the Essence of Pearls

Book Review: Nearing Home by Billy Graham

2012-01-26T04:33:00.000-08:00

What an honor and privilege to review Billy Graham's most recent book, Nearing Home. A book dedicated to rallying it's readers to finish their life strong and with purpose. While focusing on what life has been like post-retirement, Graham also looks back in recollection of his ministry and faith journey. The most beautiful undertone is the way Graham honors his wife Ruth throughout the book. Now as a widower, he poignantly shares his sorrows and ache for her presence, all the while, longing for the day they will be united together with Christ.

Nearing Home primarily speaks to an audience in the later years of life. The Golden Years, as some would call it. A correction made by Graham himself, that the Golden Years aren't always so golden. Yet, his challenge to rise above the sufferings of this life through personal stories of perseverance and heroic examples of great finishers cheers us on regardless of our season of life.

My favorite point to ponder is this, "Are we joyfully giving thanks in all circumstances, or are we making our last years on earth unbearable for ourselves and those close to us? Are we obediently setting things in place so that others will know that we were responsible followers of Christ?" Simply stated, Graham's call to consider, to plan, and prepare for our legacy is a reoccurring theme emphasized over and over throughout the book.

I would recommend this book for all ages and seasons of life. Nearing Home reaches across generational lines by offering practical insight into living a peace filled life, finishing strong with the final destination in mind.

Time to Put Your Big Girl Panties On!

2012-01-22T16:46:00.000-08:00

I recently read that women are most interested in learning about organization, relationship tips, and how to save money. Well ladies, this ones for you!

I haven't always been very good with this money thing. Let me rephrase. I haven't always been very smart about this money thing. I've learned a lot of lessons the hard way but the pendulum has swung and I think I'm finally getting the hang of a thing or two.

I entered the working world in the mid-90's. A time when business was booming, the economy was soaring, and life was one big party. I took that liberty to spend most of my money freely (carelessly). Usually on myself. I'll admit it...it sure was grand! My investment advisor even told me that if I kept up investing I'd be a millionaire by retirement. So naturally, I believed that I was set for life.

Except that life was only beginning and after a short while I began to see that it wasn't all stars, and hearts, and rainbows. Nope. This girl needed to take a few swift rides down the roller coaster of life and learn a few lessons in hard knocks. It was hard. Then it got a little harder. At times we were desperate, without hope. Yet, each time we made it through. Another lesson learned, passing the test.

A lot of folks these days are slinging around the word entitlement. Maybe you've heard it used and maybe you agree that this is the root of our problems. Entitlement for me was the hardest death to die. Shopping spree's and mani-pedis, trips and travel, and all the spend it and forget it behaviors that I believed were owed to me because I work hard and darn it, I deserved it!

Well, I don't buy it anymore. At least I don't buy it until I've saved up my money to buy it. So how do we learn how to save more of our money? Well, I thought I'd share a few very basic money saving ideas that we have implemented at our house. I believe it's the little things that over time will make you feel like your making a significant difference in your pocketbook .

1. Haul your trash and recycling. This wasn't my idea. It was my husbands. I hated it and I really, really didn't want to do it. Gross! But we went ahead and got ourselves 2 bright and shiny 30 gallon receptacles, one for trash and one for recycling, and now we haul it ourselves. Our only expense is the special trash bags that our garbage must be dumped in. They are sold for $20 for a pack of 20. This equals $1 per week for our family.

2. Cancel your cable. This wasn't my idea. It was my husbands. I hated it and I really, really didn't want to do it. I mean, what about the news, weather, and entertainment. But we went ahead and cut the cable anyways. At first we went to Best Buy and bought a $30 HDTV antenna. Our hope was to pick up the local HD channels for free. Unfortunately for us, our country home nestled into the bedrocks doesn't allow for any reception. So we settled on Plan B, a monthly subscription to Netflix. For $7.99 a month we get unlimited streaming hooked right up to our television. It's great!

3. Cut the land line. Seriously, who calls the land line anymore? I'm proud to say, this one was my idea! But what about emergencies? Well, I found all of our sitters have cell phones and if we bopped out, leaving our kiddos at home for a short while, we would just leave one of our cell phones with them. Additionally, if you choose to cut your land line you can contact your police dispatch center to schedule a test 911 call. This allows you to confirm, from your home, that your correct address pops up in their system in case of an emergency. Total monthly savings $30.

4. Thrifty-is-Nifty. If you've followed this blog or been my friend for any amount of time you know that I am a sucker for thrift stores. When I consider all the things that need purchasing as the seasons change or another child goes through a growth spurt, the thrift store is always Plan A. Boots, coats, mittens, sweatpants, jeans and more. All of these items can really add up! My suggestion is to find a thrift store that you like. Believe me, I don't like all of them. You know the ones that leave you itchy when you leave, those I avoid. Most stores also have discount days, slashing their already thrifty prices by half. I've even found (in the Twin Cities) a few designer consignment shops. I love these for days when mama needs a new sweater or pair of boots!

5. Then save what you save! Now that you've gone through and made some hard choices, eliminating things that you've really wanted to keep but realizing at the end of the day that the difference lies between sacrifice now and freedom later. So go grab your calculator and add up your monthly savings. Take this number and stick it into your savings each month. Over time this can really add up!

Okay ladies, are you ready? Get set. It's time to get your big girl panties on and save some money!

My ONE Story

2012-01-12T20:06:00.000-08:00

{revised from an earlier post}

About two years ago our family began sponsoring a child from The Raining Season. His name is Musa and he is 8 years old. Like most child sponsorship experiences we first received a picture. Standing in my kitchen, I devoured every detail of this picture. From his smooth skin, to the color of his shirt, I just waited for the story in his eyes to leap into my heart. We tacked the picture to our fridge and thanked God for the privilege to be a part of this boys life.

A short while later I received a notification informing us that we could have the opportunity to Skype our sponsored child from Sierra Leone, Africa. All we had to do was sign-up. For those unfamiliar with Skype, it is basically an online application that allows you to dial in (make a phone call) from your computer to another computer. It's like having a live conversation along with live streaming video to the person on the other end of the line. Absolutely techno-amazing! From America to Africa I set up our first Skype session on a morning the kids would be home from school. I was tickled. My children were clueless.

Then came Skype day. Sitting at our kitchen table we met face to face with a little boy on the other side of the world. It was Musa. We watched him blink and breath and smile. His face was so timid yet he was so alive. During our time with him he showed us pictures he drew in school. He spoke in English. He told us that his favorite color is blue and that he likes to play ball. Even through broken sentences, a story, a life was being put together through the fragment of time we shared. In a short 20 minutes, our time was coming to a close. We waved good-bye, grinning from ear to ear. Then, in those last seconds Musa leaned into the camera and clearly said "I love you!"

And that's when it happened, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Love sorta does that do you, especially when its staring you right in the face. It comes in softly and unexpectedly sweeps you off your feet. Sending $40 a month to help pay for an orphaned child's basic needs and schooling is one thing. An opportunity to look into the eyes of some ONE God has given you the privilege to cover is completely overwhelming. So that's my ONE story. What is yours?

OMG...Set Me Free!

2012-01-07T11:13:00.000-08:00

I've been afraid most of my life. I remember in particular a certain season of my young adult life when it attacked me with such a force. At this time I was a single mom raising my one-year old and working full time. From the outside, life was neat and put together. Sorta. On the inside, crippled with torrential fear.

Alone. Living in a corrupt, unsafe neighborhood. Vulnerable and succumbing to a barrage of temptation, I suppose it began with a series of poor choices. Looking back now it's clear that I had made a deal with the Devil that he was ready to sign, seal, and deliver. And so began the night terrors.

It wasn't long after that I met my husband. Calm, gentle, and wise; we worked through a lot of stuff in those early years. But the fear has always been mine. It clings to me. The adventurer in me is always in pursuit of finding it's root, digging it up, and burying it for good. Only to turn around and find another thorn growing. Rinse and repeat. And so goes the fear factor of life.

It's the stuff of sorts that has left me wide-eyed in the middle of the night, paralyzed with grave indecision and despair. Sounds rough. Hopeless. Yet, I do believe that the more I age the stronger I become. With each passing wave I'm learning how to wage this war. More equipped to rise up, defend myself, and rely on one sure thing.

