Amazing Love.....How Can it Be?

My blog today is about my God who is faithful.  He is big enough to deal with my questions.  He is patient enough to let me rant and rave to Him.  He is present enough to be there to hear me when I wake several times in the night.  He is strong and wise enough to force me to depend on Him for answers.  He is sweet enough to surround me with friends and family who smile at me and offer encouraging words when they read my face and eyes and know that my forced smile is fake.  He is gracious enough to recognize my issue, which is HUGE in my mind, and make it His........even though He has lots of bigger problems to take care of.  He is strict enough to make me wait on Him.  To not give me answers immediately but to teach me patience, which is hard for me.  He is even good during these times.  He blesses me with texts, songs, and scriptures to get me through the waiting time. (Yes, I mean texts on the phone.)   Then when I question Him and His perfect plan, He listens.  I can feel Him listening.  I know that He is listening because He promises me that He is there even in the night when everyone else is sleeping.  "I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." Psalms 4:8

Another thing that my God and Father does is that He gives me discernment when I need it.  When I say to Him, "Tell me what to say......show me what to do."  Guess what.....He does.  When that sense of dread settles in and my stomach hurts He sends peace that says "Wait.....I'm still working."  I don't know why I ever doubt it.  Time and time again He has been faithful.  Health scares, financial hardship, always faithful.  I could write for hours and days about His faithfulness to me.   This is the wonderful thing about being a solid 48 years old.  I can look back over years of answered prayer and unanswered prayers and know that I know that I know, that He keeps His promises and that "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."  Guess what else my Father does for me.  He gives me wisdom.....just because I asked.  I specifically remember asking Him for wisdom when I was in college just because the preacher said that if we asked, God promised He would give it.  So I thought, what the heck, I'll ask.  "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him."  James 1:5   

I think that Satan is cunning and sly.  He looks for ways to trip us up.  He looks for ways to make us doubt the goodness of our Father.  He slams us when we least expect it.  He is like an abusive father who picks the times when we are happy and content and feeling full of blessings and he punches us.  He knocks us down and hits below the belt.  He causes people to throw the "Christian" arrows at us, causing us to question, even for a minute, "Is God really all that He says He is?  Does He care?  Is He present?"  Well I'm here to tell the "doubters" that He is all that He promised He would be.  He will never leave or forsake me.  I've got so many scriptures that I claim for myself and my family.  I continually remind God, "You promised so and so. You said in your word that you would so and so."  I'm sure at times He would like to say to me "You of little tiny faith."  But he doesn't......He continues to be faithful and good and patient and loving.   He is the Alpha and Omega my ever present Help.  So of all the scriptures that I will stand on for today here are my two........ 

"In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation." Psalms 5:3 

 "Even youths grow tired and weary and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."  Isaiah 40:30

Memories from 9/11/2001

It was eleven years ago that my generation experienced something that we had never experienced before.  September 11, 2001, was a day that I will never forget as long as I live.  We started our day just as most people did.......crawling out of bed, taking kids to school, and getting ready for work.  I was at home with Max and Battle had taken the other two to school.  He called, from the truck, to alert me to what was happening.  I hurried to change the channel from Teletubbies just in time to see the second plane hit the second tower.  To this day I can still feel the panic and shock in the voices of the news anchors as they were trying to grasp what they were seeing in their own city, right outisde their windows, and calmly explain it to the American public.  Even today I can still feel the disbelief as I watched the first tower disintigrate to ash and rubble right before everyone's eyes.  I remember feeling alone in my house with only my two year old playing in the next room.  I remember standing in my bedroom watching Tower 1 fall and saying out loud, "Oh God, Oh God."  (I had always been taught not to take God's name in vain and I remember wondering for a half a second if this is what it feels like to do that.)  It wasn't.  Just like everyone else in times of desperation I uttered the only words I knew to passify my Spirit.  "Oh God."  I called my Dad to look for answers and he offered me one word, "Pray."  I realized that I had already been doing that from the moment I saw the plane hit the second tower. 

