HOW TO MAKE A REAL LIVE FRIEND

It starts with my best face, my best chit chat, my best me. A brief warmth and pressure, hands touching, nothing more. Tentative, sanitized, easy.

Next, we test the waters. Lining up topics from lightest to heaviest. Basic information with hints of personality. I don’t always follow the rules, I overshare, I talk too much and listen too little. Did you really want to know about my day? Did I really want to know about yours?

If all goes well and life allows, we invest something. Some time. Some memory. Some effort. Venturing onto private property, dishes in the sink, lego on the floor… I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.

Time is the final ingredient. The yeast in the dough. Settling in, getting messy, sticking it out for the hard stuff. I’ll show you me, if you let me see you.

It’s not like it used to be. When “wanna be my friend?” wasn’t quite so complicated. When clicking “confirm” didn’t mean anything.

So here’s me, where making friends at 38 is different for a whole lot of reasons, but definitely worth the effort.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

FROM THE HEART

When I had my own classroom last year, I had a poster hanging on the wall just like the one below.  I really wanted my students to think about the power of their words before they came out of their mouth. At the beginning of the year, we squeezed a tube of toothpaste and then tried to put the toothpaste back into the tube as an illustration that you can never take back words once they have been spoken.  We weren't successful 100% of the time, but I heard snippets of conversations from time to time where students would ask or tell each other, "Is that inspiring?" "Was that helpful?"  It made me proud to know that some of my students really took that to heart.

This year, since stepping out of the classroom into a leadership position, I've really thought about the words that come out of my own mouth and the power they have.  I haven't been perfect, not even close.  There have been days where I've said the wrong thing, but I've owned it.  There have been days where the words I spoke were taken out of context or misconstrued.  Only I know the intent behind those conversations.  But, I've really been pondering the way teachers speak.  Last year, I had the amazing opportunity to meet Ron Clark and he made a comment that jumped off of the stage and has stuck with me.  I know I won't get it exactly right, but he spoke about how teachers are the world's worst at tearing each other apart.  He gave several examples that I could really relate to…"Look at her working late.  She's doing it for recognition." or "Dressing up for costumes is just a way to get attention.  There's not time for that."  

I thought back to the many, many days I ate lunch in teachers' lounges, attended professional developments, etc. and heard those very same comments about teachers who are in the trenches in all out warfare for their students.  I thought about the teachers who made the comments and the teachers whom the comments were about.  It broke my heart and continues to break my heart.  Teachers should be bound together by a code, much like the Navy Seals.  They never leave a man behind, and never talk bad about one of the team.  They do everything they can to make sure everyone comes out of a mission successful.  

As teachers, we need to band together and lift each other up every where and in everything that we do. We should be knocking on the doors of teachers in our building and asking if there is any help that is needed and asking for help ourselves.  

We have a greater mission than of ourselves.  Those little guys, and big ones too, who sit in the desks in our classrooms deserve a "team" of professionals that value each other, learn from each other, encourage each other.  That positive energy feeds into our students, who then take it to each other.  If teachers model positivity, just think about what our students would do. 

Being positive or negative is a choice.  One that we must make many times in a single day.  But we have the power to choose it ourselves.  So, if you choose to be positive, pull up a chair beside me at the lunch table and let's talk about how amazing your students are.  If you choose to be the negative nelly - about teachers or students - I'd really prefer that you sit somewhere else.

SHASTA LOOPER

The Teacher's Loop

THE GRASS ON THE OTHER SIDE

It’s one of those subject lines that grabs you by the throat. Time slowed as my mouse hovered over “Baby Died.”

I didn’t breathe at all until I realized it wasn’t my friend’s baby. Except, it sort of was. One of the babies she works with in a Ugandan orphanage. Not family, as are the 7 dependents she claims on tax forms, but close to it, when you know her heart and her view of the world.

As I read about her many kids, her son’s broken arm, the challenges of life in Africa and her husband’s upcoming trip, I couldn’t help but feel small. Small in my scope and my reach and the type of things that seem SO overwhelming to me right now.

I pulled up my calendar in Outlook, adding “letter to Cher” to my task list when the words “Nicaragua trip” caught my eye. I realized that it’s almost time for 32 local high school students to put the rubber of global education to the road of real life experience, working with families living, literally, in a garbage dump in Central America.

