IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS

Sometimes it’s the little things.

That tiny little detail, on top of a mountain of craptastic, that sends you falling to your knees.

Literally. “God help me, I am circling the drain.” On my knees.

It wasn’t the 3 hour getting-out-of-bed, running around and refusing to sleep marathon. Despite our removal of all toys/books/stuffies from the room.

It wasn’t the severe lack of sleep after a wakeful night “sans Daddy.” I never miss him more than during that 2-5am stretch of horrible.

It wasn’t trimming the littles’ bangs going horribly, horribly wrong. C warned me, “Moooom, not a good idea…” Perhaps people will assume they did it to themselves. What kind of Mom would do that to her own child?

It wasn’t the salt shaker malfunction adding an unexpected Cup of seasoning to the dish. So much for meatloaf.

It wasn’t B peeing, through her pullup, on the McDonald’s play structure, dramatically showering the table below. Nor even the fact that a family from our school was there to witness our fun evening. Nor S immediately running through the puddle of urine.

It wasn’t the double melt-down on the way out. Not S’ supersonic screams of indignance (granted, he wasn’t the one who peed on everyone, but nevertheless we had to leave). Not even when B started her I’m-so-mad-I-could-spit… so-I-WILL trick, interspersed with dramatic shouts of “NEVER! spit NEVER! spit NEVER!” while I dragged her out.

Today, the only thing I couldn’t handle was realizing my flannel pjs were still in the wash.

I’m not difficult to please. I don’t ask much of the universe. After surviving a day like this, all I ask is to recline in comfortable fuzzy pants. That’s it.

It seems silly. But it really was the last straw.

After a mini-meltdown I realized that lo and behold, I had another pair waiting for me. Like a gift from God, fresh from the dryer. And that made it all better.

Sometimes it’s the little things.

So here’s me… not a day I’d like to repeat, but at least it makes for a good story. We have a lot of those lately. At least my prayer life is on the upswing.

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

HOLDING MY LOVED ONES LOOSELY

Father and Son on their way to Mexico

Over the weekend, the driver in front of me kicked up a stone and cracked my windshield.  This is the third incident mucking up my new van in less than a year. I was instantly reminded how accidents even happen at home, while doing the mundane.

How many of us cling to our families and material things as though it will keep them safe from harm?

When our 12-year-old son left for the Dominican Republic on a mission trip a few summers ago, the popular response from my friends was, “Aren’t you scared?” The truth is I am more afraid of clinging to my kids and my fears so tightly, that I thwart the Lord from doing a mighty work in their lives. In spite of my Mama-fears, I must hold my loved ones loosely.

Friday morning I waved goodbye again to the same son (now 16 years old) and his dad as they left for a Spring Missions trip to Mexico.

This morning I said goodbye to my 13-year-old baby.  He is serving the local Salvation Army, homeless, and planting trees at schools downtown with his Junior High youth group.

Sweet Baby Dane goes off to serve

I was hoping to go with him, at least drive a van load of kids back and forth. But through a series of events, I lent my van to a driver I don’t know, to be filled with hyper junior high kids. The thought of a hole punched in the seat or a shovel scraping the ceiling has crossed my mind.  But, I must also hold my van loosely.

Stones will hit the window while I drive it around the corner, rust will destroy it, and thieves may break in and steal it. Scripture reminds me, “Where my treasure is, there will my heart be also.”  So, I handed over my keys as an act of worship.

I am left feeling a little lost this morning.  A.J. and I are home alone for the week. It’s a funky feeling when most of your family is gone and you are left tooling around on your own. Normally I would welcome the time to myself, but I am feeling as though a large piece of my heart is gone.

Honestly though, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Opportunities abound for our kids to grow deeper in their walk with the Lord while serving the world.

So here are the strange prayers from a Mama learning to hold her loved ones loosely:

I pray they get dirty for God! I hope their fingernails get dirty from playing with children and planting trees.

I pray their bodies get smelly from living away from the conveniences of home but being filled up from serving the Lord.

I pray their hearts are broken as they encounter people who have so little. And their hearts stretched as they experience the joy of sharing the Good News and treating others as better than themselves.

