A Reminder

About three years ago, Albany and I were shopping at Old Navy. As we were talking she asked when she was going to get a little sister. I had to explain that I didn’t know, but I hoped soon. Albany told me we needed to pray about it. I told her we would. She stopped in the middle of the little girl’s section, placed her hand on me and began praying for a little sister. There was a part of me that was slightly embarrassed she was praying in the middle of the store. There was a larger part of me that was so floored by her faith. When she said “amen,” she turned to me and said we needed to buy something for her little sister. I hesitated, trying to explain we could get something once her sister was here. Albany sighed and explained, “Mommy, she will need something when she gets here.”

 I directed her to the clearance section and she found a little, pink shirt with Rapunzel on it. I asked her if she thought maybe we should get something smaller. She declared the shirt she picked out was perfect and we headed towards check out.

 We prayed and tried to get pregnant for a year. As we prayed during the next year, we began feeling the pull towards adoption. We took the classes and got licensed. Then we waited another year before finally receiving the call.

 I love these kids. They feel like our kids. We are adjusting well. Albany is doing incredible. We’ve had some little bickering and a few hurt feelings, but she seems to take it in stride. For the most part, it is natural sibling stuff. Little Man is a lot like Albany. He is a very loving child and has such a sweet spirit. He is more introverted than Albany, but also a little more rambunctious. He loves lots of snuggles, especially from his Mommy.

 Sassy is a challenge. She has some massive temper tantrums and can be downright defiant. Just this morning, it was a struggle to get her to sit in her seat and finish her breakfast instead of skipping around the house, directing everyone else on what they should be doing. She will be a great leader if we can guide her the right direction. Please don't get me wrong. I am so glad she is here and I love her dearly. She is also so loving, hilarious, and LOVES to help out around the house. It's just that adjusting to Sassy's needs can be very difficult at times.

 This morning as I was pulling jackets out of the playroom closet so the kids can head to school on this chilly day, I noticed the shirt we bought three years ago stuffed into the closet. I pulled it out and showed Andrew as he entered the room. Over the years I have almost given the shirt away to friends who have little girls. Something has always held me back.

 Even though Sassy is 5, she wears a 3T. Her favorite movie besides Frozen? Tangled.

This morning as I showed Andrew the 3T, Rapunzel shirt, I was reminded of that moment in Old Navy. I realized that Sassy is the little sister Albany and I prayed for 3 years ago. She is the one we have been praying for the past 3 years.  She is supposed to be a part of our family. We never even considered having a boy, but God blessed us with Little Man, too. And on the days where I feel weary or overwhelmed or frustrated, I want to remember this moment. I want to remember that God has a plan for all of this and that we get to be a part of these children’s restoration story. I want to remember that Sassy is the one we have prayed for and that God answered and blessed us abundantly.

Splinters

My hubby and I were working on refinishing an old dresser this weekend. As I was sliding the newly painted and distressed drawers back into their places, it happened. I got a splinter! At that moment, I became consumed with this tiny sliver of wood wedged into the tip of my ring finger. At that moment, I felt nothing else, just pain. I showed Andrew my affliction (he was soooo sympathetic). After a search, I couldn't find a pair of tweezers, so reluctantly I went back to working and just tried to ignore it. It mostly worked, but every now and then I would pick up something or move something and it would hit that finger and the pain came back.

Hurt is like a splinter. Whether someone lied to you, or misused you, or whatever it is, the hurt can pierce you like a splinter. You can ignore it for so long, but if you do not actually dig it out and deal with, it will continue to hurt you. Maybe not constantly, but a time will come when something comes up and brings the pain flooding back. If left too long, a splinter can become infected and cause all sorts of health problems. The same is true for hurt. If you allow it stay in your life, it can consume and overtake you.

To get rid of a splinter, you have to take some tweezers and dig it out. The process sometimes takes awhile to get it all out and sometimes it is very painful. So is dealing with our hurts. Sometimes it takes talking to the person that hurt you, sometimes it takes seeing a counselor, whatever it is, we each have our own way to get through hurt.

While I never know when I may get a splinter, it would be ridiculous for me to take my bare hands and rub them over that old dresser. I would be smart to use gloves to handle the dresser, to prepare myself and protect myself. Likewise there are some situations we can not get out of, like maybe a family situation. While you may not be able to completely remove yourself from the situation, you can prepare and protect yourself. Whether it is limiting visits, standing up for yourself, or spending time in prayer before a visit. But there are some situations that are so hurtful or abusive that the best thing to do is to remove yourself entirely. Yet sometimes even after doing so, there is still hurt, while not new, it continues to linger.

The thing we must remember though, to get through the hurt, we must get all of the splinter out. Unforgiveness is like that little fragment of a splinter that is wedged down deep. It's the part that becomes infected when not removed. Forgiveness is not saying that what happened was okay. It's not about allowing the person to hurt you again. It's really not about the other person at all. It is deciding not to hold that hurt you've experienced against that person any longer. And it is not letting the hurt have any hold over you any longer. This is the step we most often forget, yet we truly can not heal until we forgive.

What splinters do you need to deal with?

