New

Many things are new in this land. I don't mean your land. I mean our land. "This land" is what Sam calls any happenings that affect him.

New job.

New church because of new job.

New family dynamic.

New shoes. Well I hope so.

New hours.

New relationships.

New.

It's all new. It will take me a bit to pull myself up from my Bootstrap's bootstraps, but with new comes hope. I like hope. It could have been my middle name. I might decide it's my code name and wear a super girl shirt with an H in the center. I could rock it. Lets just agree and move on.

My official title is Children's Ministry and Preschool Director at Hillside Foursquare Church. Because of the nature of the job, we will be switching churches to be in that community.

We started back today. It ruled. They had pastries and coffee during the service and nachos after. Come eat. Come drink. Come nacho.

Our dynamic changes because my kids currently attend the private school I work at. But that discount doesn't extend to no employees, and that's ok. For the past six months I have had the desire to homeschool again. So, we are going to. DID YOU HEAR ME FRIENDS!! I get to homeschool my babies. Who aren't actually babies at all, but they are mine. And being their mom is the best job a girl can have after being The Man's wife. Best. Just the best.
So I registered the four youngest in K12- an online public school. We dominated that program about two years ago like O'Doyle rules the woods. Izzy will stay in her program in the IB school she is at and represent the Brewers from there.
I'll devote three-four hours a day to my kids' education instead of the current nine. Nine hours on school is silly. I am all done with that.
New shoes? I see a Goodwill trip in my future.
New hours. I am required to be on campus for 25 hours each week. What I do with that time is up to me a long as I am getting my work done and our teachers feel valued and are learning still. That's my job. To give them opportunities to grow.
Instead of the schedule I keep now, 44 hours per week, I will cut that nearly in half
Dear Lord, you are so good to me. Thank you for my family and my church and the chance to serve them. Help me not to screw it up. Amen.

Oh. And this picture? This is my daughter hugging redemption. God is amazing. Tell your friends.

Morning Thoughts on a Saturday

I awoke this morning to my husband getting ready for work. He's a good man. In fact, he is The Man. Ask around. I am not even kidding. I decided to make something of my day since he was off to save lives. I mean, I want to have something to say to him when he comes home with the list of lives he saved on his 48 hour shift. Laundry seemed like a logical beginning. Then coffee. Then Jesus. No, it doesn't bother me that I did two things before I read my Bible.

I have had this discussion with people. I think God cares more that I am paying attention and coherent when I sit to learn and listen instead of insisting I open my eyeballs and pick up my Bible. I usually fall asleep if I do that. And, while I am sure God isn't offended, I am sure sometimes he thinks, "Silly girl. Too many rules." So, I wake up, maybe spend a few minutes with my groggy and still snuggly kids, and then make my way to my Bible.

Here is what I realized:

I take too much for granted. I feel like things will be there when I finally decide to get to them.

I have blessings
more than I know
I am not thankful enough

I have love
more than I show
I do not share it enough

I have time
more than I spend
I do not use it enough

I have a song
more than I share
I do not sing it enough

I have a gift
His name is Jesus
He alone is more than enough

I take for granted too much. I want to be arrested in my heart. Bleeding for those who are too drained after a lifetimes of grief to bleed anymore.
I am too lacking in compassion. I do not hurt with people. To be honest, someone will trip and I giggle a little and THEN ask if they are OK. Well, that isn't always a big deal, but I find it rolls over to the serious moments.
Yesterday I read a news caption on one of those tickers on the bottom of the TV screen. A pilot of a small plane crashed into the Truckee Airport. He died.

My first thought was a prayer, "Lord, please don't let it be someone I know." I felt terrible for saying it, even in my mind. Why would that matter? So that I would not hurt? What about that man's family? His mother? His wife? His kids? What did I just say? That it's OK for him to be dead if I am not affected? Is that what I meant?

So, I asked for forgiveness for my narrow-minded heart and began again. I prayed for that man's heart- that he would be with Jesus. I prayed for his family and anyone affected. I prayed that God would use this time to be heard by those left behind. I put myself in his wife's place and it hurt.