Since trips to the grocery store down the street take monumental effort for our family, it seems inconceivable that my friend Ginny and her husband manage to not only plan and lead this annual trip, but build an international aid organization and spend summers exploring Europe with their children. Before reaching double digits, their girls have seen and experienced more of the world than most adults. Extraordinary. Adventurous. So beyond our reach.

It should be a good thing, to be trusted with someone else’s story, a much needed gift of perspective. Instead, too often, I let the comparisons steal from me. Spiriting away my confidence and contentment, making my stories seem less important to my own eyes.

Sighing, I scrolled through the rest of my emails, perking up to see an email from a new friend – one of my English professors. I had been thrilled to connect beyond the classroom and honoured to act as a sounding board for her upcoming blog. Not only does she have a depth of experience as a mentor and academic, she’s already a published author. That she also happens to be stylish, beautiful and eloquent only reinforced my belief that her life must be glamorous.

I braced myself for another dose of envy and insecurity. Somewhere along the way, I cast myself as the frumpy housewife inching towards an undergrad degree at an absurdly glacial pace. But that’s not who she sees.

Our paths have been very different. As she put it, we are ”opposite ends of the contemporary women’s spectrum,” yet somehow, kindred spirits.

She sent me a draft she’d written for the new blog about our unexpected, providential friendship. I am the other side of that mirror for her, just as she is for me… a glimpse down the road not taken. Reading it, I was reminded that her life, so glamorous to my eyes, has actually been a hard-fought, often scary journey. But she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

That much we have in common.

I don’t regret my journey. I don’t regret my destination. Even though I caught vomit in my bare hands twice yesterday. Even though I haven’t had 4 consecutive hours of sleep since Thursday. Even though I throw embarrassing, self indulgent pity parties for the whole internet to see. Even though I’m not a saint, or a world traveller, or a ‘real’ writer.

(Yet)

I won’t let comparison steal anymore from me today. I am surrounded by exceptional women with challenging, complex, beautiful stories. Not molds I must pour myself into. Not scales to weigh myself against. Not competition.

Friends.

The grass on our side of the fence is a unique strain. It might not spread as far and wide as some… it might not grow as tall or as quickly or as easily… but it’s home. When I stop filtering my life through everyone else’s story, this messy, noisy, beautiful life comes back into focus. And it’s good – hard, but good. And I can appreciate the view into other lives all the more.

So here’s me, in the ongoing battle to just be. Thank God for my story. And yours.

Breathe.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

GIFT-WRAPPED COURAGE

I love getting compliments.

I hate getting compliments.

I have a complicated love-hate relationship with compliments.

Ditto for accepting help. Even help I really need from people who really love me. Especially help I really need.

I’m not sure if it’s tied to insecurity, pride, or the constant suspicion that I’m just pretending to be a well-adjusted adult. So when you say something nice to me, or when you do something nice for me, I feel guilty for being such a fraud.

Because sometimes I yell at my kids. And buy myself a bag of candy I don’t need, which I then hide and don’t share with anyone. Because sometimes I roll my eyes when I should nod my head. And I really can’t stand Christian radio, at all, but I like listening to Eminem. Because sometimes I ignore my husband and the housework and homework and exercise when I know it’ll just make everything worse. And the other day I threw something across the room when the vacuum broke, right after giving my daughter a lecture about watching her temper, and I didn’t even feel bad about it.

But sometimes, I don’t do the lazy, selfish, short-sighted thing. And I actually get it right.

While all those nice things that you’ve done and said (and I’ve had a lot lately) might be hard to swallow at first, after I’ve had time to digest awhile, they nourish my best self. They make me stronger. Strong enough to do better. Strong enough to believe that I really am the better person you see. That maybe the real me, the me God designed me to be and is helping me become, is patient and loving and wise, and okay… imperfect, but totally cool enough to pull it off anyway.

