A Weekend With A Six-Year-Old

(Abigail's view from her buggy-that she conned me into pushing her around in-doing her Elvis impersonation.)

I spent the weekend with a six year old. I’m home with my parents for a week and my older brother lives about an hour away so his baby girl came to spend the weekend with us. It was her turn in the grandchild rotation… My, my, six year olds have a lot of words to use up in a day. What’s that aunt Niecy? Why do you do that Aunt Niecy? Want to play hangman Aunt Niecy? Let’s play the alphabet game Aunt Niecy? Is this fun Aunt Niecy? Guess which song I’m whistling Aunt Niecy!

I discovered that shopping, for a six year old, isn’t that much fun, when you're not looking for them anyway, seeing as we had just left Belk where her Nana had bought her a dress, an outfit and a bathing suit. She informed me however, that this shopping adventure was b-o-r-i-n-g. She asked me when we were actually going to have fun. However, I was having a good time, because she was making it rather entertaining for me. She declared she needed to be pushed in the buggy. So I did. And from her staring back at me position, that you can see from her picture, she proceeded to enlighten me on the fact that she was more than willing to spend the entire week with me if I needed her to. (Even though she’s going home with me Saturday for a week.) She also informed me that she had been kissed by the neighbor boy, and that once her father found out told him, unless he had a ring and the money for the rehearsal dinner he better not kiss his baby girl again. (Apparently she didn’t know the kiss was coming.) And she also gave me one more hysterical Elvis impersonation.

I found her pretty interesting to watch too. The way she’d furrow her brow when you posed a question she found rather ridiculous. The way she lost all her sense of hearing when she was watching cartoons. The way she threw her head back and laughed wildly at the antics of my Shih Tzu Sophie. And when I dropped her off at vacation bible school she left me with a shrug of the shoulders, making it clear she would have much preferred crawling back in the car with me, just to go wherever.

I found myself missing the noise when I headed back to my parent's house. The endless musings on everything from the numbers on my dashboard to the yellow tweetie bird she found stuck between my car seats was all gone. I missed her whistling to. And her laugh. Man, that laugh will get you.

Can’t help but think about my heavenly Father. Can’t help but find myself amazed that God doesn’t wear out. I mean, I know I hound him enough for ten people. But with all of the people He has asking questions, offering opinions, singing praises, shouting accusations, I can’t help but wonder how He doesn’t just shut us all out for a while. Put up a “Do not Disturb” sign, for oh, a half a century. Or hang up an “Out to lunch” sign and head off for some manna and quail for a couple decades.

But for some reason He doesn’t. And not only does He not shut us out for a season, but He does the exact opposite. He invites us to seek Him and puts up road signs clearly pointing the way. He puts the doorknocker out there and says, “Go ahead. Take a whack. I’ll answer.” He hangs up the “Open for Business- First Million questions free”, and allows us the ever-present access to what is holy.

And if He hasn’t heard from us in a while, He misses us. So much so that He comes looking for us. Maybe we’re caught somewhere wounded. He picks us up, bandages the wound and carries us back home where we belong. Maybe He finds us lost. Directionless. Frustrated. He comes looking for those too. And He first asks us if we really want to be found. (Amazingly enough some don’t.) But if we say yes, He picks us up too and heads back in the direction of safety.

I have to say, I’m grateful I can’t wear Him out. Trust me, I’ve tried. Found it impossible. I’m also glad in the moments where I got myself in a pickle, found myself in a briar patch, or simply took some wrong turns, He came looking for me. And back to it we went. Living life together, while I bombarded Him with questions He’s been all to willing to answer.

