Have you ever gone back to a place filled with incredible memories and have all those memories come rushing back to you? It is kind of like listening to a song and suddenly being transported back to a special place and time connected to that song. A few weeks ago, I went with my family to visit Baton Rouge, and it was one of the best days I have had in a long time. Returning to a place where Father impacted my life in such a major way brought refreshment to my soul and reminded my spirit of the truths Father taught me there. When I lived there over 18 years ago, I had a complete paradigm shift in my thinking about God and what I thought He thought about me.


Yet before I got to that point, a journey had begun in another college town, Tallahassee, home of the Florida State Seminoles! I am going to be brutally honest ... I did not even pray about where I was going to attend college. I knew I would have to attend an in-state school to use a scholarship I had received. I ultimately chose Florida State because it felt like living in a different state with all of the beautiful trees and hills. Within in a short amount of time, I realized someone had prayed about this decision. My life began to radically change at FSU. I share this to say that Father hears every cry of our heart and the prayers of those who love us. Our prayers for others do not go in vain. I am living proof of that. While I was at FSU, I remember walking downstairs to the lobby of my dorm, Kellum Hall, and I saw a table set up advertising Campus Crusade for Christ. I am sure they were used to people trying to sneak by, but I marched right up and signed up for a Bible study. This was the beginning of Father placing a hunger in my life to grow in new and exciting ways. The young lady at the table was named Anita, and she spent the next few years walking beside me and leading me into a deeper understanding of God’s Word. She was the perfect person to work with me because of her gentle, kind, and nurturing nature. She was also an elementary education major which was an instant connection.


So fast forward a few years ... I am in my senior year at FSU, and I am doing my student teaching, and I am MISERABLE (mostly due to working with a rather negative supervising teacher). I knew Father had told me to “love the children,” yet I started to feel the tug on my heart to go on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ. I knew this would involve really stepping out of my comfort zone through raising support and moving to a new place. I ended up going on staff and attending staff training in Fort Collins, Colorado, that summer. I met with a Crusade leader named Joe B. to discuss my campus placement. I thought about going to Georgia or maybe North Carolina. He suggested LSU because he said the staff team would be a great fit for me. At that moment my mind thought two things: 1) that is really far away, and 2) isn’t that the school that did that CRAZY skit at the staff retreat I visited in Panama City?! I trusted Joe would do what was right, and I did of course end up at LSU. My staff team was the perfect fit for me, craziness and all ;-). There were four married couples on the team and five single staff members. I was nurtured by the married couples and fell in love with all of their kids. Yet again, someone, including myself this time, had been praying about this decision. When I first arrived in Baton Rouge and entered the campus, I was surprised and relieved to realize how similar the culture was to FSU. I was enthralled by the beauty of the campus and remember being excited about this new journey in my life.
 

While I was living there, I began to attend Quail Ridge Bible Church (now named Grace Life Fellowship). The first Sunday I attended, I was completely shocked to see a familiar face from Florida State. One of the girls I had attended church with in Tallahassee, Amy, was sitting there in church. We both freaked out and could not believe it. I learned she was getting her masters at LSU. It was just another one of those gifts from Father allowing me to find a familiar friend in a new and unfamiliar place. The pastor at this church is named Frank Friedmann, and he taught me all about who I am in Christ, yet more importantly, who Christ is in me. Up to this point, I knew Jesus was my Savior and my Lord, but I did not know Him as my LIFE. He wanted to live His life in and through me. He wanted to express His life through my unique personality. He did not expect me to jump through certain hoops for Him to love me or accept me. He accepted me based on the facts of Galatians 2:20, “I am crucified with Christ, therefore I no longer live. Jesus Christ now lives in me.”

