Time To Get Real

Psalm 149:6-9 6 May the praise of God be in their mouths and a double-edged sword in their hands, 7 to inflict vengeance on the nations and punishment on the peoples, 8 to bind their kings with fetters, their nobles with shackles of iron, 9 to carry out the sentence written against them— this is the glory of all his faithful people. Praise the Lord. II Corinthians 10:3&4 3 For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war in the flesh: 4 (For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;) I heard someone read that passage from Psalm 149 today, and it struck a chord with me in regard to the unfathomable rise in terrorist violence being perpetrated against Jews, Christians, and minority groups not belonging to Islam. Yet before I proceed any further, let me preface the following with this statement; I fully believe there are Muslim people who are sincerely horrified by what they see, as the rest of the sane world is. However, if statistics are truly correct, and the number of terrorists flying under an extremist Islamic banner are so low, we should all be shocked out of our comfort zones. For such a relatively small group to inflict the amount of damage they've been allowed to get away with, we have a serious problem on our hands. Shocking, right? And yes, I said allowed to get away with. If you are a practicing Christian, and you understand that the high praises of God still the hand of our adversary (the devil), then I want to know what everyone who claims Christ is waiting for?! You have to know me and where I've been. If I could cut a fool rug and hang from the chandeliers in wild clubs, then I think I can show up and praise God with no concern for what anyone else thinks of my display. I assure you I cared less than zero percent about what anyone thought when I was drunk. Believe that. If you give credence to the scriptures that tell us our fight is not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual wickedness, then I'm talking to you. For the record, I'm not a pacifist, I believe a STRONG military response should be given from our nation, but our leadership clearly differs in opinion. Terrorists who are given over to such brutal depravity definitely fit into the category of spiritually wicked individuals. I submit to you that the church must take up the call to bring this wickedness under submission by prayer and unfettered praise. It is prayer that uncovers the secret things, it is praise that confuses the enemy. God is waiting for us to invite Him into the situations that arise, and there is no time like the present. There is a cup of wrath that is being filled, and His justice will prevail. He is merciful and long-suffering, and desires for ALL to turn from what drives them away from Him, but there will be an appointed time of vengeance. I believe the words of Julia Ward Howe are entirely appropriate for what we face as a nation, and I leave them with you as I pray that you will be stirred to personal action. "Mine eyes have seen the glory Of the coming of the Lord He is trampling out the vintage Where the grapes of wrath are stored He has loosed the fateful lightening Of His terrible swift sword His truth is marching on I have seen him in the watch-fires Of a hundred circling camps They have builded him an altar In the evening dews and damps I can read his righteous sentence By the dim and flaring lamps His day is marching on I have read a fiery gospel Writ in burnish'd rows of steel As ye deal with my condemners So with you my grace shall deal Let the hero, born of woman Crush the serpent with his heel Since God is marching on Glory, glory, hallelujah Glory, glory, hallelujah Glory, glory, hallelujah Our God is marching on He has sounded form the trumpet That shall never call retreat He is sifting out the hearts of men Before His judgment-seat Oh, be swift, my soul To answer him be jubilant, my feet Our God is marching on In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea With a glory in his bosom That transfigures you and me As he died to make men holy Let us live to make men free While God is marching on Glory, glory, hallelujah Glory, glory, hallelujah Glory, glory, hallelujah Our God is marching on"

The Least of These (I need your help!)

