Texas Snowman

I found out a while ago that some of my cousins have been reading my blog. This pretty much made my month. My cousins to me are larger than life.

I can proudly say that I'm the youngest of all the cousins. The runt of our proverbial litter. So I've always looked up to my older, cooler cousins (besides that I'm the cool one now because I'm young and hip. But now they're seasoned and wise, which, when scoring one's life, is like a triple word score in Scrabble, so they still win).

I didn't get the chance to grow up around any of my cousins, but I always looked forward to a visit to Ohio as a kid. That said, they must be pretty great. Why else would someone look forward to a vacation that took you to Ohio? (Except for the fact that Stephanie got us into Sea World. Something about Aquatic Mammals doing tricks that peaks my interest). I kid. Ohio is a great place. Especially when compared to Michigan.

When I was young my brother,sister, and I would count down the days until our Ohio trips. A trip to see our cousins was like Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and summer vacation all wrapped in one. My aunts and uncles lived on this property that I think closely resembles paradise. My Aunt Nancy and Uncle Larry lived one one side with my cousin Kris, and my Aunt Shirley and Uncle Denny lived on the other side with their girls. In the middle of the two houses was a pond, and next to it my grandparents would park their camper during the summer.

It was heaven on earth. We would go fishing, row the canoe around the pond, go swimming (definitely not in the pond), and go to sleep sunburned and tired. We would take a trip to Pizza Joe's where my cousins worked and grab a slice while proudly wearing our snazzy Chevrolet T-shirts provided by my Uncle. Heartbeat of America, baby.

It was in Ohio that I was introduced to the local delicacy "Garbage Can Dinner." And I was made a believer. There's something about cooking food in a can meant to hold waste that brings family together. Those were the memories I'll cherish. We didn't often get to spend time with our family, but we soaked up every minute we had while we were there.

We had a good thing going until the year we decided to go rogue. That's right. We went all Jack Bauer on our Ohio trip. The year was circa 1993-ish. We cut ties from CTU and went for it. Not even Tony Almeida or Chloe could save us from this mess.

Here comes the pitch: "Hey, how about we go to Ohio during the WINTER this time?"

And the hit: "Gee, that sounds exciting."

It's a home run! The crowd goes wild!

My family loaded up in our 1973 Plymouth Fury III (Jealous? It was puke green. Still jealous? You need to get out more.) and started the long drive north.

We were doing fine until we got to the Ohio state line.

Me: "Um, Mom? Why does it look like God suddenly got a bad case of dandruff?"

Mom: "It's called snow, honey. It's God's punishment to those who don't have sense to live in Texas."

Me: "You mean snow is a real thing? I thought it was only in the movies. Like Rudolph. And Home Alone."

The farther we got into Ohio the more it snowed. I started getting colder and colder. When we finally arrived in Southington our teeth were chattering. My siblings and I were cowering in the backseat bundled under seventy-two afghans huddling together to conserve body heat.

My poor cousins. They didn't even see it coming. They've grown up with snow and by that point the novelty had completely worn off. Here come their young hillbilly cousins from Texas bouncing off the walls begging them to join in their winter wonderland adventures.

"Come build a snow fort with me!"

"Who wants to have a snowball fight?"

"Can we sledding puh-lease?"

"I want hot chocolate!"

"When are we building a snowman?"

Quickly we learned the downside to snow. The one you don't learn about in the movies. It's cold. And wet. And exhausting to move through. Soon our joyful cries turned into woeful Job-esque pleas:

"my legs are so tired!"

"My hands are so cold, I think my fingers are falling off!"

"The snow went down my neck! It went down my neck!"

"I want to go inside!"

One day we decided it was time to build a snowman. My cousin Dennise bit the bait and headed outside with us. I'll never forget that snowman. He was our Texas snowman. Somewhere there's a video of us waving and saying "This is our Texas snowman!" with all the southern twang we could muster.

It's funny how I wanted snow so badly as a kid growing up in East Texas. I was so jealous of kids on TV who got to go sledding and have snow days from school. I never thought of the frustrations that came along with snow.

Now, as an adult living in Northern Canada, I seldom think of those happier times in my childhood where snow was considered a miracle from God, like sparkly cotton candy raining from the sky.

Now I think of how much shoveling needs to be done. How slippery the roads are going to be. How miserable it is to spend 20 minutes getting the kids bundled up to check the mail. How I can never find a matching pair of mittens. Ever. I think about the wet boots and coats that are strewn all over my living room furniture. The salt from the front porch ground into my carpet.

Oh, snow.

Not such a huge fan anymore.

It reminded me that I may not always know what I actually want. What's actually good for me. I realized that sometimes I ask for things from God like a child who has no concept of consequences. It's kind of like eating an entire pizza and wondering why your stomach is sick.

Sometimes what we think is the best for us is not so good after all. In our cotton candy world everything seems dandy, but when reality sets in, we see the cold, dirty side of things.

We wonder why God doesn't give us what we want. We wonder why things just don't work out for us like they have for someone else we know who is way less deserving.

The truth is we will never find satisfaction in those things. They are cold and empty. We stand alone empty handed wondering where we lost sight of what was important.

How did we think that this could be what we wanted?

What we needed?

We need only Him. Our satisfaction comes from Him alone.

iphones and crepe paper streamers

Today's my dear husband's birthday. I kind of feel bad for him. It's just right smack dab in the middle of winter. Kind of blah. It's not on an exciting day like my birthday or Aidan's. But we try to make it special. Some years it works better than others.

I haven't had to ask Trevor what he wants for his birthday this year because he's made his wishes clearly known to anyone who has ears and is within a five mile radius of him. He wants an iphone. He really really really wants an iphone.

He would be preaching on a Sunday morning and slip "when I get my iphone..." or "if I had my iphone, I could google that right now" into his sermon. Not so stealth. It will be a glorious day when that iphone appears in his hands. Mainly because I hopefully won't have to hear about it anymore.

At first I thought to myself, "that's never going to happen. I'm not paying $500 for a phone." Okay. I may have actually said that out loud.

But then the lord shone down His mercy from heaven in the form of a letter from our phone service provider. It went something like this: "You've received a credit to your account for $31.50. If you purchase a new phone, we will exchange this for a $100 credit to your account."

Oh sweet manna from heaven. So barring any unforeseen circumstances, an iphone will be his.

I think he may have had a spiritual experience while getting ready this morning, though. When he came downstairs he told me "I know what I want for my birthday. My microwave to be fixed (ours has been broken for two weeks now) and your immigration to be done."

"Wow." I replied. "Those sound like requests only God can take care of. You're going to have to ask God for those birthday gifts."

Then he said something that struck me. He said "I'm pretty sure that God doesn't care about birthdays."

Now I don't want to sound like one of those sentimental balls of fluff who imagines God donning his dollar store party hat (the one with the tiny rubber band that cuts into your chin fat when you wear it) decorating heaven with crepe paper streamers (I can imagine the angels daring each other to lick the streamers. They taste electric), and balloons filled with helium.

But I'm pretty sure he cares.

Every year when it's Aidan's birthday, I can't help but relive the events that brought us to that point. I warmly remember telling our friends we were going to have a baby, decorating his room, wondering what he would look like. I remember begging him to please, please hurry up and meet us already. I think back to the night he was born and the joy he brought us.

When Ainsley has her first birthday, I know Trevor and I will be doing the same thing; thanking God for our amazing, beautiful little girl and wondering where the past year has gone.

If I can't help but express joy and be overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of my children on their birthday, how much more must our heavenly father rejoice? I can see Him, fondly thinking back to the day He first thought of you. He looks at you with pride, thinking of the masterpiece He lovingly created.

I can see Him going through the various scenes of your life (like the family slide show nights we would have when I was a kid), looking at how far you've come over the years and how much you've grown in Him.

I can't help but think that God is a bit nostalgic. If you think I'm being sappy, get over it. Because it's true. I can't help but think that He loves us with everything He is. Which is immeasurable. Unending. Incredible.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous--and how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.
How precious are your thoughts about me, O God! They are innumerable!
Psalm 139:13-17

For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so that we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.
Ephesians 2:10

A Horse Named Bud

I'm not a big fan of horses. Don't get me wrong- I think they're really pretty and all. They're just terrifying. I am a fan of movies and TV shows where they make horses look like they're talking. Animals aren't as intimidating when they're talking. I also enjoy a good rodeo (I did grow up in Texas), and I think rocking horses are pretty awesome as well.