I’ll make an eight-hour trip Saturday with a six-year old and a ten-year old. My twelve-year-old niece is going to hang out at home with her mom since she just came a couple weeks ago. I’m sure I’ll spend those eight hours dissecting most of life from the perspectives of young girls, still finding baby dolls worth holding and coloring books worth coloring in. I’ll get perpetual questions of “Are we there yet?” and “Can we stop so I can pee?” “

And I’m sure there will come a moment when I’ll say, “Why don’t you put a DVD in and stick your headphones on.” And that will afford me a couple hours of peace. And while I’m enjoying their silence and I’m listening to Rascal Flatts sing a song like “Every Day”, I’ll be grateful that “every day” He’s available. “Every hour” He’s got my back. And “every moment” He’s completely aware of where I am.

The Difficult Questions-Song/I will Remember You

Sunday morning I woke up and cut on the television and my man Tim wasn't there. His friends were. They were remembering him. But his chair sat empty as the backdrop. I couldn't watch the entire program because I had to head to church so I recorded the last part. As I climbed into bed Sunday evening and watched the ending I cried thinking I wouldn't get to see that big burly bear, with the smile that made you feel like you knew him, again. And I wondered who would fill his chair? Or better yet, who could fill his chair?

Driving home last night, pondering today's blog, I thought of all the things I'd heard people say about Tim over the weekend. There was the "straight shooter", "consummate family man", "Buffalo Bills fan", "Most prepared", " Amazing Researcher", "Fair", and the one that struck me most, "Not afraid to ask the difficult questions." His son said he was the "questionnaire of the American People."

I think the reason so many people liked him was because you didn't really know where his political views fell. Because no matter your political tilt he wouldn't hold back on what he would ask you and you could rest assured he had done his research. He said about himself, probably because of his legal background, that whatever position his guest had, he would take the opposite.

Another thing I noticed is that not one bad thing was said about him. In this media, right-left world, here was a man, entrenched in the middle of it all, and the smell of smoke wasn't even on his clothes. Pretty amazing. Pretty challenging.

So, with the sunroof opened last night and the windows rolled down, I began to ask myself, "Denise, are you willing to ask the tough questions of others? Better yet, are you willing to ask the tough questions of yourself?"

I'm not crazy about asking tough questions. Of myself or others. Not real interested in conflict. I'm the peacemaker type. "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" So, I always try to find mama and make sure she's happy! But there are seasons where the difficult questions must be asked. And if they aren't, something will be lost because of it.

Do you have anyone in your life asking you the hard questions? Do you have anyone close enough, who loves you enough, to get into your stuff, or to challenge your rough places? I've found these are essential to growth. Allowing the few who know us in our deep places, get into our deep places, is necessary for true growth. I've always said, "If a man isn't willing to learn, then I don't want him on my team."

I have a couple very close friends who can get up in my grill. My first reaction often, is to bristle. I don't like it. I want to defend myself. Explain all the reasons why my way was the best way. I often retreat even. Sometimes to sulk, but always to think. And after thinking, weighing their words, I'm usually struck by their profound wisdom and insight. And I'm always reminded that it came through their love.

And can we ask the difficult question of ourselves? I've found myself doing this so much over the last year especially. The David prayer, "The search me oh God, try me and see if there be any wicked way in me." And I always throw in "And then get it out!" You know what I've found out happens when we pray this prayer. Going back to the heart of our daddy from our last post, is that God is usually very gracious in His dealings with us, when we come to Him with a heart desiring to be searched. Desiring to be known. Desiring to be changed.

He is the gentle prodder. I say God often tugs me, and it's usually in a direction opposite of the one I'm headed. He nudges me over that impatience at the drive-thru window. He tugs me over that pride that continually tries to push its way to the surface and demand its way. He presses me over my fears, reminding me that when I'm fearing, there is no way I can be trusting. And after he nudges, or tugs, or presses, He usually bandages whatever wound has been made, props me up on his knee and lets me hang out there until all the tears are gone and I realize all this is for my good.

It's time we asked the "tough questions" of ourselves and others. In this generation where anything goes, nothing is sacred and the motto of life is "Have it Your way", someone needs to. And I think we can learn something from how Tim did it. We can do it fairly, respectfully, and honestly.