I always try to get a movie in on Saturdays, and tonight's selection was The Book Thief. Little did I know what was in store for me. In the opening scenes, a young girl is in transit to meet her adoptive parents and her little brother dies along the way. She is left alone. Truly alone. As the car pulls up to her new home, full of trepidation and silence, she has no response to her new mother. Yet, the father sees her fear and uncertainty, and he approaches her with gentle words to speak to her heart in a way that confirms her acceptance. He simply smiles and says, "Good morning, your majesty." In that moment, she knows all will be well, she has found an ally, a defender. Right then, I had a picture flash in front of me; 2 Ukranian girls, one 6, the other turning 9 tomorrow. The younger caring for the older, as the older has Down's Syndrome. These babies will be making the monumental journey from their country, to the United States. They may have fears and trust issues of their own, and to say that the older child's experiences have always been pleasant, would be a gross error. It is my understanding that she is often rejected by her peers and excluded from play, the great equalizer of children. When she and her sister are taken into the loving home that their hosts are providing them, they will soak up every bit of love and kindness they can, even if they don't know what to do with it initially. It is my sincerest desire to help these girls find affirmation and love at every turn. They are "the least of these", orphans in the original meaning of the word. Pure and undefiled religion calls for their care, and while people consider that care to be food, clothing, and a roof over their heads, why not do more? Why not celebrate them? Why not do for them what you would do for your own daughter? Exactly. There are no good reasons to skip the party! All of heaven stands at attention and the angels rejoice when another person joins the family, so why not bring a little bit of heaven to earth? Why not mark the arrival of these little ones with all the bells and whistles? I say flip the script, and throw some confetti! As Christmas is approaching, and everyone has extra expenses ahead, I know it's difficult to plan on giving. But if all of my friends, or anyone reading this, could donate just $2, these little girls could have the experience of a lifetime and be treated like princesses at the American Girl store. I'm gonna be honest, to assist their host family in achieving this, would literally make my Christmas. I don't need anything, I just want to see smiles and eyes dancing with wonder. If you would like to help, I'm giving you the link to click on for the GoFundMe page I put up. Think about it. Pray for them, and be thankful for all God has blessed you with. Thanks so much! (Now click and give, pretty please!) http://www.gofundme.com/hnb7j8

International Friends

Short and sweet, but I wanted to greet everyone in Russia and Ukraine who are keeping up with my blog posts. I never thought they would go that far, but I'm thrilled that you're interested! Blessings to you. With gratitude, Jen. :-)

Gratitude for the Anonymous

'Tis the season, let tidings of gratitude be flung across Facebook for the duration of a month! We can sink back into the comfortable shoes of an ingrate quickly enough, but for now, let's enjoy all things pumpkin. In seriousness though, my mind has been fluttering back and forth over the seasons I've walked through, and recalling the things I am authentically thankful for. As fate would have it, I recently viewed the glaringly raw documentary, Private Violence. I watched in shock, disbelief, sorrow, and eventually pride in the young woman whose story was largely featured. I might also add that one of my phenomenally talented cousins had a hand in the production of this film. At some point, I hope to have evidence that I was able to dip into the ancient, familial well that has propelled such excellence in so many. But back to the story... Upon the conclusion, I was gently reminded that an experience in my younger years could have pushed me down a path that may have spiraled into something nasty, yet I was spared. Imagine being the bright-eyed new girl in school, freshly 15, and overwhelmed at being the center of someone's attention. While I had been on a couple of dates before, they were in group settings and nothing more than Opryland or the movies. (Yes, I said Opryland.) The boy who had centered in on me was a year older, on the basketball team, had his own truck, and was seemingly decent enough. He asked me out, met my parents, and then he decided that we should be exclusive after a couple of days...ridiculous! I was SO GREEN though, and wouldn't have seen the dang forest for the trees while wearing camouflage to match! I just went along with it. However, I began to feel smothered by him and was quickly losing interest. I called him one night and told him that I thought it might be a good idea if we backed down a bit. He didn't take it well. He informed me that he had a 12 gauge in the back of his truck and that he knew where I lived. That he would make my life miserable if I broke up with him. I was immediately horrified and shocked. I didn't even know how to respond to such a thing, so I didn't stand my ground. I mean, I really thought he might try to kill me! This farce continued for approximately 2 weeks before I brought it up to one of my new friends. I did it in a roundabout way and started out by asking questions about this boy, and wondering if anyone else ever had problems with him. My friend then began to ask me questions, and I spilled. This person was so incensed, that they brought over 2 of their good friends who happened to be large, senior ball players. They introduced me to the one I didn't know, and then asked me to retell what I had just shared. I've never seen people run to my aid faster than those 2 gentlemen did. Yes, they were only 18 years old at the time, but they were authentic gentlemen to me. By the end of that day, they got the boy who had been threatening me and brought him into a hallway where they stood on either side of him and told him that he would never touch me, talk to me, or threaten me again. I had the privilege of watching this happen, and then idiot boy offered me an apology for what he had done. I was accompanied to all of my classes for an additional week before they felt it was alright to let me walk on my own. Innumerable waves of validation and relief washed over me in an instant, and fear of the unknown was immediately gone. I ended up dating one of my heroes, and he treated me like a lady every time I was in his company. From that episode, I learned that it would have been OK to stand up for myself without feeling like I had no options. I learned that there are good people who will get involved if you will only tell someone. I also discovered that I was not a door mat, and I NEVER let anyone even come close to treating me that way again. Clearly, the experience left an indelible mark, but it's not something I really thought about until watching the documentary. I literally shudder to think how differently I could have turned out in regard to my sense of personal value, had someone not stood up for me. I am indebted to my gentlemen friends who rescued me when I didn't see a way out. While this story is but a minuscule example of a situation that had the potential to end horribly, it didn't because 2 people had enough moral fortitude to thwart the efforts of a relative stranger's oppressor. To my lady readers - you are more valuable than the stars, your worth was strung across the skies from the beginning of time. If you need help, SAY SOMETHING, TELL SOMEONE, TELL ME!!! Girls, if your friend is in a nasty dating/marriage relationship, seek help on their behalf, they will thank you at some point down the road. To my dude readers - you can be a person of valor, you have enough courage to stand up and help someone, but God help you if you're an oppressor or abuser. Justice will be meted out and you don't want to be on the receiving end of it. Be a man, not a freakin' tantrum throwing loser. Respect will open doors for you that you could never imagine, try using it. To my formerly 18-year-old knights in shining armor - Thank you. I know I said it back then, but I mean it even more heartily now. Your parents raised fine men in the both of you, and I can only assume that you are doing the same thing now. I don't know where you are, but this mama of a young daughter appreciates what you did. Your willingness to step in for me had a lasting effect, and it will shape how I talk to her as she continues to grow. Words are not enough, but one more time, thank you.