We all have our stories of how we spent that day watching the news reports as they came  in explaining how the Pentagon had been attacked and how the terrorists had hijacked another airplane to fly into the White House.  I could personally tell my kids the story over and over and over because it seems so fresh to me.  I don't know how counselors and psychologists would advise on "moving on" or "healing from that day" but something in me wants to keep the story alive.  I don't want to move on.  I want the morning shows to open their programs with videos of the morning of 9/11/2001.  Then I want interviews with the families of the victims.  I want to see Todd Beamer's wife tell the story of "Let's Roll" and see how his child,  that he never got to meet, is now honoring his father.  I want to see stories of the firefighters who walked into the buildings knowing in their hearts that they would not come out.  Then I want to see stories about how we have rebuilt our Towers to reach higher than they were before just to show the terrorists that they won't ever bring us down.  I want my boys and all the people who are too young to grasp the effects it had to see these images over and over and over again.  I want  them to be mad at what happened to our country that day.  I want them to feel the anger that we all felt and the pride that came after the anger.  It was the one time that I can remember that God was invited to all platforms.  I hate it that it took a day like 9/11 to bring our country together and to it's knees.  I don't care who you were, what religion you had, what political party you were a member of........I bet most people uttered the same words I did, "Oh God."  Most, like me, realized in that moment that evil, Satan, was still prowling and roaring and to some it appeared that he was winning.

 I remember going to church the following Sunday and the congregation sang "A Mighty Fortress is our God."  We started to sing these words...."The Prince of Darkness grim, We tremble not for him; his rage we can endure, for lo his doom is sure.  One little word shall fail him." As I sang those words I knew the song well enough to know what the next verse said.  I was ready because I knew what the "one little word was."  Then we sang the final verse, "Dost ask who this may be, Christ Jesus it is He......Lord Saboth, His name.  And age to age the same......and He has won the battle." It was then and there that I grew up in so many ways.  My faith grew stronger, my vision was clearer and I became bolder. Not only was I proud to be an American but I was proud to be a Christian American.  President Bush went on TV to talk about security and how we could feel "safe" as Americans.  We went to war, we closed down airports, we implemented Homeland Security, we did all kinds of things so everyone would feel safe.  Well on a day like today, when so many images continue flooding back, I have determined that none of these things make me feel safe.  I'm still afraid to fly, I think airport security is a pain in the behind,  and even though Osama Bin Laden is dead there are still other terrorists lurking.   My safety comes from the last verse of that hymn that we sung that Sunday morning eleven years ago..... the one little word that will always obliterate Satan.  "Christ Jesus it is He...........age to age the same.........He has won the battle."  And so today, eleven years later at 8:58 am, I am secure in my prayer, "Oh God, Oh God......THANK YOU, for coming for me Christ Jesus.  And THANK YOU for winning the battle." 

Living with "Weak Eyes."

 If  you know me well, you are aware of the problems that I have had with my eyes since the day I was born.  I was born with crossed eyes.  I'm talking crossed to the extent of totally touching my nose.......both eyes.  Not just one eye, but both eyes.  Now there is a theory about why this might have happened.  When my mom was pregnant with me she was taking dinner to someone and fell while walking down a hill in this other lady's yard.  Supposedly, that might have caused my eyes to cross.  I don't believe this is how it happened.  I was looking though old family pictures one day and discovered that my great grandmother had severely crossed eyes.  I remember thinking how sad it must have been to have crossed eyes in the days before eye surgery or corrective glasses.  For most, the picture might look funny.  For me, it was sad.  But, it did provide the answer that I was looking for........my crossed eyes were not caused from my mom falling on a hill but were most likely genetic.