 
So as I was saying in the beginning of this post, a few weeks ago Kalon and I walked down memory lane in Baton Rouge with our kiddos.  We took them by the church Campus Crusade for Christ met in, we drove them by the church we were married in, we took them by our old apartment, and then walked all around the campus. This next excerpt are words my daughter Kaley wrote after I asked her to read through what I had written about my memories so far. This is her writing the story she's heard many times from memory and reflecting on the day from my perspective:  

I have three beautiful daughters: Abbie (age 19), Alex (age 17) and Avery (age 15).  Being their mom is one of the greatest joys in my life, and being married to their dad is  another.  :)   Our church is going through a sermon series titled "Family Matters".  The staff have shared some interesting statistics, one being that we have 936 weeks with our children from the time they are born until they graduate high school. Seriously?! That seems like a long time, but it's not. Life moves fast!  My girls have grown up so quickly, and I often find myself wondering: Was I there enough? Did I do enough? Did I love them enough?  In order to help work through my questions, I sat down and wrote out some words I wanted my girls to have forever.  I decided (with some encouragement and maybe a little push from my TWU friends), to share this here too.  I hope and pray my girls remember these things, but I also need to be reminded. And maybe you do too.

As women, we are incredibly busy.  Whether you stay at home, or work outside the home, have a husband and children, or are single, life is just fast paced.  Our schedules are full of things to do – some we want to do, some we have to do, and some we feel obligated to do.  We want it all, and to be it all.  The best wife, the best mom, the best at our career, the best ... the list could go on and on.  Being the best comes with a cost, though.

With all those things, it is easy to become overwhelmed.  Ever been there?  The kitchen full of dirty dishes is enough to bring you to tears because you just can’t figure out how to manage one more thing.  The deadlines looming over you at work seem unattainable, and there is still dinner and bath time to face once you finish the long day.  Life is hard – but being overwhelmed with it can steal your joy.  Personally, I am on a mission to keep my joy and avoid that feeling of being overwhelmed.

I have tried to mold my to-do list around a very simple verse:  “Let every detail of your lives – words, actions, whatever - be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way” (Colossians 3:17, The Message).  For years, when I heard anyone talk about that verse, it was about your attitude.  I was reminded to have a good attitude at work, at home, with others, because that glorified God.  While I definitely do believe that our attitudes should be Christ-like (or attempt to be, because we are human), I think that it also applies to what we choose to do, or not do. 

Last summer, I took on something new, adding to my to-do list: I started graduate school.  This decision was one that I prayed over, and was sure was God’s will for me.  So of course, I needed a good attitude about it, but I also needed to do it well.  Doing something half-way definitely doesn’t bring glory to God, right?

So, I started my summer off from school (I’m an educator, so I technically have summers off), by taking two classes.  I soon realized I was going to have to do some juggling – those two classes added about 25-30 hours of work into my schedule each week!  I struggled to keep my four year old entertained, my house clean, laundry done, spend time with my husband and get the required work done well.  I struggled with not meeting the expectations I had set for myself in all those areas of my life.  I knew in August I would also be adding in work-related responsibilities, and I was overwhelmed.  I could not do it all, or be it all.  Not well, anyway.  My joy was gone.

But then I realized something important. I do not have to be it all, or do it all.  I need to do what I do for God’s glory and stop trying to be Superwoman.  When I spread myself thin, I cannot do anything for God’s glory, and am overstepping the purpose He has for my life.  I might even be doing tasks that God meant for someone else so they could fulfill their purpose.  I am letting my joy be stolen and stealing opportunities from others.  That is not the way I wanted to live any longer.

My daughter is the joy of my life.  Yes, I seriously mean that!  But I must admit that the joy of my life can sometimes seem like the thorn in my flesh.  Do you ever feel that way?  Most, if not all of you, do; I’m sure of it!

As parents we may feel this way quite often when our children are constantly calling our name, complaining, arguing, or being disobedient in one way or another.  It can be quite a challenge to keep our cool.  In fact, sometimes when we are so tired and weary of these actions, we lose it.  We collapse.  We explode.  We instantly snap into emotional frustration and anger.  Where our tongues were once kept in check with methodical consciousness of what to say and what not to say, they now become like a loose canon shooting forth destructive words that slam into the ears of our precious children.  It’s not until our lungs release, the smoke clears, and with a big sigh we return to reality.  We realize we have just hurt our children.  We have caused pain with the most powerful part of our bodies - the tongue.