I think lions are pretty, too. I also enjoy movies that have talking lions, like Madagascar or The Lion King. Who didn't want to be best buds with Simba back in the day?

It didn't hurt that his character was voiced by none other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas himself. (swoon. Are those flowers for me? You shouldn't have.) But I'm not going to befriend a lion in real life and try to ride it. Nay, my friend (maybe Aslan). That is pure insanity. Crazy talk. Lions are vicious. Dangerous. Hostile.

So are horses.

When I was a young warthog,(sorry, I'm still thinking about The Lion King)when I was a young girl, my sister was obsessed with had a deep appreciation for horses. She would draw beautiful pictures of horses on everything. I tried to copy her, but my horses looked like pigs with long legs. And a mane.

My sister was also super allergic to horses. Poor girl. I was convinced my parents would never let her have one. But somehow she managed to talk my parents into getting one (I'm not so sure how this deal went down; I was too young to know the intricate details, but I'm pretty sure there were some shady negotiations going on. I'm convinced this is the sole cause of my sister ratting me out for every wrong I committed over the next ten years).

One sunny day a truck pulled in our driveway and made its way back to our "barnyard" (I'll use that term loosely for lack of a better word). My brother, sister, and I watched in awe as the mysterious trailer was opened and a glorious creature emerged from its depths. Here was Bud (short for Budweiser. Keepin' it classy). Mom and Dad got a horse. It was kind of like that day my dad came home with 100 chickens. Or the time they brought home the Dalmatian from the SPCA (lasted a week. It was a bad dog. And deaf. But that's another story for another time). Looking back on my life, I'm starting to think my parents were more impulsive than I originally gave them credit for.

So here is Bud in all of his glory. Through my little girl eyes, he was a valiant steed; an untamed stallion waiting to catch me alone so he could trample my brains out. I was intrigued, yet terrified. It wasn't until years later that I realized how ridiculous I was. This horse was maybe five and a half feet tall. More a pony than a horse (I just wasted over an hour trying to find this picture of Bud with my brother and sister. My sister goes up to Bud's shoulder in it. And my brother's making a stupid face. It's a great photo. One day I'll find it and add it on). To me at the time he was a monster. I watched my back from then on when I had to enter our barnyard.

My sister, on the other hand, was in love. L-O-V-E love. She looked like a red headed Michael Jackson when she took him for a ride, with her surgical mask and gloves, she was so allergic. But she didn't care. She loved Bud.

I occasionally took a turn in the saddle as well, but always under my dad's supervision. I remember one particular day we were taking turns riding Bud in our front yard. I agreed to get on after telling my dad that he could not let go of the reigns under any circumstances. If the rapture took place at that moment, the horse would have been dragged along with us, because he was not going to let go.

I reluctantly climbed up on the horse and started my ride. My dad looked at me and said something along the lines of "You can do this without me" and let go of the reigns. Really? Really, Dad? I'm pretty sure I gave you precise instructions when we began this whole shenanigan.

Don't. Let. Go.

He let go.

I panicked. I yelled. I cried. I begged him to grab a hold of the reigns. I screamed hysterically.

Bud was not impressed. Not in the slightest. So, he took off. Towards the road. With me on him. I felt my life was in immediate danger, so I threw my hands up in the air in complete abandon.

Suddenly I felt something hard in my hands. I grabbed on for dear life. We were galloping under a tree and I had grabbed a hold of a branch. I slid off of that horse (pony) like butter off a hot roll. The horse kept going, and I hung like a limp rag doll (if rag dolls screamed hysterically for their daddy) from the tree. That poor little apple tree. Barely more than a sapling.

I didn't even have time to calculate my next move before I felt my dad's arms around me, helping me off the tree. Turns out he wasn't that far away after all. I wasn't thrilled with him for a while, but I soon got over the mishap. I wasn't very good at staying mad.

The lessons I've learned from this experience have stayed with me over the years. It's one of my favorite stories to relive because it's so ridiculous. It shows how much our reality is relative to our perspective.

If my dad told this same story it would sound completely different. He saw the real size of my object of fear. He knew that he was never far away and that I would be safe. I felt like my life was dangerously spinning out of control, and my dad was too far away to do anything to stop it. He was there to step in when I needed him.

I've realized how much we're affected by our perspective every day. How are we seeing things? We're in the thick of our personal battle, and we don't have the same perspective that God has. Sometimes I think He must wonder at how much we get tied up in knots by things that seem so small to Him. The things we fear or worry about that are like the itty bitty pony to Him. He sees the entire situation and knows He is in control. He knows that He's close enough to catch us when we need Him.

He needs us to trust Him. If I trusted my dad when he told me "you can do this" I wouldn't have panicked. If I didn't panic, the horse would have never spooked. Sometimes our lack of trust in God in a situation can cause us to make the situation way worse than it is.

We're sick from stress and worry. We're exhausted from sleepless nights. We fight with the ones we love because we don't know what to do with ourselves. We self-destruct. We turn a tense situation into a disaster.

Yet when we trust God, we have peace. We have quiet confidence. Not in ourselves, but in God, our faithful Creator.

He knows the "Buds" in your life. He sees your uncertainty. He knows that His Holy Spirit living in You can empower you to work through those fears. He's not going to leave your side. He's right with you during this journey.

He sees where you are and knows you are never out of His reach.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7

Just like I cried out to my dad as I hung onto that branch for dear life, we can call out to God in our need.

For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!"
Romans 8:15

We are not slaves to our fear! We should not let our fear rule us. We have not received the spirit of slavery- why? because we are the beloved children of God. We cry out "Abba! Father!" "Daddy! Daddy!"

And He meets us there.

Wounded

My son is amazing at finding ways to get dirty. Filthy. The only thing he hasn't done is the legendary "Smear my poo all over myself, my cribs and the walls while Mommy thinks I'm still sleeping" move. (That one was for you, Michelle. I remember that picture you posted of Emily!)

(Here's a picture of my cousin's gorgeous daughter Emily having a not-so-gorgeous moment)
I figured he just decided to save that one for Ainsley to use on me eventually. I know my days are numbered.

He's managed to make quite a mess in other ways. When he was about 10 months old he managed to paint an entire kitchen with Nutella in oh, about five seconds. Not even exaggerating.

Another time he pulled an ice cream container out of the trash and danced around in the melted ice cream drippings that leaked on the floor. Mmm... Moosetracks.

When he was two he literally spent the entire summer in a hole filled with mud in our back yard.

He's the kid with grass stains on his linen Easter suit and a perpetual chocolate milk mustache. He lives hard, he plays hard, and you can tell.

So I really shouldn't have been surprised about what happened today. This past weekend we got quite the dump of snow. Not Tennessee snow. I'm talking four feet. In two and a half days. Everything is covered.

There are mountains of snow everywhere from the plows trying to keep up. Dawson Creek looks like a miniature version of the alps. With hunters in camo and rig guys driving big trucks instead of blondes with braided pigtails and lederhosen.

The temperature had jumped up quite a bit in the past day or so (from about -25 to 41 degrees!) so I finally let Aidan out to play. All you can see is white. For miles and miles. It's like Narnia, but instead of Mr. Tumnus and other mythical creatures we have moose.

I digress. So I threw Aidan off of our back porch into the sea of snow. (I didn't really because I didn't want anyone to call Child Services, but I was mighty tempted. I'm pretty sure Aidan would have loved it.) I let him do his thing for a while in the back yard until he knocked on the door about 45 minutes later. He was cold and ready to come in.

I lead him inside and start helping him remove his winter gear. His muddy, muddy winter gear. Wait a second. There's four feet of snow outside. How on EARTH did he manage to find mud? His coat is splattered. His mittens are completely covered. I open the door to look on the outside of it. Yep. It looks like a mud monster was murdered on the back porch. Little mud hand prints are displayed perfectly on the white door.

I ball my hands into fists and breathe out slowly.

Aidan.

How? How did he do it?

Everything is white. Everything is clean. Except him. He found the mud. It's like he has a mud divining rod.

Tonight I went to coffee with my best friend and had a great talk with her. I was telling her that I was trying to get rid of the bad attitude I could feel festering inside of me. I knew there were situations in my life where I was wounded.