So here’s my thanks to all the encouragers in my life; sometimes I’m uncomfortable in the face of your generosity and kindness, both the words and deeds, but you make me strong and I couldn’t do without you.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

BEFORE THE PUCK DROPS

 

Growing up I was a stereotypical Canadian kid. Playing hockey on frozen sheets of water in fields, backyards, lakes and community rinks. My dad was the typical hockey dad. Maybe a super hockey dad even. Kind of like Walter Gretsky without the famous and talented hockey player son. He would flood the outdoor rink after it got too dark for us kids to play. The spray of water freezing to his Ski-Doo suit until he looked like a huge ice cube. He was there for the early morning practices and late night games. He drove us thousands of miles (metric wasn't in yet--still isn't for dad) to small communities all over Ontario. I have no idea how many hours he would have spent standing in the cold rinks watching me play the game that I loved.

For most of my life I thought my dad was like all the other dads. Coming to the rink to watch their kids play. It hadnt really occured to me that my dad came to every game. Every pratice. Every time I was on the ice he showed up to watch. No other Dad had an attendence record like his. I haden't noticed that other Dad’s missed. Some often. Some rarely. But all missed.

As traditions have it teams gather around the goalie before a game to wish each other well and yell their war cry. Maybe in hope to intemidate the other team. Perhaps to summon their own courage. One such game as the team came toghter one of the guys asked where my Dad was. It was noticable to the other players that he wasnt in the rink. He was always in the rink, wheather it was a game or practice. 6am or 11pm. He was there. But now it was 30 seconds before the puck dropped and he was not. I gave no thought to my answer to the question. I had no ideas were he was but I gave a confident “Don’t worry guys he will be here before the puck drops.” We skated to center ice. I look up into the stands and there was the familiar Ski-Doo suit taking his place in the rink. Of course he showed up. He always does. And the puck drops.

Years later a friend is asking me about God the Father and why I have what some might say is a blind faith in Gods faithfulness. I didn't really know the answer until I was reminded of this story of my father showing up at the rink. Always. Faithfully. Before the puck drops. He was teaching me about who God is. That He is interested in me and the things I do and He will be there…always.

Dads are mirrors of God. We teach our kids about the character of God the Father through our relationships with our sons. All Dads miss this because we aren’t perfect. Some rarely, some often and some always.

I am so grateful for glimpses of God the father – through a man in a Ski-Doo suit standing in a cold rink.

ROB SNAIR, Director of Life Teams

Life Teams

YOU HAVE ACCESS TO THE HEAVENLY REALMS

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us
in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he
chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy
and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons
through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise
of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved.           Ephesians 1:3-6

My file cabinet is stocked with lessons I have prepared from Ephesians 1 about being chosen before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before Christ. Some of the files contain notes on our identity with Christ; chosen, predestined, adopted in love. But, somehow I have missed the fact that Christ has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places. It is quite an amazing concept to recognize and live victoriously with the fact that we have access to the heavenly realms today!

Both blessings and battles take place in the heavenly realms. We know Satan is the prince and power of the air (Ephesians 2:2) and he operates in the heavenly realms where the ultimate spiritual battles take place. At the same time, Christ has already won the battle and He sits as Victor in the heavenly realms, “…far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come.” (Ephesians 1:20-21)

Is there a burden on your heart, a temptation gripping you, a discouragement that is dragging you down? It is time to place your thoughts and battles in line with the truths in Ephesians, “Christ has blessed you with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places.” You have been raised up with Christ and are seated with Him in the heavenly realms (Ephesians 2:6-7).

Ponder this:

Eternity is already in session. If you want to go into heaven-go now. You have access. - John Ortberg

J. Vernon McGee says it this way:

You are in the heavenlies in Christ even when you are down in the dumps. Everyone who is in Christ is seated in the heavenlies in Him. That is the position He has given us.

Consider This as you memorize Ephesians 1:3-6

Would I react to daily trials, temptations and turmoil differently if I recognized my position with Christ in the heavenlies?

What would it take for me to remember and access every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms today?

Give God the Praise

God has chosen you to share in His blessings. He has given you the means to not only survive, but thrive through this life. Take some time to thank Him for who He is.

Meditate on the Verses

Spiritual lessons and themes are popping out of these three verses. Circle key words, jot notes on the margins of your Bible,

What do you learn about the character of God?

As you memorize and chew upon the book of Ephesians this year, take notes about the character and actions of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit from these verses.

Stop and talk to God about His character. Do you think accurately about the God you love and follow? Praise Him, thank Him and ask Him to help you know Him more deeply.