One day our chair will be empty. One day people will assess how we walked through this life. Maybe not by spending a weekend on television talking about us, but I bet we'll be the topic of conversation over a lot of dinner tables. What will they say? What will the consensus be?

"She was so bitter. She never would let go of that one." "He was so angry. Don't think I ever saw him that he wasn't fussing about something." "She was so insecure. She never saw the value inside of her." "He was so jealous. Never could be happy for anyone else's successes."

Or could they say, "Oh, that girl. I'll never forget the time she challenged me to come up higher." "Yes, he was an amazing man of character. I never once saw him compromise his integrity." "She was always learning. Never settling for anything less than the best for her life and the life of those around her."

Trust me they'll talk. Don't believe me? Then, ask God if you can eavesdrop. I'm sure you'll get an ear full. The good thing is we're still here. If you're reading this, you're still here! That means we still have the opportunity to ask the difficult questions. What would the world be today, if everyone was willing to do something so brave?

My daddy...Song/Butterfly Kisses

When I heard that Tim Russert had died I picked up the phone and called my dad. Hearing the news of Mr. Russert made me actually tear up. I shared every Sunday morning with him. I trusted him. And I'm not alone. Because I've talked to quite a few people who shed a few tears over his death. But I have a feeling that the trust people had for him stemmed largely from his openness about his love for his family and his endearing book "Big Russ and Me."

But hearing of him being gone made me want to talk to my dad. My dad was there with my first steps and has been there for the rest of this journey. He and I talk almost every day, but we hadn't touched base yet on Friday. So, when I got him on the other end of the phone, I told him I just called to tell him I loved him and hated that I couldn't be with him on Father's Day. But then I informed him I planned on crashing his and mom's anniversary this coming Friday. He laughed.

I said, "You don't mind if I go eat with you?"

He said, "No, we'd love the company. But I'm not going to Leo's."

For those of you who don't know, Leo's is my favorite restaurant. It's a hole in the wall, beer joint in the little town of Lugoff, SC, next to Camden, where I graduated from High School and my parents still live. And it has the best chicken wings you'll ever eat. And food has always been important to me. So important in fact, that it was part of one of the first conversations I ever actually remember having with my dad.

He was taking me to kindergarten one morning and I said, "Dad, do you think God will have fried chicken in heaven?"

He said, "Baby girl, if you love fried chicken God will have fried chicken."

And since that conversation, I have always believed that God cared about everything that mattered to me. That not one thing was too insignificant to ask Him about or concern Him with, because I grew up with a dad who never found any question of mine too inconvenient.

As I've grown, me and my brother's make fun of my dad a lot more. He makes weird sounds, will scare the living pee-turkey out of you when he drives, claps widely when he laughs and yells at himself a lot. I've always dreamed of being on the Amazing Race, even though I'm afraid of heights, have OCD when it comes to staying in hotels, travel with my own sheets and Lysol anything that's bolted down, but have still always wanted to be go on the Amazing Race. My dad would love to be on it too, but when I sent in my audition tape a couple years ago, I ended up auditioning with my baby brother, because we just couldn't handle knowing dad would be caught on television yelling at himself. He does it most often in the kitchen when he drops food, ice, anything. Don't know why he drops so much in the kitchen, but that's just where most of the hollerin' comes from.

But there are other things I've noticed as I've grown too. I notice how much I value his opinion. I love it when I've just written a new story in a fiction book, and I've laughed out loud and I call him to read it and he laughs with me. I call him whenever I'm preparing for a message that I'm going to deliver to a church, and run something by him and he help me finds some reference I need or confirms I've done okay. And when I deliver that same message, I can hear him come out of me sometimes. And every now and then I clap when I laugh, and even yell at myself every now and then. And to be honest, I hope I never lose any of it.

But the thing I appreciate the most about my dad is how he loved me. Because the way he loved me, has allowed me to know the love of my heavenly father. Might not have been that way for all of us. Some of you today might dread this day like the plague. You might have lost your dad and today's just a day to get through. Some of you might not have spoken to your dad in years and just the thought of devoting an entire day to him seems ridiculous. And for many, the way their earthly father raised them has given them a distorted view of their heavenly father.

