Monday Morning, You're Never Going to Look Quite the Same

Monday Morning, you're never going to look quite the same.

I'm in my last week of work, due to a restructuring of my job that entails a plethora of additional responsibilities in not enough time to do them and a time commitment I cannot make in the evenings and weekends.

I have loved this job for 9 years, gone to church there since my son was 6 months old, and he is now 23. So you can imagine, I have some strong feelings about this, 99.9% not good feelings.

However, I'm going to try to look at the bright side as often as possible. And one of those bright sides is: Monday mornings. No rush to get up, no pressure to get back at projects for the week, and most of all NO meetings!

Eventually, I think Monday mornings will be busy outside the home again. But for now, it's one last time in to clean up files, pitch stuff I've needed to for a long time and prepare docs for the next person who sits in my chair.

Sigh.

I hope they find someone who loved that job and ministry like I did, but between you and me and the world (all two who read this blog, and my own mom is not in those two) I doubt they will.

OK, time for a cup of coffee, time to put on a professional face and attitude and go to work. For the last time, on a Monday morning.

What Are Your Christmas Dreams Made Of?

When I was a little girl, my favorite Christmas present was a big old baby stroller, quilted blue, a flat canopy trimmed with white fuzzy pom-poms, similar to the one in this picture. Beautiful! But the best part of the stroller was that—oh, sit down for this--was that it was a DOUBLE stroller, room for one baby facing forward, the other backward. A feature like that that could make a little pretend mommy dizzy with strolling dreams!

That memory makes me smile because I realize that my deeper desire, beyond taking two baby dolls in and out of their seats hundreds of times, was to nurture a baby. Something about those plastic dolls of my childhood filled my heart with joy, foreshadowing my life to come, when I would be filled with indescribable happiness while holding my own children, and now the twins living in my home. (Oh, the irony! TWO!)

I think that’s often how we approach Christmas, whether we look forward to family meals, giving gifts, children’s excitement, church, music, movies, etc. Something about those activities fills our hearts with joy—and maybe--they foreshadow an even fuller life and celebration to come.

So what are you looking forward to most this year? If you look deeper into that desire, what hope might be embedded in your Christmas wishes and expectations?

Maybe you haven’t thought to articulate your deepest desires because they’re so disguised (wrapped?) in the cultural trappings of Christmas, which we’ve grown to love (or not love, depending on our disappointments). But is it possible that the deepest desire of your heart might include love and peace within your family? Reconciliation with someone? A deep joy? Personal freedom from things that are destroying you? Peace? Forgiveness? Rest? God’s presence? Hope?

If those are the gifts you truly desire for Christmas, they are available to all of us, but you can’t overlook the source--remember the poignancy and significance in the Christmas story when the innkeeper had no room for the babe.

Receive the good tidings of great joy for all people: “The Savior has come; let there be peace on Earth and good will toward men from God!” Let the significance of that sink in; let it shine in dark places and replace despair with hope.

No matter how far-fetched or impossible your hopes and desires might seem, in your heart and in your life, “prepare Him room,” because “Joy to the world—the Lord is come!” Anything is possible!

©
Linda Crow 2011

I'm Banded

Right now I am sporting two very fashionable bracelets--two paper bands around my right wrist, the kind that someone straps on you which must be cut off when you want to be free.

They are the kind you get in the hospital if you're the person (besides the mom of the newborns) who has access to the babies and can be with them alone while Mom showers or whatever.

I am the banded aunt-in-law to a young woman who just gave birth to preemie twins, boy and girl. Mom and babies are coming to live in our home when they leave the hospital; therefore, I am like next of kin, in a local, female, married-into-the-family, live-with-you way.

I am banded. This is monumental to me.

First of all, I'm scared. I'm scared about the whole thing, about a little family coming to live with us and all that that implies.

Secondly, I'm nervous. Nervous about losing sleep because 2 tiny newborns MUST be put on a strict schedule, and Mom is going to need help at 3:00am. I believe when one accepts the bands, she is expected to step up. Gulp.

Thirdly, I'm having mild anxiety attacks during the night and first thing in the morning when I wake up because--what if I fail--in any sense of the word--fail to help the mom, fail to do something essential for the babies, fail to remain loving, calm, cool, collected, fail to be wise, fail to represent how a person of faith behaves when she is stressed. So much at stake.

And then, I pick up one of the twins. And all of the periphery concerns, current events and hand-wringing seem to fade into a blurry background.



Can you tell that as I write this there is a knot forming in my throat choking back my tears and that my heart is speeding up? Because this is how I feel when I look at this pic even after having been with them all day yesterday and today.

I do not know how this will work out. It could be a colossal disaster. But it is happening out of love for the mom and her babies. May God step in and fix the things I screw up. (Please, God--just show up! HELP!)

So I am banded and bonded already, and they are just now 24 hours old.

Scared but hopeful.

