I Want to Be Just Like You

Finding time to write has been a difficult task since I began my new job.  Things happen daily that I think about including, but at the end of the day, I'm so tired, I barely make it to my bed.  Tonight, my girls are gone for half of their summer visitation time with their dad, and I have a moment to sit down and think through some of the things I have experienced since April. 

Almost three years ago, I made a decision to get out my pencils and my books, and head back to school for those teachers' dirty looks.  I hadn't thought about studying or taking a test in many, many years - not since the day I received my diploma at Lipscomb University.  However, I had begun to feel like it was time to take a different direction in my career.  So, I enrolled in a bunch of science classes, completed all of the pre-requisites, and was accepted to Nursing School.  However, unforeseen circumstances kept me from pursuing a future as an RN.  I really couldn't understand it, but I had to trust that there is a reason for everything.

During the 2011-12 school year, my girls had a "What I Want to Be When I Grow Up" day.  My girls wanted to be everything from a zookeeper to a rock star, and of course, having a dad for an attorney, they considered that.  As ridiculous as it may sound to anyone who reads this, I got my feelings hurt when they, not even once, wanted to be like me.  I wore so many hats, it was difficult to describe in one word what I did for a living, much less figure out how to dress for it.  Maybe that's petty, I don't know, but for the sake of being transparent, I was genuinely sad.  I knew that if I had gone to Nursing School, my girls would have considered the option of wearing scrubs to school that day with a stethoscope around their necks.  I guess in all, I was having a pity party.

In June, I had the opportunity to take my girls to the beach while I went to work each day.  That is an advantage of having a job whose headquarters is in Florida. :)  They had been out of school for a couple of weeks and they had been listening to me make phone calls to churches all day long.  So, it was a good change to hop in the car and drive South for a few days.  On the way home, my girls were playing games on my phone, singing loudly, talking and giggling.  At one point, I looked up and saw them each with a straw placed as if it were a phone headset and they began making videos pretending they were calling churches...like their mom.  Then, I heard one of them say, "I want to do what you do when I grow up."  Yes, I cried like a baby, and still am as I type this.

There have been countless moments since I accepted this job with COSCO & Associates that I have realized, without a doubt, that I am doing exactly what I am supposed to do,  and there will be more to come, I'm sure, because God is just like that.  Of course, at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter what I do for a living, and whether I'm an RN or a JD, as long as I'm serving my Savior...working to become more like Him, so that when my girls say, "I want to be just like you," what they really mean is they want to be more like Jesus.

Ordinarily Extraordinary

Last Summer, God allowed me to cross paths with an amazing man (I will call John).  We spent hours upon hours laughing and loving life.  We spent a memorable Thanksgiving together with his family and then, December came, along with some really dark days.  I don't know exactly what the purpose of our time together might have been, or why our paths ever crossed.  However, I am thankful that he was sensitive to the Word and never hesitated to share it with me. 

Tonight, I came across an e-mail he sent me on October 19.  The night before I had shared with him how I felt like I was an outsider looking in on my life...how I didn't know where God wanted me, but I so wanted to know.  The next morning, he shared his daily devotion with me...Elijah and the widow...

"A famine was ravaging the land, and it was severely affecting the life of that young widow. With no husband, no food, and a hungry child, it looked like she and her son would die soon.

She was planning their final meal when Elijah arrived. Tired from his journey, he asked her for water and food.

She explained that she was preparing a last meal for her son and herself. But Elijah asked if she could first make him a small loaf of bread, and he shared with her a promise from the Lord: “The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the LORD sends rain on the land.

She did as Elijah asked, honoring the Lord with her act of hospitality. And God miraculously provided her with flour and oil that never ran out until the end of the famine. She gave—and God gave even more.

This “ordinary” person was someone whom God would use for his extraordinary purposes."

John commented on the devotion and encouraged me with these words:  "I know that we are always striving to make our lives and the lives of our families better, wishing and hoping that we'll get a break.  We just don't know when to expect it. All we can really do is live each day and make the best of it being thankful for what we have been given. I guess I was relating the stories together because the widow was on the down and out thinking that she was at the end of her rope when her break happened and they were given their hope back."

How true his words were...and are.  About a month after I got this message, God began to reveal to me in a big way His plan for the next chapter of my life with my new job.  While I lost John along the way, his words of encouragement will resonate in my mind and in my heart. 