Can I tell you today, that no matter your earthly example, the Creator of the Universe cares about every detail of your life. Don't believe me? Then why does He bother with knowing the number of hairs on your head, or why would He fashion your days? Because He cares about you so intricately. So uniquely. So completely.

Years ago I was collaborating on a book. I had a poor excuse for a printer and an even poorer excuse for a computer and it crashed about sixteen hours before the finished manuscript was suppose to be completed. Fortunately, I had just printed out a hard copy, but that still meant I had to retype the entire one hundred and sixty five page manuscript. And I had already wasted four hours trying to find someone who could salvage it from my computer. But it was gone.

When I finally finished typing it about two hours before it was due, I pressed the print button and listened as it began to hum from the printer. But I knew the printer couldn't be trusted, so I went down stairs, slipped on some pajamas and came back upstairs and laid down on the sofa in my office so it wouldn't get hung up and delay the project even more. When I laid down on the sofa I realized I had forgotten to put on any socks and my feet were freezing. (Just so you know, I wear socks to bed...) But my body was so tired I couldn't move. And it was either get up and get a pair, or ask Maggie to go get some. Now, if you know anything about Shih-tzu's they are an ornery breed. But Maggie is off the charts! This dog at six weeks old wouldn't let you hold her. She'd climb off your chest and walk to the end of the sofa, let out a huff and make sure you knew she didn't need to be bothered. She let's you know what she needs when she needs it. And all I can say is now she is thirteen and ornery doesn't even begin to describe her.

But here I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and way too tired to go get socks, when my Maggie, jumped up on the end of the sofa and stretched her furry body right across my feet. This was as big a miracle as the sea parting. I promise. And in that moment, God whispered to my heart, "This is how much I love you. Enough to warm your feet."


(Dad and four of his girls-his oldest granddaughter Hannah & his youngest, Georgia)

I can't tell you how many times I've thought of that through the years when I've doubted if God was really aware of where I was or what I needed. And those words come flooding back, "This is how much I love you. Enough to warm your feet."

So, if your dad is still around today, give him a call. Tell him you love him. If you haven't spoken in years, let it go. Maybe he fathered you from his own broken place. And what will winning a war of wills prove in the end? If your daddy is gone, take a moment and remember him with a friend. Tell them a story about what he meant to you. Or leave a post here and share it with us, we'd love to know. And if you've spent your life thinking God couldn't love you because you've let your father be the mirror, may I whisper the same words to you. He loves you enough to warm your feet. Just let Him. You'll forget you ever even needed socks...

Just be....Song/What a Wonderful World

I was sitting out on the back porch of this beautiful "tree house" I called it, that I had been blessed with for the weekend while I was in Dadeville, Alabama. I didn't even know Dadeville, Alabama existed until I was asked to come and speak for a women's event and then stay over and speak for their Sunday morning service. So, a precious lady, Nellie Jo, offered me her little "tree house" that overlooked a golf course for the weekend.
(The view from my treehouse.)

That Saturday morning I woke up early, grabbed a blanket, grabbed my iPhone and walked out onto the back porch to have some prayer time before the day got going. I was going to play a prayer CD I have and just pray and reflect to prepare for the day, when I found a CD I really wanted to listen too. For a brief minute guilt surfaced as if to say, "You're going to spend prayer time listening to music?" And I thought, "No, I can't. I have to have a structured time of prayer and reading my Bible before I go and minister to these women this morning."

That was when this still small voice said, "It's okay just to 'be' with me. You don't always have to 'do' when you're with me." And then I began to think of marriage. And how, two people who have been married for years can ride in the car together with no conversation and still be completely connected. Or when you were young and you were riding with your boyfriend in his baby blue pickup truck, before "bucket seats" were the big thing, and you'd scoot over to the middle, and he'd wrap his arms around you, and Kool and the Gang would be singing Cherish the Love on the radio and not one word needed to be spoken. (Sorry, I just went way back for a second to my junior year in high school.) You just knew that being together was enough. It said everything that needed to be said.