Lost but trusting.

Anxious but committed.

Mostly, though, I just feel banded, not only at the wrist but in my heart as well. Not only to babies, but to Mom.

2 Chronicles 20:12 "Oh, Lord, we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you!"

So, Welcome to the world, little ones. This is your crazy old Great Aunt Linda writing about you on her blog, which will someday seem as antiquated to you as the telegraph does to me. Just want to say, "You are loved." And thank you for the blog fodder I know you are going supply me with, beginning with the outrageous amount of poo you supplied us with today.

Brother on the left, sister on the right.

Crutch

One day a friend said to me, "I don't need religion. It's a crutch."

First of all, let me say that to most believers, being called religious is a bit off-putting. Religion implies "doing," as in "rules." Faith, on the other hand, connotes a way of moving through the world--your relationship with God and your relationships with people. Big difference.

In a sense, calling religious faith a crutch is accurate. If the definition of crutch is something that you lean on, that supports you when you're afflicted, I can see what she meant and would readily agree that in part, that is what religion is.

But she meant "crutch" in a derogatory way, as if to say that the sum total of religion's function is to placate the feeble ("opiate of the masses.")

That's sort of like saying, "The only function food has is to sustain me. I don't need to experience the savory, the sweet, the salty, the smooth, the crisp ... just hook me up to an IV bag of nutrients. That's how strong I am. That's how above the other weaklings I am." To that I would reply, "OK, maybe technically, that's true, you could survive without. But I have to say, wow--you're missing a lot."

Can the enjoyment of food become an unhealthy crutch? Absolutely. But don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, or the edges of the pizza with the box, because I like them.

So crutches can be misused, like any belief system or any good thing in life. Give us humans anything good, and we can warp it. We specialize in that.

Sometimes crutches enable you to walk when otherwise you'd be chair or bed-bound. If for the rest of my life I had to choose between crutches or being immobile, I would choose crutches, in order to live as fully as I could, including moving through the world the best I could. In this case, the crutch would actually offer me freedom.

But not all crutches have the same stigma as religion.

Let's get real. What else could be categorized as a crutch?

First example: People you love and who love you. Don't make me start singing Bill Withers' "Lean on Me." We lean on each other. Sometimes people burden us; sometimes we burden them. Even the Lone Ranger moved through the world with Tonto.

My elderly parents often apologize for needing my help. I am hurt by this apology because they forget or discount how I leaned on them all of my growing up years. Were they thrilled every time I became ill and needed exhausting around-the-clock care? No. It was a burden of love. I feel that way about them now. I want to say, "Please lean on me in your time of need! I want to be there for you!"

Other examples of crutches:
Your job--for finances, since you weren't born with the proverbial silver spoon.
Your car--because it's so convenient.
Hobbies--which entertain you because you need outside stimuli and interests.
Education--which gives you a step up in society.
Kisses, embraces, tears, laughter--when words won't do.

How about this: Is your vision a crutch? Because you can certainly survive without it. How about the ground under your feet? It's supporting you.

So my point is two-fold:

A. Almost any activity or thing can be viewed as a crutch.
B. A crutch is not necessarily a bad thing.

I think the bigger question is why would a person want to box up and label religion and tuck it in the basement never to be considered again?

I think it's a combination of
-a fear of looking weak
-a fear of what "being religious" might require of him
-a fear that opening himself up to things that can't be completely explained diminishes his intellect
-a fear of repeating previous bad experiences with "religious" people
- and finally, plain old arrogance

But what if the so-called weak, dependent simpletons sit at the banquet table and enjoy the raucous party and hearty feast with each other and the host, while the independent, desperado, Nobody's Fool settles for the bland, the predictable, the isolated, the temporal ... the "safe"?

People are free to stay grounded and immobile, but they're also free to fly. Faith is under your wings, like a crutch, and it's all around you as you fly, lifting you higher and higher.

So yes, faith supports. Sometimes it carries. But sometimes it builds up your muscles, smacks you on the butt and sends you off into the world. It also inspires, guides, and corrects you. It does not tie you down; it frees you. It works in cathedrals, and it works in shacks. It works for the wealthy and the poor. It works for members of MENSA; it works for children. It works for anyone who dares to open the box in the basement and just let it be.

You want to get rid of debilitating crutches in your life? Get rid of the false sense of superiority and independence. Open the box, open your mind and heart. Real life is waiting.

For Kelsey

Last year, I wrote about these girls having a rare (11 people in the world) genetic immune deficiency disease (Dock 8) and how my church sponsored the Be The Match event to try to find stem cell donors.

I'm sad to say that the eldest, Kelsey (right) passed away this afternoon at 5:17pm.

Heavy, heavy heart, but she is with Jesus. I know this because she was with him every day while she was here on earth these short years, so this relationship just continues now in a different dimension than we can understand. It's not that big of a jump for Kelsey. Her speech was peppered with references to him, she literally danced for him, and she pointed others to him with a mega-watt smile. He was her all in all, and now she is completely healed, forever. Not one more hour of sickness for Kelsey. Not one minute more of suffering.