I have heard several stories thoughout my life but two specific stories are always told  about how people reacted to my eyes.  One has to do with the time my mom took my sister and me to the grocery store.  My sister loved me and had probably gotten used to the way I looked but she got a little defensive when two little boys pointed and laughed at her baby sister.  The story goes that she said to my mom, "We don't care about her eyes.......we love her anyway."  The other story has to do with the time my mom took me to have my baby picture made and the photographer went to drastic measures to rearrange me on the blanket so my eyes wouldn't show.  Ummmm.....that didn't go over too well with my mother.  She instructed him to take the picture with my entire face showing.....crossed eyes and all.  Thank goodness she did because I was a happy and beautiful baby, if I do say so myself.  When I was old enough to start looking at the songbook at church my mom noticed that I was turning my head and only using one eye to look at the page.  At this point in my young life I already wore glasses to straighten out my crossed eyes but now my mother noticed that I had a "lazy eye."  Diagnosed as ambliopia.  At this point I started wearing a patch over my strong eye which enabled my "lazy eye" to get stronger.  My mother also took me to eye therapy several times per week to work with a sweet lady to increase my eye strength.  We would go down to Baptist Hospital to the MidState Medical building and see Mrs. Peeples and then go walk around the drugstore in the lobby.  It was a big, I mean a HUGE deal, when I got to go to Milams Optical to get new glasses.  Major day for fashion.  When I was a little older I started to get a little paranoid about my eyes when we would go swimming.  My glasses helped straighten my eyes but when I took my glasses off, not only could I not see but my eyes would cross.  Not good at all for a young girl who wanted to look good at the swimming pool.  My first "muscle" surgery was when I was in the 3rd grade and my second was in the 8th grade.  By the time I got to college and my right eye was starting to get "tired" again.  I'd pass my roommates in the hallway of the dorm and they would immediately know if I didn't have my contact lens in because I would only recognize them by their voices.  Couldn't see two feet in front of my hand.  My friends would say "are you getting tired?" when my eye started to draw in.  The worst was when I started teaching school and I would ask a student a question and they would turn around to see who I was looking at.  I was definitely NOT focusing.  So, before my wedding in 1992, I had my 5th surgery on my eyes.  During college I was lucky enough to have the prelasik surgery called "radial keratodomy."  After this surgery I had 20-20 vision.  I'm telling you, it was a dream come true.  I'm not kidding.  One of the best days of my life.

"Oops, you shouldn't hide those pretty eyes."

"I'll smile prettier if you show my entire face."

There are so many lessons I have learned about myself because I have had "bad eyes" for most of my life.   I know that my ears are ultra-sensitive.  I can remember almost everything I hear.  Ask anyone, I remember trivial details, words from songs, entire conversations with no problem.  I can also decipher "mumbles under the breath" with great accuracy.  While I'm not "good at remembering faces" I am extraordinary at "remembering voices." This is probably because when I was very young I developed the ability to smile at you and then listen for your voice to determine who you were.  Back in the day, this was not considered "special needs" but it might be today.  At the time I didn't know I was learning this lesson, but I learned to depend greatly on people helping me to see what I needed to see.  My sister was constantly "watching out for me" when I was walking along usually stepping in holes, missing curbs, and of course, not knowing who certain people were.  This continues to today, only now my really good friends and my husband can read my expression which says, "Nope, not registering."  So I have a whole host of helpers now.  By the way, I take my turn at using my talent of remembering all things auditory to help them out on occasion.  One last lesson, which I feel is the most important, is that I learned a long time ago to laugh at myself.  To not take myself too seriously.  If I had gotten my feelings hurt everytime I tripped over something, ran into a sliding glass door, or mistook someone for someone else, I would be down and out all of the time.  It's so much easier to just laugh and go on, although my Dad and Husband stopped laughing long ago at my driving mishaps.  My "problem" isn't a new one.  I don't remember how old I was but for some reason I read this passage in Genesis 29:16-18.  It was just three little verses and very few words but I remember the smile I forced on my face while feeling the pit in my stomach, "Now Laban had two daughters, the name of the older was Leah and the name of the younger was Rachel.  Leah had weak eyes, but Rachel was lovely in form, and beautiful.  Jacob was in love with Rachel."  Well, I determined that day, above all days, that Leah was just as beautiful as Rachel and I would be too.  Thank God for parents, friends, sisters, and a husband who have validated that beauty since the day I was born with my weak eyes.  And by the way "YOU ROCK, LEAH!!!!"