"My rock & my fortress. God alone. For this reason I shall not be shaken." (Psalms 62:1 Paraphrase mine)

For most of my sons life I have sensed a similar seed of fear. It hasn't warranted a whole lot of concern or attention. I'd say he's a normal kid. Except last week something changed, the seed had grown. Having locked eyes with the likes of this sort before, I felt my Mama Bear instincts rise up. No way, no how! Time to get digging. So after a serious heart to heart with my R & F, I was certain that my petition had been made crystal clear. I spent time talking about the subject of fear with my son. We talked about God's word which tells us over 360 times "Do not be afraid!" (which must be a pretty important statement worth repeating). Then, we prayed together. Asking together that God would dig it up and defend the prayers of his sons and daughters.

The timing for all this is good. It's a new year. A season in which we resolve to dissolve the old ways. Hoping to create something new or better for ourselves. One pointed realization in all this has been the way fear has been grappling all of my decisions. It's gotten old and I'm ready to kick it to the curb.

For 2012, I long to be set free from the fear that ties me down. Causing me to be less than the woman, daughter, mother, sister, and friend that God has created in me to be. Fully and completely. How shall I fulfill this resolution? OMG! The only place I know where to start.

P.S. Here is one of my favorite singer/songwriters, addressing the issue of fear in his song No Thief Like Fear

Enjoy!

The True Spirit of Christmas

2011-12-22T06:37:00.000-08:00

I must confess that this has been the ultimate-easy-joyful Christmas on record. In the past I would do my darndest. Making lists, sorting, and containing all the things I could fathom wrapping my mind and heart around. It never worked. By the eve of Christ's birth I would become an hurried, hassled mess. But not this year.

So what's the difference? For the past couple weeks I've taken a mini-sabbatical from my day job. Historically a slower time of year, I went to my boss (aka: the hubz) for permission and he said Yes!

Here we are just a few days from Christmas and I've been able to quiet myself during long hours of baking, spend time reading that ole' Christmas story, and ponder what the true spirit of Christmas really is.

As I reflect, I consider all the wonderful details in the story. I come to imagine, placing myself within the scene like a love-struck fictional bystander. I've found myself catching my breath a time or two...and with each passing year a new discovery unfolds.

This year I delight in the Magi. These scholarly, well-to-do foreign men traveling from the East. They were simply following their religion (astrology) and where it was leading them. In this case they were following a star (well, duh) when their journey just so happened to divinely collide with the greatest story ever told.

"When they saw the star , they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they open

ed their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh."

(Matthew 2: 10-11)

Enter the True Spirit of Christmas.

Imagine the kind of faith it takes to journey into a foreign land. If you've done it before then you know what I'm talking about. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. To cross over cultural lines rocks our comfort level and requires an extreme act of inner faith. This is the character we find in The Wise Men. On a journey so filled with conviction that they could not rest until they found the king they set out to find.

And when they came upon the house and discovered the child, they bowed down and worshiped him. That's odd...don't you think? When was the last time that you became so tripped up, flat on your face humbled, that all you could do was bow your head in worship? In my experience, this usually happens to me when I've been blown away by the overwhelming power of something only divine nature could unfold. Almost always completely unexpected. Something mighty, a long hard journey, and the beauty before them caused them to fall in favor of the child before their eyes.

Their story could end here and it would remain magnificent but it doesn't. Instead they add one more element to the saga. They came giving gifts. Precious, valuable, symbolic gifts. I won't go into the symbolism of each gift (Google it if your curious) but what I find most fascinating is what is left unsaid. Later on post-Jesus's birth we see the dynamics shift from sheer bliss to dire circumstances. With little warning, awoken from a dream from God, Joseph is told that he must flee to Egypt to escape King Herod who is on a quest to kill the new King Jesus. I imagine the significance of those gifts. A means of survival. Life sustaining gifts.

So as we embark on this Christmas journey, that we have traveled so well over the years, what gifts do we bring this season? World Vision, a Christian Humanitarian Organization dedicated to improving the lives of children and families around the globe offers one such solution. Titled none other than The True Spirit of Christmas, they offer folks like ourselves an opportunity to make a difference in the life of someone else through the gift of a livestock animal. Are you looking for a way to play a part in the story this year? Consider the True Spirit of Christmas. Make a gift today. Change a life.

A Cookie Story

2011-12-13T21:30:00.000-08:00

I just finished a marathon of baking. 30 dozen cookies to be exact. I've spent the last couple days mixing and measuring, rolling and cutting, baking and cooling. I've loved every minute of it! I had my favorite Christmas music playing and I just set in motion the cookie making process that I have done so many times I could probably do it with my eyes closed.

I remember the day it came to me. It was late 2002, and my son was just a tiny seed in my

womb. As I sat in the living room of the farm house we rented, curled up in my Grandmother's old chair, I began thinking about my future. My future in the workplace. Until that time, I had embraced a challenging yet rewarding career in property management. But with the anticipation of our second child came thoughts of a different sort of workplace. In my heart, it belonged to my home and my family. With that longing, the prospect of finding a good work that I could do from home set in motion thoughts about the future.

In my quest I considered Proverbs 31: The Wife of Noble Character. As I sat with my journal in hand, I just began penning random thoughts. I considered all the things I enjoyed doing and wrote them down. Baking was at the top of the list. Baking led to cookies, which led to cut-out cookies for holidays and themed parties, which eventually led to the birth of my cookie cut-out business.

It's funny how once your on the right path everything seems to fall into place. My job at the time, managing a senior housing complex, proved to be the best breeding ground for practice. Every day I would try a new recipe or batch of cookies, practice my decorating techniques, and bring them in to share with the residents. They had become my unofficial critique group. One day I recall a nice lady asking me if my 5 year old daughter had helped me with the decorating. Swallowing hard, I was back into the kitchen. Soon enough, I found the right recipe and was getting a knack for the whole process. As I started marketing myself in our small town I discovered that 2 miles down the road from our farmhouse an elderly man and his wife ran a cookie-cutter business. Turns out he was the supplier to my confection shop in the Twin Cities. A few years later we bought land from this man and built our first home.

Fast forward 9 years. It's Christmas time and I'm once again in my kitchen as orders continue to pour in year after year. Today I was able to deliver 16 dozen cookies to a local business. The joy on their faces was priceless. As I drove away I too had joy in my belly.

I consider this joy and the root of it. I've dug deep to remember how this story, this journey has transpired over the years. I realize that it first began in my heart. A longing to pursue a path that I was passionate about, to do a good work with my family in mind. Then I devoted my time to it, little by little, pouring myself into it. The result is just plain and simple...joy!

Blam!

2011-11-30T15:35:00.000-08:00

Recently my husband and I were invited to a dinner event for business. As we stepped into the banquet hall I scanned the room noticing a few familiar faces. The evening appeared to be business as usual, for the most part. After a short while of standing among the crowd, mingling and carrying on casual conversation, I felt a hand on the small of my back. Turning around I found the delightful smile of a women I met a few years ago. She is roughly my mother's age, so pretty young (wink)! I bent down to her petite frame and gave her a hug and she sweetly grabbed my arm. I was expecting the typical conversation starter. You know, 'how are you?' and 'what have you been doing?' Instead she looked directly into my eyes and said "You know, I have to tell you that I pray for you all the time!"

Blam! It hit me all at once. Where did that come from? In an instant my mind quickly raced with disbelieving thoughts like 'why me?' and 'surely she doesn't really mean that?'. Yet, just as quickly as disbelief shot up I caught the gaze in her eyes. They assured me that she was in fact speaking truth. As we stood there she continued to talk, filling me with wholesome goodness, and in a few short minutes I was in tears and she was gone.

I have wondered why this basic, simple gesture had such power to overwhelm me the way that it did. For starters, I believe that it was the unexpected. Although I'm trying to get better at moving freely with the unpredictability life brings, it certainly is a lesson I'm in need of repeating. Practice makes perfect...or so they say. The element of surprise in this case was beautiful and undeserving.

Secondly, it was the truth. She meant what she said and she said what she meant. My mind wanted to disbelieve but in the end sincere honesty won out. I'm thankful for that.

And lastly, her words came at a time when I needed to hear it most. My heart just needed to know that someone out there has been rooting for me.

In life I feel like we have a tendency to get caught up in the day-to-day. Putting forth little effort to make a difference in the life of someone else. That somehow were not quite in that right place or we don't have it figured out...yet. I'm certainly guilty of this. But my friend has reminded me that we can ALL make a difference - a big huge difference- if we simply take the smallest (sometimes unplanned) opportunities to speak truth into the lives of those around us who we see or feel need it most.

Noir No! Silver, Yes Please!

2011-11-25T07:30:00.000-08:00

You've waited....and you've wondered. What could possibly be all the holy noir goodness?!? They say diamonds are a girls best friend but I presume running a close second would be precious designer jewelry, right?