One of my best memories of Kelsey is that when she was little and enrolled in a Praise Dance program with my daughter Katie, Kelsey's mom, Tammy, asked me to give Kelsey a ride home, and I agreed. About halfway to my house, I realized I had forgotten Kelsey at church. I never drove so fast back to church or prayed so hard while I was driving as I did to retrieve her, which is saying a lot for me. Upon my arrival, she was fine, greeted me with her little cheerful smile and chatted all the way home. Bless her heart.

My heart is heavy, laden with grief, yes, but also heavy with the rich gifts she shared with us all.

She will be missed. And she has the most amazing parents on the face of the earth. Much love to them.

2nd Cup Remix, Life Remix (Resolutions)

Re: your comments on what I'm calling my "2nd Cup of Coffee Remix" post (shot in the arm, resurrection post) was heartwarming and overwhelming. Thank you for all of the niceness you bestowed upon me. Humbled!

As I write this, it is January the twoth, and so far, so good on a couple of resolutions.

First of all, I'm on my 2nd day of reading the Bible in a year. I've accomplished this once before, but not in 2010, so I thought I'd give it a go. Today, in the OT, Eve got into trouble, and in the NT, Herod killed a bunch of innocent babies. Wow, with summaries like that, you don't even need to crack your Bible if you're considering this plan.

(Why did I say "innocent babies" above? Are there evil babies? No. Not even the sibling in this, one of my favorite pics of all time, is evil. She's just having an Evil-Genius Power Trip moment. So scratch that redundant adjective.)

Fellow Losties will understand when I say I envisioned the Smoke Monster starring in the role of Satan in both stories. Anyway, I hope to keep this "reading the Bible" performance up because, as you know, being a Christian is all about performance. JUST KIDDING. I'm just proud of myself for doing something two days in a row besides breathing and eating.

Secondly, I'm already on my 2nd day of being a vegetarian. I know; My iron will is amazing. I warned you this was coming, but I only decided a few days ago to start Jan. 1. Honestly, I don't know if this will last. Today the family ate ziti that I had prepared, but I opted for a mix of rice, black beans, pepper jack cheese, a dash of hot sauce and one and a half eggs stirred up in a little skillet. I LOVED it. We'll see what happens when a pepperoni pizza comes waltzing by me on some lonely evening. I may succumb to temptation.

Thirdly, I'm on an exercising roll. My daughter's wedding is June 18, and as I have reminded myself and many others: There's a frumpy Mother-of-the-Bride dress out there waiting for me. My fear is that the only non-frumpy ones will be sleeveless (EEEEK). So I'm on a mission to tone up the wings.

So those are a few of my resolutions. Not revolutionary resolutions, I admit, but still, good ones.

I know, I know. You don't make resolutions. Hardly anyone does anymore. I don't think I did for the last couple of years. Some desire to do so kicked up in me over the last few days, and I just decided to go for it. We'll see what happens ... now that I've said them out loud, GULP, I feel a little more accountable!

If you have new beginnings, let me know!

Interesting Moment at Hobby Lobby

Love the Lobby.

Anyway.

I was in the store the other day and noticed a family of people who were deaf, two parents and a child. For just a moment, I thought about the challenges they must face daily, and I admired their happy demeanors as they chatted aloud and signed in the store. Not a drop of self-consciousness. Made me smile on the inside.

We happened to exit at the same time, and right outside stood a Salvation Army bell ringer. Earlier, I had noticed as I entered the store (as I had also the night before), that his "Merry Christmas" wishes seemed a little off somehow, a little ill-timed, but I had been in a hurry in the snow both times and did not stop to try to figure out what was slightly off-kilter. But on this night, exiting with the family, he did it again, and I looked into his face and realized, "He is blind."

So the people behind me who couldn't hear the bell ringer or the bell, wished the bell ringer, who could not see them, a merry Christmas, and vice-versa.

For some reason, I was very touched by this.

I'm not sure why God had me there at just that moment to witness that, but I think there was a reason. I've been thinking and thinking about it.

What do you think?

Don't forget to come back tomorrow and link up to share a pic of your tree and a significant ornament or two.


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One of the Best Things I've Ever Seen

This touched me on so many levels, I can't even begin to explain. One of my favorite moments is when she says, "We have been vain ... and shellfish." To her parents (how will you EVER let her grow up??) and others who shared--THANK YOU!!

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Mom, Can I Have a Drink of Water?

"This is a large work I've called you into, but don't be overwhelmed by it. It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing." Matt 10:41-42

Happy 25th Anniversary, Jorge!

June 14, 1985-June 14, 2010 ~ 25 Years!

