This Blog is On Hold...

....until after baby arrives! See you in January! In the meantime, you might check out the blogs in my list to the left. They are good ones!

Friday Five (Fun New Posts)

As a member of a girl preacher blog-ring (an online sharing of our blogs), I am beginning to share the Friday blog starters and my answers here each week. On Fridays, one member gives five thought provoking and light-hearted questions to which I will post my responses. Just for fun! Enjoy what you learn about me!

Today's Friday Five: Jammies
Because it is getting cooler, we are getting into PJ season.
Without going to TMI land, share with us your sleepwear memories and preferences....



1. What was your favorite sleeping attire as a child? And did you call them pjs, pajamas (to rhyme with llamas), pajamas (to sort of rhyme with bananas), jammies, or ???
Jammies is what I called them but they were actually nightgowns or the famous eighties "underoo" sets. And I had some Big Bird Slippers that I loved, too!


2. Favorite sleepwear put on your own little ones, or perhaps those you babysat? .

Sleepers with feet on them. So cute!

3. How about today-do you prefer nightgown, pajamas, undies, or au naturel?

Pj's. Actual pj's is what I prefer, but I don't have a wide selection, so often it is sweats and tees when the pj's are in the wash. And cute pj's that is--none of this wearing the husband's oversize sleepwear or granny's mumu.

4. Silky smooth or flannel-y cozy?

Either silky or cozy but never flannel or fuzzy. Eww.

5. Socks or bare feet?

Bare feet! Socks are too hot!

The Discipline of Surprise

It probably comes as no shock to those of my readers who really know me that I hate surprises. I cajole my husband to open at least one Christmas gift early each year. I want to know what happens next in life. I have a plan, a dream, a goal, a vision, and I work toward it. It is comforting to know that I will not be smacked in the face with something unexpected because if I am expecting something, even if it is something negative, I have at least prepared myself for the impact, I have braced myself for the hurt or embarrassment or discomfort, and I have at least considered one or two helpful responses to whatever the thing is. But surprises are ridiculous. They have a way of showing up in your life unannounced, with no preparation, no explanation. There they are, plopped right in the middle of my ordered world, just to confound me, to throw me off my otherwise predictable course. What is it about the unexpected that gets me so worked up? I have tried so often to get to the root of my phobia, but I can't really come up with a suitable explanation. I think it's because in knowing everything I can about everything that will happen, I am hoping to create some sort of barrier against the surprises that cause trouble and giving myself an extra time of celebration for the would-be surprises that induce joy. Particularly, this latter category has dominated my thoughts lately--let's say for the last 32 weeks. With only 8 weeks to go of pregnancy, this pact that the hubs and I have for not knowing the gender is driving me positively mad. I must know. I must. You just don't understand. I have tried all sorts of reasoning techniques...I must know because it will help us to plan for the baby (there really isn't much selection in the gender neutral department, because let's face it, none of us are actually content to be surprised about anything anymore). I must know because it will help me bond with the baby--knowing whether I am talking to a baby boy or baby girl. I must know because it's like carrying around this tremendous gift for 10 months without even peeling back the wrapping paper to get a sneak peek. I must know because everyone else in my life wants to know--they won't stop asking me until I do know. Lame excuses, I know, but I have done my best to support these as my banners for pre-knowledge. I think what it really is that drives me up the wall with this scenario is the discipline part of it. Let me be totally honest and say that we had this pact 2 years ago when expecting our first child, and I cheated. I made it to the end of the ultrasound and sent the husband out of the room so the technician could tell me the gender. I couldn't take the discipline of waiting. So, this time around, I thought I would give it another go, see how the old school way worked out. But it's the discipline that's so hard. To have the ability to do something but to choose not to do it. That works in most areas of my life, but there are some places, I'll admit, that I choose to do something I have promised someone I would not....nothing huge, just the occasional new pair of shoes I shouldn't spend money on or the across-town trip to the burrito place I shouldn't make. When it comes to discipline, though, does it really matter if it is a big or small breach of discipline? Luke 16:10 says: "If you're honest in small things,
you'll be honest in big things." (The Message) I write this as I anxiously await an ultrasound this afternoon, a very big temptation to be faithful (or not) in the small things. Looking to God to help me be disciplined so that I might experience a joyful surprise.

Sometimes You Just Need a Little Magic

Last week was the unofficial "babymoon" and a sort-of last minute vacation before things get really hairy around here. The destination: Happiest Place on Earth. At least, that's what the hubby calls it. He has been to Disney so many times that he could be a tour guide. While I enjoy the place, I can't say I have the same passion for the sprawling kid-town as he does. I wondered how this much needed vacay would prove to be relaxing. I was thinking crowds and heat and lines and kids everywhere (We went sans-toddler!) But, as the bus pulled up to the "Pacific Northwest," I think I finally got some of that inexplicable giddiness. There are no worries; there are no plans; there is no rush; there is no stress. There is only magic. The magic of being a kid again. The magic of enjoying each moment as it comes. The magic of new experiences. The magic of friendship. And I realized something important: sometimes we all need a little magic in our lives. While we might not get it from the same places, we all need it. We need to know that, in the midst of all the chaos and hurt in the world, surprises of grace abound, if we are willing to look at the world "just so." And if we do this, we might be surprised to find magic, even joy waiting for us to choose them.