A few years ago read about this offer in a Consumer Report and just had to try it myself. I choose a pendant that looks something like this picture. I did end up buying the chain necklace to go with it but only because I didn't have an extra one. And since the offer, I have

not been haggled or e-blasted at all!

So here's the offer my friends, FREE designer jewelry! And the absolute best part is that there are no strings attached. You simply visit the website and select one item (out of four) and checkout. I know, I know your asking the big question. Why would someone just give away designer jewelry? Well, it actually is the brilliant marketing plan for Peora. A jeweler who believes so much in their product that they would be willing to give you a piece for FREE in hopes of earning their trust as a premier designer.

Go ahead and grab yourself this FREE gift for yourself or someone you love this Christmas season. Happy Black Friday shopping!

Visit:

http://www.SilverJewelryClub.com

P.S. Be sure to share this fun idea with all your peeps!

Follow for Great Finds!

2011-11-21T13:49:00.000-08:00

If you've ever read this blog before my hope is that at some point it was meaningful to you. It made you wonder a little more, think a little deeper, scratch your head, or even roll your eyes. I'm trying to be intentional. Writing with passion and sharing a few finds along the way.

So here's the scoop, if you want to gain a better connection without missing a beat scroll down to the bottom of this page and FOLLOW me through the Google connect.

A few days ago I posted on the subject of anticipation, this notion of waiting and looking forward to something. With that said, I'm really excited to tell you about a great find that I found. It's beautiful and very valuable. Most importantly it's something that you can have for FREE. I ordered mine and am absolutely in love!

I really can't wait to tell you more about it. But first, you need to sign up below to FOLLOW my blog. Then, on Friday (aka:Black Friday) I will release all the details and information to get you this fantastic gift for FREE!

Trust me, it's worth the wait...

The Eve of Anticipation

2011-11-20T06:39:00.000-08:00

I grew up in the small Minnesota town of Hutchinson. I'm fortunate to say that I had a great childhood with grand memories. Now that I'm grown and raising my own children I often think back to certain moments as a child.

One of my great memories always came on the eve of Thanksgiving. Each year we traveled 1 hour west to grandmas house. I loved going to grandmas. Her gentle touch and fresh, clean scent. Her sweet apple pie with melt-in-your-mouth crust. The sound of trains choo-chooing in the neighboring distance. All those moments carved into the fondness I now recall. Yet, for me the anticipation of returning to our hometown sometime late into the dark winter night had this girl giddy year after year.

Each year it had become our small-town tradition to blanket downtown with Christmas lights, garland, and ornaments galore. The grand reveal set for Thanksgiving night. In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, busy city workers strung lights and garland from one end of the street to the other. Traditional ornaments like a bell, a star, or a Christmas tree would swag from the center arch. Every year on the Eve of Thanksgiving downtown became a lit up oasis stretching block after block as far as the eye could see.

We knew it was coming. It was expected, something to look forward to. It had become a grand unspoken proclamation that the Christmas season had now arrived. With the flip of a switch our hearts and minds created a new hope. A hope that centered on retelling stories of old, sharing our time, giving gifts out of love, and gathering together to feast on food and remembrance.

But all of these wonderful things would have to wait until the timing was right. The beauty was in the waiting. For we all knew, that we must first pass through a season of giving thanks. Thanksgiving wasn't overlooked or hurried through to get onto the next thing. Stores closed their doors. There were no distractions. That mindful focus is what I hope for this week. A time to reflect and really be grateful!

Grief Observed

2011-11-12T18:07:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I spent the day in St.Paul at the Center for Grief & Loss. It was an amazing day. Since my husband and I have been on this journey of taking our financial planning business and focusing on helping women who have gone through a loss, it's been increasingly important that we also make time to educate ourselves on the nature of grief.

Each time I step into this sacred arena I feel like I am flying into a foreign country. Wondering why I'm leaving the safety of my homeland. Facing grief is hard. Facing people swallowed up in it is hard. Grief is such a curious thing, mysterious and non-mathematical. Humanity cannot escape it and if we don't acknowledge it, it waits for us like a shadow calling in the night.

The first part of our day was spent exploring our own loss. Naturally this is hard. On one hand, I've been there done that. It sucks every time. I've processed, weighed, analyzed, and compartmentalized my loss and personal grief journey (thus far). To me it is lighter than it once was. Yet, a curious feeling crops up in me whenever I'm about to embark on this journey to the sacred land. Insecurity. A feeling that my loss and grief would be sized up and measured by fellow grief travelers having to sojourn in their own country. In all my attempts, I always find myself pushing back on this notion that I'm not equipped...incessantly asking the question What on earth am I doing here again?

But here I am, and here is what I learned.

1. Grief should not be judged. In our society we have a tendency to weigh and measure. For example, when the 80 year old man passes as compared to the 30 year old husband and father. Each are leaving a legacy and loved ones. Is one heavier than the other? Who can judge? We must come to this place of accepting and honoring the uniqueness of each others experience.

2. Our presence makes a difference. We must first accept that it is not our role to fix or make better even though that is our natural instinct. Our voice should be still, less is always more. In the words of poet Henri Nouwen;

"And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to be there, to listen and to enter into solidarity with those who suffer."

3. Permission to be. There is no time-table for grief. Though experts have diagrammed the experience we quickly learn that this is not a step-by-step process. It is not linear and it's not something one ever gets a prize for finishing. Instead we must foster an attitude of permission. Permission to allow ourselves or those we care deeply for to just be... Companioning is about respecting disorder or confusion; it is not about imposing order and logic.

It takes courage to care for the brokenhearted. Who is on your heart today? My hope, for those of you who have ever wanted to come alongside someone who is hurting (but not knowing what you should do) is to take the first step. If our hearts rooted in compassion focus on simply being there, offering our presence, I believe you will discover that this is the greatest gift one can give.

A Place Called BLESSING: Book Review

2011-10-04T12:05:00.000-07:00

A Place Called Blessing, Where Hurting Ends and Love Begins has been creatively written by long time author and speaker John Trent. This fiction story is of a boy named Josh who grows up under a cloud of tragedy and calamity. The heart wrenching account of Josh's early family life, his parents fatal car crash, and the accidental death of his friend have been written with such a precise memoir-style writing that it left me believing that this story was in fact true. When seemingly all hope had been lost, Josh falls into the hands of his co-worker Mike and his mother, Anna. Together they provide Josh with basic needs like a place to live and food to eat. But as the story unfolds, they offer him a chance at life, new life. In an unexpected turn of events, Josh is faced once again with the pain of death and his child-hood grief but, what he discovers is that once he faces the past and looks it square in the eye, he becomes transformed. All because two people made a choice to get involved and offer unconditional love.

I would highly recommend this book to anyone who is looking for an inspirational, hope-filled story. It offers a real life awareness towards children in our very own communities who need a hand up. Trent's has a partnered ministry with Focus on the Family, called The Blessing Challenge. It provides the readers of his book with an opportunity to do something! For more information on this opportunity visit http://www.theblessing.com/.

A few Lessons in Running a Marathon

2011-09-17T04:09:00.000-07:00

There are benefits to running a marathon. Let me be straight with you, I never intended to ever run one. In fact, I've been fighting off Runners World friends for years. They would be chanting in my ear and chanting my dreams with a voice that always said "you should really run a marathon." Despite the obvious reasons like pain, torture, and limited time I always excused myself from participation. Until this year. In late February, I finally made the commitment to run the Twin Cities Marathon with Team World Vision for clean water projects in Africa.

Training began in May. For this self made couch-to-5k kind of girl, looking back I still can't quite believe that I am going to actually do this thing. So in the last five months or so I've learned a few things about life and running marathons that when you get right down to it, there are a lot of similarities.

1. Life is hard. There are days where you are so weary that putting one more foot in front of the other is nearly impossible. On those days I've developed a little game I like to call The Grateful Game. When I'm out there hitting the pavement and the surge of hopelessness comes I turn the tide by claiming 5 things I am grateful for in that exact moment. Easy enough, yet I've discovered that in the amount of time that it takes to develop your top 5 articles of gratitude something magical occurs, despair is crushed and joy floods in.

2. Time is treasure. I'm the mother of three children, run a business with my husband, serve as a board member for a non-profit, and so on. Let's face it, I'm busy and so are you! When I made this commitment to run the marathon it has given me treasured quiet time that I otherwise would not receive. It has made way for clear thinking, rational decision making, and creative inspiration. Quiet time needs to be a commitment. Yes, another task added to the to-do list. Like running, once you make the commitment and begin doing it regularly, with purpose, the rest of your day will be refueled with peace and clarity.