Looking back on my childhood, I am reminded of how words spoken to me had a great effect on my life, both in encouraging and destructive ways.  Most of the destructive words spoken to me were fueled by anger.  Both of my parents displayed this kind of anger occasionally, but let me just say that I believe that my parents raised me to the best of their knowledge.  I believe they never meant to hurt me with their actions.  I believe that my parents loved me; they just did not always speak the way God intended for love to be spoken.  

As a parent myself today, I, too, struggle just like my parents did.  I, too, believe that I am raising my daughter to the best of my knowledge.  I know that I do not ever want to hurt my daughter, but on occasion I do.  And I believe that she knows that I love her even though there have been many times when I have not spoken love as God intended me to.
 
A few years ago, something happened to me that made a huge difference in my life concerning anger and words.  There was a period of time where I was really getting angry with my daughter a lot.  I would get angry about silly little things like what she decided to wear that day or if she made a mess in the kitchen and so forth.  I started realizing the severity of my anger when the range of decibels in my voice was so high that I knew next door neighbors could hear me.  The words I chose to speak in those moments were definitely destructive.  I began saying really hurtful words like “Are you stupid?!”...“What’s wrong with you?!”..."Why can’t you be normal?!” As God began to open my eyes to this destructive pattern (which I myself had witnessed as a child), I asked Him to help me overcome it.  I prayed every day about my anger.  I searched the scriptures on anger but also on speech.  What began to happen to me was a miracle that only God could do.  Every time I would get angry and raise my voice at my daughter I would start to cough.  The coughing was so bad that I had to stop lecturing her on her imperfections to get a sip of water.  Time after time I coughed, unable to speak to my daughter.  As the coughing increased, the destructive words began to decrease.  I became more aware of the poison I was spewing out of my mouth.  I began to see the terror and fear in her eyes as the tears streamed down her precious face.  I had asked God to help me.  I did not know how or in what way He would help me.  I just believed.  In that belief, I found my miracle - the cough.  But the miracle did not stop there.  God began to heal me from the inside out through the counsel of His Holy Spirit and His Word.  Several Scriptures lighted my way …

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to You LORD, my rock and my Redeemer."
Psalm 19:14

"A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man holds it in check."
Proverbs 29:11

"Be angry and do not sin. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, and don’t give the devil an opportunity ... All bitterness, anger and wrath, shouting and slander must be removed from you, along with all malice."
Ephesians 4: 26, 27, 31

"My dearly loved brothers, understand this: Everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger, for man’s anger does not accomplish God’s righteousness."
James 1:19-20
 
A transformation took place like a butterfly from a cocoon.  I began to speak to my daughter with a calm voice.  I began to speak encouraging words, hoping that they would somehow over time replace the ones that tore her down.  I began to realize the true power of the tongue when used as the Lord intended.  Now this doesn’t mean that I never disciplined her when she needed it, but it does mean that I responded in a way that would be pleasing to the Lord.  I chose to no longer be a loose canon blasting destructive words into my daughter’s ear but more of a butterfly in flight with beautiful phrases.

The miracle was the cough, but it’s not what God used to answer my prayer.  What answered my prayer is my willingness to go to Him and say that I was weak and that I could not overcome this weakness on my own.  That’s when God responds to us.  That’s when miracles happen.
 
Keep it up and carry on,
Amy

God's been challenging me this summer.  Actually, He and I have had a few wrestling matches. Through these spiritual wrestling matches, I've learned one thing ... He. Will. Always. Win.  Why do I resist?  Why do I think that my ideas and thoughts are better than what He has planned?  When will I ever learn to trust Him?  I'm human.  It's in our human nature to want our way.  To fight for the right to be heard, to be right, to do things the way we want them done.  I'm not making excuses; I'm simply stating a fact.

