This Little Light of Mine

The day had been crazy.  Sasha, Blended Love's Executive Director, and I had been whisked abruptly into Fox 25's interview studio for our 8:20 a.m. interview around 8:17 a.m. or so.  Being out-of-towners to the area we had to rely solely on a GPS that spoke French.  As he demanded who knows what the arrows were hard to figure out and that resulted in a lot of unnecessary turns on the Oklahoma City expressways.  Exiting on Scott Street became a crowd favorite!
After the interview we had an appointment with Bethel Foundation in Oklahoma City.  Sasha had set up the meeting because she has been involved with some of their fundraisers and believed that I would enjoy learning more about their mission of providing opportunities and tangibles to single mothers.  In theory, great idea - but what I didn't expect....
I walked into this darling house with a gorgeous sign alerting moms that this could be their haven.  The beautiful scriptures that were so gracefully drawn on the wall were arrows to the heart of a path that leads to peace, a common emotion we all want, a common denominator to all who enter.  That peace was magnified as I turned to meet, Lynda, the humble servant who answered God's request to help His children - single moms.  Her inspirational, blue eyes echoed the same peace felt all over this home, except in her eyes this feeling was strongly coupled with determination.
As she spoke of her journey, my empathetic heart began to go down her road of suffering and understanding and yet all overshadowed by HOPE.  This hope has been the ingredient to all their programs.  The hope is as tangible as the "birthday room," a room designed for moms to come in and pick out toys for their children on their birthday and wrap them and leave with a birthday cake.  Hope...providing moms with the ability to make their child's birthday special.  Hope that these same children who receive birthday wishes will in return have a better life for their own children, a life where they can provide these special birthday moments.  Hope also in understanding that moms need hope not only for their children, but for themselves.
Bethel provides scholarships to driven moms looking for careers that require a degree.  Lynda quickly lights up as she speaks about their poster mom who has worked tirelessly to obtain her Masters degree.
Touring this incredible facility that even housed a free store to moms who have need of food, clothing, toys, diapers, etc. strengthened my core belief that we all have a light to shine and some have figured out the One who lights the flame and are allowing their light to shine so brightly that not even the jaded world of experience can blow it out.
Lynda, may your light shine so brightly no one can deny the illuminating beauty! Bethel Foundation

Sisters

The thunder is crashing and I am in a full sprint to my sister's room.  Not because she is the oldest, she is actually seven years younger, no I am in a panic that only the stubborn, strong sister of mine can cure.  As I slide under the covers I can feel her smooth legs up against mine and her arm come sliding over my back with a small tap.  She never really fully woke up on these nights, but her sleepy, apathetic presence reminded me that it was just thunder, not the end of the world.
I would like to say this illustration was a one time event in my childhood, but it wasn't.  Growing up in Oklahoma thunderstorms could be our state song.
As I hear the thunder now I am reminded of how grateful I am for those moments.  Moments of security.  Being a child of so many divorces, security has always been sacred.  Having a sister provided a lot of stability.
She was there.  Bad hair, awful outfits, tearful temper tantrums, you name it she saw it firsthand and loved me through it anyway.

Thank you, little sister.  You may be hours away today, but you are always in my heart and in my prayers.
 

Little Patriots

Patriot: (n.) A person who vigorously supports his country and its way of life

Last night, as the fireworks went off overhead, I realized that I am a grateful patriot living in a land of immense opportunity.  With each loud boom, I thought of the parents, probably my age, making the decision to give their children a better life...our life.  They were so brave.
Regardless of how you feel about the President or the government, you must stop and evaluate the whole of America.  No, we are not a perfect nation, but our imperfections are our choice.
Those who went before us gave us that choice.  Thank them, teach your children about them.
Let's stop preaching to our children all the errors of those who lead this great nation and instead teach them of "the way of life" we've been given.
Patriots can only be bred by patriotic parents and do we really want unpatriotic children growing up and leading this country?

God Bless our Little Patriots!