And I knew that nothing needed to be said in that moment, all I needed to do was "be." I had already studied. The Lord knew my heart before Him, and all He wanted me to do was just "be" with him. Not "be" anything for Him. But "be" with Him. He and I had had this battle before. And it is something he continually has to remind me of.

Ever have trouble just being? In a world that always seems to demand our "doing", are there moments that we can just "be?" Are there moments when we can "just be still and know that He is God?" He asks us to do it, so He has to know it offers us something. Replenishing maybe? Maybe that's it. Maybe, "being" replenishes for the "doing." Maybe, we would be more effective "doing" if we spent more time "being".

Ever felt like a crisis situation required your doing? And all your doing left you with was more frustration and deeper crisis? Ever wondered if maybe instead, if we would "be still and know", that we'd actually get ourselves out of the way so God could show up as God? I can only imagine how many times my "doing" has prevented God's "being." I get in the way. Help God out. He doesn't move quick enough, so I give Him a little boost. Pave the way just in case He didn't have a clear picture of where He needed to go next.

I give Him a Sarah. Remember Sarah? I talked about her a couple posts ago, but not about this aspect. She was remembered for her faith, by believing God to give her a child in her old age, but before she had that child, she decided to "do" when God had called her to "be." What did she do? Well, she asked old Abraham to get him a younger woman for the evening and have a child with her so Sarah could have the son God had promised her she was going to have, yet still hadn't shown up. God didn't move quick enough, she figured He'd forgotten. She hadn't. So, she handed him her maidservant. He didn't use enough wisdom to tell her no, and little maidservant turns up pregnant and all that joy Sarah thought she'd have turned bitter, and ugly. The product of that moment together produced a son named Ishmael. Sarah later had her own son named Isaac. And do you know that even today, all these years later, the repercussions of one woman "doing" when she should have been "being", produced two peoples that still wage war, one against another. Ishmael- which is the ancestor of the Arab nations, and Isaac-which is the ancestor for the Jewish people.

When I wrote Savannah Comes Undone I was thinking about this whole thing of "being." Here's the scene that was birthed from that thought even a couple years ago.