We've all been there before. Where someone says or does something that hurts us, whether they meant to or not. They unknowingly leave behind an open wound. We try to deal with the pain, but if it's not taken care of it just keeps getting worse. We become bitter and look for ways to be hurt by that person again to feed our grudge. To meet the need for justification of our anger.

We find ways to manipulate the most harmless of situations to suit our purposes. We are surrounded by snow, but somehow we dig up the mud. We're supposed to seek reconciliation in relationships. Not vengeance. God calls us to live at peace with everyone. To act out of love. Not out of bitterness.

Do your part to live in peace with everyone, as much as possible.
Romans 12:18

Is there any encouragement from belonging to Christ? Any comfort from his love? Any fellowship together in the Spirit? Are your hearts tender and sympathetic?
Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one heart and purpose.
Philipians 2:1-2

The last scripture is so vital to the health and effectiveness of the body of Christ. The church. Not only that, but our individual lives as well. Bitterness breaks you. We must have a heart that is tender; not cold, hard and bitter. We must work together, loving each other. If we don't it will hinder the purpose God has given us. It will destroy unity in the body of Christ.

We can't waste time licking our wounds.

How do we deal with them, then?

In 2 Corinthians chapter 2, Paul brings up a man who has obviously caused deep heartache to the church in the past. Paul had written the church before about him, instructing them to somehow punish or censure this person for his misdeed. The church was obviously wounded deeply by him, but now we see that this man was repentant of his sins and in turn was also suffering.

The church in Corinth was a church of extremes. Paul said to separate themselves from this person, so they did. So Paul had to encourage them to offer forgiveness and love to this man as well.

I am not overstating it when I say that the man who caused all the trouble hurt your entire church more than he hurt me.
He was punished enough when most of you were united in your judgment against him.
Now it is time to forgive him and comfort him. Otherwise he may become so discouraged that he won't be able to recover.
Now show him that you still love him.
2 Corinthians 2:5-8.

Now is the time to forgive.

Now is the time to heal.

God is calling us to put aside the bitterness that we've been clinging to so desperately.

God is drawing us to greater things; to heights we will never reach if our unforgiveness continues to weigh us down.

What wounds are you holding onto?

Do you see the snow? Or are you looking for the mud?

Echo Cardiogram

Today Aidan had an echo cardiogram. It wasn't his first. He actually had his first echo when he was just a few days old.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Trevor and I had just experienced the miracle of being parents. Here he was. The tiny little boy we wondered about all these months. What would he look like? Who would he act like? Would he have hair? Be big? Have dimples? Finally he made his debut. On December 31st, nonetheless.

He was perfect. Beautiful. We were exhausted. The next day we were all packed up, ready to be discharged. We were excited to head home with our little boy. We could show him the room we painted for him. A list of attributes we hoped for him stenciled on the wall. We would show him how Daddy installed a special dimmer light switch so Mommy could check on him in the middle of the night. We would show him his big fluffy dog named Kennedy and the toy box that Daddy put together just for him.

The pediatrician came in to check over Aidan before we were released. We had the car seat ready with big fluffy blankets for the chilly weather. The doctor laid him out on the hospital bed. He did that hip-swivel action they do on babies. He listened to his heart. He checked a few more things. He listened to his heart again.

We waited.

He looked up at us. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be able to leave yet. I hear a murmur in his heartbeat. There's something wrong. He could have a serious defect that wasn't picked up on your ultrasound, or it may be a simple problem."

Our world came tumbling down around our ankles. I tried to put on a brave face and hold back the tears. Over exaggerating? Maybe. But this was my baby. I just got him. He's perfect. Now you're telling me there might be something seriously wrong?

We had to leave the room so they could take a chest x-ray. The room that was full of well-wishers just yesterday. The room we had been celebrating in just a few hours ago. The room that Trevor and I sat in as the clock struck midnight. A new year began as we marveled at our firstborn son.

We stood in the hallway outside the door of our room, but we might as well had been miles away. I could hear his little newborn cry through the doorway. My arms felt empty. My heart felt heavy. It was only for minutes, but it felt like hours.

The day wore on as we were moved to the pediatrics ward for the remainder of our stay. We were told that they wouldn't know anything until we met with a Pediatric Cardiologist and had an echo cardiogram. We were warned that this would take a while since it was a holiday. Until then, Aidan had to be hooked up to various monitors in case he went into cardiac arrest or had other problems because of a possible heart condition.

Trevor and I were so young. We didn't know what we were doing. Our nerves were frayed. We were overwhelmed. Together we cried and prayed to God that he would guide us through this. That our baby would be okay. Every few minutes Aidan would flinch and one of his monitors became dislodged, setting the alarm off and sending us into a panic. I didn't think that night would ever end.

Soon we became accustomed to the alarms and I began to wonder how effective they would be in the event that he actually had trouble. We started learning how to restlessly sleep through it all. Twenty-four hours passed with no word. Finally at 5:30 the following evening we were taken to the cardiology wing to perform the echo. A Pediatric Cardiologist from Seattle was there by web cam.

We sat silently while watching the technician at work. After ten minutes or so the Cardiologist spoke to us:

"Your son is going to be okay."

I quickly released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I couldn't hold back the sobs now. The tears of relief were streaming down both mine and Trevor's faces.

Aidan has a Ventricular Septal Defect (VSD). It is the most common of heart defects and the least serious. It occurs in about 4 of 1000 births. It's a small hole between the left and right ventricles of the heart. 90% of these will close in the baby's first year of life as the heart grows larger.

Aidan's hasn't closed yet. Our wonderful family doctor isn't worried because Aidan is thriving physically. He's such a healthy, big boy. He has to go for occasional echo cardiograms to ensure that everything is okay.

Today Trevor took Aidan to his appointment. He came home bouncing through the door telling me all about it. "The lady had books for Daddy to read to me! She had a Critter book! Then she gave me a sticker AND a sucker! I already ate my sucker though."

I laughed and marveled at the blessing God had given us. The little boy that terrorizes his little sister. The boy who loses his DVDs and creates a path of destruction everywhere he goes. The boy who colors on our beige couch with an ink pen.

The boy who goes around the house singing church songs at the top of his lungs. The boy who says "Mommy, I want to give you a hug and a kiss because I like you." The boy who always wants to help when I make biscuits or cookies. The boy who isn't too cool to cuddle yet.

He's amazing.

He's our little boy.

As I sit here I think about the past four years and I realize how much we've changed. How much we've grown. And I am overwhelmed at the goodness and faithfulness of God. I'd like to say it's all because of me. Or Trevor, even. But it's not. It's because God didn't give up on us. God was with us, guiding us every step of the way.

I remember that long night at the hospital while we were waiting to find out what was wrong with Aidan. My parents were far away. Trevor's parents were home for the night. My best friend was out of town. Our pastor was out of town. We were completely alone.

I think God arranged it that way.

Because he met us there.

His love for us is overwhelming. If anyone knew what we were feeling, it was him. Who else can understand a mother or father's love like He does? A parent's heartache? We learned a lesson that night on God's faithfulness. His provision. I truly learned how to cast my cares and anxieties on Him.

I think that's the difference. I've learned to put my trust in God wholeheartedly. I've learned to trust that His plan is the perfect outcome even when it makes no sense to me. When we learn to give up what we can't control and submit ourselves into the hands of our faithful Creator- that's when life becomes beautiful.

A Little Update on the DVD Situation...

I had to share this for all six of my faithful followers...
Thanks to a suggestion from a dear friend of mine, the Cars Dvd was found in Aidan's toybox. After we already paid for it at the video store.
It's ok. The video store charged us $17 for it. It costs $26 at Wal-Mart. From now on I'm shopping for all kids movies by "losing" them and paying the fees at the video store.

Better Than MacGyver

I don't really remember watching a lot of TV as a kid, but the TV I did watch has stuck with me. When I was in Kindergarten, Dad and I would watch Batman (the real Batman with the "Wham! And Kepow!"s) and Gilligan's Island. Another staple in the Rasey family was Dr. Quinn- Medicine Woman. Oh yeah. We were legit.

One of my favorite shows had to be MacGyver.