Study Further

Did you notice the words “blessing” and “blessed” are used 4 times in these verses? “Blessing” is a word we hear commonly used throughout the day. Do you have a clear understanding of its meaning? Spend a few minutes doing a word study on the original language and meaning of these words.

It’s not about Me!

Although Christ has chosen to richly bless us with every spiritual blessing, and give us the means to live a victorious life, it is actually not about Me!

As you meditate on these verses, look for the why. How many reasons do you observe whyGod has chosen to bless you? For whose purpose?

BONNIE CHRISTENSEN
Woman Gone Wise

ENJOY GREAT SPIRITUAL DIVIDENDS WHEN YOU MEMORIZE SCRIPTURE THIS YEAR

Enjoy Great Spiritual Dividends when you Memorize Scripture this Year!

The last few years God has been nudging me to make a practice of memorizing New Testament books. I talk about it-and I put it off. This is the year to make it happen! A few friends are joining me for accountability and help keep the momentum of memorization. Will you join us in this challenge?
Hiding God’s Word in your heart will always bear great comfort, fruit, confidence and growth. I also believe we need to be prepared to speak God’s Word at any moment of need, keeping in mind we may not always have access to the written Word!

So, here is the plan. We are beginning with the book of Ephesians and breaking it into a weekly schedule of memory verses. I will post each week’s assignment and as you memorize Scripture, I will encourage you with creative ways to memorize, as well as insights and questions to consider pertaining to God’s Word.

Please let me know if you are joining us in the challenge to hide God’s Word in your heart! Share your memorizing tricks, your struggles and the fruit you are sure to bear as we grow together.

January 2014 Ephesians Memory Schedule:

*January 2-7 Read entire book of Ephesians in one sitting
*January 7-14 Memorize Ephesians 1:1-2
*January 21-28 Memorize Ephesians 1:3-6
*January 28-February 4 Memorize Ephesians 1:11-14

John Piper of Desiring God Foundation compiled some thoughts about why Scripture memory is important. To solidify your commitment this year of memorizing God’s Word, consider this,

“First, a few testimonies: I have it third hand, that Dr. Howard Hendricks of Dallas Seminary once made the statement (and I paraphrase) that if it were his decision, every student graduating from Dallas Theological Seminary would be required to learn one thousand verses word perfect before they graduated.

Dallas Willard, professor of Philosophy at the University of Southern California, wrote, “Bible memorization is absolutely fundamental to spiritual formation. If I had to choose between all the disciplines of the spiritual life, I would choose Bible memorization, because it is a fundamental way of filling our minds with what it needs. This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth. That’s where you need it! How does it get in your mouth? Memorization” (“Spiritual Formation in Christ for the Whole Life and Whole Person” in Vocatio, Vol. 12, no. 2, Spring, 2001, p. 7).

Chuck Swindoll wrote, “I know of no other single practice in the Christian life more rewarding, practically speaking, than memorizing Scripture. . . . No other single exercise pays greater spiritual dividends! Your prayer life will be strengthened. Your witnessing will be sharper and much more effective. Your attitudes and outlook will begin to change. Your mind will become alert and observant. Your confidence and assurance will be enhanced. Your faith will be solidified” (Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994], p. 61). ” www.desiringgod.org/articles/whymemorizescripture

Are you taking the challenge with us? Be sure to sign up for email notifications so you can receive a weekly Scripture Memory schedule and words of encouragement to press on in Ephesians! Post a comment or send me a private message to let us know you are in!

BONNIE CHRISTENSEN

Woman Gone Wise

Eryn-Faye Frans - The Essential Elements of Sex, Part 2

Do you realize that a lot of what we believe about sex just isn’t true? Culturally, we are inundated with myths about sex. In this segment with My New Day TV, Eryn-Faye debunks three common myths. 

STANDING UP TO DECEMBER

December is the giant of the calendar year. It bullies all the other months with it’s frantic, festive persona. Both the fun-loving life of the party and the obnoxious character who sucks all the attention in the room. She’s busier and happier and larger than life.

But she’s also lonelier and sadder and phonier.

December bullies people too. She’s a hard task master. More than any other time of the year we want to do it all, and be it all, and get it all right. Or at least look the part in the family photo.

Not to worry. This isn’t a nihilistic, anti-Christmas post. It’s not another ‘embrace the true reason for the season’ sermon. This is just me, trying to make peace with December, the month I anticipate and dread in equal measure.