Just as recently as this afternoon, I was reminded of God's provision.  He has confirmed my decision to change jobs over and over again, and I am completely humbled by His love for me.  His faithfulness is overwhelming.  God STILL uses ordinary people for HIS extraordinary purposes.

While my heart is saddened that John is no longer in my life, I am thankful that he allowed God to speak to me through him. 

Letting Go

My dad sometimes went to the “shop” at the barn to work on various contraptions and sometimes I was lucky enough to be able to go with him! I LOVED to go to the barn, dig in the dirt, play in mud puddles, watch the baby calves, talk to my poppa and climb on the tractors. I was well aware of the bull pen and the fact that it was enclosed by an electric fence. As a little girl, I didn’t know what “electrical shock” was, but it sounded really scary to me…not to mention the fact that my mother had told me a thousand times to “stay away from the bull pen, because the electric fence might shock you and you might die.” (Side note: She also told me that if I touched a cat I would get cat scratch fever and die.) Needless to say, I kept my distance…well, all except one day.

For some reason on this particular Fall day, my dad had to go into the bull pen to do something for my poppa. Because I was afraid of the bull myself and had been told he was so mean, I was concerned about my dad being inside the pen. I watched the bull intently, as if I were going to step in the pen and fight him if he made a move even remotely in my dad’s direction (I don’t know where I was going to find a cape). I’m not sure what the bull did, and he may have even twitched because a fly had landed on him, but out of fear for my dad, I reached out to the fence to hold on and yell at my dad to “watch out!” In my moment of concern and without thinking about my mother’s words of warning about “electrical shock”, I learned what it meant. I didn’t only grab the fence, but the fence grabbed me. I cried, screamed and pulled and pulled, but the fence would NOT let go! My dad, being the hero that he is, ran to my rescue and after a few seconds, or what seemed minutes, he was able to pull me away from the clutches of the fence. I was crying hysterically (and shocked at the same time that I didn’t die) and hugged my dad so tightly because I was so afraid and in a lot of pain. All 10 of my fingers were blistered and hurt so badly it hurt to touch anything. The blisters remained for a couple of weeks and were a constant reminder of the pain and fear I had experienced in the blink of an eye.

How similar life experiences have been since then when “letting go” has been so difficult in so many situations. Whether it be letting go of a loved one who has left this world or just stepped out of my life, someone who has hurt me with words said or actions made, maybe I’ve been in a situation where I have become complacent, etc., etc…I can cry, scream, pull and pull, but it’s impossible for me to let go alone. Many times, the pain seems to linger. My Heavenly Father, being the hero that He is, runs to my rescue and pulls me from the clutches of the struggle. While my “blisters” are only temporary, the permanent scars in His hands are the only reminder I need that He is the only One who can pull me away from the clutches of bondage and pain and allow me to “let go”. “But 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

Butterflies, Holy Macaroni and CHIPS

Many people will cross our paths during our lifetimes, but Esther Perry has been one of the most prominent characters in mine. Every summer day she would put on her halter top and shorts, I would put on my t-shirt and shorts, and we would head out to save the world, solve a crime, teach a class or be heroes…we never knew what our day might bring.

Some days we would ride our bikes until our legs felt like jello, pretending to be Ponch and John from CHIPS. Some days we would pretend to get married to our latest crush…”Today, we are here to join this man and this woman in Holy Macaroni.”

I can remember walking barefoot through rocks and making mud pies with her. I remember singing songs with her, and I remember when she hit me with the stick from our stick ball game. However painful or happy any of those memories are, I wouldn’t trade a single one…they contributed in making me who and what I am today.

When I was a little girl, I was more afraid of butterflies than the thought of a monster in the dark. Oh, how my neighbors would torture me with butterflies. I was a short, little, chubby girl who loved to play outside, drink kool-aid and draw in the dirt. Esther, my neighbor, cousin and closest friend, would catch a butterfly by the wings, chase me with it and tease me until I cried.

As I have grown, I have realized the great bond Esther and I have shared through the years. She is someone who is real…no judgments, no assumptions. When I got married, she was in my wedding. She wrote and recited this poem as we were getting ready:

I remember skating on the porch,
And playing football in the yard.
I remember that you would run home crying
Because Neal threw the ball too hard.

