After nine years, our head pastor is leaving our church to get his doctorate at Westminster Seminary in Pennsylvania.  He's been an amazing pastor and a good friend to Bart and me.  He's always upheld the highest view of God and His word, and our church has been blessed because of it.  For the last 9 years we've seen some HUGE changes at our church.  We've brought on two more pastors, added a one million dollar addition (that's big for us) restructured the leadership to a more biblical model of elders, gone from one guy and an organ to three worship bands, and have almost tripled in size.   It's all happened since he arrived from Colorado to join our little church in the middle of nowhere.

 

We are happy for him and his family, but at the same time, sad beyond words.  

 

As believers, our home is in heaven.  We're just sojourners on our way home.  I'm so thankful, though, that my journey has been enriched by sweet and godly fellowship.  Our time with Pastor Rob and his family has been rich.   It hasn't been without its bumps in the road, but even then,  there have been so many things I've appreciated about his character and love for God.  His wife has been a wonderful friend as well.  She will be greatly missed by everyone in our church.

 

God gave our little congregation a wonderful gift when Rob's journey toward home merged with ours.  God is calling him and his family to leave, but how great that one day, we'll be back together forever.

 

It sure is hard in the meantime though.

 

 

I sat in front of my computer all day trying to write.  Before, when I homeschooled, that was never a luxury I could afford.  But today, I had all day...in a quiet house, with Kristie Braselton's cd, and then the new Selah cd playing, coffee in hand, tv off, and......

 

NOTHING.  I moved a couple of sentences around...pulled some old old songs and tried to put a new face on them....but none of it is going  to be anything I keep.  My muse wouldn't appear, no matter how hard I tried.  This happens to me from time to time.  I can't get stressed about it.  Hopefully, some good will come of my attempts today.  Maybe I'll sit up at 3:00 am with a breakthrough....*sigh*...or maybe not. 

 

Ok, and what's up with all the paper that comes home from school?  YMCA sign ups, Band instrument forms, lunch menus, gym schedules, homework check sheets, review sheets, PTA forms...holy cow.  My table is covered in piles of colored paper.   This morning, I couldn't remember if Jenna was supposed to bring her clarinet to school.  Oh, I'm sure the answer was typed neatly on one of the 5,000 colored sheets on the table, but I chose to call down to the school and ask instead. Denny, the secretary, better get used to my phone calls.   Anyone who knows me, knows that if they want to communicate something to me, it cannot be via paper of any kind, or by leaving a message on my phone.  I might need to work on that.  I'll add it to the list of 5 billion things I need to work on in my interactions with anything that has a pulse. 

 

So, in addition to my fake allergy to celery, being embarrassed, and being on committees, I believe I've developed a new, and fairly severe allergy to colored paper that finds its way out of the school.  To punish my muse, I'm going to give her all my colored paper and tell her to file it.  She's not being any use to me in my writing, I might as well put her to work.

Actual Geico customer: Ah got reayur endud...

 

Burt: (playing and singing liltingly)  I got hit....in the rearrrrrrrrrr.....

 

Actual Geico customer:  Thuh furst thang I thought about was that cute little lizard...

 

Burt:  Lizard LICKS...his eyeball...

 

Actual customer:  blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda

 

Burt: I hope I don't get hit in the REARRRR...again...

 

I fell OUT of my chair laughing the first time I saw that commercial.  If my daughters want to get out of trouble...they just start singing...Lizard LICKS his eyeball...and I cave!

 

Throw in Little Richard screaming  MASHED POTATOES....AND GRAYYYVEEE..WOOOOO..HEEEEEEE!  and I'm a big puddle of mush. 

 

It's the small things in life that make me smile.  Ok a Yamaha 6 foot mahogany finish grand piano would put a smile on my face as well, but for now, I'll settle for Burt Bacharach peddling insurance.

 

P.S.

Jenna had a much better day at school today.  God ROCKS EVEN MORE THAN BURT BACHARACH~!

 

 

Jenna had a better day on Thursday.  She came home with a glimmer of a smile on her face.  Her friend Petra came over, and it was so good to hear her laugh and talk about school with her friend.  This morning, her stomach still hurt, but she was resolute. 

 

WE ARE SO PROUD OF HER. 

 

She's working her tail off to make the best of it.  We've been praying, and many people have been praying, for God to give her small blessings here and there throughout the day to give her some confidence and relief from the insecurity.  He's answered those prayers, and we've even been able to talk about that with Jenna at night.