What a class act, that Angus MacGyver. And his hair. Sweet hair manna from Heaven. MacGyver was a looker. And he could wriggle his way out of any bad situation. He didn't usually even need to resort to violence. The guy was smart, too. Who else is there like MacGyver?
I used to want my husband to be just like MacGyver, but I figured that would get to be exhausting. For one, he would never let you go shopping for anything. I can imagine it now:

Me: "Hey Mac, I'm going to head over to the mall. The shoe store is having a sale and I could use a new pair of stilettos."

My Love MacGyver: "Honey, you don't need to go buy stilettos. I've got a roll of duct tape, some nails, and a ball of twine. I can make you a fantastic pair of shoes out of those. They could even have the little ties that go up your legs so you could look like a ballerina, huh? Like Lara Flynn Boyle that one year at the Golden Globes?"

Me: "That's nice sweetie, but Lara Flynn Boyle has been on every worst dressed list known to man since she wore that outfit. Plus I don't think the nails would work on our hardwood floors. I just want some normal shoes."

My Love MacGyver: (pouting) "Fine. But I bet you wouldn't be able to diffuse a bomb using the material of your 'normal shoes' you get at the mall. I'll be in my workshop."

Hey,even MacGyver can get moody, sometimes. When you have to do things like this all the time:


it's understandable.

Sometimes I wish that I were able to MacGyver my way out of impossible situations that I'm in. You know, those times when the time is ticking and the walls are closing in around you? I keep thinking, "Dang! If only I could find a paper clip and use it to rewire the main system that is running the countdown clock for this ticking time bomb attached to my leg, I could 'MacGyver' my way out of the situation!"
Newsflash: The paper clip isn't going to do you any good.

The point is, we're all hopeless. We can't 'MacGyver' our way out of a wet paper bag. We're flawed and destined to failure. We're more like MacGyver's useless sidekick who stands there bawling our eyes out, yelling "what are we gonna do, MacGyver? I'm too young to die!"

We are weak. hopeless. void of any ability to save ourselves. we are dying.

Yet the One comes to bring us hope.

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23

Our spirits break free from our death sentence like a glorious sunrise as we grasp the gift of grace from our Savior. The true hero has arrived.

He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
2 Corinthians 12:9

It amazes me that we can accept His grace to save our lives, but forget that He still wants to work in our lives beyond that point. God doesn't save you and forget about you. He wants to be real in your life. He wants to be involved.
Sometimes we find ourselves in impossible situations because we haven't let God in. Maybe we don't think we're good enough. Maybe we don't think that God wants to be bothered with our problems.

But he does.

He loves you.

He knows your weaknesses.

He created you.

Christ's strength is made perfect in our weakness. The more impossible the situation we find ourselves in (dare we say, a MacGyver situation?) the more God shows his power in our lives. We serve a God with immeasurable resources. Kind of like if MacGyver borrowed Diego's Rescue Pack. (MacGyver and Diego- now THERE's a team!) Our God has unlimited resources.

Think about it.

unlimited.

Now does your problem seem so big?

Embrace God's strength in the areas of your weaknesses.

Chocolate Pudding

My name is Elizabeth, and I am a sugar addict. I'm not a bread/pasta/carbs person. I am not addicted to fast food. Sugar is my vice.
Pop + Chocolate = Heaven.
I've been trying to cut back on my sugar, so I'm employed the use of a couple of my own personal "methodones." When I am really in the mood for something sweet I'll settle for a chocolate pudding. I know, not my best option, but I'm weaning myself slowly.
And I freakin' love chocolate pudding.

As I sat down at my kitchen table to eat my chocolate delight, I thought about how I should really write a blog entry. I like to pretend that people are counting on my quasi-inspirational words to get them through their monotonous, wearisome work week. Then I thought about how tired I am.
Pastor on a Sunday = ex.haus.ted.

I looked down at my pudding.
I looked up at my computer.
Back to the pudding.
Back up to the computer.
Back to the pudding. (now empty)
"hmm... is there any more pudding in the cupboard? I should recycle this."
Back to the computer.

Then I remembered- I wrote a little note on Facebook back in 2009 about Chocolate Pudding! Woot woot! A little copy and paste and it's beddy bye time.

"Wait," I thought to myself, "will anyone recognize this from that time I posted it on the obscure 'notes' section of Facebook that no one pays attention to?" Yeah. I am actually that egotistical to think that someone would remember a little anecdote I shared two years ago.

So, I'm assuming that you haven't read this before, or have read it and completely forgotten about it. And honestly, I think the message is one that bears reminding.

So rewind your timepieces back to the grand ol' year of 2009...
Aidan is two and we are in the midst of potty training. And, he won't eat anything. Like, anything. Here's a list of Aidan-accepted foods:

macaroni and cheese
grilled cheese
cheese pizza
cheese
chicken nuggets
mashed potatoes
tortilla chips
ice cream
pudding
scrambled eggs
pancakes
cheddar cheese goldfish
cheddar cheese goldfish swimming by a sailboat-shaped grilled cheese sandwich which is drifting lazily in a sea made of easy cheese.

He really liked cheese.

That particular spring day potty training was going splendidly AND Aidan ate waffles for breakfast (note waffles are not included on the approved foods list).

It was a time for celebration, so we cracked open the chocolate pudding. I let him get at it while I cleaned up some dishes in the kitchen. Soon I heard a panicked, "Mom, help!"

I run to see what is so upsetting. Aidan has spilled some of his pudding on his wrist and hand. The kid can play in a big hole in the ground full of mud, but he gets a little pudding on him and he loses it.

I tell him to wait a minute while I get a rag to clean him up, but he insists on fixing the problem himself. Soon he has chocolate pudding on his arms, face, hands, and shirt. It's everywhere.

I told him to be still. If he just let me clean him up, the mess would have been taken care of in no time. But instead, the more he struggled the bigger the mess became. I can still hear my voice, "Aidan, be still!"

I started thinking about the messes I get myself into. I try to clean myself up on my own, in my own power, and I just end up making a big mess. The whole time I can hear God just saying, "Elizabeth, be still!"

We need to humble ourselves before God and cry out to Him for help. Let Him bring us up out of our mess. The more we struggle against His hand, the more we hinder His work in our lives.

"Come now, let us argue this out," says the LORD. "No matter how deep the stain of your sins, I can remove it. I can make you as clean as freshly fallen snow. Even if you are stained as red as crimson, I can make you as white as wool.
Isaiah 1:18
But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from every wrong.
1 John1:9
I waited patiently for the LORD to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.
Psalm 40:1-2

Have you ever tried to make things right on you own? Did you ever end up making a bigger mess of something in your life because you weren't willing to just let God handle it?

Kids Say The Most Spiritually Profound Things

Sometimes I think I should carry around a notebook to jot down all of the crazy things my four year old says. Sometimes he sounds like Confucius, other times he just sounds confused. But it's almost always hilarious. Here's a few samplings:

"I'm going to go scare some people with my awesome shoes."

Playing with a play-doh ice cream set-
"Mommy, I just made you a sunny day with squirrel ice cream."

"Boys go to karate, girls go to ballet."

"I'm Thomas. Hop on board my freight cars. Oh wait, you're a passenger. You need to ride on Annie or Clarabelle."

"Somebody needs to give Daddy money so he can buy a truck."

"Daddies go to work and Mommies work on computers."

Passing by a lake-
Aidan: "I bet that river has sharks in it."
Me: "It's not a river. It's a lake. Rivers don't have sharks in them anyway."
Aidan: "It's a river. A big huge river. And it has sharks."
Me: "It's a lake."
Aidan: "That river is freaking me out."

Trevor: "Aidan, what day is it?"
Aidan: "Um,forty-six."
Trevor: "Not quite."
Aidan: "Oh. Three o'clock?"

Aidan retelling the story of Jesus walking on the water:
Aidan: "There were guys in a boat and there was a ghost walking on the water!"
Me: "Wasn't it Jesus and they thought it was a ghost?"
Aidan: "Jesus and a ghost were walking on the water."

Aidan retelling the story of Daniel:
"Some lions ate a guy."

Glad to know he's listening in Sunday School.

Every once in a while Aidan has a gem that rings true in my soul. This actually happened a couple of days ago. During the summer Aidan was involved in the Library's summer reading program. One of the weekly prizes he earned was a pair of cheap sunglasses. They are yellow with little fish all over them.

"These are my swimming glasses." He told me. "They have fish on them, and fish swim. So I should wear them when I swim."

