take and wondered which path would be God's favorite and I'm working on a new mom blog with one of my favorite people, and I'll be sharing that with you soon. But as you can see, none of these things go together so every time I sit down to write about them, I find myself typing, deleting, typing deleting.. Not knowing where to start..
But, there was a moment tonight that I would like to freeze in my mind forever.. The girls beg to sleep with each other all week. We only allow them to do that on Friday night because they giggle or fight,depending on the Friday night, and they keep each other awake. This works out nicely on a night when we can sleep in the next day so on Friday nights, we throw them in there together and let them keep each other awake. Before I came to bed tonight (currently laying in bed, got to love a laptop)I went to check on them and saw this..
It's funny to me that sometimes we go through life making it so much more complicated than it has to be and waiting for that one huge moment. Yet, it's moments like these that I look at my children and it takes my breath away and I know that I've caught a glimpse of Heaven.
Blessings,
Dana
But, there was a moment tonight that I would like to freeze in my mind forever.. The girls beg to sleep with each other all week. We only allow them to do that on Friday night because they giggle or fight,depending on the Friday night, and they keep each other awake. This works out nicely on a night when we can sleep in the next day so on Friday nights, we throw them in there together and let them keep each other awake. Before I came to bed tonight (currently laying in bed, got to love a laptop)I went to check on them and saw this..
It's funny to me that sometimes we go through life making it so much more complicated than it has to be and waiting for that one huge moment. Yet, it's moments like these that I look at my children and it takes my breath away and I know that I've caught a glimpse of Heaven.
Blessings,
Dana
Monday, December 28, 2009
Happy New You!
I've said before that I'm not a big fan of New Years Resolutions.. It just seems like setting myself up for failure. However, a couple of years ago, I made a list of a sort of plan of directions and it's sort of become my reminder to refocus on life after the craziness of the holiday season. It's a great reminder to me that as a child of God, there is always something new to learn and for me to become. Soon after I made this list, we packed up and moved across the country and our lives were chaotic for a bit. But, all and all, I think I did incorporate quite a bit of it into our lives, though there is much to strive for still. So once again, here are my thoughts about the direction I would like my life to take as we approach this new year.
My prayer to God is that I will always be renewed. That I will never feel as if I've reached a plateau and that I will always grow enough that I look at myself the year before and think, "what was I thinking"? So far, so good.
So without further ado, coming to you from January, 2008:
Ok, I never make New Years Resolutions because I believe that New Years Resolutions are doomed to fail. However, I do make some sort of plan at the beginning of the year that is intended to get me back on track after the holiday season. I guess I believe that since I'm not calling this plan resolutions, somehow the name will help me succeed. Somewhere in my heart, I hold on to the idea that I'm different than other people. Just like all the other different people in the world. Well, as I was making the plan this year (get in shape, get the house organized, you know, the typical) something occurred to me... It's plans like these that keep me from doing the things that I actually enjoy. So, here is my revised plan for 2008.
I'm refraining from numbering because numbers often indicate importance and these are being put down simply in the order that they pop into my head.
*PLAY
* Make a new friend. You know one of those friends that comes into your life and you know that your life is better because of them. One of those friends that understands you without you having to explain yourself. And, it's not even that they love you even though they disagree with you sometimes but that disagreeing with you isn't something that they think to do. They just let you be just the way you are because that is you and they love you. I have a couple of friends like this but they are few and far between and everyone could always use another.
*Be the same kind of friend I've described above.
*Spend time with this friend above (even if it is in an unorganized house) because spending time with people like I've described undoubtedly makes a person better.
* Give more kissles. At our house, kissles are a mix between a kiss and a tickle. When they are given, the recipient squeals with delight and says, "quit kissling me, quit kissling me". Kissles are a favorite at our house for Emma and Chloe shows signs of loving them too.
* take more naps with Chloe on my chest and Emma cuddled beside me.
*have conversations with God like He's sitting in the chair across from me.
* kiss Adam often and sit close.
* laugh until I cry
* praise a lot and criticize little
* take walks... not because I'm getting in shape but because I love the sunshine.
* take time to let Emma (and soon Chloe) help me while I cook and clean. Because doing it perfectly isn't as important as doing it together.
So those are the ones that come to mind right now and I think I'll add to the list as I embrace the things that are important as I embrace an imperfect me. I must go now, I see a child that needs some kissling!
Love from above,
Dana
My prayer to God is that I will always be renewed. That I will never feel as if I've reached a plateau and that I will always grow enough that I look at myself the year before and think, "what was I thinking"? So far, so good.