Yes, today is my 25th wedding anniversary. I married my high school friend, my college sweetheart. He was a wonderful young man who grew into someone even more wonderful over the years. We have weathered a lot together. We look forward to a future together and talk about that almost daily.

I smile when I look back on this date, how 25 years later we would not only still be together but be parents of two adults and one almost-adult child. Of course, they will always be "children" to us, but my goodness, how Time and Life have marched swiftly from then until now. Unbelievable.

Thank you, Jorge, for putting up with me, all of my illnesses, selfishness, narcissism, immature faith and annoying habits, like clearing my throat. I'm sorry for all the times I've failed you. Thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you for always encouraging me. I do not deserve you.

And you're still hot, by the way. Prettiest green eyes in the world, best sense of humor, smartest person I know, best male body of our graduating class, best male body of anybody I know now. You make me so happy. I love you!














This is a newspaper column published in 1997. I'd like to share it again, with an updated title.

Happy 25th, George!

On June 15, 1985, I was a college graduate of three weeks and a bride of 24 hours. I remember languishing poolside in Floridian bliss, humming along to Tears for Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World, while sipping a cold drink and exchanging smiles with my bridegroom. I didn't want to rule the world exactly, but I did have big plans for my new married life.

When I hear the song now, I smile at the irony of the first line: "Welcome to your life; there's no turning back ... ." At 22, what did I know about a commitment to care forever -- no turning back?

Occasionally, I wish I could return to June 14, 1985, and meet myself as a young bride at the back of the church. I'd whisper candidly to the young me about my expectations versus the reality of the years ahead. If you had asked me then if I understood the scope and weight of my vows, I would have said yes, but I didn't really.

Being in love didn't prepare me for those first grocery shopping ventures, when I plopped favorites into the cart and he promptly removed them. I didn't know that without due warning he would change my radio stations. Who knew we'd spend 25 years disagreeing about how to mow the lawn? And how could I have known that he had a sleeping disorder? Or (and this still puts a chill up my spine) that we would have kids with sleeping disorders?

I didn't understand that he couldn't be "everything" for me. After all, he was the love of my life, with emphasis on "my."

And that poor bridegroom -- he didn't know the half of his bride's self-centered capacities. He didn't know his fun-loving girlfriend would be so uptight about clothes on the floor and dust on ceiling fans. How could an affectionate girlfriend neglect to meet her husband when he walked through the door after work each night? And how did she manage to break so many things weekly? Imagine his confusion about a wife who six months into marriage began daily afternoon naps that merged into nights. Had he married a narcoleptic?

No, the power naps were due to the hormonal changes of pregnancy, and he would be a dad in only his second year of marriage.

Who knew?

God did. He knew we would go through seasons of joy alternated with frustration, depression, family deaths, disappointment in each other and in ourselves. But by the grace of God who remained faithful to us when our commitment lagged, and through the support of church family and friends, we stand together 25 years later.

Ecclesiastes 4:12 says, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not easily broken"(NIV).

Three strands: God, my husband, and me.

At times, the cord frayed, but it didn't break, because ultimately, we love God and value who we are as a couple and a family more than we love our individual selves-- not because we're noble or martyrs, but because God's spirit in us "grew" this counter-human commitment to something bigger than ourselves as individuals.

Based on statistics, it's a safe bet that without positioning our marriage and family on his principles and grace, we wouldn't be together today.

A line in the aforementioned songs says, "There's a room where the light won't find you/holding hands while the walls come tumbling down/When they do I'll be right behind you..." In the tropical sun of 1985, I wouldn't have believed that darkness could ever threaten us. But by banding together when darkness came and walls fell, we defended each other when one was weaker. And when we were both tired, our anchor strand was strong enough to get us through.

I am not as naive about life and expectations anymore. I do know that when my husband is pushed, I'll be right behind him, supporting him. When walls tumble, I'll be right beside him, holding his hand.

And even if I could time travel and enlighten myself about the triumphs and trials to come, I'd trust in the outstretched hand of my bridegroom at the altar, squish my puffy dress through the vestibule, and confidently meet him there -- no turning back.



Copyright Linda Crow. Previously published in the Muncie Star Press, June 16, 2007.

Column Today About Finding Thankfulness and Joy in the Middle of Suffering

Please click the button to read today's column in the Muncie Star Press. Have a great weekend.

Jesus Messiah

This song was on my mind all week and then someone posted this vid on FB.

Column In Star Press Today

Recently I lost a dear friend and high school classmate to cancer.

Since Jim was a world-class runner, I often think about him while running.

The day after his funeral, I decided to go for a run but dreaded it because I hadn’t run in more than a week and knew it would be difficult.

I started strong, but with each mile it grew more difficult to understand how Jim or any human could endure an ultra marathon, 50 miles.

To read the rest, click on the button.