About two bites into my first piece of catfish, my park-bench friend arrived. I heard her before I saw her. She was humming that same melody she had departed with yesterday. She wore the same dress as yesterday too, carried the same bag, adn didn't look much different than she had twenty-four, or even fourty-eight hours earlier.
"Well, well, young lady. Where's your book?" I laughed, finding it hard to believe she remembered me. "Inside." I motioned to my house. "I didn't bring it for this journey." But she didn't really care about my book. She didn't care about the house either. Didn't care about my mother Victoria's lovely iron balconies, or stately wooden, black painted doors. Couldn't have given a rat's rear end fo rthe pristing ivy growing over our own brick wall that surrounded our fortree. No, her eyes were on my plate. She was like Duke eyeing a tenderloin. I wanted her to pull outher apple and get to eating her own food. She walked up a few steps and planted herself next to me, still fixated on my food.
"Ooh, you got a nice Sunday dinner there, don't ya?"
"Yeah, you can get some at Lady & Son's. It's just up the street." I was even gracious enough to point her in the direction. She wasn't paying a lick of attention to my lead.
"Yeah, maybe I'll try to get over there." But she didn't move. How could she when she never even looked away from my plate? Well, it was Sunday.
"Would you like some?" She turned away, embarrassed.
"Oh, no, baby. I don't want to eat your food. you need your food. You can tell I get all the food I need." She patted her stomach. I wasn't going to argue with her. Then she turned quickly back around. "Well, if you really want me to have some, I don't want to hurt your feelings."
I laughed at her sweet expression. "Here. Take two. Who wants to eat Sunday dinner alone anyway?" I laid a napkin out for her. Gave her some catfish and a homemade biscuit. By the time she was through, Garfield coulnd't have accomplished cleaner bones.
"What's yourname?" "Oh, my name is..." She looked off into the distance as if trying to find something to jog her memory or offer her a name.
"My name is Joy. Yes, it's Joy." She finally answered as more of a declaration.
"Oh, that's a beatufiul name. Here, take a drink." I handed her the tea I had yet to enjoy and offered her the opportunity to wash down what she had virtually inhaled.
"What's your name, precious girl?"
"Savannah," I said, scratching my nose.
"Nose itch?"
"Like crazy. My mother says that means somebody's coming to see you." I raised a right eyebrow at my dinner guest. "Guess she got that one right, huh?"
She looked at me inquisitively. "Well, I think Savannah is a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"You don't want to crack a joke about it? Everyone else does." "Now, who would crack a joke about a beautiful name?" I wiped my mouth and gave her the rest of my plate. It seemed she needed it more than me.
"You'd be surprised."
"I'm surprised by a lot of things, Savannah. I'm surprised by how people rush to and for. Hardly stop to breathe. Or give thanks for the abillity to breathe. So busy working and doing and never simply resting or enjoying. I see the lights on in their windows until late in the night. They type on computers and rummage through appers. All the time doing and never living. And then the one moment, the one day the world is told to rest, it just keeps on moving. We all need rest, Savannah."
"You're telling me."
She looked back at me, not seeming to remember. "You look kind of that way. Like you need some rest."
"You said the same thing yesterday. I didn't realize how bad I was looking until you informed me."
She chuckled, causing her belly to move with her. "Ooh, I'm sorry baby. I didn't meant that you look bad like you were ugly or something. It's a furrowed brow. It's a heaviness of the eyes. It's seeing the weight someone carries by the mere look in their eyes. But it doesn't have to be that way."
"You aren't going to try to sell me some Anthony Robbins tape series are you?"
"Who's Anthony Robbins?"
"Good."
"No, I don't have anything to sell. Life isn't about selling and buying. It's about knowing and doing. And I'm not talking about the twenty-four-hour-a-day, seven-day-a-week doing. I'm talking about the heart knowing and the life doing."
I leaned my elbows on the step behind me. My mind was so tired. And all of this was just making me more tired.
"I'm tired of doing."
"I see you've had all you take, my sweet Savannah." She rose from her side of the stoop and laid my empty plate neatly beside me. Then she picked up the half glass of tea to take it with her. I couldn't help but smile at her mature innocence. She seemed so wise, yet her eyes looked so young and vulnerable.
"I'm sure I'll see you soon," I assured us both.
She turned and headed to the corner of the house, stopping at the corner as she turned back around. "Being, Savannah! That's the word. Not doing, but just being baby."

The roses are in full bloom about now, just in case you haven't noticed. And they smell amazing. The magnolia's are also blooming and will take your breathe away if you'll take a moment to smell them too. I know, because I've been doing a lot more of that lately. Just being. Wonder if that seeming mess we're trying so hard to tidy up would be a wonderful place for God to handle if we'd get out of the way so He could? Wonder how much more our effectiveness would be in our "doing" if we could learn to "be?"

Let's try it some this next week. Let's let it be okay for the dishes to sit in the sink over night, if that means a walk around the block with our family. Let's spend some time sitting on the back porch not feeling like we have to hound heaven with anything, but instead let it wash over us like a gentle rain. And let's release that which we think only we can fix and give the Fixer of all things an opportunity to show up. He ain't always in a hurry. And sometimes He wants to eat half of our catfish. He likes fish, remember. But the company, ah, the company. Nothing better.

Can I muse on one moment longer? Do you know what happened after that morning of simply "being" in the company of the one who knows me best? When I got upstairs to get ready for that afternoon event, like fireworks, a new vision began to pop in my heart. It grew so intense that I had to go to my computer and get down all of the thoughts that were coming to me. That was when I knew that it's very likely much more is accomplished when I quiet my soul, open my heart, and listen to the rain of heaven...

