My mother-in-law's brain surgery is May 8th at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.  We got together as a family today and talked about everything. She talked much about how Christ has been everything to her, which was so cool. She's determined to trust God through this. 

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Thank you, to those who have committed to pray for her.  Please keep it up!

Ok, I just found out that the link below regarding the article on Gina and Barb made the FRONT PAGE of the Lincoln  paper!

A few of my friends need new bird cages.  They brought home Doves on Wednesday night!  Congrats to Gina, Barb, and Sue Smith for their awards.  It was fun to be there, and share that moment with them. 

 

Praise Rocks is a wonderful musical.  Barb Dorn is an exceptionally talented script writer.  I read in the paper this morning that she wrote most of that script in one night!  It's witty, tender, and very honoring to God.  Sue had great ideas about improving the songs, and about modifying the script to include more kids.  She totally got on board with the idea and brought her magic touch to the entire thing.

 

The songs were a blast to write with Gina.  She had great ideas, and great starts on all of them.   Chad Cates put some really fun melodies on them.  We got funny emails with him practically whispering the songs into his computer.  He was writing them late at night, and his wife was sleeping in the next room while he was writing them.    From sitting in Starbucks and the sanctuary writing the songs to watching the First Free kids perform the musical, to sitting at the Dove awards watching my friends win, was an amazing process. 

 

At the Doves, Bart and I sat right by the door where all the artists came out to be re-seated after they received their awards.  We got to see them all...Casting Crowns, Third Day, Point of Grace (their parents sat right by us, and so we heard stories about some of P.O.G.'s families, bus tours, etc. A couple of the P.O.G girls came up to hug their parents, and we got to seem them up close and personal.)  We saw Mandisa, Chris Tomlin, Cindy Morgan, David Crowder, Steven Curtis Chapman, the Clarke Sisters, Skillit, Brandon Heath, and on and on and on.  Throughout the night, I was texting back and forth with Gina and Joel about fun things.  At one point, during an UH-MAY-ZINGGGG duet with Wynona and Natalie Grant, we realized that Maurice Carter was one of the back up singers!  Maurice and Gina and I have written 2-3 songs together, so that was really fun, and caused a flurry of texting.

 

One of the best parts of the night, however, was when we were standing in the hallway, waiting to be let into the auditorium, and Mark Lowry came out.  He asked one of the workers:  "Do ya'll have indoor plumbin around here?  I need a toilet."  My girls think he's hysterical, and so I knew I would have a funny story to tell them after the show.  It's all about impressing the kids, these days.  The Dove didn't do it as much as the fact that I got to see Mark Lowry and Mandisa!

 

I felt such a mixture of emotions.  Seeing the performances was water for the well.  At one point, Steven Curtis Chapman, Michael W. Smith, Chris Tomlin, Paul Baloche, Christy Nockels, and some other guy I should know, were up there, singing a new song they wrote together, with just guitars.  I was STUNNED.  Along with that, I felt humbled and I felt conviction to be better at my craft.  When Gina, and Barb, and Sue were up there, I felt so proud.  In the middle of feeling humbled and proud, were a bunch of other emotions that I need to pray more about before I speak of them.   

 

Thanks to the folks from WAJ who have emailed me.  It's been such a blessing.  Locally, I've had notes, phone calls, and flowers sent to the house.  How cool is that?  I feel like I have won a Dove award, just because so many of my family and friends have been so loving and supportive!  If you want to read about how the local girls made good, here's a link!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My mother in law was just diagnosed with a brain tumor.  There's a good chance it is benign.  We'll know more next week after she goes to Mayo Clinic. 

 

Her attitude is good.  She is trusting God, and has been very encouraging to us.

 

Please pray for Mary, and the rest of her family.  I know her son has shed a few tears over this in the past few days, along with the rest of us.

 

 

 

 

We saw the eye surgeon today.  Jenna's eye problems are not severe enough to need surgery.  To do the operation on her now, would put her at risk for both of her eyes to turn in instead of one of them turning out.    She's a few percentage points away from the border of needing surgery, and so we're just going to go on with life and see what happens over the next few years. 

 

We're all grateful, and will be praying for God to keep her eyes healthy enough to avoid surgery.  We know, however, that God is still good, and His plans for Jenna are good, even if she should need another operation in a few years!  Thanks for praying for her. 