Church Kids

Let's get crazy and mix it up a bit! I'm taking a little break from more serious tones of previous posts, and giving you a bird's eye view into my formative years. Ready for a spin down memory lane? Thought so. Picture it, early autumn, 1990'ish. I was 13 years old, and the proud owner of one of those Casio keyboards that had a Bossa Nova setting. Yep, 49 keys of synthesized bliss. It was in this same era that motion picture magic horrified every youth group in America with the Christian classic, A Thief in the Night. Think Red Dawn, but with very little hope, and that a Patrick Swayze prototype would die almost immediately. On a stack of Bibles, any time one of those films were played, the power would go out and everyone in the room would inevitably scream. Well, being the wretched little minion that I was, and having younger brothers who were ripe for the picking, I devised an amazing plan that would keep me in stitches for months. Now as I continue with this story, keep in mind that I had 2 friends who served as incredible accomplices and they were JUST LIKE ME!! We had angel faces with devil horns back in the day, and if our parents had known even half of what we were up to, I'm assuming most of our life choices would have been seriously frowned upon. HAHAHA! I digress... So after viewing one installment in the aforementioned series, I decided that the right thing to do was make someone think they had been left behind, it was the only thing that made sense to me, I had received a clarion call and I would respond! That very moment is when the Casio was catapulted to gold status. Not only did it have a Bossa Nova setting, but a trumpet setting as well. As I began to fine tune "the sound", I was mentally narrowing down which one of my siblings would be the victim. I felt driven like Jake and Elwood, and knew that my choice could make or break the legendary nature of this herculean event. The selection was finalized and planning went into overdrive. In less than 3 hours, what I considered to be the prank of a lifetime would go live. As fate would have it, Mama had to run to the grocery store, and that left me and my friends enough time to pull it all together. The third story of our house had huge closets that were deep enough to hide multiple people in, so 5 kids and a dog were stuffed inside while my poor brother had gone into the basement to look for something at my request. I followed him downstairs after a minute and asked him if he had seen Mama or Daddy, of course, I knew they weren't home, but he didn't realize it. He began to look for them, and with no success, they were seemingly gone. I moved on to ask him if he knew where anyone else was. No one could be found. Surprised??? As I sensed that his panic was elevating, it was time to throw in the trumpets. I made an excuse to run upstairs and turned the volume all the way up. The blaring beauty was almost too much for me to handle. I wanted to erupt with laughter, but had to keep going. I couldn't stop. I was all in. Had. To. Make. It. 99 & 1/2 wouldn't do! I screamed down to him, "Did you hear that? It sounded like trumpets!!" While I don't think the volume was quite enough to make the impact I was hoping for, I was able to convince him that the angel Gabriel had indeed made that fateful call. It was just us. We were the only ones in our family left. But to err on the side of caution, we were going to make one more sweep of the house before we lost our collective minds. I led him upstairs and told him to check the closets, because you can never be too sure. When he opened up the second door, the payoff was even more than I could have imagined. 5 howling kids came flying out of the closet, and then the dog jumped on him. He screamed bloody murder at me, because I was on the ground beside myself with tears. I don't think anyone has ever hated me with a more fervent passion than he did at that moment. In fact, he wouldn't talk to me for 3 days. Was it wrong? Absolutely. Do I have more stories to tell? And then some. I'm pretty sure I could have been Maria, and she said it all in her song to the Captain. So I leave you with an ode to my childhood. I must've done something good. Enjoy! http://youtu.be/UetJAFogqE4