So without further ado, coming to you from January, 2008:
Ok, I never make New Years Resolutions because I believe that New Years Resolutions are doomed to fail. However, I do make some sort of plan at the beginning of the year that is intended to get me back on track after the holiday season. I guess I believe that since I'm not calling this plan resolutions, somehow the name will help me succeed. Somewhere in my heart, I hold on to the idea that I'm different than other people. Just like all the other different people in the world. Well, as I was making the plan this year (get in shape, get the house organized, you know, the typical) something occurred to me... It's plans like these that keep me from doing the things that I actually enjoy. So, here is my revised plan for 2008.
I'm refraining from numbering because numbers often indicate importance and these are being put down simply in the order that they pop into my head.
*PLAY
* Make a new friend. You know one of those friends that comes into your life and you know that your life is better because of them. One of those friends that understands you without you having to explain yourself. And, it's not even that they love you even though they disagree with you sometimes but that disagreeing with you isn't something that they think to do. They just let you be just the way you are because that is you and they love you. I have a couple of friends like this but they are few and far between and everyone could always use another.
*Be the same kind of friend I've described above.
*Spend time with this friend above (even if it is in an unorganized house) because spending time with people like I've described undoubtedly makes a person better.
* Give more kissles. At our house, kissles are a mix between a kiss and a tickle. When they are given, the recipient squeals with delight and says, "quit kissling me, quit kissling me". Kissles are a favorite at our house for Emma and Chloe shows signs of loving them too.
* take more naps with Chloe on my chest and Emma cuddled beside me.
*have conversations with God like He's sitting in the chair across from me.
* kiss Adam often and sit close.
* laugh until I cry
* praise a lot and criticize little
* take walks... not because I'm getting in shape but because I love the sunshine.
* take time to let Emma (and soon Chloe) help me while I cook and clean. Because doing it perfectly isn't as important as doing it together.
So those are the ones that come to mind right now and I think I'll add to the list as I embrace the things that are important as I embrace an imperfect me. I must go now, I see a child that needs some kissling!
Love from above,
Dana
Monday, November 23, 2009
Bitterness-- Wishing for Another's Harm while Drinking our own Poison
This is something I've had on my mind for a while. There are so many people that I know that are hurting.. Things from their past... things from now. And often forgiveness is hard to find. Bitterness is by far the most harmful of emotions. It leads to so many other things.. anger, hate, need for revenge. It grabs our own sense of reason and distorts it in way that justifies actions that we could never otherwise justify. It is a wedge between us and God. It is a roadblock on the path to us becoming what God wants us to be. It becomes our master, and us, it's slave..
I've mulled this over in my head for months now. I have no eloquent words of inspiration. But, perhaps the words that broke my heart on this matter will do so for you too. The video clip that I'm posting is divided into two segments. Together, they are around 15 minutes. That's a long time to spend on a blog post.. I know that.. But it is my prayer that if you are struggling with bitterness towards someone, that you will find a quiet 15 minutes to watch and listen with an open heart.. It may change your life. It did mine.
May our hearts be open to give the forgiveness that Jesus so freely gives to us.
Blessings,
Dana
I've mulled this over in my head for months now. I have no eloquent words of inspiration. But, perhaps the words that broke my heart on this matter will do so for you too. The video clip that I'm posting is divided into two segments. Together, they are around 15 minutes. That's a long time to spend on a blog post.. I know that.. But it is my prayer that if you are struggling with bitterness towards someone, that you will find a quiet 15 minutes to watch and listen with an open heart.. It may change your life. It did mine.
May our hearts be open to give the forgiveness that Jesus so freely gives to us.
Blessings,
Dana
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Train a Child in the Way He Should Go?
Proverbs 22:6 Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.
A common scripture that Christian parents of small children cling to. I write this post as I'm listening to the cries of my two year old in her bedroom. She made it until just over two years before we converted the crib to a toddler bed. But with her new realization that she can now escape her imprisonment, my security (IE climb out of the crib), we opted for a conversion that would allow us to keep her in her room where she can put herself back in bed when she finally surrenders to the nap that she so desperately needs. Is this the right thing to do? I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA. But for now, it's the best I've got. And so I cling to the thought that if I teach her to be the person that God wants her to be, then when she is old, she will have what she needs to be that person.