From Eternity to Here

I agreed to review Frank Viola's From Eternity to Here several weeks ago, and since I've read it, I've doubted whether I could write a review that would do the book justice or say anything more than what scores of articulate readers are already saying. It is one of the most enthralling books I've read in a long time, and I'm afraid that my attempt to describe it will make the book seem dull and trite when it is not. But I agreed to offer my thoughts, so I'll be brief.

You may or may not know who Frank Viola is; I did not know until after I read the book and researched his other works and ideas about Christianity, i.e. what his theses and talking points are. Apparently, he stirs both detractors to protest his ideas and sleeping believers to open their eyes to re-examine long-held traditions and practical applications of following Christ. Everyone seems to have an opinion about his opinions. Please don't assume I know all about Frank Viola's theology or his criticisms of church as an institution because I don't. I've only read this one book, and I'm only speaking about it.

Viola is a leading voice in the current trend to scrutinize contemporary Christianity through the lens of the early church. One of his main criticisms is that, "Few Christians speak about God's eternal purpose today." Thus, From Eternity to Here speaks about God's "driving passion" in a very engaging way.

The book is divided into three parts which are meant to intertwine, yet each can stand as a unit on its own. Part one is called: "A Forgotten Woman: The Bride of Christ." This is my favorite section of the book. In this volume, Viola compares the church to Eve and Jesus to Adam.

Here is one of my favorite passages from this section:

First, through death, Jesus Christ destroyed everything that would stand in His way of winning the hand of His beloved bride. To wit, He destroyed the sin that would eternally separate her from Him. He destroyed the law that would suffocate her under a mountain of religious bondage and a pile of crushing condemnation. He destroyed the power of the Evil One who would seek to take her life. He destroyed the world system, which would lure her heart away from Him. He destroyed the old creation, which would defile and corrupt her. But most importantly, he destroyed death itself; for He would ensure that the object of His passion would never taste death.

Part Two is called: "An Eternal Quest: The House of God." Chapter 12 is entitled, "The Story of Homeless God," which is an example of the turn of phrase Viola uses to shake up the reader and whet his curiosity. This section is so rich I cannot begin to speak to the content, but the focus is on the corporate aspect of the Body rather than the individual.

Part Three is called: "A New Species: The Body of Christ and the Family of God."

Throughout the book, Viola uses narrative, metaphor and scripture to expound on the plan which God held from eternity to the here and now. Since Christ, the mystery has been revealed, but even if you've been in church your entire life like I have, I promise you, if you read this book, you'll see God's love for you in a brand new way, you'll be inspired to love fellow believers in a new way and your heart will fill up with praise for our passionate God.

I'd love to give away a free copy today, but I cannot do it because I have made notes all over my copy; I couldn't help myself. Just re-reading them for this review has re-kindled my awe. I hope you don't miss the opportunity to fall a little more in love with God through this book.

The following bloggers are posting a review or Q & A with Frank Viola on his bestselling book FROM ETERNITY TO HERE today, Tuesday, July 21st. You may order the book at a discount at From Eternity to Here. It’s also on audio book. Free discussion guide, sample chapters, interviews, and a free audio of the first chapter are available on that site also. Here are the bloggers who are participating:

Jay Becker - www.jaybecker.org

Mark D - http://deadmanstravelog.blogspot.com

Igniting Hearts - Kimber Britner - http://www.ignitinghearts.blogspot.com/

Karyn - http://tiger-kar.blogspot.com

Barefoot Preacher - http://thebarefootpreacher.blogspot.com

Every Day Angels - www.WeAreEverydayAngels.com

FaithEngineer - http://www.faithengineer.com

Kristen Schiffman - http://dancinginthemargins.typepad.com/

CrossPointe: The Church at Bevo - http://churchatbevo.blogspot.com/

Crazy Love for God - crazyloveforgod.blogspot.com

Amazima Ministries - oatsvallteam.blogspot.com

Down to Write Honest - http://downwritehonest.com

A Beautiful Mess - http://blnorth1105.blogspot.com/

The Blakes on a Mission - www.theblakesthailand.blogspot.com

Words by Jud Kossum - http://judkossum.blogspot.com

Eric Jaffe - http://www.ericjaffe.org

Reconnect with God – www.Reconnectwithgod.org

2nd Cup of Coffee - http://www.2nd-cup-of-coffee.blogspot.com

Nolan Bobbitt Website - www.nolanbobbitt.com

Klappyanne - www.xanga.com/klappyanne

Daveingland - http://www.daveingland.com

Randi Jo Rooks - http://seedsinmyheart.blogspot.com

Ephesians Five – http://ephesiansonefive.blogspot.com

Michael Bayne - http://www.michaelbayne.net

Encounter Church Helena Blog - encounterhelena.org

Thoughts B4 Conviction N2 Action - tsharrison.blogspot.com

Edevotion - http://www.e-devotion.blogspot.com

Seeking After - http://seekingafter.blogspot.com

Eric Powell - www.encounterhelena.org

Borrowed Light - http://fbcnewlondon.blogspot.com

Have a Sip at Internet Cafe Today

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15).