Sarah was outside trying to play softball by herself today (yesterday now).   I was sitting on the porch, reading, as she swung her bat,  dropped it on the ground  (she was practicing putting her bat down since she got called out several times last year for throwing her bat) and ran  the imaginary bases.  I was reading an article about how to photograph waterfowl.  Realizing that I really didn't care much about how to photograph waterfowl, and could pitch a few balls to Sarah without pulling a muscle or breaking a sweat, I joined her.

 

 Jenna meandered out after her snack, and the competition began.  Bart pulled up from work and joined us, still wearing his suit.  I agreed to play outfield, which meant I stood in the middle of the street.  Most of the balls were hit to me, and when I tried to throw them back to Bart, he would comment that I "throw like a girl."  I think I responded with some comment like:  "Oh yeah, well you're a poopy head." 

 

The game didn't last longer than 15 minutes.  The kids had to go to piano lessons, and Bart had to change before he ripped his pants from throwing his leg up while he pitched. 

 

It sure was a nice 15 minutes, though!

I went to the funeral of a dear friend today. Hundreds of people were there.  The sanctuary was packed.  The nursery was packed.  The overflow room was packed.  People were standing along the walls and in the corridors.   

 

The entire time I sat there, I was waiting for them to talk about John.  There were glimmers.  There were almost-poignant moments.  There were a lot of stories.  But only a few about John.  There was some scripture.  There were a lot of stories.  But they were only sort of about God.

 

I kept looking around at all the people and thinking:  "here is proof of a life well lived.  I wasn't that special in John's life.  I was blessed enough to live next door to him, and I have wonderful stories about him.  Everyone here could get up and say something nice, poignant, touching, funny about John.  Why are we not hearing those stories?"

 

I wanted to run up there and say:  "He taught me about having a servant's heart when, although he was more than 20 years older than us, he scooped our driveway and sidewalks when our baby was sick in the hospital.   He taught me about love when I watched him cry on his wife's cheek last year as she lay in her hospital bed, begging her gently to wake up because he couldn't be without her.   His wife has nannied for a family for 11 years, and John went to more of that  little girl's sporting events, dance recitals, and concerts than her own father does.  He talked to me almost every day over the fence, and I always walked away with a smile on my face.  He rarely talked about his faith, but when he did, I believed him, because I saw it in his life every day."

 

To those in my life who will be planning my funeral, those who don't eat as much junk food as I do and who work out... thus insuring that you will live longer than I will, here is my request:  Open the Bible.  Read to the people in the pews about what Christ did for a sin-bag like myself.  If you want to tell stories, they better be either:  1. About God's faithfulness in my life, or 2. Really funny.  Oh, and 3.  actually about ME, and not some great analogy that you read  in some forwarded email that you can tack on the phrase "Lisa was just like that gal" at the end of it.

 

Then, sing Give Me Jesus, and call'er good.

 

 

My mom just emailed me.  She's taking names, my friends.  All five foot of her is going to take on the person who sent me the email this morning.  (I got two more this afternoon...good times in ministry right now)  My mom ROCKS.

 

In addition, Bart and my pastor TOTALLY came through today.  There's nothing better than watching godly men walk by the power of God.  They defended our views by using scripture.  They were kind and honoring of the other people.   They didn't take things personally (like I do...hence the-history-marking-feat-by-Bill-Filer's-standards-eating-of-the-entire-pizza  of earlier today)

 

God is good.  People respond to God.   I need to trust Him and His power instead of mine.  I need to fall on my knees in prayer before getting so emotionally bound up that I feel like I'm going to explode (either from stress, or from eating massive quantities of California Pizza Kitchen Four Cheese Pizza)

 

I think I might sleep tonight...with the help of Tums anyway. 

I got a thoughtless and hurtful email this morning from someone in our church.   It was short-sighted, and I felt depressed and deflated after reading it. 

 

After checking my email, I logged on to my blog (after eating an entire frozen pizza), and proceded to check my friends' blogs.  Folks, if you want a pick-me-up, read my friends' blogs today!  Bill has become a man.  Travis has ripped his pants.  Simon had a birthday.  Bev had one of her songs sung in church.  Gina made me cry (good tears).  Sue Smith,  in her wonderfully honest, thoughtful, and and gentle  way, wrote about a common struggle every songwriter has. 