I remember that big ‘ole rock
Where we piled the leaves so high.
We would run and take a flying leap
As if we could touch the sky.

I remember riding bikes and playing CHIPS
All day long.
We’d always fight over who was Ponch
And who got to sing the song.

I remember we had a dirt track
For our Hot Wheels on the hill
And I was wondering…
Do you run away from butterflies still?

I remember playing “Holy Macaroni,”
And singing “I’ve Been Redeemed.”
This day didn’t take as long to get here
As it so long ago seemed.

We then grew to be teenagers,
And we went our separate ways,
But it’s the bond we made as children
That brings us together again today.

When I gave birth to my sweet, little girls, she always came to visit. When I got divorced, she encouraged me. Every year on her birthday, March 29, I reflect on the many wonderful memories of our childhood together. I’m not afraid of butterflies anymore. The memories of her chasing me with one make me giggle and make for great stories to share with my girls.

Happy birthday, Esther! We've come a long way!

Transition and Provision

A little more than 11 years ago I was sitting in this same place attempting to put on paper what thoughts were running through my mind.  At the time, I was a new mother with a precious baby at home to whom I wanted to devote EVERY moment loving, nurturing and teaching her all that I could possible squeeze into each day.  I had been employed by the Executive Board of the Tennessee Baptist Convention (TBC) since 1996, and they allowed me to slowly transition back into my full-time position.  While I was so very grateful, my heart and mind were at home with my new gift.  God answered my prayer in a very definitive way making it possible for me to resign my position at the TBC and assume my new role as a stay-at-home mom.

A little more than 7 years ago, life's challenges led me to a point where I would need to find employment outside my home, once again.  God had already been at work, just as He always is, and there was a position at TBC that I would eventually fill.  That part-time position would prove to be an eye-opening, God-sized reminder that He certainly wasn't through with me yet. 

Since that time, I have been allowed to experience so many different character-building moments among Christian brothers and sisters who have taken me under their wings.

Here I am again with a God-given opportunity to invest more of my time at home with both of my sweet girls.  In November, the TBC entrusted me to coordinate the first-ever Vendor Exhibit Hall.  Little did I know that God's plan would include more than just communicating with vendors and acting as their liaison.  COSCO & Associates, Inc., was one of those vendors and they began communicating with me regarding the possibility of joining their team.

In January, I was offered a position with them to work out of my home full-time...another reminder that God still isn't finished with me!  :)  After MUCH prayer, consideration, and counsel from friends and family, I decided to resign my position at the TBC, effective March 29, 2012, and will be joining the sales team of COSCO & Associates, Inc. April 1. 

COSCO & Associates, Inc. is a company which has specialized exclusively in the design and build of churches and church-related facilities across the country for over 43 years.  Their passion and calling is to assist churches in building church structures that will facilitate worship and make visions realities as well as sharing a common goal with the local church in the desire to build God’s Kingdom.  COSCO provides numerous, unique services to churches including no “up-front” money from the church and providing a GUARANTEED MAXIMUM PRICE CONTRACT once the design is completed. 

While I am excited to begin a new phase in my life, at the same time I will always be grateful and mindful of the TBC and all the ways my heart has been blessed...and the ways I have grown.  I am thankful a thousand times over for the opportunities I have had in serving the Lord alongside so many faithful servants.  The relationships I have built with church leaders across this state are invaluable to me.  I look forward to continuing those relationships, as well as buildnig new relationships and partnering with church leaders of all denominations across the country in building God's Kingdom.  Visit our website http://www.churchdesign.com/!

Stretch Armstrong

From very early in my life, I felt like it was my responsibility as a little sister to make sure I played with every toy my big brother ever got to the point of aggravating him as much as I possibly could.  Not only did I take my “responsibility” very seriously, I happened to like many of his toys much more than I did my own.   Many times I would play so rough with his toys, I would end up breaking something and he would get so angry with me!  J

Christmas 1979 was a present year for my brother that I will never forget!  He got a “Stretch Armstrong!”  For anyone not familiar with this nostalgic figure, I included his picture!  Now, to most, he would look like just some other Hulk Hogan type phenomena in a box, but Stretch was cooler than any WWF wrestler we could ever know…even Jake, “the Snake” (I will share my WWF knowledge with you another day, haha). 