The New Testament city of Ephesus was immersed in the Greco-Roman tradition of the pursuit of beauty and perfection in every sense: art, architecture, music, and even regarding the human race.

In fact, Greeks and Romans regularly abandoned their unwanted (less than physically perfect, or often, female) infants to the elements as a means of divesting themselves of the responsibility and stigma of such a child. This practice was termed “exposing” the child. Some of those rejected children, if physically able, were "adopted" by Ephesian citizens only to serve as slaves.

Testifying to the common act of abandoning children is the following letter written June 17, 1 B.C., by a man named Hilarion to his pregnant wife, Alis:

“Know that I am still in Alexandria. And do not worry if they all come back and I remain in Alexandria. I ask and beg you to take good care of our baby son, and as soon as I receive payment I will send it up to you. If you are delivered of child [before I get home], if it is a boy keep it, if a girl discard it. You have sent me word, ‘Don’t forget me.’ How can I forget you. I beg you not to worry.”

How could such a warm missive contain such a cold directive to simply discard a baby!

To read the rest of "Not Forgotten, Not Abandoned," click on the cafe button!

Return to Hodophobia with Willy Wiener

Today I'm departing with my church staff for the Orange Conference in Duluth, GA. The last time I flew was in June to the She Speaks Conference, and I wrote this post to expose my intense fear of flying to the world, because apparently I cannot stand to maintain one shred of pride on this blog and had to blab about that weirdness, too. So I'm re-running it here because I think it's relevant and helpful to me (there IS something redeeming in the post) as I prepare to take to the skies today. But I would love your prayers. See ya in a few, and I have a couple of posts for you while I'm gone. PS: Airborne tastes awful.

I just found out that I am afflicted, in the truest sense of that word, with a particular type of anxiety called "hodophobia," [HOE-doe-phobia] which is the "fear of traveling." And Jorge is now so accepting of my condition that he is "lovingly" calling me "Ho-do" for short.

Anyway, do I need to remind you of what I'm doing June 19? Hint: It involves leaving my bedroom.

Hodophobia is different from Pteromerhanophobia, which is not "fear of pterodactyls" but is instead the fear of flying. The diffference is, we hodophobes do not like traveling in any sense.

I'm not in love with flying, mainly because of motion sickness, but that can be fixed with medication, and I promise you, it will be. It will be. (If my seat mate only knew, he would be thanking God right now, because when I flew to Phoenix, I threw up.) But a general fear of traveling, I'm not so sure about that.

I have not been posting in detail about my stress level over this conference because I could just see you going, "O-kaaaaay ...." and X-ing me out forever due to my irrational nuttiness. For instance, in airports, my ears start buzzing and my vision blurs so that I have trouble reading anything, including pertinent information, which is sort of crucial to traveling. I feel paralyzed and dependent on everyone around me to lead me. And I'm making this trip alone.

After returning from Gatlinburg yesterday, I dreamed of the conference all night long. All. Night. Long.

I dreamed I was hanging out the back of a plane, which was not comfortable. (There wasn't room for me.) I dreamed I made the pilot angry. I dreamed I had lied about attending a conference and was sneakily trying to attend two conferences at once (sort of like the Brady Bunch episode where Peter tried to keep a date with two girls.) I dreamed I missed a flight. In short, I dreamed every bad thing you could dream about traveling, because, have I mentioned?, I'm a hodophobe.

Early this morning, Jorge talked me down off the ledge and away from cancelling everything. Here's the deal: Once I get to Charlotte (Thurs. eve.) I have no way to get to the hotel. There is no shuttle that night like there will be for the conference proper. I thought I was going to have to take a taxi. I do not know how to do this. I could not imagine calling, hailing, paying, tipping ... Apparently, I also have taxiphobia, which is not a real name but should be for fear of taxis.

So I started doing research on hodophobia, and I came across a set of 5 minute news videos where two doctors spoke to a news anchor about anxiety. One of the doctor's names, and I am not making this up, is Willy Wiener, which, if you find this unbelievable and want to verify, go here. I did not find Willy Wiener to be that helpful, but I'm sure he is a wonderful man.

However, there is a site called Living with Anxiety that I found somewhat helpful. Here is a prayer I lifted from that site, which I hope is OK since I pointed you there:

Prayer for a Special Need Like Not Wanting to Take a Taxi (OK, I added that last part).

Lord Jesus, You have said, "Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart." With confidence in Your loving heart which offers rest to weary souls, I come to You in this my time of special need. In Your unfailing love, read the prayer that is written on my heart, and grant the grace that I ask of You, in accordance with Your holy will. In Your name I pray. Amen.

Simple, but effective for me. When I am in an airport, I may not be able to even utter a prayer, but he can read the prayer that is written on my heart.