"Actually," I answered, "They're sunglasses. You can wear them anytime. Even if you're not swimming."

Aidan's quite smitten with his grab bag sunglasses. He loves to wear them. Honestly, I think they're pretty cool, too. A couple of days ago he was wearing them in the house. He wanted to test their usefulness, so he threw the curtains open and stared fully at the sun.

"Mommy!" He yelled over at me, "These aren't working. I can still see the sun."

"Well, they're not supposed to make the sun disappear." I said. "They're supposed to protect your eyes from the sun. You can still see the sun, but it's not as bright and doesn't hurt your eyes."

As a pastor, I get asked "the question" about suffering quite often. "Why do we suffer? Doesn't God love us? Why doesn't he save us from our suffering?" Honestly, I don't always know quite how to answer it.

Now some people like to think their problems are equivalent to that of Job when their biggest dilemma is usually something like losing their favorite hair clip or Starbucks running out of Pumpkin Spice Scones (which are delicious, by the way). They had to settle for the gluten-free organic brownie (Speaking from experience, don't even waste your time). I'll let them know in short order that sometimes you just have to suffer for Jesus. Not really. But it would be funny.

But I do know people who have really been suffering. How do I find ways to encourage them without sounding like I'm trivializing what they're going through? How do we deal with suffering? First, I think it takes a change of perspective.

The church today has shifted towards a message of suffering=sin. If you're sick, if you're broke, if things are going wrong, you must not have your act together. God rewards those who are faithful to Him, so if you're suffering you must not have been proven faithful. We expect to receive an earthly reward instead of storing up our treasures in Heaven. Those who will admit they're suffering receive a sentence of awkward conversations and slow excommunication through accidental exclusion (we wouldn't want to be too obvious, would we?) from the body of believers. We need successful, happy people in our church so other people will want to come here.

We've turned God into our wish-granting genie instead of the powerful, sovereign God He is. I'm afraid that sometimes we paint Christianity as a religious joy ride instead of the sometimes difficult spiritual journey it really is.

When trouble comes, we're like my four year old with his sunglasses. He was expecting them to completely block out the sun, when that wasn't their purpose at all. "Isn't God supposed to take this trouble from my life? I thought he was supposed to bless me and heal me and take away my suffering and pain." But that's not really what God has in mind at all. We are expecting Him to block out the sin and pain and grief of living in this world, but God is offering us his protection to walk through it.

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
This I declare of the LORD: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I am trusting him.
For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from the fatal plague.
He will shield you with his wings. He will shelter you with his feathers. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.
Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night, nor fear the dangers of the day,
nor dread the plague that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday.
Though a thousand fall at your side, though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you.
But you will see it with your eyes; you will see how the wicked are punished.
If you make the LORD your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter,
no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your dwelling.
For he orders his angels to protect you wherever you go.
They will hold you with their hands to keep you from striking your foot on a stone.
Psalm 91:1-12

God is offering his protection. He's saying "Everyone may be falling around you. You may feel surrounded and overwhelmed. But I will never leave you. I will surround you with my protection." We need to commit ourselves to Him. Our faithful Creator. He will wrap his arms of protection around us when we need it the most.

English Toffee Cappuccino

I made it through all of Bible college (or at least my version of "all of Bible college") without becoming addicted to coffee. I'm a coffee wuss. I know it's not a genetic malfunction. My parents' view point on coffee is more akin to that of a trucker: the darker and thicker the better. Kind of like the motor oil of my 1988 Chevy Cavalier. No sugar. No Equal. No creamer. Not even milk. Just coffee. I, on the other hand, like my coffee like I like my men: kind of beige-y in color and really sweet, with a hint of hazelnut (collectively now, awww... That one was for you, Trevor. Except the hazelnut part. I don't think that would translate well).

Okay, so I'm exaggerating when I talk about my parents' love of strong coffee. Actually, the last time my parents visited me, I tried to be the perfect hostess and make my parents a nice cup of joe. I had to go to the store and buy a coffeemaker because I did not own one. And filters. Can't forget filters. Those suckers run like, $4.97 nowadays. So I was doing something nice, but the way they responded you'd think I tried to poison them. (The moment happened just like a sitcom where someone blurts out something like "I'm pregnant with your child." or "I'm leaving you for your brother" or "That's not juice, it's a urine sample." And the philandering-yet-lovable protagonist of the show spews the beverage out of his mouth in utter surprise/shock/horror.) I'm pretty sure I put the right amount in according to the package instructions, but Mom had to add about 3/4 cup of water to drink it. Either my parents have gone soft, Maxwell House had a misprint, or tablespoons have gotten larger recently. Whatever the cause of the incident (I refer to it as "coffeegate") which did not involve error on my part whatsoever, the coffee was awful.

I'll tell you a place to get good coffee. Tim Horton's. It took me a while to get bitten by the Tim Horton's Bug. What is this place all about? Why is there no apostrophe in the restaurant name? Canadians. I know Tim Horton was a real person. And I know "Tim Horton's" is his coffee place, so why not the apostrophe? I shall use one anyway to stand up for grammar. I mean, people throw apostrophes around like they're free money nowadays. They use them in all situations that do not warrant the use of an apostrophe. Yet when an apostrophe is needed, it's mysteriously MIA. Making a word plural? No apostrophe. Making a word possessive? Apostrophe. Except in the case of it. Which is strange, but reasonable.

Tim Horton's has pretty good coffee. Not that I get the coffee. I get the English Toffee Cappuccino. I know. All they do is push a button on a cappuccino dispenser like they have at gas stations. But it's sweet, beige, and tastes good.

My main concern with buying hot beverages from Timmy's (cute and annoying at the same time!) is the wait period before I can drink it. My coffee wussery surpasses the flavor and sweetness of said beverage. I am also sensitive to the temperature. There is a small window (from 22 minutes to 26 minutes after purchase) that I must down my coffee in. (I know; I just went on about grammar and now I'm ending a sentence in a preposition. Would you rather I say "in which I must down my coffee?" I sound either snooty or British. Or both. Hmm.)

See, for me timing is everything when it comes to Timmy Ho's. If I drink too early, I burn my poor little defenseless tongue. If I drink it too late, I might as well have ordered an ice capp. I had a Tim Horton's beverage today and I pondered this phenomenon. (I like referring to my weaknesses as phenomena. Very empowering.)

I was thinking about how even good things at the wrong time can be bad. Two of the things that tick me off the most are stubbed toes and burnt tongues. Drink the coffee too early, you get a burnt tongue. Now when your coffee has cooled off a bit, it's still going to be painful to drink.

I've got a few friends who are going through a period of pain and waiting in their lives right now. I hate it. I find that if I don't be careful I become consumed with their suffering. I hate that I can't fix their problem. While I don't blame God, I get curious as to when exactly He's going to pull through for them.

Some of them are separated from people they love. A wall of bureaucratic red tape has been erected between husband and wife, fathers and daughters. I see people I love working with everything they have serving the Lord, yet they never catch a break. They're on the brink of giving up if something doesn't change soon. My heart breaks. My soul feels weary.

Then I remember the coffee. I think of my life. My darkest days when I wondered exactly what God was orchestrating in the mess around me. He had something good for me planned. He still does.

For I know the plans I have for you," says the LORD. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.
Jeremiah 29:11

But it had to be the right timing. If He gave it to me too soon, I would have gotten burned.

There's purpose in waiting. There's promise in waiting.

But those who wait on the LORD will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:31

For since the world began, no ear has heard, and no eye has seen a God like you, who works for those who wait for him!
Isaiah 64:4

So if you are suffering according to God's will, keep on doing what is right, and trust yourself to the God who made you, for he will never fail you.
1 Peter 4:19

One version of the last verse says to "commit yourselves to a faithful creator." He will never fail you. He loves you too much to let you down.

One of my favorite verses in the Bible promises us this:

In his kindness God called you to his eternal glory by means of Jesus Christ. After you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.
1 Peter 5:10

The suffering doesn't last forever. God promises after you have suffered a while, He will bring you restoration. He will bring you support. He will give you strength. Your foundation and faith in Him will be stronger because of your adversity.

Take heart. Be encouraged. Cast your cares on Him, because He cares for You. Wait on Him.