Sweet Child Of Mine

When I was younger, I remember my mom saying she hoped I had a child just like me (I think that was supposed to be like the mother's curse or something like that haha.) But yep, I had a spitting image of myself. The older she gets, the more obvious it is to me. People often tell me they wish they knew what was going on in Albany's head. I know...

I'm growing tiresome of finding stickers all over the house. The walls, the headboards (mine and hers), doors, chairs, the bathtub, and even the toilet. Albany and I have had multiple conversations about where stickers go. (ON PAPER!) and yet the other morning I walked into the guest bathroom to find My Little Pony stickers adorning walls, fixtures, etc. I quickly called her into the bathroom and using my stern voice told her stickers do NOT go on anything except paper. With one of the most pathetic (and honest) face she looked at me and said, "But I was just decorating." Feeling rather cold and heartless, I made her unstick the stickers and then sit in time out for a couple of minutes. Later that evening she found yet another page of stickers and asked if she could use them. I told her only on paper. To which she grinned and replied, "Yes, your majesty!" and then skipped off. I know her well enough to know she wasn't being disrespectful, just being Albany!

Later I was reminded of a story my mom often tells. My mom once entered my room when I was probably about Albany's age and noticed there was a Care Bear magnet on my wall. Figuring I must have found a stud, she went to pull it off only to find I had Elmer glued it to the wall. She then noticed around my room at about a 3 foot level were puzzle pieces, pictures, and sheet music. I remember that on television the kids always had super decorated rooms. I'm sure I told my mom, "I was just decorating!"

I guess things come full circle. And I wouldn't trade it for the world. :-)

Vision

I've never been a long term vision person. while other kids were dreaming about being ballerinas or astronauts, teachers or baseball players, I was dreaming about... well, I don't know what I was dreaming about. To be truthful, I was probably daydreaming. :-) I remember telling my mom at age 6 that I wanted to be a preacher. She never told me I couldn't, but she told me that it wouldn't happen in the church we were at. I continued to "preach" to my stuffed animals and "baptize" my friends in the swimming pool growing up, but I always wondered if something was wrong with me. At 18, God got a hold of my life and at age 19, I knew He was calling me into full time ministry. I fought the thought of following my mom's footsteps into children's ministry and spent a summer and a year interning with different ministries. Despite the thought of being a missionary in India just to avoid following my mom, I discovered my passion was undeniably children's ministry. For the past 9 years, I've worked in children's ministry.

Things began to change a few years ago. I was super blessed with a pastor in Oklahoma who continued to push me out of my comfort zone and to encourage me to follow the desires God had given me. He sent me and his wife to the Gifted to Lead conference with Nancy Beach. It was incredible and showed me that God did not make a mistake when He made me and gave me the gifts and desires that He has given me. As I began to study, I realized that while what I was doing was my passion, God had something different in store for me. Everything I was doing was preparing me for that time and I was content to wait on Him to show me what it was.

Recently I've been reading Craig Groeschel's book Chazown. At the same time I was listening to Steven Furtick's Sun Stand Still sermons. They both rocked my world. I realized it had been awhile since I had really prayed about vision. I had noticed my passion for children's ministry had begun to wane. I still enjoy it, but the passion I had for it once, is just not the same. So I began to pray. It seemed like everything I read, whether a book, blog, or Bible, all was bringing up some of the same questions. A quote from Steven Furtick continued to bother me. He said, "If the size of the vision for your life is not intimidating to you, chances are it's insulting to God." I didn't really have that much vision, let alone one big enough to be intimidating. So I began to pray even harder. What was it God had for me? What am I supposed to accomplish in this life? What was I made for? I didn't want to run ahead of Him, but I want to feel that passion again, knowing that I'm doing exactly what I was created for.

Last weekend, we were helping some friends move. Well, Andrew was helping them move, I just went over for pizza when it was over. ;-) This friend told us that while they didn't have a home owner's association they had a neighborhood covenant. Basically things like, I'll keep my yard up, take care of pests, etc. Except there was a line in the document that to live in the neighborhood, you had to be Caucasian. I was too shocked to even say anything. He also shared he had been a little irritated when a new neighbor had suggested he hire a couple *racially insensitive term*s to do some of the work. Again, wow! It bothered me all night and I found myself in tears Saturday night just thinking about it. It just amazes me that in 2011, we still have that kind of segregation and hate.

Sunday, my heart was still so heavy. Andrew asked me what was going on and while crying I just let it all out. Every bit of it. Between the tears and ranting, I was reminded of something from Craig Groeschel. He said that often when searching for your passion, people ask you what do you love, but he posed the question, what makes you mad, what ticks you off? He said that often it reveals what you are passionate about. It was right that minute that it was crystal clear and I announced, "I know what I'm supposed to do! I have my vision! I know what my passion is!" Andrew listened as I shared my heart. There have been few times in my life I have been that sure that God was speaking right to me and it was Him undeniably leading me!