A wonderful assurance! If I don't think of the people I know that this scripture doesn't seem true for.. Because I know of several wonderful parents that are great people that have been devastated by watching their children walk away. So, I make up excuses so that I don't feel helpless with my own children.. Things like, "well it says OLD.. They aren't OLD yet".. And I turn it over and over in my mind with a constant fear that my children will some how grow up to walk away from their faith because of some choice that I've made. And the truth is, I have absolutely no idea how this job that I'm doing, being a mom, the most important job of my life, will come out for at least twenty years, maybe longer. So I'm left to observe the people that I know and rely on my own experiences and the one thing I can truly control, my ability to throw myself at the feet of a God that can give me the wisdom to do something I can not do on my own.
And I feel like in bits and pieces I get that direction. The other night, Adam and I were having a not so uncommon conversation about how to make life turn out the way it should for our girls. And here was my clueless response, "I don't know, but I know one thing, as big of helicopter parents that we are, we have to let them go on mission trips. Because out of all the kids that we know that have a faith that is real and is strong there is one thing that they all have in common, they were involved in mission work". I know that this realization is anemic. Obviously, this is not an A+B=C equation. Sending a child on a mission trip alone is not going to automatically equate to a life long faithfulness that can't be rocked. And obviously, there are faithful Christians that have never been out of our country. But still, at least in my experience the correlation is there. And so I being the person that I am analyze and analyze and analyze some more..
And last night, I feel like I got another small piece of this enlightening little puzzle when Adam showed this clip at church:
I'm still trying to sort my thoughts on this out.. Could it be that we have diluted the story of Jesus to much less of a story than God intended it to be? Could it be that maybe I'm telling my children but not training them? God please show me the way to not just say what they need to hear but be what they need to be.
I am now hearing only the blissful sound of my fingers clicking on the keyboard. And the picture inside the bedroom of that precious little ball of fire God has entrusted to me?
Lord if I warped her for life by giving her no other option but to turn to Mickey for comfort, please give me grace.
Blessings,
Dana
A common scripture that Christian parents of small children cling to. I write this post as I'm listening to the cries of my two year old in her bedroom. She made it until just over two years before we converted the crib to a toddler bed. But with her new realization that she can now escape her imprisonment, my security (IE climb out of the crib), we opted for a conversion that would allow us to keep her in her room where she can put herself back in bed when she finally surrenders to the nap that she so desperately needs. Is this the right thing to do? I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA. But for now, it's the best I've got. And so I cling to the thought that if I teach her to be the person that God wants her to be, then when she is old, she will have what she needs to be that person.
A wonderful assurance! If I don't think of the people I know that this scripture doesn't seem true for.. Because I know of several wonderful parents that are great people that have been devastated by watching their children walk away. So, I make up excuses so that I don't feel helpless with my own children.. Things like, "well it says OLD.. They aren't OLD yet".. And I turn it over and over in my mind with a constant fear that my children will some how grow up to walk away from their faith because of some choice that I've made. And the truth is, I have absolutely no idea how this job that I'm doing, being a mom, the most important job of my life, will come out for at least twenty years, maybe longer. So I'm left to observe the people that I know and rely on my own experiences and the one thing I can truly control, my ability to throw myself at the feet of a God that can give me the wisdom to do something I can not do on my own.
And I feel like in bits and pieces I get that direction. The other night, Adam and I were having a not so uncommon conversation about how to make life turn out the way it should for our girls. And here was my clueless response, "I don't know, but I know one thing, as big of helicopter parents that we are, we have to let them go on mission trips. Because out of all the kids that we know that have a faith that is real and is strong there is one thing that they all have in common, they were involved in mission work". I know that this realization is anemic. Obviously, this is not an A+B=C equation. Sending a child on a mission trip alone is not going to automatically equate to a life long faithfulness that can't be rocked. And obviously, there are faithful Christians that have never been out of our country. But still, at least in my experience the correlation is there. And so I being the person that I am analyze and analyze and analyze some more..
And last night, I feel like I got another small piece of this enlightening little puzzle when Adam showed this clip at church:
I'm still trying to sort my thoughts on this out.. Could it be that we have diluted the story of Jesus to much less of a story than God intended it to be? Could it be that maybe I'm telling my children but not training them? God please show me the way to not just say what they need to hear but be what they need to be.
I am now hearing only the blissful sound of my fingers clicking on the keyboard. And the picture inside the bedroom of that precious little ball of fire God has entrusted to me?
Lord if I warped her for life by giving her no other option but to turn to Mickey for comfort, please give me grace.
Blessings,
Dana
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