Later, I sat through the sermon, which was about living your life as an example to others, among other subtopics. Looking at me in my paralyzation, would anyone want to trust in the God I worship? I felt so ashamed that ultimately my fear revealed a lack of faith. If I believe (to cite one of many examples of God's power) that God parted the Red Sea, do I not believe he can get me from the Charlotte airport to Embassy Suites? Am I afraid He can't read a map? Speak southern? Find me if I get lost? Help me count money for a tip? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

God has worked out so many details for me to be able to do this conference--you wouldn't believe. I think I am supposed to go; I really do, but I think I'm under spiritual attack, too.

So I headed off to the grocery store. I turned on the radio only to hear Lysa TerKeurst speaking. I had to laugh. ["Ack! I can't get away from 'She Speaks!'"]

All through my grocery trip, I thought of the ordeal, turning it upside down and inside out, over and over. I started feeling so depressed and my self-esteem was plummeting.

When I got home, my husband stopped mowing the lawn to tell me that while I was gone, he arranged for a limo to pick me up at baggage and take me to the hotel. The driver will have a sign with my name on it, so there's no missing me. (I'll be the lady with kaleidescope eyes clutching her suitcase for dear life.) This company specializes in freaked out travelers. The fee and tip are paid in advance. If I cannot use the voucher offered by Proverbs 31 to get back to the airport, he will arrange a ride back. My husband loves me. My God loves me. I don't deserve the love or faithfulness of either, but there you have it.

In fact, I cannot explain people's general goodness toward me, except that God loves me through them. I am so humbled.

So now I've processed, to some degree, what has been eating at me for weeks and weeks and growing almost by the hour--I'm not kidding.

So do not X me out; God isn't through with me yet, as they say.

I can do this trip because with God (and the limo guy) all things are possible!

That's all the news from the land of Hodophobia.
Signed,
Hodophina

New Column

Please come read about God leading me out of some comfort zones lately, and share in the comments about how He is moving you in your life, too!

Newspaper Column 3.21.09

This newspaper column is a re-write of a piece I did for Internet Cafe. The newspaper audience is broader and less homogeneous, so I edited it appropriately. And at the time of the Internet Cafe piece, my child had not yet accumulated 6,000 text messages in one month!

Remembering My Own Gilgal: Week 8 of "Believing God"

Well, here we are at week 8 out of 10 in the study. I want to thank all of you who jumped on board with Diane and me. This is deep, serious stuff; I hope you can sense that you're growing through all of the lessons, as I do.












The basic text for this week’s study is Joshua 4-5, where God brought the Israelites around to beginning a new relationship with Him. At this point in Israel's history, the freed but wandering people have now crossed the Jordan river and set up 12 memorial stones for posterity (chapter 4). Then, by God's directive, they were “wounded” (circumcised) and healed, employing a physical action to symbolize a spiritual event.

Joshua 5:9 says, “Then the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Today I have rolled away the reproach [censure, shame] of Egypt from you.’ So the place has been called Gilgal to this day.” The word Gilgal means “circle” and sounds like the Hebrew word for “roll.”

I get it! Stones, roll, circle, circumference of a body part ... "Gilgal" is a turning point.

Why the focus on Gilgal in this study? Like the Israelites, many of us have our own personal Gilgals which can bolster our faith as we rehearse what God has done for/in us.

BM said that “The way He takes one of us full circle doesn’t have to seem significant to anyone else. If it’s significant to you, it’s significant to God.”

How do we define our own Gilgal moments?

A Gilgal moment is when we realize that:
~God has forgiven us and no longer condemns us (has rolled away our reproach).
~God has helped us to make a clean start and helped us be victorious over something that once ensnared us (has healed us).
~God has taken us full circle in some facet of spiritual growth. (We memorialize [testify to] what God has done and give thanks.)

Each day, BM shared several biographical sketches of modern giants of faith who began with small, unremarkable, even unfortunate origins and humbly accomplished great things for God’s glory. She recalled each man’s Gilgal experience.

The common denominator in these men’s lives was a sold-out commitment to God and active, unyielding faith, believing that:
~God is who he says he is.
~God will do what he says he will do.

Sound familiar?

Part of the week’s study included breaking our own lives into fifths and looking at each era to see what pivotal events happened, who influenced us, and how we were affected by those events.

Since the years from 32-36 or so were difficult for me, I dreaded re-visiting that time because I felt ensnared by a stronghold and was pretty miserable. But today, I do stand up straight to boast in the Lord because he brought me out of that pit.

Here is my boast, expressed in Psalm 94:17-19: Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death. When I said, ‘My foot is slipping,’ your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”

He is indeed “my glory and the lifter up of my head” (Ps 3:3).

I liked Beth’s observation: “I believe sometimes the emptiness around us can echo a single voice all the louder.” I know that God heard me in my distress. I know that I’m in a different place than I was ten years ago. I believe that was my Gilgal.