Ain't No Party Like a Lego Party

I am never renting another movie again. Not checking one out from a library. Not borrowing one from a neighbor. If I do not own said DVD, it will not be in my or my family's possession. I watched this one episode of Community where there was a monkey who would steal pens and other items and hide them, collecting them in a big pile in the school's heating duct. I am convinced that I also have a monkey (by the name of Aidan)in my home who has a penchant for DVDs, hiding them somewhere in the drop ceiling or in a secret hidden chamber located in the basement.

I wish I knew the location of that chamber because I could really use the extra storage space. Alas, it is hidden from my view. My question is this: Why does it have to be DVDs? How is it possible that I can check out 57 kids books from the library with nary a problem, but I borrow 1 Bob the Builder DVD and it slips away into oblivion? (sinking to my knees raising my arms in a questioning manner to God) Why? Why me? Why DVDs?

Why can't he lose Happy Meal toys? Or the rocks he insists on collecting every time we walk by a flower bed? I just know that as we speak the DVDs are partying it up with all of the Hot Wheels cars I've bought him over the past two years. I've probably gotten him 274 Hot Wheels cars, and I'll bet if I search really hard I could produce 17 to show for it. I know they're somewhere putting on a mini Brickyard 400 using the lost DVD cases as their track. I can see the lost Lego men of yesteryear (a few pirates, including the one with the peg leg, a knight or two, a fireman, and of course a special edition-Star Wars storm trooper and Luke Skywalker)cheering them on from the stands made of old washed-up Duplo blocks that have been thrown into storage. They're living the high life on my dime while I'm up to my neck in late-fees.

Trevor just spent the past two hours scouring the house looking for Cars. Of all movies to lose. The one that we've already purchased at least twice (maybe three times?) because it's Aidan's favorite movie. The one that, if I weren't such a devout Christian, I would have saved on our computer to burn extra copies so I wouldn't be in this mess. This little war I'm involved in is just getting downright insulting. Now all three of Aidan's Cars movies (in both wide screen and full screen editions)are in cahoots.

I'm going to give them a couple of days. Pretend I don't care if I find them. They're going to have to come out for fresh air and rations eventually. Then, I'll be ready for them. They won't know what hit them.

Now it's not even about finding the movie. Now it's a matter of principle. I'm stubborn. I'm not going to give up until I either find it or I get really really tired. Or hungry. Or bored. Or find something better to do.

Ah yes, that sounds more like the truth. It's amazing how quickly our tenacity gets drained from us when things get wearisome. We're so easily discouraged and quickly give up on what we should fight the hardest for.

I've been thinking about how many times I hear people saying they wish they had a closer relationship with God. I've uttered those words myself more times than I can count. I've realized that knowing God and developing a deeper relationship with Him takes time. It takes work. And frankly, a lot of us get too lazy and impatient to see real results.

It's not a matter of whether or not God will reveal Himself to us. It's not a guessing game of whether or not He will show up. He's already made His promise.

In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me in earnest, you will find me when you seek me.
Jeremiah 29:12-13

Draw close to God, and God will draw close to you.
James 4:8

The LORD is wonderfully good to those who wait for him and seek him.
Lamentations 3:25

God's given us His word that when we seek Him, we will find Him. It sounds like He's waiting for us. Waiting for us to what?

For one, I think He's waiting for us to seek Him earnestly. Notice it doesn't say "seek me halfheartedly." It says "If you look for me in earnest."
Earnest-Marked by or showing deep sincerity or seriousness God wants us to take Him seriously. He's our top priority. Not a once-a-week commitment. Not something to be put on the back burner.

Also, I think sometimes we need to come to him and repent of our sins. We need to come to Him and allow Him to make our hearts pure, so that we may commune with Him.

Who may climb the mountain of the LORD? Who may stand in his holy place?
Only those whose hands and hearts are pure, who do not worship idols and never tell lies.
They will receive the LORD's blessing and have right standing with God their savior.
They alone may enter God's presence and worship the God of Israel.
Psalm 24:3-6

The high and lofty one who inhabits eternity, the Holy One, says this: "I live in that high and holy place with those whose spirits are contrite and humble. I refresh the humble and give new courage to those with repentant hearts.
Isaiah 57:15

Draw close to God, and God will draw close to you. Wash your hands, you sinners; purify your hearts, you hypocrites.
James 4:8

I will strive to seek God more than the trinkets of this world. (even lost DVDs) Let us boldly approach the throne of grace because of our redemption through Christ Jesus our Lord.

How do I love?

I know this isn't how I usually post. Usually I have a little anecdote to share, but not today. There's been a question on my mind that has just been wrecking me lately. How do I love? I am trying to figure out how to love. How to love like Christ loves us. How to live out His love. To not be filled with envy, strife, bitterness. That my first reaction would not be to judge but instead to extend grace. Not expecting people to clean themselves up before I accept them. Not setting standards for people that I myself can't meet.

I want to feel the pain of my neighbors. I want my heart to break for them in their distress. Throw away the barriers of protection I have built up around my life that keeps me a safe distance from others around me. Re-sensitize myself to the suffering of God's children. Created in His image. I want to be able to rejoice when others rejoice. Not feel envious or jealous of their circumstances, but to wholeheartedly rejoice with them.

I want to show the city around me, full of hurting, dying people that the love of God is real. It's so real you can feel it. It's probably not going to happen when I'm leading worship, preaching, or writing a blog entry. It's going to happen when I live. How can the love of God be more evident in me? How can we show the truth to those who are desperate for something real to cling to?

How do we feel? How do we feel?
My Generation is aching for real
Dying for love, crying for truth
My Generation is aching for You
Starfield "My Generation"

Truth or Dare

So I hit a roadblock in my year-long Bible reading. I ran into the begats already. I don't remember there being a lot of genealogy in Genesis. It jumped out at me like a moose on a cold dark night while driving through the Pine Pass. I wasn't expecting it. Here I am, psyching myself up for Numbers and bam! Out of the clear blue sky God drops a big list of begats right in my lap. In Genesis of all places!

It's like someone's taunting me. (I won't say God, because that would be sacrilegious) "How are you going to make this apply? I dare you to write a blog post about genealogy!" Well, I never turn down a dare.

That's not true. I always turn down dares. I'm the biggest scaredy cat in the world. When we play truth or dare, I always go with truth. Always. Even with all the embarrassing things that have happened to me in my life time. Always go with truth. Dare? I think not. I don't want to run around outside in my underwear. I don't want to eat four raw eggs. Or a live goldfish. I'm not going to lick the road, jump off a building, or knock on my neighbor's door to ask for toilet paper. I'm just not into dares. Someone always gets hurt.

I've hurt myself enough in my life without doing something (really) stupid. I've broken my arm, dislocated my hip, ruptured a disk in my back, gotten shot by a bb gun (ok, that one was pretty stupid), gotten electrocuted (like, really electrocuted. None of this "fork in a socket" electrocuted. But that's a story for another day. And it wasn't my fault. Stupid hotel door.), gotten stitches in my knee, had a nail go through my foot, got stepped on by a horse, and other numerous bumps and bruises that aren't coming to mind right now. Probably because of numerous head injuries. Just kidding, my noggin has always remained safe and sound. See, I don't need to provide opportunities to get injured. These opportunities manifest themselves in my life already.

However, if you challenge me on an intellectual level, I will probably not be able to back down. I like to pretend that I'm really smart. I don't want everyone to find out that it's just a facade. So, if you challenge me by saying "I bet you can't find an applicable message from a genealogical list in the Old Testament" I will say "challenge accepted."

Being pregnant is a love/hate experience. Morning sickness? I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how awful it is. Decorating a nursery? Awesome! One of my favorite parts about being pregnant is scouring baby names. There's like a million baby name websites online now. My favorite is Nymbler. You give them some names that you like, and it gives you a whole bunch more based on your preferences. It's like a baby name game show! Seriously. You should check it out. You can waste a whole afternoon on that site.

Some people love using Biblical names for their offspring. I'm all for this. Especially if you go the extra mile and dig deep for your Biblical name. Who knew Jared and Kenan were Bible names? They sound pretty circa 1990's to me, but what do I know? Skip over the oft used names like John, Elizabeth, and Jacob. Here are my top suggestions for Bible Names (you probably won't find these on Nymbler):

Ashkenaz- Kind of has a ring to it. Sounds like a basketball player's name- Ashkenaz Olajuwon.