I love the trimmings and trappings of the holidays. I relish the music and the decorations and the warm, spicy smells. I’m deeply touched by Nativity, and the connotations of Immanuel: ‘God With Us’. I even enjoy rushing around to create those special seasonal moments.

Except when I don’t.

In December, there’s a fine line between ‘have-to’ and ‘want-to.’ Traditions can either comfort or consume, enhance or ensnare, delight or dilute. The question we have to ask ourselves is this: do our rituals serve us, or do we serve them?

Advent is meant to be a time of reflection, of mindfulness, of living with intention. This is both a spiritual discipline and a practical skill, and it doesn’t just happen, no matter how many garlands we hang.

So here’s me, making it clear from the get-go: December is not the boss of me!

CHRISTIE HOOS

SO HERE'S US

IT STARTED WITH A TREE

It started with a tree.

One of the first stories I heard in my “Just For Kids” bible, at my parent’s knees, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in a circle on Sunday morning. The Tree of Life, of the knowledge of good and evil, the one tree in the Garden of Eden humanity was instructed to preserve. Of course, we didn’t. We’re not good with boundaries.

God could have chosen any symbol. A sacred cave to steer clear of. A word to remain unspoken. Instead, it was the fruit of a tree. And we ate what wasn’t ours, beyond our scope; not for sustenance (which was well provided for throughout the garden), but for greed. We became takers.

Over the years, we began to preach rights, not responsibility when it comes to nature. Instead of giving and receiving care from this world we are a part of, we strove for dominion. Environmentalism earned a bad rap in most churches - a lesser virtue, if even one at all. As if we deserved to rape, pillage and plunder the entire earth to feed our own appetites. As if this was without consequence. As if this wasn’t sin too.

We should remember, it started with a tree.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

" I WILL EVEN MAKE A ROADWAY IN THE WILDERNESS"

I used to consider raising our child with special needs emotionally and physically manageable. But the “easier” early years slowly turned into years that felt like we were living in the wilderness. In spite of the love and frequent happiness we had with our boy, there came very difficult moments which turned into weeks, months, years. Behaviors and sickness developed in him; exhausting our every resource and emotional reservoir.

Attending school IEP meetings are a necessity for a parent who has a child with any kind of special need. Anker and I approach the meetings with much prayer cover, and walk away from them feeling a little successful and a little beaten down. A good portion in the history of our annual meetings include experiences of anxiety, school politics, frustration, and the inner pressure to keep our cool. I have often thought we should create, “I survived our child’s IEP meeting” t-shirts.

Today’s meeting was different. Within the opening minutes I had already burst into tears. I held A.J.’s 11th grade school picture up to the IEP team; his eyes crinkled from his huge smile. His teachers and therapists around the table swooned at his handsome happy image. This is how they perceive him every day at school.

“He is so happy, polite, and a leader. None of the previous behavior concerns have been an issue for months. We want to develop him as a teacher assistant: making copies, picking up and delivering mail, greeting office staff,” Miss June told the IEP team.

More encouraging words were announced as we were told his long-term substitute teacher has officially been offered the teaching position. June is a dynamic teacher. She is a rare gem in a pool of special education teachers. She instinctively understands our kids, expects great things from the students every day, and gets tremendous growth from them in return.

Through a series of bumps, politics, and teacher turn-over, our kids have suffered from the lack of consistent quality teaching. When our kids suffer at school, boy do we suffer at home! So, we have been praying specifically for June. Last year when she was released from the substitute position, we continued to pray the Lord would make a way for her in the classroom. Our special kids deserve such a gem in their lives.

We wrote letters to school officials, put her on our prayer lists, and we waited…waited…waited. At the moment I heard the words, “The position is June’s if she will accept it”, my tears flowed without warning. My lips quivered as I attempted to express our joy. One of the educational officials, always professional in her demeanor, fought back her own tears as she listened to our gratitude. “What a testimony,” the speech therapist added.

I was surprised a bit by the instant flow of tears on display. Deep within my spirit, I was praising and bowing to the Lord. The tears continue to drop as I reflect upon today’s meeting. In my absolute trust of the Lord, I knew I could ask Him specifically for a request, and trust that He could provide. At the same time, He gave me faith that all would be well. All would be well, even if A.J. had to experience another change of teachers. But I would keep on knocking on God’s door; asking specifically for June.