God has revealed to me that I am to start a church or help be a part of an existing church that breaks barriers down. Color, gender, income level, size, past, it does not matter, the only thing that matters is that people can gather together and worship and grow! When I shared my vision with Andrew, he began to point out some of the difficulties. While I know there will be many difficulties ahead, I reminded him that if God was calling me to it, He was was going to provide everything I needed. Then I shared with him a reoccurring thought I've had. If the Bible was still being written, would you be able to say that you lived your life so passionately, so full of faith, and allowed God to accomplish the impossible through you, that your story made it in the Bible? I don't want to settle for good enough, or even what I'm naturally good at. I want God to stretch me and use me for more than I can fathom. When I was finished, Andrew smiled at me and said, "Fair enough! Whatever God calls you to do, I will be there to support you."

As I shared this new vision with a few people yesterday, while I was looking for anyone's approval, I was very encouraged. Then last night... I had shared with my friend, Jay, on the way to Birmingham to attend the Basement. (I'm so excited and fired up, I'm having a hard time NOT telling people.) When we arrived worship was just beginning and we couldn't find the group we were meeting, so we grabbed seats in the back. Within the first 10 minutes, I was looking around at people of all ages, all colors, all backgrounds, all worshiping God together and it was as if something inside of me wanted to scream, "This is what church should look like!!!" And I felt a confirmation in my spirit, this is what I was created to do. This is my vision.

Growing Up Southern

I wrote most of this a few years ago on my xanga, and with us moving to Mississippi at the end of the summer, I thought it was a good time to post it. It is my hope that Albany will also get to grow up Southern... :-)

I was born in Louisiana and lived there until Andrew and I got married about six and a half years ago. While Oklahoma is definitely not a Southern state, it does have a little flavor from home. Depending where you are in Oklahoma, its personality tends to represent whatever region it is closest to. With quite a few universities here, people are from all over the place. Adjusting to living here has not been too bad, although it has it’s moments of confusion. I get tickled when I hear someone use the word pop. Before moving to Norman, I’ve actually known only two people who use this word. My Mammaw who grew up in Iowa and a roommate I had from Kansas. Where I grew up, we always used the word coke instead of soda or pop. We were specific when we needed to be. When I was going to OBU in Shawnee, I was also waitressing at Goldie’s Patio Grill. It hadn’t been long since I had moved there and I hadn’t realized that I spoke a foreign language. I asked one table if they would like a coke. They replied that that sounded good. So I proceeded, what kind of coke would you like? Confusion clouded their faces and they asked me what I meant, what kind of coke do you have? I replied, Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Root beer, Dr. Pepper, and Fruit Punch. “But you said coke,” the man reminded me. I had no idea what he was talking about, “yes, and we have several different kinds.” He smiled and asked me, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

I was asked that question frequently in Shawnee. My first floor meeting was a headache. The girls were so taken aback by my Southern accent, that I had to repeat everything at least once, and then they would try to say it like me. It wasn’t long before I smothered my speech to one with little accent. Although, it always seems to slip out, just when I least expect it; especially after talking to my Momma or visiting home. My Momma always talks about how when I was learning to count, she could tell I was a Southern child. My I’s have always been a bit exaggerated. I would count one, two, three, four, fiiiive, six, seven, eight, niiiine… I often slip up when giving someone directions and tell them to turn riiiight.

My friends had finally gotten used to me, but my mother was another story. My roommate’s name was Cameron and she was from Kansas and I was fascinated by her total lack of an accent. After getting home from work one night, she informed me that my mom had called and that she might have made my mom mad. When I asked her why, she explained that she didn’t understand my mom. Cameron said, “She kept saying Ha-lure. And I kept asking, ‘what?’” She said it took a few tries before she realized my mom was saying Hello. I laughed so hard and told Cameron that Momma did not have a Southern accent. She was a military kid and traveled all over the US and to Taiwan. It wasn’t until I heard her voice on my answering machine, that I realized Cameron was right. She had it bad!

What I learned, was that you can drop the accent, but sometimes that doesn’t solve all of your problems. We were cleaning and closing at Goldie’s one night and the television started blinking that we had a tornado warning. I ran to the screen and shouted back to the cook, “What parish are we in?” Everyone just stopped and looked at me like I was crazy. Thinking they may have not heard me I shouted again, “What parish are we in?” Mike started laughing and I had to rack my brain to figure out why they didn’t understand me. Oh yeah, Oklahoma has counties! So after finding out that I was in Pottawatomie County, they asked me if I was Catholic. Nope, just Louisianan.

Ta-Da! My First Post

This isn't my first time blogging. When I was first married and had just moved to Oklahoma, I created a blog on xanga to keep in touch with my sister and some friends. Over the years, quite a few people subscribed to my site and I subscribed to their's. It became almost a chore to keep up with everyone and I eventually quit because for the 30 minutes or so I would spend writing on my blog, it took me hours to read everyone else's and write comments. So the other morning I woke up and had so many thoughts going through my head that I thought, "I should blog." As I logged into my xanga, I noticed that the last time I had updated was almost a year ago. I read back through a couple of pages and decided it was time for a new blog, a fresh start. So here I am!

There's a lot going on in our lives right now which I'll be writing about shortly. I'll also probably move a couple of my favorite old blogs over or maybe I'll just rewrite them. Only time will tell...