 

Thank you, everyone for the prayers, e-mails, and calls.  Thanks for being the arms of God that have reached around our family and provided refuge for us.

 

Update on Sarah...she's loving school...LOVING it.  I talked with her teacher this week, and she seems to be making the transition well.  They have three kinds of times in their room...the red light time when it's not ok to talk...the yellow light time when you can whisper to a friend...and the green light time when you can talk normally...and so far...She's been obeying all the traffic rules.  Today was show and tell day, so she took a picture of her cousins, and her American Girl doll.  We'll see what she "showed" and "told" ...I'm a little nervous about that!  hee hee!

 

Something wasn't right when Jenna came out of the school yesterday.  She said she had an ok day, but I could tell something was brewing.  She came home and put in a movie, and laid on the floor most of the afternoon, and then when dad came home...the flood gates opened. 

 

She's overwhelmed with all the newness.  She has nothing familiar to hold on to, and has had a really hard time over the past 24 hours.  Last night was filled with lots of tears and prayers and encouragement.  I even ended up sleeping in her bed with her.  This morning she woke up, crying, saying her stomach hurt and she wanted to stay home.  Bart and I sat on the couch with her for an hour trying to listen, and encourage, and empathize, and yet still be firm.

 

Today at noon, I got a call from the school.  It was Jenna, tearfully asking if she could come home.  It was just too hard, and too much, and she didn't know enough, she said.  I went down and sat in the principal's office with her for about a half an hour just talking through it all.  I was so proud of her when she stood up and walked back down the hall to her classroom to finish the day.  Her principal and I sat and talked for a while, and she reassured us that we were all going to make it through this time.

 

Her teacher and I talked after school for about 20 minutes.   We're blessed to have someone for Jenna who is so understanding and yet knows that we all need to be firm and encourage her to keep at it.  Today after school, we baked cookies and sat at the counter and did homework and talked.  She's very fragile right now, and yet I see a glimmer of hope.  She wants to try at this, but she's very scared.

 

Pray for Jenna.  Pray for her to fight through the fear and insecurity.  Pray for this transition to be over quickly.  Pray for her to find a good friend.  But mostly, pray for her to trust God in the middle of her times of panic.

 

Never have I felt so helpless.  Never have I wanted so much to take away someone else's pain.  I've felt the realness of that desperation a lot this summer, but never to this extent.   It's agony watching your child have to walk through a difficult season, knowing there's very little you can do to alleviate her pain.  

 

The sobering thing is, that in many ways, this is just the beginning.  There are many difficult days ahead for her, I'm sure.  So, I'm praying that all of us react immediately by calling on God.  I'm praying that He is the strength for today and the hope for tomorrow.  We cannot trust in ourselves, or in the familiar, or in others to give us that peace...we can only trust God.

 

Again, pray for us, and for Day 4.

 

 

 

The first day of school is done and logged on the books.  The kids had a great day.  Sarah liked the arts and crafts, and Jenna liked the relay they did in gym.  Both of them are looking forward to going back tomorrow.  Thank you God.

 

Thanks to the friends who called me today to see how I was doing.  I feel very loved!  Bart was awesome and came to school with us, then sat with me for a while at home afterwards.  We just kept saying...."I can't think of anything else...I wonder what they're doing now....I just want to go back down there.  I wonder if Sarah is talking too much.  I wonder if Jenna knows anyone. "

 

The girls have had to re-tell the first day story 5 times now.  Once to us, once to their friends' mom, then to both grandmas and aunt Joanne.  How cool that they have people who love them so much to call and want to hear the details of their first hours in school. 

 

Thanks everyone, for praying for us.  We have been blessed today!

My daughters start school on Monday.  We've been homeschooling for the past 6 years and have felt very happy with our choice.  Every year, however, we prayerfully re-evaluate our decision, and this year, we felt like it was time to put them in public school.  I don't regret the decision.  But in the flurry of the past month, (buying school supplies and clothes, getting physicals, visiting the school...) I've felt a growing sense of panic and fear as this Monday has approached. 

 

Tonight, the girls and I picked out their outfits for the week and stuck them in their sweater dividers in the closet.  It was a precious time of watching them lay out clothes, and listening to them chatter about why it was important to wear the things they were choosing.  They're both a little nervous, but overall, very excited.  I asked Sarah how she was feeling about school, and she said "Good, except I'm a little scared." When I asked her why, she said "Because I don't know about real school, and when I don't know about things, I get scared."