This summer, Bronie and I have been spending time together doing Jennie Allen's Bible study “STUCK: the places we get stuck and the God who sets us free.”   I have had this study on my shelf, collecting dust, for over a year now.  Every now and then,  I'd take it off the shelf and look at it, knowing that I needed to start it but never did.  Finally after a conversation with BV, we decided that we would start.  It looked like an innocent enough study, BUT after watching (with tears rolling down my cheeks) the intro video, my heart was pricked.  Was it too late to back out?  I thought, "Uh, BV, I can't do this!  I'm tapping out.  Good luck with the study."  But I knew in my heart it was exactly what I needed.  Over the last few weeks, I've had to analyze myself.  (Do you know how uncomfortable that can be?) And through this process, God has called me to surrender.  I have had to surrender so many areas of my life; my thoughts, my worry, my anxiety, my family, my everything to Him.  That is hard for someone like me who has major trust issues.  He even challenged my to surrender that, too!  All of these things had become a security blanket for me.  If I could worry about it, then in my mind, I had control over it. 

Surrender is a daily process.  Just like making wise choices about the things we eat, read and listen to, we have to choose daily to surrender to God.   If we chase what the world deems right and good, we will lose ourselves.  As Christians, when we let Jesus lead us, we find ourselves.  We can't ride the fence on this.   It's a choice we have to make daily - do we let Him lead us or do we do our own thing?   When we surrender to God, we stop resisting Him.  And it's in the moment of sweet surrender that we find freedom.  FREEDOM!!!  Freedom from this world's idea of the best life.  Freedom to be who we are created to be.  Freedom to trust God with everything.  Freedom to live the life God wants us to have.  Freedom to embrace life to the fullest.

I love the way The Message puts it in Matthew 16:24-26: "Then Jesus went to work on his disciples.  'Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how.  Self-help is no help at all.  Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self.  What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself?  What could you ever trade your soul for?'"  He is in the driver's seat.  He knows where we are going, and He knows how we are going to get there.  

Embrace life to the fullest,

Stefaney

Let me tell you about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.  First, I was going on three weeks of work without AC ... in south Mississippi ... in June!  Our Dean decided we could work half days from home and half days in the office.  Whoohoo, looking up!  On the first half day, I stopped by a store I frequent to browse any new merchandise.  Suddenly I felt weak, and my upper back, neck, and shoulder were in some not so nice pain.  I dropped anything I had been looking at and rushed home to take some medicine thinking it was somehow connected to monthly things.  A few minutes later I started getting chills.  I took my temperature and at that point it was 99.1º.  Over the next couple of hours it climbed to 103.4º after taking Ibuprofen and Tylenol.  I had major chills, was shivering, still in pain, headache, and super fatigued.  Ensue freak out #1.  Just when I was about to go to the ER, my fever broke.  I felt completely normal and fine until noon the next day, Friday.  It came back with a vengeance!  Fever got to 104º, shivering so bad I couldn't hold my phone to call a doctor, lips and fingers turned blue, AND the worst ... throwing up (ew!).  Ensue freak out #2.  Went to the doctor, had to wait for over an hour, was there for almost three hours, paid $233 (ensue freak out #3), had to take my first day off from work at my new job, and the doctor couldn't tell me what was wrong. They gave me a shot and put me on an antibiotic, but never had a stitch of another symptom!  I was fine all weekend and the next week with just some minor fatigue.  Monday I was pulling into my driveway from visiting a friend, and my gear shift wouldn't move.  I turned off my car, and then my gear shift still wouldn't move, and my car wouldn't crank because it wouldn't go into park.  AHHH! Ensue freak out #4.  My friends came over and fixed it that night – minor fix!  On Wednesday my phone died.  Like, completely dead and wouldn't come on.  Ensue freak out #5.  Went to the Apple Store even though the web said they didn't have an appointment until the weekend.  I was sure I was going to have to fork out way too much money to replace an overpriced phone OR go without a phone (like I could do that) and buy a real alarm clock (the horror)!  The logic board had died, and it wasn't my fault, so I got a brand new phone for free!