Would love to hear your "being" moments in a week. So, if you want, come back here and share them with us.

Defining Moments

I've been so touched by so many of your e-mails. Especially those of you that have commented on the Facing the Giants blog. Guess blogging when you're prompted isn't always a bad thing, huh? It seems like there are many of us in "defining moments" of our lives right now. Whether we're facing giants of Goliath proportion or giants that more resemble Gollum from Lord of the Rings, they're just as real to us. And they are also defining moments for us.

I've noticed this past year facing my giant of loss how much it has redefined me. But this morning as I sat down on my back porch to get back in the swing of things from my week of distraction with that beautiful baby my brother had, I picked up my new John Maxwell book I had bought a couple weeks ago. I have it listed in my "books I'm reading now" section, and in this third chapter, he had put into words what I felt I had discovered about this last year. And I thought that I would share some of it with you and hopefully they will encourage you as well, so that we can truly get everything out of these moments in our lives.

The first thing he said is, "I also believe that the choices we make in critical moments help to form us and to inform others about about who we are." And this is so true. There are very few moments in life when crisis situations arrive that people aren't watching how we handle them. And it is very often that display that speaks most loudly about what is truly on the inside of us. I remember watching Lisa Beamer after September 11th and the grace with which she handled her tragic loss. And the reflection of who God truly was to her was revealed.

I've seen it recently with Steven Curtis and his wife Mary Beth Chapman, as their precious spirits have been splashed across our newspaper and each word breathes back the faithful God that reigns in the heart of them.

And I've seen it happen the other way as well. I've seen leaders face difficult times and all they displayed was their anger, their pettiness and their lack of maturity. This too, revealing the depth with which the Lord truly reigned in their life.

But these are defining moments. Crisis will define us regardless. Whether we move forward through it, or move backwards, I guarantee you we won't stay where we were. It will define us anew.

He then goes on to say -Defining Moments Show Us Who We Really Are.

Isn't that the truth. Don't those moment really bring our true self to the surface? When we have experienced a place of grief what rises to the surface is what is in us. When we are being commanded to forgive, what is truly in us won't be hidden. When we are having to make a choice we don't want to make, or being asked to do something we don't want to do, what is in us will surface. Are we teachable or unteachable? Or we pliable or unpliable? Is it our way or no way? Or is it God's way, no matter what is required of us?

I'm watching both in action right now in the lives of different friends. I'm watching the battle of the wills. One has suffered great loss. Unspeakable pain. And they are walking through it asking the Lord to reveal all He needs to reveal, break all that needs to be broken, heal all He needs to heal.

Another is walking through a place of personal failure, still demanding to get their way. Still requiring it on their terms. While convincing themselves they have a yielded heart, yet each time the gentle pruner comes to prune, they refuse him access to that branch.

So, these moments allow us to see ourselves. I've seen a lot in myself this past year. I've discovered that broken places are excruciating. But I've discovered more that God is kind. And when he gets through removing the dead, diseased places, He remains for the healing. He is involved in every detail. There is not one detail that He isn't involved in in our life.

I remember one evening I was at my parents and I had gone to bed and was lamenting over my rapidly dissipating youth. I'm not what I was at twenty-five (most times that's a good thing), and felt like the past years had taken a toil on my physical body, even to the point where I have asked God to renew my physical years that I felt like the enemy had stolen. So, I'm laying in bed, evaluating the affects of gravity, the deep lines in my brow and the worsening eyesight and went to bed telling God that I was going to come to terms with where I was on this journey of life.