3. It's not all about YOU. People are hurting and people are stuck in a rut. They surround you. They are your friends, your co-workers, your neighbors, your spouse, your kids, and in-deed they are strangers. They need your attention and they need your prayers. I have certain songs on my play-list that evoke prayer for particular people in my life. It's become a dedication if you will. I have another friend who dedicates each mile to prayer for someone. Wow-that's some serious prayer mileage! It's good for mind, the body, and soul to come alongside those in your life who need it most.

Imagine your life like running a marathon. It's a long way to go, a great distance. It's filled with hills, sweat, tears, and setbacks. Yet, it can be rewarding filled with joy, gratitude, compassion, and peace. Keep going...the prize is just on the horizon.

A Place Called BLESSING

2011-08-31T19:10:00.000-07:00

Join me in reading "A Place Called BLESSING - Where Hurting Ends and Love Begins" by John Trent & Annette Smith.

It's an orphaned boy's story of loss, love, and eventual acceptance by the most unlikely people.

Five-year-old Josh and his two older brothers lose their parents in a drunk-driving accident. A series of foster homes and a shocking tragedy eventually separate them, leaving Josh alone, angry, and distrustful of most everyone. At age eighteen, Josh strikes out on his own to find work. With only a high school education and few life skills, he is one step away from homelessness when Providence brings him to a place where he finds much more than physical shelter. For the first time in his life, Josh receives unconditional love and something every human being craves, the gift of "the blessing."

If you are interested in purchasing this book for yourself I've created a quick link to Amazon by simply clicking on the title of this post.

I'll just tell you that I picked up the book yesterday and can't put it down. It's a quick read but captivating. I will be posting my review towards the end of September and I would love for you to weigh in on your thoughts.

Happy Reading!

A Lesson in Climbing a Mountain

2011-08-24T07:19:00.000-07:00

Over a year ago some friends proposed the idea to climb Pikes Peak. A few years prior they had been unsuccessful in reaching the top and they had their eyes set on the summit. After about two minutes of listening to their commercial, I heard two things; first, it would take all day (10 hours) and second, no ropes or pics required (no cliff hanging). We said yes!

In the months leading up to our expedition I knew that I would need to prepare, both mentally and physically. I read some blogs and began my usual summer-time running regiment. All in all, I felt prepared and excited for a new adventure.

The day before our climb we consumed a ridiculous amount of water to ward off any altitude sickness we might encounter. That night we made sure that our packs were filled with extreme portions of protein bars, energy shots, and water. We were set.

We hit the trail around 7am. It was so peaceful. Surrounded by woods and nature; the air was crisp, smelling like sweet sap and pine. Initially,it was a slow steady climb. Then about 2 hours into the climb we finally began to emerge above the tree line. Looking back we could now see the valley below and the peeks alongside us. Around this time we began to experience our first switchbacks; zig-zags in the trail designed to create a slight ease in the steep elevation for the climber.

It was then that I began noticing these rocks stacked up intermittently along the trail. Carin's; an ancient practice used as a landmark to tell the person coming after them that they are going in the right direction. Often the case for climbers, they are used as a guide, a reassurance that you are on coarse.

Five hours into the climb, we could see the summit. It was a ways off but it was there. Everything was majestic and beautiful. Just as I had imagined. Just as I had thought it would be.

Then, out of no where the unexpected happened. The trail came to an abrupt end. It simply disappeared. Before my eyes, I stood gazing up towards 700 feet of boulders and, as if in slow motion, I quickly assessed that the only way to finish, the only way to the top was to scale the the final peak. I looked back over my shoulder realizing I could not go back. I had to go forward. Anxiety dropped upon me like a bomb. I desperately tried to be discrete but I couldn't hold back my fear. Tears enveloped my sight. To make it worse I began shaking and I caught myself holding my breath...which doesn't work so well since at 14,000 feet of elevation ones lungs are already deprived of rich oxygen.

Aaron looked at me at began coaching me. As he was attempting his pep talk on "this is life...unexpected...(his voice fades)" It's then I begin to see my life flash before my eyes. It's truly funny (looking back) at the multitude of thoughts that flood through ones mind in a moment like that. Yet, before I could think, I was scrambling up a series of boulders. One foot in front of the other. Some rocks were unsteady and wobbley. Others were wider than my 6 foot arm span. After my first series, I was desperate. Still overwrought with anxiety I began searching, searching for anything that I could focus on. Then I caught a glimpse of it, just above my head was a small pile of rough stones stacked on top of one another. A Carin. I clamored up a pile of boulders to reach the Carin; the one and only thing that I could trust. Once I reached it my hope was that another Carin would follow. Sure enough, we would climb over a series of rocks to find the next Carin and so on. Ultimately, they guided us all the way to the summit. I couldn't believe it; the sense of accomplishment that came over reaching the top. All the hard work, the sweat and tears, the anxiety, the good and the bad... it all paid off. Yet, none of that would have been possible if I didn't have something to put my faith in. The only way I knew I was going the right way was to hope and trust in the Carin.

Such is life; when the unexpected gets hurled in our direction, what do we have to focus on? Whom do we trust will guide us through? As ancient as the Carin's, my faith is stacked upon the foundations of my God and father. His guide never fails me. For this, I'm grateful that He used such a monumentous experience to teach me the most simple life lesson.

A Metaphor for Running

2011-07-11T04:28:00.000-07:00

I remember the time I drank my first beer. It was disgusting. In fact, it tasted like ear wax...that is, if I knew what ear wax tasted like, I supposed that it would have that comparable twinge on my pallate.

Call it peer pressure or my innate ability to never give up I kept on trying that ice cold, erie drink. Soon enough I started to like it and then eventually after a long hard day I would come to crave one.

This has become my latest comparison to running. A metaphor designed to give folks a little insight into my runners world. As I tell my story to non-running friends it (for the most part) seems to resonate. You see, running is, in fact, a lot like drinking beer.

The first time you go out for that run, it is disgusting. You don't like it. Then, for what ever reason (ladies, we might call it "thigh-pressure") we end up giving it another try, and another, and another. Eventually, we find we might enjoy the run a time or two and then one day BAM you wake up craving the darn thing!

So there you have it, my simple metaphor for running.

Disclaimer: This metaphor does not apply to everyone. I learned this the hard way. Some people have never likened beer. Period. Also, don't use this metaphor with a group. The awkward silence that resonates within certain circles might kill you. Just saying.

In case your wondering, I'm at it again. Running, that is. I don't drink (real) beer anymore. Turns out, too much of a good thing isn't so good (for muwa anyways).If you recall, last summer I competed in my first half marathon. It was a great experience. So this October I will be running my first full marathon. Once again, I'll be running with Team World Vision which raises money for clean water projects in Africa. I have a fundraising goal of $1,000 and I would be extremely grateful if you might consider supporting these communities and villages that desperately need a hand up. Just follow the link and click "Support Team Mankato" to make a donation.

http://twv.convio.net/site/TR/TeamWorldVision/General?team_id=20940&pg=team&fr_id=1431

Glory Days

2011-06-27T04:27:00.000-07:00

Did you know there are three rings in a marriage? The engagement ring. The wedding ring. And the suffer-ring!

This is one of my husband's favorite funny-man jokes. He especially likes to tell it at wedding celebrations. Newlyweds giggle with innocence. Veterans roar with conviction.

I consider the third ring, suffering. A commodity infused into the fiber of all deep, rich relationships. An unlikely, unexpected ingredient. Invisible during those honeymoon years but then ever so slightly, beginning with slight pangs, they are the essence to growth which eventually leads to deep roots.

The price tag for suffering is equal to death. And we all know that death is something our natural instinct wants to flee from. It's painful. It hurts. It's wailing and mourning. If God is good, then how could He...

Sometimes I catch myself thinking back to an earlier time, the days of a younger year. Memories of adventure and spontaneity. My glory days. The ones filled with nothing more than me, myself, and I. A time filled with self imposed freedom. Freedom to determine what was best for me and just do it!

Usher in a few children, a marriage, and a mortgage and that's where you'd begin to see the bend in my life's journey. A sharp curve, a U-turn, a change of course. A slow, yet steady decent to the low-lands has taught me a thing or two and I think I've finally got it...it's not about me after all! This wasn't an overnight crash course. It's been years in the making and (to be honest) I know I'm not finished quite yet.

The truth of discovery though did not come from a likely source. It was the unexpected arrival of death. A slow one. One that He who is greater than me allowed to come, cause deep suffering, so that the pieces of myself could be carved away. Removed to reveal an extreme makeover.