So clearly, it could have been a lot worse.  And clearly, the point of the post is not to complain about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.  What I wanted to emphasize by retelling you the story about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week (besides saying that as many times as possible) was how many times I freaked out {worst case scenario style} each time.  I knew God was trying to teach me something or reinforce something He was already teaching me.  It finally hit me like a ton of bricks!

I grew up in the text book version of a dysfunctional family.  As a classic text book adult child of a dysfunctional family, I struggle with "waiting for the other shoe to drop" syndrome.  My childhood was utter chaos and a lot more bad happened than good.  But God took care of me!  I've been to counseling, and I know the thought patterns I struggle with and how to fix them.  I truly do feel healed from the damage.  I say that to say, it's my responsibility and no one else's to trust and rely on the Holy Spirit to help me believe, remember, and live in the truth that God is good!  God reminds me over and over and over again that though bad things happen, HE IS GOOD!  It's a lesson I can't seem to cling to.

Earlier in the year my church went through a sermon series called The Change Project that made me painfully aware of my struggle to believe and remember that God is good.  The inspiration for the series was Tim Chester's Book, "You Can Change," which we were challenged to read.  The book suggests that our sins and struggles are connected to our inability to believe fundamental truths and promises about God.  The fundamental truths and promises are that: 1. God is good.  2. God is great.  3. God is gracious.  4. God is glorious. When we struggle to believe God is good and that we don't have to look anywhere else for satisfaction, our idol can become comfort and our struggles comfort-related.  When we struggle to believe God is great and that we don't have to be in control, our idol can become control and our struggles control-related.  When we struggle to believe that God is gracious and that we don't have to perform, our idol can become power and our struggles power-related.  When we struggle to believe God is glorious and that we don't have to fear others, our idol can become approval and our struggles approval-related. 

My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week was a constant reminder that God is good.  The lyrics of a song call "Shepherd" by Bethel music and my inability to get them right solidified this lesson God was trying to teach and reteach and reteach me.  A line in the song says, "You will lift my head above the mighty waves.  You are able to keep me from stumbling."  Without fail every time I tried to sing along in my car, I said suffering instead of stumbling.  The Bible never promises we won't suffer.  In fact, it says we will.  Bad happens because we live in a fallen, broken world.  But God redeems it! 

What the Bible does say is that God will use the bad, broken, and suffering for good.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

What the Bible does say is that God CAN keep us from stumbling. 

"Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy." Jude 1:24

"No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it." 1 Corinthians 10:13

Regardless of the truths you struggle to believe about God, they are still TRUE!  And the Holy Spirit can help us in our journey to cling to truth rather than unbelief.  I will celebrate the small victory of my response time, remembering that God is good, was quicker on the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week than previous years of my life.  BUT I hope I keep relying on the Holy Spirit to change this struggle in me so that I don't always go back to unbelief.  I pray you join me on this journey and that we let truth win! 

Let's make our own rules, 
Kasia

A few of you probably know that I used to have a blog.  A blog that I posted on quite frequently.  A blog that had a readership, not a large one, but people who followed and commented and got antsy when I went too long between posts.  Some of them were locals who knew me, some were cyber “friends” and then of course, there were family members who could keep up with our particular brand of crazy from a safe distance.  My blog wasn't cutting-edge or political or controversial; it was just about life and marriage and kids – my take on it all.  I enjoyed writing, and it was always fun when someone liked a story or when they could relate to what you'd said.  It was also a way to process things that happened, like when our house was struck by lightning, or a way to slow down and document the seemingly insignificant things, which are all too easily forgotten in the midst of our busy lives.  And let’s be honest – sometimes writing was cheaper than therapy, like when the littles found and then dumped a brand-new container of baby powder all over their sister’s room … once the cloud cleared, we discovered from their toddler gibberish and gyrations on the floor that they were making “snow angels.”  Oy.  If I recall, my eye ceased twitching after about the third day, but the powdery, fresh smell lingered on.  