I pray they build lasting friendships working side by side with like-minded kids. While they share in the work and the worship, I pray they would come back to their schools and sports teams and shine brighter together!

I pray they will feel uncomfortable or afraid, and step out of their comfort zone, take a step of faith, and watch God show up in personal and mighty ways!

When they feel tired and sore and lay in their sleeping bags feeling homesick, I am grateful they can’t text me. I pray they would lean upon God as their comfort and  provider.

This mom is holding her loved ones loosely today, trusting if I cling to my life I will lose it, but if I lose my life for Christ’s sake and the Gospel, I will save it (Mark 8:35).

I couldn’t have it any other way.

BONNIE CHRISTENSEN

Woman Gone Wise

HEAD TO HEAD

he is 8 (almost nine, he will add if you ask him) and his name is wyatt.  that tube is out and his sweet smile and contagious giggles are back in full effect but that was my view at midnight last night.  his mother is my cousin and one whom i have always looked up to.  a novel could be written about her and the amazing example she sets as a wife, mother, friend but most importantly…a woman of Godly character.  for her, this last week, these last 24 hours…it has probably felt as if the world has stopped turning.

they ran into each other on the playground.  head to head, they met, at the tip of the corner and went down for the count.  both with serious concusions, wyatt and his friend received the medical care that seemed to fix it all and were sent home.  but wyatt wasn’t getting better.  five days after his first trip to the urgent care, he woke up with two black eyes and told his sweet mama, “my head is squishy.  why?”.  back to the hospital and the doctors find a fracture in his skull and blood.  blood that is still bleeding blood.  not in a good place blood.  blood that needs to stop, and soon, or else surgery is required.  all from a run in on the playground.

here’s the cool thing.  wait…scratch that.  here is the coolest thing.  i remember holding wyatt when he was first born and having him come visit me in the hospital when i had my first baby (see above).  such a handsome little guy.  as he grew up, there was a slightly noticeable difference in the shape of his head.  doctors called it “mild malformation”.  much testing was done but nothing really ever came of it.  it seemed as if doctors were a bit baffled by this mild difference and so it was left as that.

turns out, this mild malformation saved his life.  most of us don’t have this extra pocket in our skull that wyatt has.  most of us would have died from a similar injury since our blood would have had no where to go and the pressure on our brains would have been deathly overwhelming.  but he had this pocket.  this mild little space that could hold one pint of blood in it and keep him alive for a period of time long enough to allow doctors to be able to fix it all.  that isn’t mild to me.

for you created my innermost being:

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made:

your works are wonderful, i know that full well.

my frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in a secret place.

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.

all the days ordained for me where written in your book before one of them came to be.

Psalms 139:13-16

to think that what once baffled the doctors and the family and the testing…to think that mild change was created for a specific purpose…for a specific moment in time.  to bask in the awesomeness of knowing that what seemed to be a problem was really a plan.  what seemed a concern is now a comfort.  how great is our God…

i know i pleaded with my friends on facebook and begged my prayer partners in email, for you all to cover him and his family in prayers.  there are times when prayers are not answered the way that we wish them to be and it is hard to praise God in those moments.  but there are times when we are blessed beyond all measure and our prayer are answered exactly as we poured them out.  this is one of those times.  and i hope this one moment in time will forever be a testimony to others who are going through those moments when it is hard to utter praise.  i hope, wyatt, that this story will be forever on your lips.  that God can take your mild malformation and do intense things with it, not just this week…but always.

thank you all for your prayers.  the peace that was felt could have only been given to us.  thank you.

AMY BALLARD

Amy B Photography

YIELDED

We sat around the breakfast table, chowing on good food and drinking our favorite breakfast drinks. I love meeting with these young ladies. These 20-something girls are hungry for God and His Word. Their hunger is sobering to me. It keeps me reliant upon the Holy Spirit for God’s direction and His Words as I grow with these girls.

While we talk through the Scriptures, real-life questions emerge. I too, ask similar questions over the years as I walk with Jesus.