Stolen Arrows

Over the past few months, I've noticed increasing numbers of Christian couples experiencing miscarriages. On a personal level, after experiencing one each year from 2010 - 2013, I believe it qualifies me to write the following piece. I was praying for a friend today concerning this same matter, and thoughts started to fill my head. They were not thoughts that belonged to me, and I searched them out in the Word to confirm my feelings. Psalm 127:3-5, to be exact. "Lo, children are a heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate." For all practical purposes,my husband and I should've had 4 additional children right now, but we don't. While they never joined us in this physical world, they are most assuredly waiting for us in heaven. This knowledge offers peace, and we are infinitely grateful for the beautiful daughter we have been gifted with, but it doesn't change the fact that the purposes of four lives were stolen. At the conclusion of that thought, a sense of indignance began to wash over me. Am I angry at God? Absolutely not. Am I angry at myself? Nope. Not even. But try this on for size, I'm furious with the enemy of our souls! The same enemy who sought to steal, kill and destroy every child who has been lost in this manner. For the most part, no one in the church bats an eye when it happens. There is no sense of seeking retribution for what has been taken! Let's take another look at the passage with the original meanings intact; "Lo, children are a possession and inheritance of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his home for God's instruments full of them: they shall not be brought to shame, but they shall speak (declare, command, promise, warn, threaten or sing) with the enemies (personal or national) at the entrance of the city." I propose to you that satan has gained a foothold through the back door, because most people consider miscarriage a natural occurrence with no cause for question. It is an accepted loss that no one will confront, a collateral damage of sorts. Yet it is a most insidious affront to the people of God! Why should the arrows of the Lord, the individually crafted possessions of love that He rewards His children with, be continually lost without a fight? They are the future, and weapons in the hand of the Almighty. They are given to us to be propelled into their place of destiny, but few will contend. An inheritance is not to be taken for granted, and if we truly understood the high value God places upon our children, our actions would prove it. From this day forward, I challenge all of you to speak life and health over every expecting mother you know. Invest your spiritual efforts for the purpose of increasing the kingdom. Command the fruit of the womb to come forth at the appointed time, and not one second before. Cover the destiny of these little ones, they are needed at their posts. Their words are to be a creative force at the gates of our cities. Those who have passed are still precious to the Lord, and are not forgotten by parents who were waiting to embrace them. If someone you know has recently experienced this kind of loss, pray that the Lord will repay them double for what the enemy has stolen. We already know who the strongman is in this situation, and for every soul snuffed out, I speak an unending harvest in honor of their lives.