Romans 8:18 says "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."

Glory. It's an interesting word describing the reflection of God through his sons and daughters. Imagine standing before a mirror. Then, from behind this mirror the bright sun in all its glory is shining through. Golden rays eclipsing our sight. Our image becoming transparent with light for all the world to see.

We've all been here, or maybe you are here. If not, you will be here soon. Take heart. This glory is our assurance. Our hope during times of suffering. Hope, a promise, a stake that keeps you upright. Glory is not about us. It's about the plan to use us as a reflection. We can either choose to reject it or step into it with the rawness of being exposed, and allow a good work to shine through us.

Flicked Out

2011-04-24T05:13:00.000-07:00

After school the other day I sat down at the kitchen table with my son. With a plate of cookies before him and his blue eyes peeking over a tall glass of cold milk, he began telling me all about his day. It was the usual things. What he had for lunch, his recess activities, and so on. Then out of nowhere he blurted out "Tommy got kicked out of church for flicking a raisin at the Priest."

I may have busted up with laughter if he wasn't so serious. I repositioned myself and put on my best listening cap. As it turns out, the story is true. Tommy did get kicked out of church for flicking a raisin at his Priest.

This little incident has got my mind in a tailspin. Is it possible to get "kicked out" of church? I was once kicked out of an organized establishment(Well, I guess it wasn't completely organized, it was a Saturday night after all, and... well, you get my drift). My point is, its never fun being the one who gets kicked out, even if you have broken a rule or two. Maybe the basis for discussion should be, what defines a church? Is it a building with four walls that consists of holy rules or a governing group of people with lofty aims to place themselves in a hierarchy well above the losers and ungodly folks?

This is not the church described in the Bible. Jesus refers to the church as his Bride, emphasizing a sacred covenant bound by a promise that cannot be broken, taken away, or removed. A church comprised of love and devotion. A unique colony of people intent on bringing Heaven's kingdom to earth.

So if the church is founded on the principles of marriage; love, commitment, self-sacrifice, and so on...then, is it possible to be kicked out or served divorce papers? Who can judge? (John 12: 47-48)

What would it have looked like if Tommy had been shown forgiveness over his poor choice of flicking a raisin at an inopportune time? What effect on the colony could the witness of lavished, unconditional love provide?

The next time I consider casting out the unruly from my sight, I need only remember that I too had once been flicked out. If not for the grace that unites me with a Groom who keeps His promises and loves me no matter what.

When Grief Has No Name

2011-03-24T20:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes grief has no name, other times it's faceless, and then there are times when you open your front door and its staring you straight on.

This weeks raging flood waters from the Minnesota River Valley's winter thaw has wreaked havoc on our highways and byways. Yet no amount of natural destruction can amount to the life it swept away just a few days ago.

While clearing debris with a backhoe, alongside the fast moving river, one of our communities transportation workers fell claim to her. An accident, without warning, a precious life gone.

I have not know this man. 39 years old, husband, father of two children. But my heart is breaking. There is grief in the air. I had a sense today that this thick, palpable grief must be making ripples. The unseen ones. A families devastation, their cries in the night reverberating through the wind. I feel as though I can hear it wisp by me in this cool, spring breeze. I pray. I can see it written on the trees as they sway. I pray. I hear it in my heart and again, I pray.

It's supposed to be spring. A sign of new life and new beginnings. Where is God in this tragedy? We've all heard that He is working things out for good but how does that satisfy the raw brokenness this family must be feeling. I ponder one of Jesus first discourses, while in the mountains with His disciples, he offers them a grouping of poetic values. Here in lies one of His simplest statements. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted(Matthew 5:4)."

To be blessed, simply means that God will help you. Our mighty Deity says if you are stricken with grief, He will bless (help) you by relieving your pain. He doesn't say He will take the pain away but He promises His blanket of comfort.

Today I rest in peace, hoping and praying that His blessing will pour over our valley, covering all those who mourn.

First Line of Defense

2011-02-20T05:40:00.000-08:00

Recently I read an article on parenting tips for teens. One of the suggested points stated that parents should cultivate a relationship with their teen that fosters open communication. That way, whether its a decision to be made, a struggle, or a temptation you, the parent, can become their first line of defense.

Makes sense, right? Who in their right mind wouldn't want that, but when it comes down to it, cultivating that sort of relationship requires focus, thought, and intent. So this fancy, parental tip has got me thinking about who my first line of defense is? I'm an adult now, all grown up. Where do I run to for advise, council, and satisfaction?

In my heart and mind I find myself whispering "It's you Lord! I seek you first, you are my first line of defense." Yet, if I'm honest with myself (and you for that matter) then the truth is that sometimes my defenses come in other shapes and forms. For me, this typically involves words. It's my language. I listen to them, I hope for them, I live for them.

Just the other day someone said something very hurtful to me. Their words stabbed my heart and while I was still bleeding I took out my sword and stabbed them back. It happened quickly, without thought. It was my first line of defense. After much thought provocation to correct an error of my ways, I really regretted my actions. If only I had remembered that my eternal parent was waiting for me, hoping to be my first line of defense, then maybe I could have spared some of the hurt.

One day at a time, one mess up at a time, God continues to show me that He is where I am safe, it's His words in my life that I need to trust, and that if I put Him first He will defend my heart.

Happy Valentines Day!

2011-02-14T10:16:00.000-08:00

What is the best gift you've ever been given? In my house, between my husband and I, the gift giving department has faded quite considerably over the past 11 years. I suppose, in part, because gift giving is really, neither of our love languages. But it is fun once you discover how to give special gifts that fill the tank of your loved one.

Since it's Valentines day I wanted to take a minute and write one of my most favorite gifts, from my husband that is. It's no fairy tale that every girl truly desires her prince. The one who sweeps in and unexpectedly makes a dashing move that causes your heart to flutter, and sigh, and cry. She longs for strong hands to fall back on during weary times. Someone whom she can trust her deepest being with. I thank God for having that with Aaron.

Last summer I ran my first half marathon in Minneapolis. I trained for roughly 13 weeks in the hot summer sun. On one particular Saturday I ventured out for my long run, alone. It was hot and in my mind I was nervous about my capabilities to run 12 miles, a distance that I had never run before. I was running along my windy, back country road and after about and hour and half of running probably around mile marker 8, I saw something shining in the distance. It was a long ways off but it was white and bobbling under the blazing August sun. I pulled my cap down and kept running. After a short distance, I glanced up again and it was getting closer. By this time, I had conceded that it was likely a biker but with in moments the figure changed. It transformed from biker to runner, to wait, could it be...that figure looked a lot like my husband. And then, sure enough...it was my husband!

My husband, the weight lifting super-maniac, non-runner type, was greeting me to run my last 5 miles home. A damsel in distress, refreshed and strengthened to finish the race. It was a pleasant and unexpected gift of selfless love and support. One that I'm forever grateful for.

For What Its Worth

2011-01-20T18:52:00.000-08:00

Last week I came to the conclusion that my trusty ole' Suburban was in need of some serious TLC. I pulled her into the car wash bay and began the task of cleaning out all the junk from within that had accumulated. Low and behold, stuck to the bottom of my cup holder, I found one lonely penny. Who knows how long it had been sitting there? I scraped it up along with the other refuse and for a split moment I contemplated that penny. Reaching for the trash can I almost threw it away but then I stopped and looked at it again. I thought to myself, "One...it's worth one!" After realizing its value, I shoved that crusty coin into my coat pocket and proceeded.

I wonder how often we discard the number one. One job, one friend, one meaningless errand, yet I find that when one God works in one person who goes out and does one good work then all of a sudden 1+1 becomes 2. Now I'm not a mathematician but those numbers tend to add up. I believe in a simple God who each day gives us one life to live, one that is worth more than we can possibly imagine. Live it to the fullest, taking the things He has placed before you today, recognizing its value and pursue it for all its worth!

Bird on a Wire

2011-01-13T19:19:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I signed my youngest daughter up for gymnastics. As we prepared for her first day my 7 year old son began asking a lot of questions, curious about the sport that looks like fun, his biggest concern was if boys could do gymnastics too. As all good mothers do, I encouraged him and gave the good ole' lesson about caring less what others might think. To our delight, an all boys class is offered at the same time as his sister. Problem solved.

For weeks I have been watching them manuveor the gymnastics floor. Stretching, bouncing, twisting, and balancing. Like a bird on a wire, I can see them at every angle,and even though they don't have it all figured out quite yet they look good. Watching them gives me joy.