Face Time

When is the last time you really looked your family in the face?
This past week I realized that seldom do I actually look into my darling daughter's eyes.  Most of our true heart to heart conversations take place while she is riding in the backseat and I am driving.  Sure, sometimes we catch a glimpse of each other in the mirror, but it is only a reflection and she is changing.
She isn't my baby anymore, she is my girl.  Her face is changing, her cheek bones are revealing themselves and her eyes are starting to tell her story and I have been missing it.
So, being the extremist that I am, I have changed my ways almost overnight.  Now, when I fix her breakfast I sit down with her at the island face to face and just listen.  No more television with her beautiful, brown eyes absorbing other faces.  I want her to absorb mine while I memorize hers.
I don't want to miss the expressions behind her voice.  I don't want to look back, like I do now, hanging on to a picture as my mode of reference for the details.  I want to have her face at eight years old completely burned into my memory bank because I looked deeply with intent at it every day I had her home.
And if she feels like I do, she will want to have memories of mine as well.

We are both changing, both growing older, both hoping to hang on to some of these moments for as long as we are on earth.  So, while I am here, I want to remember face time as just that....face time. 

Thank you, Lord, for my body

If you woke up this morning with your health...praise God because not everyone woke up with that gift.

I just enjoyed a trip to Jackson Hole.  I enjoyed that trip as a healthy person able to run, hike and move my body, but while I was there my cousin was put in the hospital struggling to survive.  He has lived with MD for most of his life and has reached the dreaded age of nineteen. 

Following his carebridge site on-line I thought about how much we all take for granted our health and the ability to move freely.  We are so selfish in our thoughts.  Selfish in that we are always pondering what we don't have until we lose something we took for granted.

Let's not do that anymore.  Let's appreciate our bodies no matter the size or color.  Let's live assuming that our bodies are a gift for today, not for always.

If you hate exercise or dread being active, but know it is what is best for you...do this...move your body in honor of all of the children who are not able to move theirs.  Hike, run, walk, play...just move and don't take for granted the gift of that movement.  Many children across the nation and around the world would consider you incredibly rich for having that option. 

The Scales of Life

Why do we live so unbalanced?
What if everything we spoke actually came into being?  What if God made it happen?  Would you be scared?

I would.  I speak of things I know nothing about.  At dinner parties I am the girl in the corner professing to be "Eden's mom" or "Brian's wife" or the party goer who only speaks of the road less traveled chosen so many years ago, but I don't have a clue.

Do you want to test yourself?  Go to a farewell party for someone leaving to receive a treatment they may not survive.  What matters at that party?

No one cares that you wrote a book, heck, even you don't care.  No one cares that you just finished sixty-five pages of curriculum for an innovative program bolstering emotional intelligence for children of all ages.

So what! 

Do you know what really matters?  Being present.

There is no guarantee that you haven't just attended your own farewell party. 

My hope for all of us, me included, is that we truly live in the moment.  Let's embrace those around us by listening with ears to hear what they are actually saying.  Let's live our words instead of professing them and hope that the Lord doesn't make us only wear the titles we profess in life.

Treat each day as a day measured by a scale and pray that it reveals balance.

For me, balance is the beautiful moments that I was completely present wanting nothing but the joy of the moment which usually includes others.

Forget-Me-Not

Oh, the irony that a few weeks ago Eden and I did what we thought was all the planting, only to find we forgot the Forget-Me-Not package of flowers.
Of course being the highly empathetic person I am, I immediately felt horrible for leaving them out and actually forgetting them. Their worst fear is posted on their package and I forgot them.
This realization hit the same day that I was concluding a pilot journal program with a group of fifth graders that I have gotten to know incredibly well over the last year. As I accepted their heartfelt cards and flowers for spending the time with them, I felt like they each had across their own hearts a sign that read, "Forget-Me-Not."
No one wants to be forgotten. We all desire to be remembered.
My step dad is battling cancer right now and you can watch his words and actions around his loved ones and see that he is keeping memories alive, he does not want to be forgotten.
At no age does our desire to be forgotten change. We want to be remembered.
But the harsh reality is that we will all be forgotten unless we are put in the history books as accomplishing something worth remembering.
There is only One who will not forget us. He is the One that gave us the same intuitive appreciation for our own children. I can assure you that as long as I am breathing air I will never forget my own child. He is the same and He will be alive long after the last Memorial Day.
Take comfort and know that you are not a "Forget-Me-Not."