Come Back To The Table

"This do in remembrance of me." What does "this" even mean? To most of us brought up in church, upon a proficient grasp of phonetics, the phrase has been read thousands of times in default mode. We have gone through the motions of communion so many times that it no longer holds great significance for us. With rare exception, the elements are forgone and little recognition of the absence prevails. However, a premise that continues to be expanded for me will not let me alone. Thus, I write. While I am no one of reputation in the spiritual community, I compose this post in hopes that someone else may stumble across it by providential means, and that a seed will be planted to provoke heart changing thoughts. In less ritual-driven houses of worship, the communion table is typically saved for special occasions or specific holy days in the Christian church, namingly Easter and Christmas. So twice annually, we more purposefully observe what should continually be at the forefront of our spiritual consciousness. (This doesn't mean I think we should take communion every week, btw.) As a follower of Christ who believes we are sincerely approaching the second coming, I'm beginning to see another side of this table. If you will allow me, I'm challenging you to think outside the traditional box for just a moment... When Jesus served His disciples at the last supper, He told them the bread was representative of His body that would be broken, and the wine was as His blood that would be poured out. He instructed them to continue the practice and to do it in remembrance of Him. We remember the power unlocked from that sacred suffering when we partake of the elements, but as current events continue to unfold, the actual word "remember" has taken on a new meaning to me. To dismember something, you're tearing it apart. So if you were to re-member a thing, you would be putting it back together again, correct? For those belonging to the household of faith for any number of years, the schisms and dividing lines between us are very evident to see. In fact, they seem to grow on a daily basis depending on the issue. I ask you this; if we are truly the Bride of Christ, what does this say for us? Have we allowed ourselves to willfully be dismembered by harsh,religious ideas that trump the law of love? And bringing it even closer, have we created hostile houses of fellowship? Are we so put out with fellow congregants or those in leadership, that we have nullified our acts of worship? Hostilities have been poured out throughout Christendom, and now they are spilling over onto streets worldwide. Our nation is not exempt from this and if the church cannot come together as ONE body, it will worsen. Yet there is power in unity, which leads me to the next word, "communion". Right away, the etymologist in me hears two English words, come and union. However, it is a word of French and Latin derivatives, with the most poignant usage coming from the ecclesiastical community. Com - "with,together" and Unus - "oneness,union". You can see where I'm going with this, the table of communion is where we can be put back together again both individually and corporately. Healing is the children's bread, and we are symbolically partaking of the bread of life. The wine/juice is a reminder of the blood that was spilled for our healing, His wounds for our wholeness. His suffering for our peace(nothing missing, nothing broken). When we are corporately whole, we can move in unity. It begins in the local congregation and spreads from there. When we are united under the banner of Christ, regardless of denominational variations, we can truly function as one unit. So I'm inviting you back to the communion table. The table of healing, the table where the Body is put back together again, the table of unity. This do in remembrance of Him, He is waiting!

The Branch and The Vine

Time. Who has enough of it? Life has been a perpetual whirlwind of activity since the end of February for us. Thus, no blogging. However, I find it necessary to pen thoughts which hold me captive yet again. Expelling them purchases my cerebral freedom, and it is long overdue. The defining event that drives this entry, was a sacred gathering of celebration upon a wonderful friend's daughter becoming a Bat Mitzvah, or "Daughter of the Commandment". I am a Christian, my lengthy familial heritage is Christianity, and by nature of affiliation I had never attended a Jewish Temple or Synagogue. Having said this, I have a heritage that instilled love and support for Israel, and for the people of God's choosing. As you can imagine, I counted it a great honor for my family to have been invited to participate in this special day. The beginning of the service was an open call for thanksgiving, covering every area of our lives. Things we systematically disregard and take for granted,like breathing with lungs that continue to function. Do you realize how powerful a testimony to divinity we truly are? He causes our organs to work in synchronous harmony at the moment of our births, and by His hand, we are sustained until the day of His calling. With an exhortation to recognize the presence of God in the every day tasks, life can become gloriously fulfilled, but it's up to us. We must continually choose to acknowledge Him. As the Ark and bimah(pulpit) were explained, the rabbi wove a masterfully simplistic account that was made accessible by even the smallest among us. As the Ark was opened, the beautifully clothed Torah (1st 5 books of the OT) was removed with great care and joy. Their treatment of the written word of God pierced my heart in a way I had not experienced before. So precious and esteemed it was to them, that it owned the place of preeminence in the sanctuary, with an eternally burning light above it. How far many churches have fallen! Draw your own conclusions, I won't go down that road right now though. Moving on. Then there was the generational passing of the Torah. It was a spiritually symbolic act that all the elder members of the family took part in. Each one laying hands on it, and sending it down the line until it reached the father, who then placed the scrolls upon the daughter's shoulders. With no words, an entire message was preached in less than one minute. Where are the mothers and fathers in Zion who will place the word of God upon the shoulders of their children?! Isaiah 9:6 "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder..." The literal books of Mosaic law were placed upon her shoulders in this portion of the service, and it elevated her to a position of authority to govern situations and enhance realms of influence. She was affirmed as a fully functioning member inside her body of faith. When are we recognizing the ability of our children to do the same? If we had a celebratory and affirming community, would we stop losing our children? If we gave them wings, could they not soar? I'm just as guilty as anyone else, yet I make no indictments. I was personally challenged to do better for Catie-Beth, and to encourage everyone reading this to follow suit! The whole experience was amazing, and I'm so grateful to have experienced it with my family. Catie-Beth thought it was pretty cool, in fact, she wants a Bat Mitzvah now, LOL! Thank you Clan Eccleston, I walked away with a full heart, and a richer understanding from the foundational branch of faith the vine of my beliefs are entwined around.