In the same way, I belive that God sees His children and is pleased. He sees that in order for us to learn and grow stronger we must fall down a lot. He sees that we are uncoordinated and imperfect. But He also sees his children trying hard to get it right.

Most of the time, throughout my childrens gymnastics lesson they will look to me for approval. If they fall down they look to me. If they try something new they look to me. If they stick a big move they look to me. God, our Father is looking down on you today, with joy. Keep looking to Him and He will satisfy your every need.

My ONE story

2010-11-28T19:25:00.000-08:00

Stories inspire us, teach us, move us. We have all experienced a time or two in our lives when that ONE story was so overwhelming, filled with such a powerful emotional feeling, that the yearning in our gut shook us and caused a movement unparalleled to anything we have ever known.

Three weeks ago, I had such an experience when my kids and I were able to Skype our sponsored child in Africa. For those unfamiliar with Skype, it is basically an online resource that allows you to dial in (make a phone call) from your computer to another computer and have a live conversation along with live streaming video to the person on the other end of the line. Absolutely techno-amazing!

But this is not where my story began, so let me back up a little bit. A few years ago, a friend of mine who lives in St.Cloud, MN with her husband and family made the convicted decision to open an orphanage in Sierra Leonne, Africa. Her story, inspired by moral outrage came after adopting two children of their own from this country, causing a movement within to change the corrupt climate of ONE orphanage.

Fast forward to 2010, her orphanage called The Covering, now is home to 130 orphans. ONE of those children is named Musa. Musa is five years old. His father died in a horrific boating accident and his mother left widowed and with no means of provision, gave him up. Musa is our families sponsored child. For $70 a month, Musa can have all his basic needs met, as well as, go to school. In Africa, this is a huge privilege!

Sending money is one thing but sitting face to face, staring into the eyes of someONE God has given you the privilege to cover is completely overwhelming. We watched him blink and breath and smile. His face was so timid yet he was so alive. During our time with him he showed us pictures he drew in school. He told us that his favorite color is Blue and that he likes to play ball. Then, at the end of our session, saying good-bye, he leans into the camera and says "I love you".

And that's when it happened, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Love sorta does that do you, especially when its staring you right in the face, so close you can touch it. And that's my ONE story. What is yours?

Restoration from the Fall

2010-11-17T07:42:00.000-08:00

Last week I needed to take our car in for a small repair. Since, I'm always calculating how to make the best use of my time, I decided to go for a run while the mechanic worked. I took off, unfamiliar with this new running ground. My senses were heightened to the scenery and I was pleasantly taking it all in. Half way through my run, making my way back to the auto shop, something unexpected happened. I fell. Between two slabs of concrete my toe hooked on the uneven sidewalk. In an instant I was smashing into the pavement. Shaken, I got up off the ground. First, I looked around to see who witnessed the catastrophe. Second, I looked myself over and the wounds I just inflicted. Graveled and gauged hands, a skinned knee, and a bruised shoulder. Oh, the sting!

Later that evening, I was evaluating my wounds, and a thought occurred to me. They are already healing. My body, fighting, at work to restore me. Still aching and hurting from my unexpected fall, I took comfort in knowing that I was on the mend. I was being made new.

In my Spiritual life I've fallen many times. A couple times I thought I might never recover but with God's hand upon my life He gave me hope and healing and lots of forgiveness. Because of the work He is doing in me, I am being made new. Each day, just like my running requires endurance and diligence, He is conditioning me for His greater plans and purposes. Thank God for restoration!

Down In My Heart

2010-10-31T19:15:00.000-07:00

I'm a body in motion. Always striving, always reaching for new heights, always looking for the next adventure life brings. It's something that I love about myself. I'm not afraid of taking risks or trying something new. Yet, so often, the very things you love are those that you hate. Okay, so hate might be a harsh word. More so, these things that I love have become one of my biggest challenges. The very reason I am propelled to do has so many times left me feeling unsettled or discontent with the where I'm at today.

I'm driven by ladders or climbing them at least. All I see is the top and that's where I want to be. All my ambitions and desires sit among the top rung. Over the years I've found myself laboring over this climb time and time again.

This past year however, I spent a good chunk of time climbing down. All the way down. It was God who asked me to step down for a while. Sit at the bottom of my ladder and chill for a bit. Sitting is hard for me so it took a while to adjust but then, as if the switch had been flipped, it all come together. An understanding. The work, the labor, the climbing .... it was all so meaningless if I didn't have joy. I realized that I had put too much emphasis on the goal, the prize(if that's what you call it), and the end result. My expectations were somewhere over the rainbow. In my mind I saw joy as an absolute but only when I arrived or finished.

Happiness is fleeting. It comes and goes. It ebbs and flows. But joy, true joy, can only be experienced once we allow our hearts to be truly grateful for where we are placed today. Then, in total surrender, we allow God to lead life, open doors, and fill us with His peace. Today, I'm living with that joy, joy, joy...down in my heart!

Take the Risk!

2010-10-07T19:26:00.000-07:00

Have you ever helped a friend move? It's a lot of work lifting and carring heavy boxes all day. Bending and twisting. Pulling and pushing. Muscles getting stretched and strengthened. Then, if they are a really good friends, you'll find yourself sticking around to carefully unpack and get things set up.

Some days this faith journey feels as though I'm helping a friend move. It's heavy, it's awkward, and it means I need to set aside time to help. Who wouldn't do that for a friend, right? But what I'm learning is that when God calls on me, often times, I'll excuse myself with rational like, I'm too busy or you couldn't possibly want me to say that or do that.

Things have made a subtle change in me this year. I'm learning. I'm learning to stand on my tippy-toes and really listen to what my Father is asking me. I'm learning to trust and just obey. Let me share with you a great story of God bringing a little heaven to earth.

This past year, over the 4th of July, some good friends of ours encountered a parents worst nightmare. Their 17 year old son fell off his 4-wheeler, hit his head, and suffered severe brain injuries. Since then, they have remained in the Twin Cities, living at Regions Hospital. It has been a very long, very slow road to recovery for their son. A lot is still uncertain for him.

Very early on, as I began to pray for him, I sensed God really pulling for this thought of total healing. The kind of healing that Jesus actually did when he walked on this earth. I prayed and prayed and prayed. All along, God was asking me to post a very bold prayer, asking for healing in Jesus name, to his Caring Bridge site. I also sensed that God really wanted to rally everyone to pray virtually the same prayer. So I prayed and prayed and prayed some more. And then I did it, I posted my heartfelt prayer that God asked me to share.

Then the very next day, this was their Caring Bridge post.

Hello Everyone,

I gotta tell you all a great story about one of Kip's greatest moments yet. While my mom and I were relaxing with him in his room, and he was in his wheelchair, I had brought out a dry-erase board to practice some writing skills because he had a good attempt at writing his name last week. So, the first thing I did was wrote his name in large letters in the middle of the board, and had him copy it. And surely he did underneath, and he did it very fast with little effort.

I was super impressed, so I wrote "I Love Mom" in large letters again, and he copied it perfectly underneath, writing very swiftly. To add some flare, Kip circled "Mom," and she got really excited and had to give him hugs and praise for doing so well.

The next thing Kip did, without me asking, was draw a heart after his name and then wrote "Dad" to complete the phrase "Kip (hearts) Dad". By now our jaws were almost touching the floor in amazement.

Towards the end of writing all the names he was starting to get tired, and since it was almost time for mealtime I wanted to transfer him back to his bed. The first thing I did was try to take away the dry-erase board and marker from Kip, but even as he had his eyes closed he had a strong grip on them and wasn't letting go. So, being an impatient older brother, I slowly pried his hands open and took the board. Kip then woke up, and he wasn't happy with me!

His frustration was easy to see in his eyes, so I gave him back the board to write some more. We watched as he immediately drew a circle around all of the names, and then wrote the word "Love" above it. My mom was astonished, and me and my mom were laughing to tears!

Love truly astonishes! I believe that our passionate prayers move the heart of God. Author and speaker, Max Lucado has said "Prayer does not change God's nature; who He is will never be altered. Prayer does, however impact the flow of history. God has wired His world for power, but He calls on us to flip the switch". So, I ask, what is God gently prompting in you? He needs your help to move a little bit of heaven into this earth. Will you take the risk? You can do it, go out on a limb today and trust!