I got up around four am that morning because I had to fly to Vero Beach, Florida for the night and do a book event, so I showered, brushed threw my hair, threw on a little makeup, a black jogging suit and tennis shoes and out I went. I finally got settled in on my flight and was talking to the elderly woman sitting next to me when a strange man tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to look at this man who resembled Tom Sellek in his Magnum P.I. days. He said, "I was just watching you in the airport and I just wanted you to know that you are beautiful." Well, he must have noticed the wide-eyed look on my face that was questioning whether he was a stalker or not, because he said, "I promise I'm not a stalker." Like a stalker would tell you they were in the first place! But he went on to say, "No, I just felt like you needed to know how beautiful you are." I offered a befuddled "Thank you." And he returned to his seat.

When I turned back to the lady sitting next to me she said, "I think that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard." Little did she know. But I knew. I knew God had just stopped the world to let me know that I was beautiful. That He had heard my ramblings the night before and wanted me to know that even in something that might be so insignificant and even to some seem vain, He knew it mattered to me. So, it mattered to Him.

I didn't see that man again. Not that I necessarily looked for him, but I never saw him again. But I will never forget what happened that day. And I know that the crisis point in my life that had precipitated me even having those thoughts that night as I laid in my bed, revealed some things that were on the inside of me. The first was that nothing felt too personal or insignificant to talk to God about. And the other was that I was looking for Him in everything that happened to me. And because of that, I have seen Him show up so often this past year.

The other thing Maxwell says is what we discussed a minute ago: Defining Moments Declare to Others Who We Are.

He adds, "Defining moments put the spotlight on us. We have no time to put a spin on our actions. Whatever is truly inside us is revealed to everyone. Our character isn't made during these times-it is displayed!"

The final thing he mentions is: Defining Moments Determine Who We Will Become.

He adds, "I think of defining moments as intersections in our lives. They give us an opportunity to turn, change direction, and seek a new destination. They present options and opportunities. In these moments, we must choose." And we must. You know, defining moments can be like the first day of school. You remember that day when you get a new outfit, the binder doesn't have any doodling on it, or last weeks crush's name crossed out, only to be replaced by this weeks, the Donny and Marie lunch box, (okay so I just told my age) doesn't have any dings in it yet, and it's a chance to turn a new page. Defining moments are that way as well. They give us an opportunity to do things differently then we've ever done them before. To show more grace. To step out on greater faith. To believe in something that circumstances don't reveal is possible. To actually trust someone else's Godly counsel, even if it hurts or is painful, knowing that pain is often necessary for real growth.

My journeymen, I doubt this will be the last time we face defining moments. Truth be told a loving God will continually press on us in order to gain a greater impression of Himself in us. That's because He loves us. May we love Him enough to allow him to bless us with defining moments.

For those of you leading anyone, I recommend this book. Even if the only thing you lead is your disobedient dog. This is a must read!

Welcome baby girl/Song-Georgia on my Mind

Since I've written so much about her, I thought I'd introduce you to Georgia Ryan. She came into the world at 5:30 on June 3rd, weighing in at a hefty 8lbs. 10 ozs. and 22 inches long. That is almost half my size! And this picture is taken from her Aunt Niecy's arms.

I've seen life come into the world on 3 different occasions. I was in the room at the birth of two of my nieces and for one of my friends. And I can say that there is nothing more miraculous than seeing life appear.

I've also been in the room when someone left this life. Both are extraordinary to witness. We're sitting here waiting on her to arrive home for the first time. While some of you even today might be sitting at the bedside of loved ones waiting to go home. All I know is that God is wrapped up in each one. He's in the coming and going. The arriving and departing. With one I'm sure he is slightly sad. Watching a little one slip from his arms into the arms of parents for a season has to be slightly difficult for him. He knows that He is trusting mere humans with eternal callings.

The other I'm sure is bittersweet. While he is so happy to know one of His is coming back home, He's also sad to see us weep. So, I'm sure He sheds a tear, while he grins. The ever present one, present in our going and comings.

May we realize that life holds much to rejoice in. And so today, no matter what bed your sitting by, a crib, a bassinet, a hospital, or your own, there is something to be grateful for. Today, I'm grateful for being blessed to watch life come and go, and grateful for the life that lies in the in between, knowing that God is present in each.