Covered By Love - the backstory

It's Valentine's Day, and because I have yet to share the story of my how my fledgling business came to be, I thought now would be the most appropriate time. To those who know me or my husband personally, you are probably aware of the string of miscarriages we suffered for four years in a row, with the last one occurring in August of 2013. Let's suffice to say that life isn't fair, in fact, it SUCKS 10 kinds of suck sometimes. Unless you have walked that road, you may not understand what I have termed "phantom ache". I would describe it as unexpected twinges of sorrow that run through a mother's empty arms, and then stun you with their appearance. The scent of baby powder, the sight of delicate hairbows or tiny tennis shoes, or even the joy of another friend's precious arrival - they can all serve as triggers at times. I don't often allow myself to go there, and I can typically shut it down quickly, but there are still difficult emotions for me to overcome around Valentine's Day. This day is forever branded onto my soul - it was the due date for the first child we lost, and the date that the 2nd child we lost passed on. I've had trouble coming up with something that would be a fitting tribute to honor the memory of the little spirits that still flicker in my heart, and it finally came to me last month. I have to do something to help save and improve the lives of those who were given the gift of breath, and continue to breathe in spite of the suffering they have been forced to endure. I choose to exchange my pain, to relieve the pain of a child caught in the web of human trafficking. Like spiders, these evil people are driven back when light illuminates the situation. That's when the idea of the tea light jars struck me as the place to start. Sometimes you cannot fully process a thing unless you find a higher purpose for your pain to serve, and I refuse to be a slave to sorrow just as strongly as I refuse to accept that sex slavery is OK. In a small way, I see Jesus in this effort; He endured the suffering that was inflicted upon Him for the highest redemptive purpose. Am I comparing myself and my experiences to His? Absolutely not. But I do claim to be one of His followers, and if He could withstand all that He did for the sake of love, it then becomes my obligation to do the same. Love is what drives this business, and I will cover as many children as I can with that blanket. So whenever you make a purchase from Covered By Love, rest assured that 25% is sincerely going to either ZOE or Love146. The inaugural donation of $50 will be going to ZOE today on Valentine's Day, and I'm thrilled that it was that high. I realize it's not a monumental amount of money, but it was money I didn't have, and it's a start. Thank you again to all of you who helped make it possible, your part in this effort will be funding the return of laughter and life worth living, and that's something to feel good about. Happy Valentine's Day from me to you!! Love Jen <3

The Spirit Of Adoption

Today is December 28, 2013. We're only three days past Christmas, but while we're still officially in the season, I want to offer you a little food for thought. Last week, our pastor (Pastor Steven Furtick) brought us an amazing message with a focus on embracing change. He presented aspects of the Christmas story, from the initial act of obedience to the birthing of a new thing or season, and how this same pattern applies to situations in our lives. He mentioned Joseph (of course), and the bravery internally required for him to be obedient in the taking of Mary as his wife. He discussed certain ramifications that were on the forefront, should Mary's secret be discovered. He painted a vivid picture of what life had the very real possibility of looking like, without this event truly being an overshadowing of the Holy Spirit. I was intently listening, and a number of thoughts hit me like a lightning bolt. Again, this is one of my "things" - when thoughts plague me, I must respond accordingly by letting them out in print. So here goes...We know that "Jesus is the reason for the season", but the spirit of the Christmas season is the spirit of adoption. Seriously, think about it. Joseph was not just a step-father to Jesus. He took him as his son, and gave him his name. He covered Mary with love, and covered a child that shared no part of him. Joseph chose to rear this child. He passed down his mannerisms, ideals, morals, character traits, and even his trade. A father does this, not merely a man who tolerates a step-child. He adopted Jesus as his own. Jesus had the imprint of his natural father on him throughout his entire life. At this juncture, another thought struck me; the blueprint for salvation was actually embedded into the story of Jesus' birth. Crazy, right? Not so much. Romans 8:14-15 For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 15 The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father." Jesus had to be adopted in the natural, so that we could be adopted spiritually. Jesus willingly separated himself from His deity, for an earthly experience as a man. There was no overtly evident sign of His godhood until the Holy Spirit descended upon him. (Please don't call me a heretic, He performed no miracles that set Him apart from any other man until He was anointed and given authority to pick His heavenly mantle back up.) Jesus gave us the perfect example for living, and this includes the aspect of adoption. To become a child of God, we must be adopted into His family. We are not natural Jews, it is not our birthright. The act of being engrafted into the vine, and accepting the free gift of salvation is our only hope. It allows us access to God the Father, and because God is our loving Father, He saw the need for His son to be adopted too. I never saw the correlation before last week, and it made the Christmas message take on an entirely new life for me. Of course, you can take it or leave it, but I thought I would share. :-)