Henri Nouwen says it best: "Joy is what makes life worth living, but for many joy seems hard to find. They complain that their lives are sorrowful and depressing. What then brings the joy we so much desire? Are some people just lucky, while others have run out of luck? Strange as it may sound, we can choose joy. Two people can be part of the same event, but one may choose to live it quite differently than the other. One may choose to trust that what happened, painful as it may be, holds a promise. The other may choose despair and be destroyed by it. . .What makes us human is precisely this freedom of choice. Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. It is a choice based on the knowledge that we belong to God and have found in God our refuge and our safety and that nothing, not even death, can take God away from us."

Reflections on a Year in Ministry

The end of last month marked the end of the first year at this appointment. I could measure it by the calendar: days--365, months--12, hours--8760. I could measure it by tasks: hundreds of phone calls, thousands of emails, pounds of paperwork. I could measure it in connections: hospital visits, home visits, baptisms, too many funerals. But, I think the best way to measure this year of ministry together with the people of God in this place is to reflect on the glimpses of the Kingdom we saw together. Meals made to comfort families in grief--showed the comforting love of God the Father. Words of love and support expressed to families in need of hope--showed the power of prayer among the faithful. Mission teams going to serve--showed the hands and feet of Christ at work. Families invited into the family--showed the relentless love of God to continuously pursue us. Sharing the meal of the Lord--a taste of what is to come. In all of these moments, and in others we may have overlooked, God has been among us and continues to be among us as the people of God.

Changing You, Changing Me

Julianne Hough   More CMT Music   More CMT Music Videos

Earlier in the week, I was reading an article about a seemingly secular person. It was the story of a celebrity stuggling with cancer and her faith. Sorry, but when I think Hollywood, I do not immediately think, "people of faith." In fact, I tend to think the opposite--terribly judgmental on my part--but it's the truth. So, when I read these words: "She is a firm believer in miracles and has not given up on the power of God," I wasn't sure what to make of it...considering the source. But then, I begin to think of all the folks I know who are praying for a miracle, and not just praying but hoping and believing, almost expecting a miracle. And that got me to thinking, "What exactly is a miracle anyway?" Is it God changing your circumstances? Making the pain or the cancer or the rotten situation go away? Is it God fixing your problems? I believe in miracles....but not in the traditional sense. I believe that a miracle is the power of God that transforms someone's life. In essence, believing, praying, loving, trusting God changes things. Believing changes the believer. Her outlook is different. Her joy is stronger. Her hope is centered. Her focus is clear. Her eyes are on her Savior. And that's the miracle.

Forgiveness Like a Child

I realize that many of my posts involve parenthood, and that's because being "mommy" is teaching me so much about being "faithful." The innocence of a child so often speaks to me on a faith level. Last week, we moved our little one to a new daycare, which meant she had to say goodbye to her friends at the old daycare. I took her by for what I thought would be over her head--maybe she would wave bye-bye, but that would be it. So, it was a shock to see her run over and hug her friends. She understood, at least a little, that this was a bye-bye moment and that she needed to do something special. It was the first time I had ever seen her hug another person, so it didn't all compute right away. But later, when I was thinking back on it, I remembered the shocking person she had hugged. In my parental pride for her new accomplishment, I had missed a theological moment. Since she had been going to this daycare, one little boy had continuously shown aggression toward her. He scratched my precious baby's face and eyes. He was a bully. He was bigger than her, older than her, and she was not yet walking so was unable to get away from him. The workers began to separate him from her because he would go after her to release his aggression. I'll admit I am being a little overly dramatic in the description of these events--it was probably not premeditated and just an older child's way of treating someone as he had been treated, but still, it's my baby, so it's a big deal. Anyway, when I would see this child at daycare, I would think, "There's the little bully." I only assumed that my sweet girl would have the same thoughts about her classmate, that she would not want to be near him. But the day we went on our bye-bye visit, she ran up to little bully man, threw her arms around him, and they both giggled. They were friends! I didn't even notice this until the replay in my mind. And as I hit rewind, I was irked that she didn't get who he was. Why was she hugging the little bully man who hurt her? And then, I hit rewind with my "preacher's cap" on, and I realized, to her, he wasn't little bully man, he was a friend, with whom she'd had some problems, but none too big that they couldn't forgive each other and still be friends. Her heart does not carry with it the baggage that mine does. I still think of my own little bully man, and I think it may be many years before he and I shall hug, but it is my prayer that God would make my heart more like the one of a little child. Who was it that said, "To enter the kingdom, you must become like a child"?