 

After they ran outside to play, I sat down on my oldest daughter's bed and started crying like a baby.   Who's going to sit with them at lunch?  Will they turn around, holding their trays, and walk into a crowd of people who won't make a place for them?  What if Jenna is behind in her studies?  Sarah is so tender, will she get picked on? 

 

So I started to pray.  I prayed in Jenna's room.  Then, I went and sat on Sarah's butterfly rug and prayed for her.  God, please take care of my kids.  Please protect them.  Please bless them with someone to sit with at lunch, and someone to play with at recess.  Help Sarah to sit still and pay attention.  Help her with her buttons if she has to go to the bathroom.  Help Jenna not to get nervous about having to read in front of people. 

 

Please help me figure out how,  and then, how much,  to let go of them. 

 

Lord, help me, because when I don't know about things...I get scared.

 

So, this summer, I've been noticing something new going on in addition to the weird neck hair thing, the eyes that don't quite work as well at night,  and my growing affection for geriatric shows like Matlock.  I'll walk into an indoor space, and within seconds...literally within seconds...I start coughing, and sneezing, and my head feels funny.  It happens when I go into our sanctuary at church (some "sanctuary" heh), and it happens at other random times.  The other night I walked outside and it was incredibly muggy, and the same thing started happening.  Throw in my emphysema-like wheezy laugh while I'm coughing and sneezing and gasping for air..and it's just not very pretty, or safe.

 

I think I have allergies.

 

Not until this summer, the summer of my thirty eighth year, have I ever struggled with allergies.  In fourth grade once, I lied about having allergies because I was jealous.  Mrs. Slovensky had us all sit in a circle and she asked the class if we had allergies, and if we did to share what our allergy was.  Everyone had allergies, it seemed, but me.  I wanted to have an allergy too, so I said I was allergic to celery.  She TOTALLY knew I was lying.  She started asking me questions that she wasn't asking the other kids...like what happened when I ate celery, and what kind of medication I was taking...She TOTALLY busted me.  I suppose I'm grateful to Mrs. Slovensky.  Her exposing my lie, and embarrassing me in front of my peers probably saved me from a life of habitual lying about my fake allergy to celery.  I'm more allergic to being embarrassed than anything else in the world I think....except maybe having to be on any kind of committee.

 

So, I join the population of watery eyed, coughing, sneezing folks who keep the tissue companies in business. 

 

I'd rather just keep them in business by watching sad movies all the time, or going to weddings, or listening to great songs.

 

 

 

 

This summer has been one of intense spiritual examination.  In some respects, it's been wonderful.  God is working.  He is completing His refining work.  He is being true to His word, and it brings me joy to see proof of it in my character.  There are things/temptations that used to consume me, that just aren't that important anymore..and that's God.  Granted....much of this has been years and years and years of praying, and begging, and reading, and wrestling.  But at the end of the day...the truth of it is, He will answer when He will answer.  How my struggling and His sovereignty work together...well that's going to be one of my questions for God when I'm in heaven.  But there has been fruit anyway....and I am grateful.

 

In other ways it's been devastating.  Looking  at how little I truly have been living what I say I believe has been disturbing.  Just when I think I've learned a good lesson, have repented from a sin, and am experiencing the fruit of repentance, I'm right back in the battle. 

 

One of these battles has been the battle over beauty.   About five years ago, I remember reading the book of Esther and getting really mad.  She had it all.  She was young, beautiful, and the kicker.....really wise and godly.  I wanted to be Esther.  It wasn't enough that I was trying to grow as a Christian.  I wanted the power that Esther had because she was beautiful. 

 

I was teetering on the brink of a full blown mid-life crisis, and I remember thinking.....I've had it.  I'm tired of working on the inside.  It's too hard.  I'm not changing.  I'm still struggling with the same old garbage, and I'm tired of it.  I don't want to think so much anymore.  I just want to feel.  I want to feel what it's like to be a powerful woman in our society...which to me meant being beautiful.  So, I started working out like a mad woman.  I spent more money on clothes, hair stuff, work out stuff.   Unlike before, I wouldn't leave the house unless I had showered, done my hair, put on make-up...my "best" foot was forward at all times.  At the end of that year, I had accomplished a lot of my goals I had set for myself.  But, my spiritual life was under nourished, and I was miserable.

 

Eva Longoria, one of the characters in Desperate Housewives, said something recently that took me back to that really dark time in my life.  I'm going to butcher this because I didn't keep the magazine in which I read the quote.  It was something like..."The thing I love about being a beautiful woman is the power I have over men."