I read once that you should be a part of what breaks your heart. I think I get too busy to know what that looks like. No matter what I try, my calendar overloads. I want to be radical. I even know some of the drastic moves I need to make, but they are counter intuitive and they make me have to focus on things inconvenient and not self satisfying.

"Would you open up my eyes so I can see? Would you open up my ears so I can hear? Would you open up my mind so I can know? Would you open up my heart so I can love you more.
I wanna serve you my God. I want to give you all of me?"- Shawn McDonald

I want to mean this with all of my heart. I want to make room. I want to see all that God wants me to see. I want my eyes to be closed to all the nonsense that keeps me from living with purpose. No exceptions. I want to clear the stage.

I love this song by Jimmy Needham



It breaks my heart and makes me hopeful that I am not as callous as I think sometimes. It challenges me to seek.

Seizing Is Not The Same as Seizure

Sure these two words share a root, but so do koalas and kangaroos. This past week, I have been processing and asking and questioning and releasing in my conversations with God. We have lived in Idaho for almost a year now, and well. It hasn't stuck as quickly as Reno.

In Reno, we went to a church my brother recommended. They had me at free Krispie Cream donuts and coffee. Plus, the pastor actually seemed to be good at what he does. We fit. We just knew it was gonna fit like OJ when he tried on some gloves. Only we saw no need to weasel out of it. We were thrilled. I met two of my closest friends instantly. One is only a blog lurker (dear Ms. Marie. come out of the interwebs closet. We all know you are on here), the other has quite a mouth on her. Everything about the city was great. It was as if we were in a bowl with Reno and someone just added water. Presto Zingo. Instant happiness.

Years went by, and my husband lost his job, and he was offered a new job as a really hot fire fighter in Idaho. We accepted and set about to finding a church and adding water. But instead of instant happiness, our eyes were opened to how good we really had it. Presto Zingo. thump. My head beating against the wall.

I spent a lot of time comparing. I spent a lot of time griping. I spent a lot of time fighting tears. I spent a lot of time spazzing out and lashing out irrationally. Thankfully, God can handle my spastic fits.

Then I realized seizing is not the same as seizures. They may share a root word, but then the similarities end. Whining, tantrums, pity parties, and vocal aggravation: these are things that lead to seizures. Focusing on God's promises of fulfillment for my life, accepting where God has me, and leaning fully on his understanding (rather than my teeny tiny perspective): that's seizing!! It happened this week.

I became content with God's portion and his cup. I realized his lot for me has fallen on pleasant places. I was able to truly thank God for moving us here. I don't think I compared my two cities once. I let Reno go, like ripping that last little part of the bandaid off. And I was OK.

Why does it seem that just when you get comfortable, the rug gets pulled out? About 8 seconds after my bandaid was removed and my contentment washed over me, God said, "Hey, now that we have that covered..."

'It was like that old joke, "All those who think they have it made take one step forward...not so fast George Banks!"'

I am George Banks in this scenario. Only, when I  started processing again I was angry and I accused God of yo-yo'ing me around. AH. God is so good. He didn't even roll his eyes at my stupidity.

It isn't God that's in control of that yo-yo. He is not a yo-yo kind of guy. He may own cattle on a thousand hills, but he doesn't have a yo-yo. No my friend, that childish game is all mine. All me.

That nauseating back and forth of highs and lows is actually my faith. Not God's faithfulness. He is solid and steady and dependable and right and real. And that blasted string is affixed so tightly to my finger. And, honestly, I don't want it to go.

WHAT? I know what you are thinking. Who wants to live life like a yo-yo? But I need to remember what the yo-yo is like, so I don't ever want to go back. Rather than yanking the string off completely, I am asking God to snip it, just enough to leave that little string tied to my finger. And, I am telling God that I am up for anything. ANYthing. Because I totally trust him.

Lord, I totally trust you.

satan. Suck it. I hope you choke on a yo-yo.