P.S. If you want to follow and pray for our friend Kyle "Kip" Otte here is a link to his Caring Bridge site. http://www.caringbridge.org/kyleotte

Book Review: Out Live Your Life by Max Lucado

2010-09-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

You were made to make a difference! This tag line to Max Lucado's latest book Out Live Your Life summarizes, in classic Lucado style, the books culmination of simple, inspirational, and motivational stories. The book is all about YOU, exactly what the title says. The discovery of how to Out Live Your Life is found throughout the book as Lucado takes some very basic, fundamental ideas and opens the readers eyes to consider a new perspective.

Reading Out Live Your Life felt, to me, like sitting down to watch one of my favorite movies for the 32nd time. Enjoyable, feel good, and predictable. Max Lucado is a master story-teller. The way he weaves inspirational stories into Biblical truths that provoke the reader to take action, grasp truth, and see more clearly is a God-given gift. My favorite chapter of the book was Let God Unshell You, in which, were taught that when God unshells us we must make a careful exploration of who we are and the work we've been given, and then sink our self into that. We are not burdened equally. Meaning each of us has an individual pulse, our own heart beats for the gifts and passions that we have been born with.

This book is not for everyone. I would recommend this book to the comfortable Christian. The one who somewhere along the way decided that they would take Jesus up on this saving grace thing. This same someone who wonders at night why their life is boring, mundane, and same-old. If your one who is often afraid to take risks-this might be the book for you. In this book you'll discover a promting to allow God to unshell you. The question is, will we step out of our comfort zones and partner with Him in our mission to Love? Reading Out Live Your Life might just be the first step!

A Free Man

2010-09-15T19:23:00.000-07:00

In June of 2006, Koua Fong Lee went to prison for crashing his 1996 Toyota Camery into the back end of another vehicle. Killing the three passengers inside, Lee insisted from the start that he desperately tried to brake but the car would not stop. To no avail, a judge convicted him of vehicular homicide and sentenced Lee to eight years in jail.

Then in a shocking twist of events, last Fall, Toyota claims the most massive recall in history. Stating that their Camery vehicles had severe issues with sticky brake pedals that, at times, prohibited drivers from stopping.

Armed with this new information, Koua Fong Lee appealed his prison sentence. On August 5th, 2010, standing in the media's spotlight we watched Lee walk out of the courtroom a free man. The judge had forgiven his penalty and proclaimed that Koua Fong Lee was indeed innocent.

Hearing this story rang my bell of compassion. I have to tell you that I, myself have been to prison. Trapped between four walls, unable to breath, afraid to move, and near death. My skin feeling as though it had been torn off...each sound, every sensation scrapping against the wounds of my soul. Guilt and worthlessness stacked up like a pile of bricks laying heavy on my chest.

How many of us have committed ourselves to a life in prison? Lifeless between the stone walls of depression, guilt, fear, worthlessness... I've been there and sometimes I find myself re-walking that narrow staircase towards the dark cellar below.

We know that freedom exists, but that hope feels impossible. Until one day something happens...a tiny shard of light prickles our skin. Light coming in the fashion of forgiveness. To forgive means to pardon. A pardon from mistakes and mishaps. A pardon from the thread that tethers you.

In Luke 4 Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah, telling his people...

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of our Lord's favor."

This is truth... that we are free! Free to burn past bridges, free to break strongholds, free to experience the full life that God has prepared for you. The gavel has sounded, your innocence ringing loud and clear. The truth is reality. The truth is divine. The truth will set us free!

Ketsup

2010-08-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

This post may be a tad saucy, offering little meat, but I wanted to "ketsup" up on a number of thoughts, thanks, and discuss some upcoming books to tinker with your thinker. So here goes...

If you visit this blog on a regular basis or check in here or there would you kindly sign-up to be a Follower. At this point, it's just for moral. You know, the hope that someone other than my mother pops in to read the rants and ramblings of The E of Pearls. So do me a favor and become a Follower, no strings attached!

Thanks to everyone who donated your hard earned dollars towards my half marathon race with Team World Vision. My goal was to raise $1,000 towards clean water projects in Africa and I surpassed it by raising $1225. For that reason, I earned a new t-shirt. Yippee! In case your wondering, the 13.1 mile race went off without a hitch. I loved the entire race and finished in 2 hours and 8 minutes (running almost 1 minute per mile faster than any of my training runs). 13 weeks of training, no injuries, and images of children drinking unclean water contributed to a very successful finish! Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart!

It's been a while since I've introduced a new book to read so for those who care to join me, in September, I'll be reviewing Max Lucado's new book "Outlive Your Life." Go out to your local book store, pick it up, and share your thoughts when I blog my review later in September.

In addition, my 12 year old daughter Lily will be a guest blogger when she reviews Lucados book "You Were Made To Make A Difference." A book adapted from "Outlive Your Life" designed for teens offering practical ways teens can make a difference in their communities and beyond.

I care. And so I run.

2010-07-24T13:18:00.000-07:00

I'm all alone. Last week my running companion decided that he had enough of the heat, humidity, and long distance running. Around mile marker 4.3 I turned to find him at a standstill, panting beneath a tall shady Oak. As I continued at my steady pace, I watched my faithful Fido contemplate his options. Over his shoulder, he turned his gaze down the long country road leading back home, one last glance my way, our gap ever widening, a pause...then that dog darn near gave me the finger, turned himself around and trotted back towards the comforts of home.

I'm running my first half marathon on August 23rd. I enjoy running but I'm not a crazy die hard who joins the clubs or competes in races. No, I'm just a simple girl who likes to throw her runnin shoes on now and again and run down a quiet dirt road for a bit. Nowadays, the runs are feeling so simple; with each passing week another benchmark mile is tallied to the bottom of my rubber soles.I think this week I'm up to 8 miles.

The truth however is that there is a reason why I'm running. I'm running for water. Water that doesn't yet exist for communities and tribes in Kenya, Africa. The organization I've partnered with is Team World Vision. A division of World Vision which is a Christian humanitarian organization dedicated to improving and empowering the lives of impoverished families, individuals, and communities all over the world. Team World Vision's mission is dedicated to going out and rallying everyday folks (like myself) to step out of our comfort zones, do something we would likely never do, and run a 13.1 mile race for a cause.

Can you for a moment imagine life without water? Pure, clean water to drink, to bath, to wash, to flush. As many as 5 million people die every year of water-related illnesses and a child dies every fifteen seconds of waterborne diseases. Rich Stearns, President of World Vision and author of the book The Hole in our Gospel, best describes the scene.

"I want you to imagine for a moment that when you wake up tomorrow, all of the water-related fixtures and appliances have been removed from your home. The sinks, toilets, bathtubs, and showers are gone. Dishwasher, washing machine, garden hoses, sprinklers- all gone. Let's say, though, that everything else about your home remains the same. Still, how would your life change with just this one difference?

Well, think about it. You would wake up wanting to use the toilet, take your hot shower, brush your teeth, swallow those vitamins, and fix breakfast- but you can't. What would you do? At first, you would be irritated by the minor inconvenience of having no showers, toilets, dishwasher, or washing machine- until it started to dawn on you that this is far more serious- a threat, actually, to your health, your family, even your survival. Finding a way to get water would begin to consume your life. Without food you can live sometimes for weeks, but without water? Life as you know if would be transformed- and not in a good way.

This is the realty for millions of parents in our world today- they can watch helplessly as their children die for lack of water, or they can watch them die from diarrhea, because the only water they have is tainted."

Right now, at this very moment water projects in Kenya, Africa have been bid out, prioritized, and are on a so-called waiting list. What are they waiting for? Money - that's the only hold up. For this reason, I am compelled to do something. I care and so I run.

Will you consider joining me on a race to save lives and restore hope to communities in Africa? A $10, $25, $50, or greater gift will go a long way towards reaching my goal of $1,000. If you would like to give a tax-deductible gift simply click on the "I care. And so I run." header above. This will lead you to my personal fundraising page. Thank you and God Bless!

From Jerry Lewis to Livestock

2010-06-20T05:16:00.000-07:00

As a child the end of Summer was defined by sun streaked hair and copper toned skin. Labor Day weekend always arrived with a new pair of jeans and loaded school supplies telling my eager heart that Fall was on the horizon. But one other pivotal celebration always marked the seasons end...the Jerry Lewis telethon. Year after year, I'd settle in and watch as Americans rallied together to help those inflicted with Muscular Dystrophy. I remember my heart breaking for the children and families, being filled with joy when unexpected miracles took place, and with anticipation longed to see how much money would be raised for the cause.