 

Not that I ever achieved Eva Longoria status...thank God.  I can't handle that kind of power.  Some women can.    I would have used it to destroy all that was good in my life.  In that year, and sadly in the years to follow, my wrong emphasis on external beauty threatened many of the greatest blessings that God has given me.

 

This year, God has granted me a simple prayer.  "Lord, make me beautiful."  I was reading Psalm 34 last week...and I started bawling when I saw a wonderful verse that describes beauty: 

 

They looked to Him, and were radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.  Ps 34:5. 

 

So, how can I be beautiful....radiant?  By looking to Him.  It has nothing to do with whether I wear sweatpants and a baseball cap, or a linen skirt heels, and cool leather jewelry....whether I am ripped, or sporting a bit of flab.  It has to do with where my focus is.  it has to do with the devotion of my heart.  Am I looking to myself, and the power my flesh can offer, or am I looking to God, and His ability to transform me into His radiant bride? 

 

Lord, make me beautiful.

 

 

 

Melissa B. and I had a conversation after Write About Jesus last year in an e-mail exchange.  We talked about wanting to be moved by our own music.  I want to be moved by the stuff I write.   I've spent my whole life being moved by other people's music. I figure maybe that might be a good goal to set...for my stuff to resonate with me on some level.  crazy?  It seems so obvious...but I've missed it sooo many times.

 

Sometimes, I get so buried in the technical stuff...are my syllable counts and cadences matching up...am I using a rhyme sound more than once in a song....is every line supporting the hook...am I using churchy words.....am I being trite....am I getting to the chorus fast enough....does it need a bridge.....has it been said before....is it true..is there enough lift in the chorus...is it predictable..is it singable.....yadda yadda....that I start to divorce myself emotionally from a song.   

 

I listened to a song tonight I wrote with a couple of other people.  It moved me.  And now...listening to it for about the 20th time...it's still moving me.  In this moment, I feel so grateful.  In a weird way, I feel like I've been given a gift.  I've really needed to be moved lately.  My struggle in this very second is that this is going to seem arrogant or self-promoting.  Take it for what you will.  The truth is...as I sit and listen to this song....I feel overwhelmed with emotion regarding what the song is about.  It has its share of technical shortfalls, I suppose.  But it moves me by cracky...it moves me.

 

I also feel overwhelmed with gratitude.  I get to write.  I get to spend time with amazingly talented and humble people who share a love for writing songs.  And maybe, this song will even move someone else to need and love and understand God just a little more.  Which moves me with even more gratitude.  What a gift that would be.

 

This isn't going to happen every time.  And that doesn't mean that the other songs I have written or will write aren't decent or useful to God.  And, I'm going to fight the fear of "I'll never write a song like this again" as well. That's not from God, although we all struggle with it as writers.  I just want to enjoy a precious moment in the dead of night...after 3-4 days of struggling, and discussing, and pounding out, and groaning, and laughing, and hoping, and going back to the drawing board, and e-mailing, and e-mailing..and listening and crying, and e-mailing some more.  I am moved.

 

 

And in a few hours, when the sun comes up.....I will be too tired to move.

 

I've had a few visitors this week.  Just eat Dolly Madison blueberry pies at 1 am, and you can have some visitors too, once you go to sleep that is.

 

VISITATION #1

Bart welcomed an African business man into our family room and then announced he was going outside to do yard work.  As I sat nervously looking at the African stranger in my home, wondering what in the world I would feed him, I hear someone rooting around in my kitchen...clanking bowls and spoons.  Next thing you know...Sue Smith walks around the corner with a big bowl of cereal, exclaiming that she was starving and so she made herself some cereal...and that she was going to go play Typershark on my computer.

 

VISITATION #2

The next night....Bart and I bought a gigantic old, falling down house, and proceeded to have a dinner party.  We're all in formal wear and a few of us were standing in the kitchen when the floor started getting really hot.  So, I started ripping up the floor, in my purple taffeta gown.  Finding no fire, I left my guests to walk down to the Wal-Mart sized basement filled with 15 heaters, and a maze of clanging, steaming pipes.  Fearing getting lost in the city-sized steaming darkness, I walk upstairs, past the ripped up floor into the living room.  There stood my long-lost friend, Meg Ryan.  I exclaim "Meg!  So good to see you!"  Where she responds (and I quote) "Who are you?"  To which I say  "Lisa! your friend Lisa!"  To which she says:  "Boy, you've really grown portly." and walks off.

 

I'm going to try cherry pies this week and see who comes to visit.  I would prefer people who don't call me "portly."