I'll Wear a Few Labels

I don't know if it's all the recent changes in our household or middle age hormones but lately  I've had this wierd sense of defending motherhood and women in general.  It seems like everywhere I turn,  my ears are especially sensitive to issues with mothers, grandmothers, single women, married women with no children, women from all walks of life.  My senses are heightened when I'm listening to the radio, watching TV, shopping in Target, or talking to friends.  I wonder why?  I wonder if it's because I've just turned my first born loose on a large college campus and so with one less chick in the nest I am a little more introspective.  I wonder if it's because everywhere I go I run into other moms who are experiencing the same feelings.  Maybe it's because friends have mothers who are very ill and the roles of mom and child are reversed.  Possibly it's because both presidential candidates are going for the "women's votes" that I'm bombarded by "women's issues."

These feelings didn't just begin, let me assure you.  I've been protective of women and mothers for a very long time.  I have a house full of boys who love to eat, love to have clean clothes, love to have their sweet backs scratched, love fresh cookies out of the oven after school and love ESPN.  They are not so big on shopping, long conversations on the phone, or TV shows that I prefer.  This mom has learned to absolutely savor the rare Sunday lunch conversations, the quick trips to the mall, and the long awaited phone calls.  I have also learned to love football, cooking, and most of all, the lovely friends that they bring home.  There is one thing that I have learned to tolerate, even occasionally join in on, just because in my soul I know it's never going to change..........potty talk.  I feel that I'm especially qualified to protect and advocate for our special club of "boy moms."  In fact, as badly as I hate labels, there are two that I proudly wear......."Boy Mom" and "Middle Child." 

I love watching "The View" because as I've said before, I love hearing all kinds of opinions on things.  I love knowing where other people are "coming from."   Yesterday Dwayne Wade, the famous basketball player, was on with his mother, who is a recovering drug addict.  I was drawn in by her story and even more by her courage to tell her story.  She explained so clearly how she wanted so badly to be a good mother but because of the drugs felt like a failure, which in turn led her back to her best friend for comfort....the drugs.  She credited her 91 year old praying mother who never turned her away.  Her words, "my mother laid me on the alter every time she went to church and the Lord heard her prayers."  So even when Dwayne Wade's mother didn't have the strength to ask for help the Lord knew the desires of her heart.   He also honored her sweet mother for "standing in the gap" for her daughter.  What a great story.  I kept rewinding my DVR because it was such a testimony of the power of strong women and God's love of them.

Last week I loved hearing Ann Romney speak at the Republican National Convention.  I was so proud of my fellow "boy mom" and how she so eloquently showed how women from all walks of life have very tough jobs.  Whether you are single, married,  stay at home mom, career woman, grandmother, whatever.  You know the heart of a woman.  We don't need to be labeled because we know that no matter what label we wear on a specific day, we ALWAYS wear the label of being a "woman."  Soft place to land, quiet strength when called for,  wisdom in the middle of a storm, balance between being passive or aggressive. Well,  I was happily reflecting on how beautifully and honestly Ann Romney spoke about these things when it happened.........Some news analyst says, "I think she sounded like what she is, a corporate wife."  WHAT??????  Did I hear that right?  This guy is TOAST.   As I'm rewinding the DVR to listen again, all I can hear from the kitchen is "Uh Oh."  My poor husband was bracing for my rant.  What exactly is a "corporate wife?"  Are you kidding?  All I could think of was how many loads of stinky laundry has Ann Romney done?  How many nights has she stayed awake with sick children?    How many nights has she stayed up late doing projects and homework with those beautiful boys she has? How many early mornings has she had getting them to school?   How many conversations has she had with her successful husband about his day at work or his next step in life?  I wonder how many times they remembered to tell her "thanks you" and when they didn't, she didn't care.   Quiet Strength?  It wasn't very quiet that night.

Just this morning I was reading Robin Roberts tribute to her wonderful Godly mother.  I loved Michelle Obama's  title of "Mom-in Chief."  I thought of Dwayne Wade's "Born Again" mother and his praying grandmother  and  I was calm in my Spirit.  I will always be protective of women and mothers because I think that's how God is.  I think it is obvious that He knows our hearts and how difficult it is for us to strike a balance between soft and strong.   I don't think that God sees his special creation of women as rich, poor or "middle class."   Proverbs 31:10-31 say it best but my favorite part for today is "Her children arise and call her blessed.  her husband also, and he praises her.  Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised."