Everyday Heroes

“Everyday heroes don’t let life’s challenges bring them down. Instead, they stay positive and find a way to overcome their obstacles. Everyday heroes don’t always succeed, but they consistently act on the belief that they can do something to improve their situations and those of the people around them.”  

Noah Blumenthal

My husband sent me this quote many, many months ago.  I saved it in my email inbox and find myself opening it – a lot.  For one, it is a great source of encouragement.  My husband considers me a hero – AMAZING.  I don’t feel like a hero.  I feel like someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, who can’t always keep her mouth shut and most recently, like someone who puts milk in the pantry because her ADD is out of control.

Now, I am opening it to be reminded of all of those everyday heroes that have changed my life.  The heroes that wanted to improve my situation.  I have a childhood riddled with people who improved my life – investors.

Marilyn Bowers was one of those investors.  She lived across the street and her daughter was my very best friend.  She took me in as one of her own, thrown in with three great kids.  She introduced me to the concept of a Saturday night date with the family that involved grocery shopping and ice cream after.  Her laughter was contagious.  Her influence is seen in my home today.  My daughter is reaping the benefits of my time as a Bowers family member.  Eden had no idea in October when our family danced around the house to the “Monster Mash” it was because Marilyn made it a tradition.  What a gift.

I also had the gift of a coach, Harold, that was willing to work with me night after night to be a ballplayer that averaged thirty-two points a game as a fifth grade basketball player.  His investment as an everyday hero changed my mindset.  I gained confidence in myself and my abilities.  I never lost that confidence.

I could blog for a year and still not cover all of the everyday heroes that have crossed my path and changed my life.  Everyday heroes are better than superheroes – they are real people doing real things.  And I thank God for all of them.

Blind Spot

"More and more people are buying bigger and bigger,...and the bigger the vehicle, the bigger the blind spot." - Consumer Reports


I think we are living bigger and bigger lives.  Relationships are at an all-time high.  Facebook, Twitter, cell phones - we can communicate all day long if we want to.  


But what are we saying?  Are we using our voice to edify or lift up each other or are we using our voice to hurt people?  Or, like me, do we speak without realizing we might have a blind spot in our communication?


Think about it.  Think about your emails, think about your blogs, think about what your saying and how it might be interpreted by the reader.  


I know I have a serious blind spot.  I know I speak from a candid, transparent heart.  Most of the time I am describing a journey or an event - typically I describe moments, but seldom have I stopped to think of the inference that might go along with my interpretation.  


"More and more people are talking bigger and bigger,...and the bigger the voice, the bigger the blind spot." -Monica Epperson

the CHURCH

“The single greatest cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” – Brennan Manning

If the above quote rings true for you, I am so very sorry.  I have had the opposite experience.  Actually, so opposite that my quote would say, “the most believable evidence of God is found in His earthly hands and feet – His children.”

I have a Christian family.  Some call them a LifeGroup, or a CareGroup – whatever, it doesn’t matter.  What matters is the connection.  Living your life with people who respond and react as your family.  In this respect, I come from a huge family.

Part of that family was over on Saturday night, September 24th.  Typically that is a rough date for me, my dad’s birthday.  He would have been sixty-one years old this year.  But it wasn’t rough this year because this year was John’s 40th birthday (our fearless leader these days.)

Many times throughout the night I scanned the room with such love and appreciation. Women who have blessed me with always showing up.  Men who have rallied around each other through some tough circumstances.  And my favorite, kids who are growing up with each other and surrounded by adults who love them and accept them even as they are jumping off sofas and smearing sticky fingers all over the glass.

We are not a perfect group.  We have unruly children at times and might not always glorify God with all of our words, but we understand love.  We understand what it means to be patient, kind, long-suffering, and most assuredly – not keeping a record of each other’s wrongs.

So, this morning as I am finding beads, feathers and half-eaten candy wrappers – I am reminded of this incredible gift I have been given, love and family.

Our babies, now self-proclaimed “big kids” will have all these memories of homes filled with love and happiness and hopefully, Lord willing, when they hear a quote about Christians being a cause of atheism, they will give the same disconnected stare I have given such quotes….hugh??

Picture Book Review by Lia Constanda

A Heart with Two Homes by Monica Epperson

Reviewed by Lia Constanda

The writer of “A Heart with Two Homes”, Monica Epperson is the CEO and co-founder of the organization “The child of divorce, Inc” (formerly known as “Blended Love, Inc.”)  along with her husband Dr. Brian Epperson. They are both educators.

Published in 2008, “A Heart with Two Homes” generated a lot of discussion amongst professionals working with children who acknowledged the need for resources for the growing numbers of children of divorce. Responding to this Monica founded “The child of divorce, Inc”, a nonprofit making organization, which she funded   from donating the royalties from her book.  Helping children of divorce is the mission of the organization.  “A Heart with Two Homes” is its first work that later led to forming a committee charged with writing research based curriculum for students and teachers.

The book is about a little girl called Elizabeth, whose parents divorced when she was 8 yrs old. She continued to live with mom and had regular visits with dad. In both environments she assumed a different persona. When with mom, she was a little girl, enjoyed dancing and did girly things, to please mom. When with dad, she was a little tomboy, played sports and did boyish things, to please dad. As time went on she found it difficult to define her true self.  She was confused: was she Lizzie, as mom called her, or was she Beth, as dad called her.

Eventually Elizabeth discovers with the help of a school guest speaker the benefit of writing therapy and later the benefit of sharing and talking openly about her feelings to friends and family. These processes help her confront her parents about their lack of communication as far as she was concerned. The book ends on a positive note, as the parents through their actions acknowledge their mistakes thus helping Elizabeth to find her true identity as a whole person and not as the two halves of one.

The book identifies some of the problems created by parents in divorce cases, such as a child’s emotional turmoil, confusion, insecurity, isolation, lack of trust, unresolved conflict, to name but some. 

The book also offers options for the children of divorce on addressing their concerns about their feelings. The idea of a private Journal, where they could confide their most inner thoughts and feelings is eminently suited to those situations.  It is a well known fact that one of the merits of writing is to help clarify thoughts. As the famous French writer Gustave Flaubert once said:"The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe." The idea of using a journal helped the little girl in this case to cope positively with change once she identified her true concerns and discovered what she really believed about herself.

The Scar

For most of my life I have been incredibly protective and discreet about a scar I have on my upper right leg.  It marks a childhood cancer scare and a week in our city’s pink palace, a hospital.  Most of my friends are not even aware of this scar, even those I have spent time with on the beach or in pools.  I have hidden it, cleverly, most of my life – until now.

Last week, my daughter had one of those days that all of us moms dread when we have a girl – the day that other girls hurt them.  We all know these days are coming.  The minute the doctor says, “It’s a girl.” A flash of the sharpest-tongue, meanest-spirited junior high girl you’ve ever known pops in your head.  OH,NO!

So, when Eden told me her sad tale of rejection, I was semi-prepared.  What I wasn’t prepared for was her long pause and decision to withhold any more information about her insecurities until she was confident that I had once visited this emotional place myself.

She glared deeply into my eyes and asked, “Mom, have you ever been left out?”

At that moment I could honestly see that all she has ever known is two very outgoing parents that typically plan the party and persuade the wall flowers that the middle of the room is safe.

“Yes,” not even realizing that I was about to reveal to her my most hidden secret.

“When I was in second grade I had to go to a lot of doctor visits.  At one of the visits I was told that I would be having a surgery because I had something on my leg that could cause me to get really sick.”  I said wondering if she would even care.

“What happened?” she leaned in wanting to know all of the details.

“Well, they scheduled the surgery for the last day of school before the Christmas break so that I wouldn’t miss a lot of school.  But, what they didn’t know about that day is that it was the day of the big Christmas musical and that all of the second grade kids would be a part of this musical except for me.  So, each and every practice for the three weeks leading up to that day, I sat along the gym wall alone.  I would watch my friends laugh and sing and whisper while on stage together and sometimes they would whisper and point at me.” I said shocked I still remembered.

“How did that make you feel, Mom?”

“Truly left out and like I didn’t have any friends for a while.”  I concluded.  “But it didn’t last forever and now I try to pay attention to the people who feel on the outside because I can relate to how they are feeling.  It was a gift.”

And so I immediately recognized that my scar was a tremendous gift.  That silly, insignificant scar on the back of my leg that I have hidden for way too long is actually  now a prized possession marking an experience that I had that won the trust of my baby girl.  Thank you, Lord, for my scar.

How many other scars do I bear that have been masked instead of used?  Or maybe I should say how many gifts do I not give away?

Maybe we should quit asking, “Why me?” and just say, “Thank you for choosing me.”

Man Behind the Curtain

This month I celebrated seventeen years of marriage.

I actually had a complete stranger at a wedding, when told I had just had my anniversary the night before, ask me if I had gotten pregnant.  What a weird thing to ask someone, I scowled of course and said no – but he got me to thinkin’.

Why did I get married at 20?

Oh, yeah, because I knew when I first met Brian that he was going to be that guy that no matter who I married – he would always be there, too.  You know what I mean.  The one that got away.  The first cut is the deepest.  So many songs written out there about this truth.  So, being concerned about the next guy and his feelings I decided to spare him the grief and marry Brian – only fair.

But what I wasn’t privy to back then was that I was actually marrying my God-appointed personal life coach.

The days have slowly passed, but the years have flown.  Each one marked with life experiences together.  And each year, I grow and make positive changes thanks to his investment.

Brian has not only allowed me to live a good, easy life thanks to his provisions, that he will tell you are straight from the Lord blessing his work, but also to explore my faith, my dreams and my roles in life.  Not that he, by any stretch, is easy. He isn’t easy.  Brian is incredibly hard to life with if you are a person who wants to do the minimum to get the maximum.

He is a perpetual life coach.  He believes in pushing the envelope until you are stone cold dead.  His presence alone is convicting if you are coasting.

I fought him for years.

Now, I am incredibly grateful.  This week, and it’s only Wednesday, I have worked through a children’s book deadline, a curriculum deadline, and wrote a talk I am giving in October to over 700 people.  I am not content to sit back when I am capable of giving my best – especially since I have been reminded that this isn’t a dress rehearsal.

Now, more than ever, I understand what Oprah meant when she said, “For everyone of us that succeeds, it’s because there’s somebody there to show you the way out.”

Blessing Mommy

Today was one of THOSE days.  Since I am the writer and you are the reader, just fill in the blank with a bunch of drama and anxiety of your own flavor and add a times ten to it.  Yes, several pats on the chest reassuring myself that this is simply anxiety not a heart attack in my late thirties.

So as I am washing the dishes after dinner relishing in the five seconds standing alone with no deadlines or drama I hear a faint chorus coming from the bedroom, “we’ve got to go bless…Mommy…”

Dancing to the kitchen island with a Macbook in hand appears a working Daddy with a singing Eden.

“We have to bless Mommy with our presence…”  the two continue to sing without any shower to blend their tones.

At this point the song goes completely south including all kinds of bodily functions and then plummets into an ensemble of all of my most embarrassing moments and to top it off they added some human smells to the music.

I am rolling – a full snort adds to their noise.

Ironically enough, although the two of them took away my quiet moment, ambushed me with insults and terrible songs – they blessed me.

My heart quit palpitating.  I laughed.

All is well in the world again.