Put- you probably won't have to worry about anyone misspelling this one.

Zurishaddai- Seriously. Just say this name. It's all kinds of ballin'. It sounds even cooler if you whisper it.

Mushi- as in "I like my bananas mushi."

Arphaxad- Sounds like a heartburn medicine. "Honey, my reflux is acting up." "Well, go take an Arphaxad."

One Bible name I don't suggest? Nimrod. That's right. Nimrod. It was once a regal name; synonymous with bravery, might, heroism.

One of Cush's descendants was Nimrod, who became a heroic warrior.
He was a mighty hunter in the LORD's sight. His name became proverbial, and people would speak of someone as being "like Nimrod, a mighty hunter in the LORD's sight."
Genesis 10:8&9

Wow, what an honor. When someone did something brave, their friends would say "they just pulled a Nimrod." It's like when I sing a crazy high solo in church people say "Elizabeth just pulled a Beyonce." Actually, I'm pretty sure when Beyonce sings people say "Beyonce just pulled an Elizabeth." But that's besides the point. Nimrod was a legend. The Bible said he "became proverbial."

When I saw this I kind of laughed to myself because I was thinking of the way we use the word Nimrod nowadays. Today's definition of Nimrod? A person regarded as silly, foolish, or stupid. Believe it or not, this usage became popular when used by Bugs Bunny to mock Elmer Fudd. Nimrod's legacy was marred by a cartoon bunny!

So, of course this got me thinking. How much weight do we put in others' opinions of who we are? Especially in a society who has a shorter attention span than my four year old son, popular opinion rises and falls like a stormy sea. I'm not saying that we should throw the baby out with the bathwater; if everyone really can't stand you, you might be doing a little something wrong. It may be time for a little self-evaluating.

But sometimes we need to let go of what others think and grasp what is important. When I was learning to drive, I would always get rattled by the person behind me. Of course I was driving carefully, going the speed limit, so the crazy person behind me wasn't too pleased. I could see them in my rear view mirror swerving all over, tailgating, and acting a fool. It would just get me flustered. My dad would tell me to not worry about the person in the rear view. He told me to focus on what was important- what was in front of me.

See, we always have the people in our lives that are constantly spewing negativity in our direction. No matter how you drive, it'll never be good enough. You see them in your rear view- criticizing your every move, using threatening fear-inducing tactics to try to force you to do things their way. But that's exactly why we need to let go of trying to please everyone. Trying to make everyone completely satisfied with us. Focus on your priorities. What's in front of you? What are your surroundings? Don't lose sight of your destination because of what's in your rear view. You'll end up crashing and burning worrying about what's behind you- what you have no control over.

People may love you today, but your legacy will one day fade away. Twenty years from now a cartoon rabbit robot(everything's robot in the future) will be flying around in its car (everyone knows that you have to include flying cars in any mention of the future) mocking our legacy. But what matters in the end? One day the memory of who we were will grow dimmer and dimmer until it passes away. But what remains?

"The grass withers, and the flowers fade beneath the breath of the LORD. And so it is with people.
The grass withers, and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever."
Isaiah 40:7&8

One day all that surrounds us will fade away. But the word of God stands forever. It's HIS legacy that remains. So why do we waste time honoring our legacy? Instead, may everything we do point to Him. The glory we give Him is eternal. If our lives point towards Him, others will see and come to know Him. That produces eternal results.

If one hundred years from now I haven't been cryogenically frozen and resuscitated once medicine has found a way to keep me alive longer, no one will probably remember my name. No one's going to remember me as a mighty, courageous warrior. And it doesn't really matter. I want to live to serve my king. To love my God and the people I come in contact with. Storing up my treasures in Heaven. That's the legacy I want to leave.

Infectious Skin Diseases, Wild Birds, and House-Invading Mildew. This PSA brought to you by Leviticus

So, my husband has been super excited about our church doing a "read through the Bible in a Year" program. You know the one I'm talking about, right? It gives you so many chapters to read each day so by the end of the year you will hopefully be finishing up Revelation. We have our little bookmarks so we don't get off track- we're ready to go. Thank goodness that we're doing a blended program where we skip around and not going straight through the Old Testament. As gung-ho as I am at the beginning of the year, I always run out of gas right around Leviticus chapter fourteen.

No offense, Leviticus. It's just that I'm not a priest and all, and while contagious skin diseases sound like they would be fun to read about, they're not. (I lied. They actually are. I just read Leviticus 14 as a reference point and I couldn't put it down. Bible 1, Elizabeth 0.) All I'm saying is I'm glad that today's pastors don't exactly follow the same priestly guidelines as the Old Testament. If someone had a contagious skin disease, I don't want to be the one to check to make sure it's all healed up. Paging Dr. Oz. You see this dude's skin rash? Yeah, that's your territory Doc. Want to know what I'm talking about? Go ahead and read Leviticus fourteen. It also broaches the subject of infectious mildew in the home. Let me just say the cleansing process includes the blood of wild birds. It's a real page turner.

"Through the Bible in a Year" programs always makes me think of my days in Bible college. I look back at my time in Bible college fondly. For the most part. The Bible reading program wasn't one of my strong points. It's not that I have anything against the Bible (obviously), I just wasn't fantastic at reading it according to a schedule for a grade. (Or a mark, for all of you Canadians.) It would be two days before the end of the semester and I would be in Psalms. What? I was supposed to be done with Jeremiah by now? Great. I guess we're going with the Bible on CD while I'm sleeping.

I still remember that week in June like it was yesterday. I had a horrible cold. Bad. Bad Cold. I drank a gallon of Neo-Citran (thera-flu for all you Americans). Canadians have crazy cold medicine. It makes you all loopy and you start thinking everything is funny. We took a break from our studies and headed out for Slurpees/Frosters (whatever you want to call the disgusting partially frozen beverages only teenagers buy) from our local gas station. While we were there I thought it would be funny to buy a hair net. Not that funny. But it is when you take Neo-Citran. And since I was at a gas station, I paid like, 5 times what I should have paid for it. Like laundry soap, some things you don't buy at gas stations. Actually, most things you don't buy at gas stations. Like, basically everything. Just don't shop at gas stations.

As I headed back to the dorm I donned my new purchase and vowed to finish Isaiah by daybreak. I asked a friend of mine to play some music on her computer while we were studying, but she didn't have any, so we ended up listening to those free songs that come with your computer. You know what I'm talking about, right? If you open up Media Player there's Beethoven's fifth, some Celtic song, and a few other choice picks. A song that sounded like an ancient Chinese ballad started playing, and I felt inspired to start quoting the Psalms I was reading. It went something like this:

(Cue dark, dissonant chord strummed on a traditional Chinese instrument, perhaps a Pipa or Ruan-)

Me, in my most dramatic voice:
O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your rage.
Have compassion on me, Lord, for I am weak.
Heal me, Lord, for my body is in agony.
(Another dramatic chord on the instruments)

Me, sobbing:
I am worn out from sobbing.
Every night tears drench my bed;
my pillow is wet from weeping.
My vision is blurred by grief;
my eyes are worn out because of all my enemies.
(Brief musical interlude)

Me, shaking my fist in the air at the unnamed evil ones:
Go away, all you who do evil,
for the Lord has heard my crying.
The Lord has heard my plea;
the Lord will answer my prayer.
May all my enemies be disgraced and terrified.
May they suddenly turn back in shame.
Psalm 6

I'm pretty sure I passed out somewhere around this point and woke up at 8 the next morning sleeping on an old couch in the basement of the girls' dorm with my Bible on the floor by my side and a hairnet over my eyes. Where did this hairnet come from?

Not my finest moment. Needless to say, I'm still working through a little PTSD from past Bible Reading programs. But this time will be different. I will succeed! Because I have a blog! And I can kill two birds with one stone (no pun intended, see previous mention of Leviticus 14), and share some of my insights from my daily Bible reading with you right here.

Right now we're reading through Genesis and Romans. Romans is one of my favorite books. More like the second half, but today I've gained more appreciation for the first few chapters. I decided to read the Bible in New Living Translation this time, because it's helped open my eyes to see scriptures that I am familiar with in a different way. I really love how the NLT translates Paul's epistles. I think it really captures the spirit of what Paul is teaching.