I shared all that to say that somewhere along the way I think I lost my voice.  Not in the literal sense, as in I needed warm tea with honey and lemon because I couldn't speak, but my voice – the expressive part of me that shared life’s experiences through words.  It just slipped away.  But it didn't happen all at once; it was gradual, by degrees.  And the longer I was silent, the easier it was not to speak.  It’s not that I didn't have anything to say.  Something funny/interesting/noteworthy would happen, and I’d think – THAT is blog worthy, but when I’d sit down to write, the words wouldn't come.  And if they did I would edit myself back down to a blank screen, rendering myself mute.  During this time, even though I was not posting and only wrote occasionally (normally when a deadline that I couldn't escape loomed over me) I would tell myself how no one was really affected by my silence.  Life went on, as it is prone to do, but there was an uneasiness, a discontent, that seemed to hover.

The little boys took swimming lessons last month, and as it turns out, I learned something too.  On day one, he taught them to “Superman” by putting their face in the water, streamlining their arms and using only their legs to propel them.  Next he taught them to reach and pull with their arms, in addition to kicking their legs, to freestyle.  Then he taught them to float.  To lie on their backs, relaxed, and just float.  They were pretty proud of themselves and couldn't wait to go back.  On day two, he had them jumping off the blocks into the deep end (9 feet) and swimming about one fourth the length of the pool to a “noodle” that he held out for them to grab.  Over and over they jumped and swam, while he increased the distance to the noodle slightly each time until they were swimming almost half the length.  But the next time they jumped, he said, “This time, don’t swim.  I want you to tread water.”  He got in the pool with them and showed them how to move their arms and legs just enough to keep their head above water.  The next few minutes were spent jumping in, treading water, then swimming to the ladder and climbing out.    At the end of the lesson, he sat beside them on the edge of the deep end of the pool and told them, “Today I taught you to tread water because it can save your life if you fall into a body of water.”  One of the boys told him, “That made me feel tired!”  But it was what the coach said next that struck me:  “That’s right.  You can only tread water for a short time before you become too tired and begin to sink.  But that’s why I taught you to float.  When you get too tired, just relax and breathe and float until you can tread water again or swim to safety.”  Upon hearing his words, I quietly closed my book, and felt the sting of tears begin to well up because I realized that’s exactly what I had been doing – not treading water, but treading life.  Treading through the day to day, through relationships, through loads of laundry and sinks of dishes, through parenting challenges, through responsibilities and expectations, through surgeries and life changes, through feelings of guilt and inadequacy, through preparing for a child to leave the nest … and the list goes on.  Treading life.  And it’s exhausting.  That feeling of inertia, feeling stuck, because you know you should be moving forward but you aren't, either because you can’t, or because you don't know how?  Painful.  

But God never intended for us to live life like that, struggling to keep our head above water.  I love how The Message reads in Matthew 11:28-30:

“Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion?  Come to me.  Get away with me and you'll recover your life.  I'll show you how to take a real rest.  Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”


And because God is full of grace and mercy for His children and uses the people in our lives to bless us, one of my very best friends, Stefaney, invited me to do a summer Bible study with her.  You’ll never in a bazillion years guess the title!!!

“STUCK: the places we get stuck and the God who sets us free.”  I know!!!  I’m sitting here in tears all over again thinking about how much God loves us and wants to free us, for our own good but ultimately for His glory!  And I’m speechless … but this time in a good way.  :)

So I promised when I introduced myself to you in my “meet the blogger” post that we’d be keeping it real here.  I’m not sure you were ready for all this real-ness, but here it is.  And while I am trying to once again find my voice, and to stop treading, please don't be offended if I ask for some warm tea with honey and lemon or for you to throw me a noodle occasionally.  This life thing is hard, but God is good.

Keep it real,
BV