Now God, in His perfect way, has provided a beautiful gift for us. We have one less obstacle to maneuver and one less change to endure. He knows what is best for us and He knows when we need a break! Thank you, Jesus, for providing our family relief!

I mentioned earlier that raising our boy with special needs used to be somewhat easy, and then it became difficult… very difficult. As I reflect on the growth of our boy over the last two years, I can now say we are living with a new “easy.” God has made a roadway in our wilderness. He does provide rivers in our dessert.

This new place of living is where we have gained new coping tools, and effective behavior management. We have found contentment in our unexpected lifestyle. This is a refreshing place.

“Do not call to mind the former things, or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new, now it will spring forth;
Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the dessert” Isaiah 43:18-19

BONNIE CHRISTENSEN
Woman Gone Wise

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

Take a moment to read the lyrics of our patriotic hymn ...

O beautiful for spacious skies, 

For amber waves of grain, 

For purple mountain majesties 

Above the fruited plain! 

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

And crown thy good with brotherhood 

From sea to shining sea! 

O beautiful for pilgrim feet 

Whose stern impassioned stress

A thoroughfare of freedom beat 

Across the wilderness! 

America! America! 

God mend thine every flaw, 

Confirm thy soul in self-control, 

Thy liberty in law! 

O beautiful for heroes proved 

In liberating strife. 

Who more than self their country loved

And mercy more than life! 

America! America! 

May God thy gold refine 

Till all success be nobleness 

And every gain divine! 

O beautiful for patriot dream 

That sees beyond the years 

Thine alabaster cities gleam 

Undimmed by human tears! 

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

And crown thy good with brotherhood 

From sea to shining sea! 

O beautiful for halcyon skies, 

For amber waves of grain, 

For purple mountain majesties 

Above the enameled plain! 

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

Till souls wax fair as earth and air 

And music-hearted sea! 

O beautiful for pilgrims feet, 

Whose stem impassioned stress 

A thoroughfare for freedom beat 

Across the wilderness! 

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

Till paths be wrought through 

wilds of thought 

By pilgrim foot and knee! 

O beautiful for glory-tale 

Of liberating strife 

When once and twice, 

for man's avail 

Men lavished precious life! 

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

Till selfish gain no longer stain 

The banner of the free! 

O beautiful for patriot dream 

That sees beyond the years 

Thine alabaster cities gleam 

Undimmed by human tears! 

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee 

Till nobler men keep once again 

Thy whiter jubilee! 

Words by Katharine Lee Bates,

Melody by Samuel Ward

Which lines jump out at you? I underlined my top three. Beautiful words ... challenging words ... words to begin to pray for our country again.

CHRISTIE L. RAYBURN

ChristieLeeRayburn.com

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS - Part 759

It’s that time again. Time for me to dust off my recurring role as the damsel in distress. I’m beginning to fear I’ve been typecast by fate. So far this blog has entertained… well, not millions, but many definitely ...  my hero husband as I lock my keys in the car, get stuck in the snow and give myself a black eye, just to name a few.

I have no one to blame but myself. Or my children, and the significant sleep deficit which is definitely their fault. But what kind of Mom blames her own children for her frazzled, overwhelmed and far-too-often absent minded performance?

This one. I blame them. I love them, but I blame this crazy, relentless, exhausting life and my subsequent doziness on those adorable mini people. I don’t know who I’m going to blame when they grow up and leave me.

My latest drama begins in our local supermarket. I sped through my list as fast as humanly possible while the boy alternated between screaming at the top of his lungs (and he has some impressive pipes on him) and cheerfully pulling everything off the shelf as we rolled by. By the time I got to the checkout line I was frazzled and nearing defeat.

$188.33

More than I’d like, but par for the course these days for the feeding, cleaning and diapering a family of 6, at least in our part of the world. Four of us don’t even need diapers, so that’s a huge savings right there.

Feeling a little smug about my foresight, I pulled out my newly activated credit card. My wallet was stolen last week and I’ve been slowly re-making my plastic identity. It’s one of those extra tasks which seems insurmountable in the face of our usual daily grind. But I did it. I called the number. I even signed the back.