So Paul starts Romans off with a bang talking about how God hates sin, and that even those who haven't heard the truth of who God is naturally knows when they are doing wrong. We were created that way. He's listed different ways people live in their sin because they have refused the truth of the message of Jesus Christ. Now, the recipients of this message are the Jewish Christians living in Rome. You can just see the people, the "church" who has received this message being like, "mmhmm. Those sinners are so messed up. I'm so glad that we aren't like them. We have got our act together. For real."

Then Paul pulls out the big guns at the beginning of chapter two:

You may be saying, "What terrible people you have been talking about!" But you are just as bad, and you have no excuse!
Romans 2:1

Oh, snap. He called them out.

When you say they are wicked and should be punished, you are condemning yourself, for you do these very same things. And we know that God, in his justice, will punish anyone who does such things.
Romans 2:1-2

When I read this, I started thinking about myself. I started thinking about the church. Paul caught my attention on this one. We're so focused on the sin of those in the world, yet we're wallowing in our own filthy sin here as well. How many times have we heard "The world is just so sinful nowadays. Look how people dress. Look how people act. They're just full of sin." What about you? How's your heart? Full of judgment? Bitterness? They have some inkling that what they are doing is wrong, but we KNOW for sure that we are wrong. We have God's word to tell us. We have the Holy Spirit speaking to our hearts correcting us.

In my last post I talked about the correction of God. He will speak to us about things we need to change. He will offer us correction and guidance. But we must react to that. He expects us to. He patiently guides us and works with us in our weakness, but He expects change. He expects growth. He doesn't expect us to stay in our sin.

Don't you realize how kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Or don't you care? Can't you see how kind he has been in giving you time to turn from your sin?
Romans 2:4

God has shown us His kindness and mercy through his gentle correction. How will you respond? Will you ignore his voice and turn away from his discipline? Or will you allow Him to create in you a clean heart, one that is pleasing to Him?

Only a fool despises a parent's discipline; whoever learns from correction is wise.
Proverbs 15:5

When the Ball Drops

Oh New Year's, what a love hate relationship we have. Such anticipation, such expectations, such a let down. My best New Year's Eve? When my son was born. My worst? All the other ones. US Weekly tells me that I should dress in something sparkly, use their guide for the perfect New Year's Eve hairdo, glue on some false eyelashes, and dance the night away. Sounds like fun, right? Let me let you in on a little secret. It never happens that way. Unless your name is Kim Kardashian (Kim, if you're reading this- Hey girl, let's get together some time), you will probably be disappointed with your New Year's Eve experience. Hey, I'm open to someone proving me wrong, but chances are your evening rates somewhere between cleaning out the old messages in your email account and watching a "Deadliest Catch" marathon. Spoiler Alert: They catch crabs.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't try, I'm just saying most New Year's Eve extravaganzas end up as a dismal failure. In honor of this wretched non-holiday which stores use as an excuse to close at 4 p.m. (here's looking at you, Dollar Store), I will list some of my most memorable New Year's Eve memories...

1994-1997- I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure most of these years we celebrated New Year's as a family playing Canasta. Yeah, we're pretty cool. No, Canasta isn't an old lady game.

1998- officially the coolest New Year's for me. I was in 8th grade, and went to a Nazarene Youth all nighter with my bestie. We bowled, ice skated,(yikes- a bunch of Texans trying to ice skate), and went to a concert. I don't remember much about the concert except there was a band that had a keytar, and one band was called "Animal Couch." Really? Best band name ever. I wore cool jeans with black stripes down the side.

2000- Can't forget the millennium... or can I? We watched Austin Powers and drank sparkling grape juice. I'm such a rebel.

2003- I took my brother's then-girlfriend (now wife) who was visiting on a tour to a nearby town. While we were in a store a blizzard hit. Cue panicked drive back home using mailboxes as road markers.

2005- My first New Year's with Trevor. We went to White Rock with friends and drank Raspberry Ginger ale from a two liter. Romantic.

2009- Drove around town trying to find a restaurant to have Aidan's birthday dinner. Ended up celebrating in McDonald's. Aidan didn't seem to mind. The McD's employees brought him a bunch of happy meal toys.

2006- Spent it in a hospital. Mr. Aidan finally graced us with his presence- right on time. I needed the tax deduction.

I've now accepted the fact that until Aidan is too cool for us, we will spend New Year's Eve celebrating his birthday. And you know what? It's produced some of the best New Year's celebrations I've had. Last night I made homemade mac n cheese and we ate popcorn and watched his favorite movies all night. I went to bed before midnight and didn't feel like I missed anything. I did still wear false eyelashes, though. I can't let myself go completely. I have to admit, they did look a bit out of place.

So now it's January 1, 2011. A bright white clean slate. Judging by the amount of Facebook status updates (I've got my finger on the pulse of the people), it's resolution time. You have to have new year's resolutions. Next time someone asks you what your resolutions are tell them, "I have no resolutions." See the look of stunned horror on their faces? People don't know how to deal with that. You have to have resolutions.

My issue is this: Why must we make our resolutions so unattainable? Lose 100 pounds? Not likely. Unless your name is Jared and you're going on a Subway diet. Score an invite to Wills and Kate's wedding? Keep dreaming. Never drink pop again? I don't know... caffeine is very addictive. People who have little caffeine intake are crabby. Fit into your skinny jeans from grade ten? Who are you kidding? Donate them to the Salvation Army. Some guy in an emo band is missing out right now because you're holding onto those. We need to aim lower. Strive for mediocrity. How about some attainable new year's resolutions for once? Here's a proposed list of attainable New Year's resolutions. Feel free to use these in conversation when you are inevitably asked what your goals are for the year.

"I'm going to start working out at the gym daily during the month of January, and kind of curtail my visits after that point. Kind of maintain, you know?"

"I'm going to limit my McDonald's trips to once a week or so." (or so gives you a little wiggle room)

"I'm going to keep my yearly weight gain between 5-10 pounds."

"I'm going to try to read more. I'll start with People magazine and work my way to OK and Us Weekly. And Elizabeth's blog. That stuff is entertaining, yet informative."

"I'm going to try not to go to jail."

"I will do something nice for someone once a week."

See? Totally reasonable goals. Because failing really stinks. I know you're probably one of those people that have an inspirational poster of a man climbing a mountain with a saying like, "The only real failure in life is the failure to try." hanging on your bedroom wall, but we all know that's a bunch of hullabaloo. Failure isn't fun. It hurts. It's hard to take chances. Especially if you've been there before and fell flat on your face.

When I was a kid I couldn't do cartwheels. I tried once, but I couldn't do it. I felt like an idiot, so I never tried it again. I had some pretty good excuses, but really I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to do one. I hate the feeling failure. I was a clumsy kid and would always break things. I tried really hard, but the more I tried the worse I got. I would get so mad at myself. And even now, I try so hard to be perfect. But I just keep screwing it up.

This morning I was thinking about how I always watch the ball drop in New York on New Year's. Every year I resolve this is the year that I will fix all of my faults, but I end up dropping the ball, too. And I'll be honest, I don't know how to deal with that. How can we deal with our failures the way God would want us to instead of just beating ourselves up? How do we grow in Christ and bear fruit, instead of taking one step forward, two steps back?

First of all, we need to recognize the difference between condemnation and correction. The enemy knows that we can waste a lot of time beating ourselves up when we're wrapped up in condemnation. But, condemnation is not of God.

[There is] therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
Romans 8:1

I spend so much time and energy beating myself up for my failures, instead of focusing on living a life empowered by His Holy Spirit.

We also need to accept God's discipline and correction.

And have you entirely forgotten the encouraging words God spoke to you, his children? He said, "My child, don't ignore it when the Lord disciplines you, and don't be discouraged when he corrects you. For the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes those he accepts as his children."
Hebrews 12:5-6

I love this. Don't be discouraged when he corrects you. We become so discouraged because we don't realize that his discipline is an investment in our lives. I believe God wants us to rely on Him to be our strength. He wants our lives to be filled with His Spirit so that we are empowered to live a life pleasing to Him.

So, when people ask me what my resolution is, I'm going to tell them to read Ephesians 3. I want my life to be deeply rooted in the love of Christ. That I may be given inner strength through the power of the Holy Spirit.

I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit. And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God. Now glory be to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope.
Ephesians 3:16-20