Does my life honor You?

Am I too comfortable in my life?

Does my life still honor You when I am comfortable and content?

Does my life really look like a true disciple?

No wonder these thoughts are on the minds of young women who desire to give their lives entirely to Jesus, as His disciple. Sometimes our flesh gets tangled in our questions and we privately add these thoughts:

Shouldn’t I be doing bigger or greater things for You?

Do I need a title or a position of status in order to really make an impact for the kingdom?

Am I Your disciple if I am not living on the mission field and risking my life for You?

We poured over the Scriptures to find answers to these nagging questions. What is God’s desire for us as Christ followers? There are so many verses to ponder.

We discovered that Paul was content in little and content in much; as He relied on the strength of God (Philippians 4:11-13):

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

Then we were challenged by his yielded life (Galatians 2:20):

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me”.

Lastly, I read a newly discovered prayer by John Wesley. His words date back from 1755, and are taken from the Puritan Richard Alleine. This is not exactly a new prayer, but it is new to me, and renewed in its ability to meet the passion of our hearts on this day:

“I am no longer my own, but Thine.
Put me to what Thou wilt,
rank me with whom Thou wilt;
put me to doing,
put me to suffering;
let me be employed for Thee or laid aside for Thee,
exalted for Thee or brought low for Thee;
let me be full,
let me be empty;
let me have all things,
let me have nothing;
I freely and heartily yield all things to Thy pleasure and disposal.”

This is the prayer of this Christ follower today.
Yielded

BONNIE CHRISTENSEN

WOMANGONEWISE.COM

A NEW DAY: Our Special Need's Summer Vacation - Part 2

Hume Lake 2011 - The Lord is good.

“Yes, boat”, our oldest boy said with a huge grin.  His eyes scanned each of ours as he awaited our response.

A glimmer of hope rose up in me, “Do you want to go on the boat this morning?”

“Yes, boat”, he said a second time.  It was our third day of summer vacation, and our boy with special needs was beginning to drop his guard.  He was slowly adjusting to the change in environment and opening himself up to fun activities.

We barely finished breakfast, but we all intuitively knew to take advantage of the situation.  No one bothered to put on their bathing suits or sandals, instead we scurried off to the boat house.  This time we avoided the creaky wooden dock and the rowboat which rocked so much it shook his footing.   I stopped to pick up paddles and life jackets while the boys walked straight to the kayaks—the red ones, because red is AJ’s favorite color.  It made him equally happy to adorn the red life jacket.

AJ cautiously walked through the muddy path, weaving in between the other boats, then awkwardly swung his leg into the kayak.  Dad held the boat steady while brother helped AJ sit down.  The kayak was a good choice.  He was able to sit securely on stable land while his Dad gently slipped the kayak into the lake.

The rest of us stood on paddle boards and glided alongside the kayak.  He was not protesting with the anxiety he displayed yesterday.  Quietly grunting to express his discomfort, he suddenly changed his tune. “Yea!” he yelled and then applauded his own accomplishment.   I dug my paddle through the water as my toes dug into the board.  Our other two boys stood beside me gliding through the lake on their own boards.

My youngest boy teased me and reached his paddle out to nudge my board.  My feet changed positions to regain balance, but down I went.  I crashed into the water with my skirt flowing up around me.  Thankfully, most of the campers were still eating breakfast and there were no other boaters on the lake.  With little grace, I crawled and slipped my way back on the board.  What a great morning.  We floated and laughed and enjoyed each other for a couple of hours.

This is a rare occasion.  Do you know how often some of us special needs families are able to enjoy adventures together?  Often times either my husband or I hang out in the hotel room watching Lion King with AJ while the other parent takes the siblings out for fun.  What a gift we experienced this morning; two parents together with all of our children enjoying the lake.

Carefree in the kayak

We pulled our boards and the red kayak ashore after a great morning of water fun.  The boys stripped off their life jackets when AJ requested, “more boat ride”.  So, out went he and his brother on a second adventure.  This time he was done after 10 minutes, but he was able to build one success upon a previous success.  The praise and the high fives and the gummy bears were flourished upon our boy for the happy choices he made.