I did not, however, take note of the new pin number which would be arriving in the mail also.

*sigh*

So here we are, with a fully loaded cart of groceries, a half eaten bag of fishy crackers (see above re: screaming), a grumpy three-year-old, and the Perry the Platypus sticker he just stuck on my chin. Embarrassed, but not unused to this position, I tell my story and ask them to hold my groceries until I can return with yet another new credit card waiting patiently at home to be activated.

I felt so bad for the man waiting behind me. He had a bag of oranges and a couple bananas. He was about my age, but polished, put together. The kind of guy who drives a nice car and goes to the gym a lot.

I wonder what he saw as I stood there in my second-hand boots, bags under my eyes and hair falling out of its clip. My son whining and grabbing me while sporting a wicked black eye and a runny nose. I was cringing inside. Feeling judged. Feeling humiliated.

As the checkout lady begins to wheel our cart away, he says, “Wait!”

He leans over and peers at my receipt. He pulls out his credit card. He waves his hand, like it’s no big deal.

“I’ll pay for it. Then you won’t have to come back. It’s my gift to you.”

“Uhhh… oh no, no.” I stammer. ”It’s, like, $200. Really, it’s okay.”

He insists. He pays. He acts like it’s no big deal.

This was an extremely rare moment for me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know how to start. I was struck dumb. I hope I remembered to say Thank You. I hope I said it a lot.

As I packed my free groceries into the van, he began to drive away. I flagged him down, standing outside his window in the rain, so I could at least shake his hand and find out his name.

He told me that it seemed like I was having “a day,” plus having my wallet stolen and all… He said something about putting good out in the universe and it’d come back eventually. 

His name was Nick.

I had a lot of feelings about this. My first was pride. I didn’t want to seem pathetic (though, let’s face it, I probably was), and I could take care of it myself. My second was practical, and just a little bit mercenary. I’m going on a trip this month that falls outside our budget and we are feeling it. $188.33 is a lot of money to us. My biggest feeling, however, the one that has followed me around ever since, was bone-deep, soul shaken, faith-in-humanity-restored, just got a-hug-from-God, giddy and amazed GRATITUDE.

It’s not the $188.33. It’s not the time, hassle and embarrassment saved. It’s the unexpected, unsolicited, unassuming grace of the moment.

I’ve been tasting it ever since.

And that’s worth a whole lot more than $188.33.

So here’s me, thanking Nick. Because I needed that. 

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

I AM FROM

I am from snow pants and toboggans, from stacks of library books and homemade mac ‘n cheese.

I am from the big house on the corner, filled to the brim with friends and strangers and children always underfoot. I am from crab apple trees and lilac bushes. I am from a red metal swing set and forts in the basement. I am the brave hero and beautiful princess and brilliant police dog from thousands of adventures. I am from Anne Shirley, and Laura Ingalls, and Caddie Woodlawn.

I am from camping trips and bike rides, from going for a drive, with no particular destination in mind. I am from Bill and Barb and the Robson girls. I am from eating ice cream year round and reading into the night. I am from “life isn’t fair” and “God is in charge” and “The Old Rugged Cross.” I am from napping in a slip between morning church and evening service.

I am from eating the crusts after the Breaking of Bread and stealing sugar cubes in the foyer. I am from Pioneer Girls and Awana and Youth Group. I’m from The Meeting, from the Chapel, from full-time ministry, from questions and wrestling and finding my own way to love Jesus.

I am from Calgary and Scotland, roast beef and apple pie. From the old country, from a farm on the prairies, from stories of William Wallace. I am from Los Angeles, from avocado and orange trees, from cousins down the street. I am from family friends and Three Day Meetings, from a man who fell in love with his friend’s little sister, from a 19-year-old woman who moved across the continent for him.

I am from slide shows of family trips, from playing in the attic, from progressive Christmas dinners. I am from the blue Porsche in the garage, built before I was born. I am from walks around the reservoir and climbing the big “H”, from Stampede breakfasts and cowboy hats.

I am from biting my tongue and being the better person. I am from laughing and eating and endless small talk. I am from people who always have room for more, who always have more to give.

So here’s me.

Taking part of the I Am From synchro-blog at She Loves Magazine. You don’t have to be a writer, just follow the template and write your own version of George Ella Lyon’s poem. It’s worth doing.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us