 

Thank you, dear blogging friends.  I feel better, thanks to you!

Caren and John lived next door to us.  We moved four years ago, but they've remained dear friends.    I blogged a year ago about Caren having a heart attack.  She's still at only about 30 percent heart function, but has recovered enough to go on with life.

 

John had a stroke a couple of weeks ago.  It was caused by a massive, malignant brain tumor they had no idea he had until the stroke.  He passed away yesterday. He was in his early 60's. 

 

Pray, would you?  Caren emailed me last week and said she feels like she's in the middle of a horrible nightmare.  I would guess that her heart problems of a year ago don't compare to the depth of sorrow she is feeling in her heart today. 

Bart and I went to see Leatherheads this afternoon.

 

 

 

SNOOOOOOOOOOZE

When I was 23, I started praying for wisdom. I'm not wise.  But, I'm wiser than I was.  It's been pretty interesting to see how God is answering that prayer.  Some of the ways God has used to teach me and grant me wisdom are:  1.  From His word  2.  From being around wise people  3.  By doing  4.  By failing. 5.  By being forgiven by people I have hurt   6.  By being on the receiving end of the very words and actions that I have said and done to other people.  7.  By suffering.  8.  Through blessings. 

 

It seems like the wiser I become, the more I realize how wrong I am most of the time.  I may understand truth at times, but the application of the truth (the meaning of wisdom in my opinion) seems to be the place where I break down.    Of course, there are too many times when I don't even understand the truth in the first place, let alone trying to apply it in my life.  But this blog is about the break-down part.

 

What I seem to be learning is that wisdom has a very different look than knowledge.  Knowledge is the freshly opened yellow Play-Doh that is still shaped like a big pencil eraser.    Wisdom is the lumpy, misshapen Play-Doh that is now brown from being mixed with every color in the package.  Knowledge looks better to many many Christians.  It's untainted.  It's beautiful when first beheld. 

 

And what I've seen in my life is that knowledge, without being kneaded, and worked, and blended with the colors of grace, and mercy, and humility and faith,  is useless, and in the end, is really not that beautiful after all.

 

I've seen people try to keep their knowledge play-doh perfectly shaped and yellow.  They've surrounded themselves with people who think just like they do.  Or, they've surrounded themselves with people who don't know what to think yet, so they can feed their egos by dispensing knowledge upon these newly converted minds, and never have to worry about being challenged.  They don't understand people who sin.  They don't understand people who fail.   They don't have a resume of staying in community with people who are struggling.  Their resume is one of leaving, and then, judging.   Or, staying, and judging from a polite distance.  Or, staying and wounding with their sterile, unyielding, untested, monochromatic religion.

 

Jesus is brown Play-doh personified.  He is the perfect combination of knowledge, mercy, love, grace, patience, faith,  humility, practicality, passion, compassion...and on and on.  He is wisdom.  He is beautiful.  When He speaks, lives change. 

 

I am one who worshipped the yellow play-doh.  In some measure, I will struggle with that my whole life.    I have been one to be quick to correct, or give my opinion,  and have been slow to give grace.  I have been one to judge people harshly.  I have valued knowledge over grace and love.   I am ashamed of my behavior.  

 

God is going to keep answering my prayers for wisdom.  Sometimes, that thought terrifies me.  What will it take?  Only He knows.  But, I think my heart is more willing to accept His methods than it used to be.  Pleasing Him is more attractive to me than it used to be.  Not hurting people is a greater desire than it used to be.  

 

Years ago, I was at my friend Gina's house, and her two oldest kids were playing Play-Doh.  Every container had brown Play-Doh in it.  I think I even said something like:  "You let your kids mix the colors?"  I never let my kids mix their colors. I'd try to make them play with one color at a time.  Or, if they would make a white cookie, for example, and decorate the top with little balls of other colors, I would make them pick off the balls and put each one away when they were done.  There were several times I even spoke harshly to my kids about mixing the colors.  I would micro-manage their play time, valuing the pure color of the play-doh over their tender hearts until...

 

they stopped playing with the Play-Doh.    I think they went almost a year without taking it out of the cupboard.  When they finally did, they did it when friends were over. 

 

I bet you can guess how they treated their friends who were mixing the colors.  

 

A wise person would learn something from that.  Pray that I will.