The family was encouraged with progress while the heart gives credit and gratitude to our Lord. Thank you Jesus, for a carefree spirit in our boy today.  Please give us more. 

I’m going to pray this prayer relentlessly.

AJ enjoyed many moments of relaxation on vacation

BONNIE J. CHRISTENSEN

WomanGoneWise.com

THE WHOLE BUNCH

You can just taste it.  This bitter sensation on your tongue that sure wasn't the sweet taste you were expecting.  Depending on the growth rate, you either tolerate it or promptly spit it out in whatever direction necessary.  I am not sure about you but for me, the whole bowl is ruined at that point.  That strong craving in now replaced with tense anger over a good meal gone bad.  No amount of sugar can cover it up.

It just took one.

I could just taste it.  That bitter sensation on my tongue was not what I was intending.  I had much sweeter words planned for my day, for my children, my friend, that stranger at the store and my husband.  It had rapid growth rate from the moment I spoke with her, to the first whine of the morning and beyond the missed kiss as he walked out the door.  Feeling unloved, something in me decided that I wasn't going to share love either.  Way back in my mind (in the good part deeply hidden beneath all the dark parts) I wanted to swallow this gross taste and forget about it but the dark me took over...and I was spitting venom.  No real reason at all other than I let someone's mold grow on me.  

Who knows what her day was like.  Who knows what her night was like.  Who knows what monsters she cowers from or demons she daily faces.  Who knows why she is so negative.  I don't.  But when we connected that morning, even through just a phone call, that black fuzzy growth made it's way through the phone and planted itself carefully in my thoughts.  It just took one and my whole 4 pound flat of strawberries was hanging in the balance.

How easy does it sound?  You know, to just pluck that moldy berry out of the plastic universe it lives in a toss it down the garbage disposal.  When she calls, I don't want to answer.  I know all I will hear is negativity and sadness.  I love her and care for her and want so badly to help get her out of her funk...but how?  Pushing happiness on someone who is not in the mood always seems to turn in to hurt on both sides.  I didn't create this anger inside her.  I didn't put her in the situation she was in.  But God did put me in her path.  And her in mine.  For many moments, many moons, I forget this.  This whole placed-in-this-situation-for-a-reason thing.  Instead, I take the common route.  I complain and avoid and neglect her.  It's easier that way.  For me.

Knees placed firmly in the dirt, fingers grasped tightly around the trowel and thoughts still swirling in bitterness, I found myself towering over strawberry plants kissed with white blooms.  I dream about the sweet fruits they are pregnant with and carefully feed them composte from the moldy and rotten foods of days past.  And even here, God is so good.  In that moment...He reminds me....that He is so good.  

Sure my dear friend is infested with mold right now.  Again, who knows where she got it.  But right in front of me, the very sweet fruit I am attempting to nurture and produce, I am feeding with the death of the sweet fruit it once was.  Rocking back to my heels and most likely wiping streaks of dirt on my brow, God is showing me, so clearly how good He is.  This mold can be used for good, He whispers.  Yes, it has the possibility to infect the whole bunch but with His help, His miraculous-life-giving help...He can grow new and beautiful things from even the grossest and most bitter of tastes.

I don't know what to do for her.  I don't have the words to say or the solutions to give.  But I do know that fuzzy mold that seems unremovable from her can be taken from me.  That I can take that ugly stuff in my brain and heart and turn it into life-renewing composte.  I can take the anger I was going to let grow, the nasty words I was planning on saying and the frown I was fully intending to wear...take it all and throw it God's direction.  I can replace it with prayers for her.  Prayers with her.  Prayers about her and her demons and her mold.  I can let God composte it all and feed her new life.  

I am not anyone important.  I am just one.  God doesn't NEED me to rid this world of evil mold, to be the person that helps her out, or even be the person praying for her.  He allows me this gift. He allows me beautiful friends and moments in the dirt and ugly fruit all so I can catch a glimpse of how wonderful it can be.  

It just took one...

AMY BALLARD

AMYBPHOTOGRAPHY.COM