Winter Is Not Forever

Wow, It's been a shamefully LONG time since I've posted anything here. As I'm a habitual abuser of the confines of Facebook with my lengthy status updates, maybe I should remember that I actually have a blog page! Moving on... There are times when particular themes or thoughts literally plague me until I exercise them via written expression, and I've arrived in that familiar place again. This time, the topic would be loss. Aside from personal loss, there have been a number of visible people who have crossed over in the past 7 days. It leads me to evaluate the clustered timing of such events for 2 of them specifically. I'm going to take the mask off and tell you why these things are floating around in my mind. Bear with me though, and allow me to seat you on my train of thought. It will be a relatively short journey. All aboard!! (insert obnoxious whistle) When I was in Bible College, I was afforded amazing opportunities to "see behind the curtain". Yet in that same time, great wounds were inflicted - by others, by situations, and even by my own hand. Shocker, right? Suffice it to say, I left with a limp in my walk.(I say this in the spirit of transparency - not judgment or regret. Quite the opposite in fact, I actually treasure the time, lessons learned, and the people I have been eternally knitted to.) Fast forward another 10 years, and feelings that were obviously suppressed, came to the surface with the help of an OUT-OF-CONTROL group for alumni. I say this laughingly, because it was not all bad, and most of the stories shared were hilarious. But then the teeth came out...stories of pain, bitterness, rejection, wrongs endured, etc. One constant though, was a handful of instructors who cared enough to see through situations and care for people. No agendas, just care. Well, when one of those instructors died in a sudden and tragic motorcycle accident, it sent shock waves through the said community. No one could believe that this man who had been a mentor to hundreds, and walked every day out in love, was actually gone. His funeral was aired online, and many of us viewed it together. One screen was the funeral, and the other was our page where we consoled each other. But then the most amazing thing transpired, it was like someone flipped a switch and my life was changed in an instant - again. A man was being placed into the ground like a seed. That seed was going to grow, and a harvest of closure and healing was his final gift. A gift he was going to reap an eternal reward for, even though his earthly walk had ended. There was such a reverenced thanksgiving for his life, and the things he had done. The spirit of thanksgiving gave way to a beautiful worship experience, and waves of love washed over everyone. Myself included. And like magic, every negative feeling, thought, or emotion from my time in Ohio was gone. Still gone. They won't come back. Now consider the passing of Dr. Paul Crouch, and then Nelson Mandela. While they were leagues apart in their lives' work and experiences, the lasting effects of what they accomplished will echo throughout the ages. Both of them will be returned to the ground as seeds, and then a window for harvest opens. One for mass evangelism, and the other for freedom and equality. I cannot think of a better combination. So as I'm letting you all off the train now, I challenge you to be aware of the season we're standing in. Yes, it's winter. But winter will not last forever. Have some of us been cut down along the way? Yes. Have we found ourselves in dry places? Yes. Are there others in need of solace and restoration? Yes. Well, I have come to tell you that spring is on the way. Will it arrive overnight? It's possible. We will reap where we have not sown, and when the mere scent of water brings new life, that says anything is possible. Dreams don't have to die. Lost things can be returned. Hope does not have to be abandoned!! So dream, friends. Dream big. Job. 14:7-9 “At least there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail. 8 Its roots may grow old in the ground and its stump die in the soil, 9 yet at the scent of water it will bud and put forth shoots like a plant."

Self-Control

Yet again, inspiration strikes when I'm clipping coupons today. While there's nothing even remotely spiritual involved in this activity, maybe I'm actually quiet enough to experience higher thoughts (ha-ha). First, let me preface this post with some back information...If you keep up with me on Facebook, you know that the tv show "Hoarders" absolutely makes my skin crawl, I have a literal visceral reaction to it. Nonetheless, I'm driven to watch and yell at the people who transform homes into hell-mouths (old Buffy reference, look it up). I cannot fathom how the filth and netherworldly stench does not send them over the edge. If I had my own personal religion, this particular offense could be just cause for ex-communication. Seriously people, this is how much it freaks me out!!!