Stretch Armstrong was a doll that was about 15 inches tall.  Wikipedia says that Stretch was made of “latex rubber, filled with gelled corn syrup.”  The fascination with him was that when you pulled on his arms and legs, he could stretch from his original size up to four or five feet!  Can you imagine how amazing that was?  I pulled and pulled at him trying to stretch him as far as I possibly could.  Yes, it was cool that he would “stretch” like that, but looking back, I really wanted to know what would happen if he was stretched farther than he could go.  More importantly, because there wasn’t an encyclopedia, like our Wikipedia, now, that would allow me to know exactly what was inside.  Plus, when I would pull and pull to make him bigger than myself, he would immediately begin to retract into his original 15 inch size and shape.

I was sitting in the Atlanta airport on Sunday during a 3-hour layover.  I was alone (of course, in theory, I wasn’t really alone, because that airport is ALWAYS full), but I was travelling without a companion.  I called my friend, Linda, to check in and just to chat.  I was a little emotional because of many factors and after listening to a few sniffs, Linda said something to me that I needed to hear.  “Isn’t it amazing how God STRETCHES us to show us how to depend on Him more?”  That question opened up a conversation that changed my tears of sadness and loneliness into a smile and a feeling that His arms were wrapped around me.

When we hung up, Stretch Armstrong came to my mind.  I would pull and pull on him trying to stretch him so far so he would burst open and I could finally see for myself what was inside!  It’s amazing to me how God stretches us WAY beyond ourselves, and it’s not a test for Him to see what we have inside, but it’s how He shows US what we have inside ourselves.  It’s how we learn to depend on Him to retract us into the shape that HE wants for us.  The fabulous thing about all of it is that if we stretch to the point that we break, He knows how to put us back together.  In fact, He does His best work when we’ve reached the end of ourselves. 

Stretch Armstrong’s arms would stretch up to 4 or 5 feet.  Jesus’ arms stretched out on a cross.  Stretch Armstrong had corn syrup running through his body.  I’ve got Jesus living in my heart.

We're Playing Bas-ket-ball, We Love that Bas-ket-ball

Both of my girls wanted to sign up to play basketball this year.  I had tried to hard not to influence them either way, so when they decided they wanted to play, I was ecstatic!  :)  While I had volunteered the past few years to coach, I had decided at the end of the last basketball season that retirement might be good for me.  Who would have thought that coaching recreation basketball could be so stressful...of course, when you tend to be competitive, stress is always a factor. 

Two weeks ago, Lauren's team was playing a strong team from a different community...somewhat of a rival community...a rival community since I was in the 2nd grade.  Watching from the stands would be a difficult task.  At the end of the first half, I only had about 2 nails left that I hadn't bitten.  As the third quarter began, I could feel the tension rising from the other side of the court where Lauren's coach was standing.  He had spent a lot of time, although no more than usual, yelling at the referees rather than keeping the girls' minds on the game.  While that is my opinion, the referees obviously agreed with me, as the next thing I knew, they were huddled around him and eventually escorting him out of the gym. 

Ever get that feeling inside that you HAVE to do something?  You know, like you feel as if everyone and everything around you becomes a blur and then a huge light comes on with a voice that says, "You better do something."  Okay, okay, maybe it's not that way for everyone, but suddenly, I felt like some unknown force was lifting me out of my seat and sending me over to take care of business.  Well, how could I argue with such a force?  In my high-heel, black boots, I began walking.  I passed the coach as he walked (aided by a couple of guys) out and politely asked him if he minded if I went and helped...as if he were going to change my mind.  :)  There were 7 pairs of eyes glued to me as I got my piece of paper out and told them what we were about to do.  They listened and rallied...it was like a new group of girls had hit the floor.

Over the course of the next week, changes took place.  The recreation officials contacted our community leaders and said, "I don't know who the woman was that came out of the stands to help, but we saw a whole new ballgame for the last quarter and a half." 

This past Saturday was my first game back as a coach, and I cannot begin to tell how invigorating it was to watch the team execute the new style of play they had learned in just a week.  What style is that?  It's a style that my Lady Patriot peeps still understand well, I'm sure.  In fact, I've seen Stephanie B. and Kelly L. enforcing that style this season with their own teams.  It's fundamentals...dribbling, shooting, passing (BOUNCE passes)...and my favorite, HUSTLE...making teamwork inevitable.