Questions to think about:

Is there a pivotal moment in your life when, from your perspective now, you can see that God brought you full circle?

If you are in the midst of a trying time right now, can you believe God--that he is with you and is about to do a new thing in your life? Are you expecting the waters to be rolled back and your reproach to be rolled away?














Finally, all this talk about stones rolling brings to mind that glorious, miraculous moment when the stone was rolled away from Jesus’s tomb. Because of that resurrection power, we can trust in all five major faith statements of this study:

1. God is who he says he is.
2. God can do what he says he can do.
3. I am who God says I am.
4. I can do all things through Christ.
5. God’s word is alive and active in me.

I’m believing God--because he specializes in rolling away the "stone" of death [literally, in resurrection, and figuratively, in strongholds and burdens] and in rolling away reproach. And for this, my heart is full of praise and gratitude..

Week 6 of "Believing God" & Giveaway

Diane from Meyers on the Hood and I welcome you to week 6 of Beth Moore’s Believing God series.

This was my week for Believing God. That is, this week’s videos and lessons spoke to my heart most pointedly and poignantly so far.

At the end of video segments 4 and 5, I was so deeply moved that I planned to view those again. If these were the only concepts during this series that touched me as they did, they were worth the registration fee and the time invested.

Some of the lessons this week were inspiring, and some were convicting, but as Beth Moore said in day one’s homework, “Whenever we are confronted by a hard truth, God’s purposes are always redemptive.”

Here are some points that I want to remember from this week:

*God’s words are omnipotent, and while ours are not omnipotent, they are potent. (Makes sense, since we’re made in His image.)

*By example and exhortation in scripture, we are encouraged to speak what we believe. God desires not only that His children believe truth but also that we speak it: "I believed; therefore I have spoken” (2 Cor. 4:13).

*Because of past abuses of “Name It and Claim It” ministries, the contemporary church downplays the truth about the power of our words and prayers to build up, tear down, move “mountains” and move the heart of God.

*[God] can intervene in the split second it takes for a word to travel from our brains to our tongues and stop it before it leaves our mouths. God can also sanctify our minds—our unparalleled battlefield—where every word originates.

*As we read scripture (hopefully, memorize) it’s like we are inhaling God’s word. When we speak that word, it’s like we’re exhaling God’s word. [More about that at the conclusion.]

About praying out loud: Most of my adult life, I have preferred silent prayer to audible prayer. When I pray aloud, I become conscious of the words I’m saying and all that that implies. Maybe I can’t come up with the right word, but my spirit knows the word. It’s not a problem when I’m silent, but when I’m trying to articulate my thoughts, my halting speech becomes a problem for me.

Or maybe I suddenly lose the moment and wonder what somebody else thinks about my choice of words. Or maybe I’ve forgotten a prayer request among several which have been named. Aside from technical difficulties, audible prayer has felt more like a corporate ministry to me than a private one. After all, what is more intimate than someone hearing/knowing my very thoughts? I felt that silent praying was special between God and me, and in a way, it still feels more significant to me.

So I’ve always been curious about those who pray aloud as much or more than they do silently. Do you prefer to speak your prayers? Why or why not?

Interestingly, Beth said that “some of our most explosively powerful praying will be aloud.”

She pointed out that “while one earth, Christ possessed the power to do anything He wanted. He could have thought people to wholeness, and they would have been healed, but he didn’t. He used his mouth and spoke healing.” And of course, God says he spoke the creation into being.

When I pondered why God/Jesus used audible language to do their “work,” I could only think that their words served as a testimony or witness to the event.

But what about us when we are alone—there is no one to bear witness—except ourselves and perhaps … our Enemy. Ahhh. This perspective makes me realize that praying scripture out loud is a powerful force in our own faith and in spiritual battle. So I think I’m going to be begin praying out loud more often in private.

There was so much good this week in learning to bless others through praying scripture and in renouncing negative, even evil, words that have been spoken to/about us, and she referenced The Prayer of Jabez as a possible example of this kind of redemptive prayer.

Finally, I want to return to 2 Cor 4:13, where the word spirit can also be translated as “breath” or “wind.”

We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I believed, and therefore have I spoken; we also believe, and therefore speak;

I want to live, as Beth said, on the “CPR of God;” I want to breathe in his energizing, life-giving word to quicken my spirit, and I want to exhale life-giving words of blessing to the world. I cannot do that without His help, I know.

This segment called to mind MW Smith’s “Breathe.” May God’s word be the air I breathe, my daily bread. May I always be desperate for Him.

What did you enjoy about “God’s Word is Alive and Active in Me?” Remember, you don’t have to be registered or doing the entire study to comment.

The Winner Of Mustard Seeds by Lynn Coulter is #5, Barbie, of Just Barbie. I hope this book is as much of a blessing to you as it was to me, Barbie!