OK, I've released it. Now I return to my original point; self-control. And as usual, I do things backwards and am beginning with the last Fruit of the Spirit first (Galatians 5:22-23). I fully acknowledge that I'm no psychologist, but I have learned from viewing this weekly horror-mentary that many people create a hoard because they cannot say no to "good deals" or purchasing an insane amount of things they feel they need for reasons of security. These 2 examples are the most rational among the multitude of reasons given, but it made me consider my own ways. How many times have I purchased something in an attempt to save money, only to throw it away? How many times have I purchased extra amounts of anything, just to let them sit and collect dust? Ashamedly enough, too many times to mention! With humility, I thank the Lord that I am not in a state of mind where it's an impossibility for me to throw things away, but I have become acutely aware of my need to practice more self-control!!!

Does this mean I'm out of control? I don't know. If people were to come in my home and look around, they would say no. I like everything to be clean, I take out the trash, and my home has no offensive odors smacking you in the face upon entrance. However, since this has been brought to my attention, it's obviously something I need to improve upon. For the last 2 weeks, I've been making a conscious effort to purchase ONLY the things I had on my list from the grocery store. I accomplished it with no deviation this week, and I managed to save 60% at Harris Teeter by exhibiting greater self-control. I cannot say that it was easy, but dang it felt good!

This is just the beginning of my journey on the path to more complete expressions of self-control. Apparently, against such things there are no laws. (ha-ha)
How about you, girls? How do you manage yourself successfully?

Comments? Questions? Tips? Feel free to share.

Peter Cetera

OK, this is a break from what I'll normally be posting, but it was too long and detailed for FB. Keep in mind that I'm totally outing myself for this one, but I have to do it because I received yet another gift-wrapped opportunity to laugh at my ridiculous self last night!

Picture it: I'm getting ready to go to bed and the face of Jack Wagner magically appears, aka Frisco Jones, the love interest of every girl above the age of 10 back in the day. Clearly, I had no choice but to see what he was doing on my tv. We have a history, so I was compelled to catch up with him...Anyhoo, as it turned out, he was the poster boy for another Time Life music collection from the 80's. I was instantly transported to another time, where I was 11 years old again and at a sleepover with friends. We were all camped out in our sleeping bags and glued to VH1 just waiting for our favorite love songs to come on. Don't even pretend you didn't do it too! But then, Jack Wagner introduced the song that brought it all back, "Glory of Love" by Peter Cetera. Did I mention that I love him?

However, the introduction didn't take me back to a sleepover memory, I was catapulted into the spring of 1997 when I was working in the former HomePlace store at Cool Springs (across from Kroger's). It was there that I had my fateful encounter with this mythical creature. It was a normal morning, everything was pleasant and in order at my little register. Yes, I was playing the role of a cashier that day, complete with a green apron...stylin' kids! Out of nowhere, a heavenly scented breeze reached my nose, and when I looked up, the face of Peter Cetera was gazing back at me. I had never experienced a celeb freak-out moment, and seeing as though I had met quite a few for having worked at Asylum, it was really no big deal. This day would put me in my place though! So like I said, the face of Peter Cetera is gazing back at me, and I immediately lose the ability to speak, couldn't even say hello to the man! It was then that my face decided to betray me and make my apparent weakness even more obvious, I could feel my cheeks turning bright red and my body temperature shot up exponentially. All I wanted was a re-do, because this was NOT the way I had planned this meeting in my mind. He and I deserved better! (HAHAHA!)

While I was entertaining the thoughts of our upcoming wedding, and how the invitations would look, his very pregnant girlfriend came and stood next to him in line. Bubble completely busted! As he paid for the infant bath tub, I was at least able to speak to his girlfriend, who was lovely by the way. Our hands touched for 1 nano-second when I gave him his credit card and receipt, and then I gave him the bag. It was now or never, I had to profess my undying love. I managed to eek out something along the lines of "Have a good day.", and he just smiled at me. I was DONE!! Do your hear me, people? D-O-N-E! I think I floated home that afternoon, and after I told my mom what happened, she horse-laughed at me because she knew how monumental it was that I had a meltdown at the mere sight of him. So maybe it wasn't the glory of love right then, but it's what I've got to hold onto. And Peter, wherever you are, I still love you.


PS: little tidbit of info, we share the same birthday. Who cares about a 32 year age difference when fate obviously meant for us to meet?

Your turn, girls!