I recall one year where my heart broke so badly that I decided something must be done. I went to my parents, asking for support, and together we organized a festival in our own yard to raise money for the Jerry Lewis telethon and the MDA. I went to companies like Coca-Cola and had them donate bottles of pop for our ring toss. They even gave us a fountain pop machine for our food booth. I went to bank Presidents and received money to sponsor the event. We promoted our fundraising event as a carnival with games, food, and pony rides (Yes, we even had pony rides)! At .10 cents per game we raised $118. I was convinced that Jerry Lewis himself would show up and invite us to be on his show with ALL the money we raised. Well, that never happened but we did make headlines in the Hutch Leader!

Fast forward 20 something years and here I am on a team, organizing a free community festival whose mission is to raise money for livestock animals to be distributed via the humanitarian organization World Vision, to help the Worlds poorest of poor.

The night before our big Livestock festival my parents brought me back and reminded me of the childhood carnival that I had so passionately rallied. Something I had long forgotten came flooding back into memory. So much so, I was moved to tears.

About a year ago, while going through a tough business transition, someone told me that God had been preparing me for this time for my whole life. That thought has stuck with me as I encounter various life situations...'God has been preparing me for this time for my whole life'.

The Livestock event has become my life's passion. Helping the poor and making a difference in the World. Something that God has been preparing in me since I was a child. I think if we consider each adversity, each chance encounter, and the various passions that rise up in our soul, I have to believe with all my heart that these things have been planted and planned out for our whole life.

Book Review: Captivating

2010-05-21T15:09:00.000-07:00

I recall my 15th birthday, a pivotal turning point in my life, with my dad knocking on my bedroom door. Standing there holding a tiny, wrapped gift in the palm of his hands. I let him in and as we both sat on the edge of my bed, I opened the present. It was a dainty necklace that held a solid, plump heart on its chain. The heart was small, like a pea, yet it was pure gold. My dad, using my captive heart as an opportunity to tell his only daughter how much he loved me. He explained that he hoped this necklace would help me to remember that he was the first man to ever love me.

In the book Captivating; Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul, Stasi and John Eldredge peel back the layers of those superficial ideals that seem to define woman today. Captivating is a book that tells the fairy tale from its original, God breathed perspective(aka: Adam and Eve). Then, reexamines a woman's truest desires and intimate needs. Everything from our relationship with our own mother and father, our children, and our Creator God.

I found Captivating; Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul to shed light upon the truth. It helped to confirm my growing realization that becoming the Proverbs 31 woman is not a course I will master in my lifetime. Strive for, yes! Conquer, no! In the book, I appreciated the three characteristics that women tend to fall into; demanding, desolate, and alluring. I felt that these depictions really helped me to step back see times when I have been one or the other, then analyze what triggers contribute to myself being one over the other.

Shortly after my dad gave me that necklace pledging his love for me I gave my heart away to my first boyfriend. In the years that followed, I gave it away again and again. Broken and bruised with heartache, God has been faithful to lure me into an intimate relationship with Him. Never leaving me abandoned to my reckless ways. He has ferociously fought for my keeping and to this day is working at restoring His child into more of His likeness.

Captivating is a must read for any woman needing a fresh perspective. A new way of seeing yourself. One who longs to shed guilt and stomp out rules that bind us into a life of fear, ultimately keeping us from ever reaching our full potential. This book is a beacon of truth and light.

I Pledge Allegiance

2010-05-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

There are some things that get me every time. Like going to the theatre and watching the final curtain call. The audience on their feet clapping wildly, moved by the contagious thunderous applause. Honor tossed upon the performers like a wild thorn rose. My emotions always getting the best of me.

Then there are the proud parental moments. Milestones. My children riding their bike for the first time, or their first sleep over at a friends house, or graduating to new schools and new heights. Each time, as breathing stands still, I decide to swallow the swell that has once again risen in my throat.

Each Friday at my children's school, 130 children make their way into the gymnasium for the all-school meeting. A time set aside each week to share new talents, solve school problems, and honor those who were spotted making a difference. Being "spotted" is a big deal. Being "spotted" means that someone in the school saw you doing something extraordinary and then recognizes and celebrates you. Each meeting begins first with The Pledge of Allegiance. This past week as I turned to face the American flag, hand over my heart, I began along with 130 small voices at my back, reciting the familiar words to this country's mantra. It reminded me of my childhood. It reminded me of my brothers fighting overseas. It reminded me of all my greatest blessings and the privileges handed to my children. I was moved. At the time, wondering why I must always get so choked up about seemingly simple things. Later, it caused me to reflect on the value we place on honor.

Honor. A sticky subject on my heart. It's often easy to honor people that have pleased us or make us proud. The truth, however is that not everyone is nice and sometimes people really annoy us. When we encounter people unlike ourselves or circumstances arise that require a "do the right thing" choice I think we tend to rationalize and honor somehow becomes irrelevant.

I remember once when I was 14 years old going to the ice arena to watch my fellow classmates play hockey. Before the game began the announcer asked that we turn our attention to the American Flag to sing the National Anthem. In my silliness, attempting to make my friends laugh, I mocked the song, butchered the lyrics, and carried on loudly acting like a fool. Afterwards, a grown woman came down from the bleachers, grabbed my arm and very sternly said to me "Do you have any idea who is sitting behind you?" I glanced over her shoulder and saw an elderly man sitting down with his head low. "That man fought for your freedom in WWII and the next time we stand to honor our Country I hope you think twice about the way you just disrespected him!" My mouth dropped and all I remember for the rest of that evening was sitting silently slumped in a heap. I felt horrible. I had no intentions of hurting anyone. I just wasn't aware of the devastation disrespect can pour upon someone.

It takes due diligence to honor the tough stuff life doles out and honoring people in your life, people you care deeply about, often requires more of the same. I've found that the best place to foster this virtue is in the quiet places of your soul. Consideration before degradation edifies the Living God. Think about it...it's true.

Captivating

2010-04-22T05:17:00.000-07:00

I took a quick, sneak peek at this next month's book review. Laying in bed last night, mid-way through the second page of the book's introduction, I was bawling. Can you say - you had me at hello!

Here is a teaser. "What is at the core of a woman's heart? What are her desires? What did we long for as little girls? What do we still long for as women? And how does a woman begin to be healed from the wounds and tragedies of her life?"

Join me in reading Captivating (the revised & expanded version) by John and Stasi Eldredge.

The Wind At My Back

2010-04-16T04:46:00.000-07:00

The change of seasons is a welcome sight for this Minnesota girls sore eyes. Spring has sailed in with flying colors and Spring has officially sprung. The implication is that Spring comes with a simple, graceful ease but the truth is that every year on the winds of change, unseen forces are competing to remain either in this past, deadlocked winter world or to turn over a new leaf bringing vibrancy and new life.

This season of my life looks so different than it ever has before. Looking back over the years I would describe my working life to look something like this; spent 8 vibrant years climbing corporate ladders, then with a growing family and babies I made the transition out of the workplace into the, dye-to-yourself, stay at home atmosphere, now 6 years later I reemerge in full force into the working world, alongside my husband. It's easy to summarize those years but the process I went through was anything but. One thing I know for sure is that over the years I've found myself always longing for whats ahead rather than relishing in the moment God has placed me in today.

A few weeks ago my husband and I took a few days and retreated to the Twin Cities for some much needed business planning and regrouping. We spent a lot of time going over ideas, planning, and budgets but the thing I will take away from our trip was the Biblical lesson of the Israelites in the dessert. My husband had shared with me the message in Deuteronomy and how he had spent some time reflecting on it in the recent weeks.

The Israelites were God's chosen people, set apart to do a good work for Him. Part of the process God had them go through was a season of waiting. For 40 years they wandered around the desert until one day they finally saw it, the promise land. The promise land was all they had talked about. It was what they looked ahead to with anticipation. The problem (well that's the way they saw it) was that once they arrived, entering into the promise land didn't quite look the way they had imagined. They soon realized that they were going to have to fight for it. It was going to be a lot harder than they had thought. Discouraged by the fight ahead of them the Israelites began grumbling. Their grumbling turned into a horrible negative attitude concerning their circumstances. Their negative attitudes ultimately resulted in a dissolved faith. Because of this, many never entered the land.

Hearing this story amidst this new season strikes a cord with me. It is clear the work that God has set apart for me to do however, He is leaving the choice of my attitude up to me. Will I be afraid of the battles He calls me into? Will I claim to discern a better, easier path? The lesson of the Israelites shows me that an attitude of belief has the power to make all the difference. The winds of change will come and come again. At times, I may need to face the cold north winds, fighting the forces that take my breath away and chill me to the bone. However, if I choose to believe that whatever season God carries me into with a willingness to fight for the things He has asked me to fight for then a promise of springtime green and new life surely awaits me on the other side.

Keeping Pace with the Maker

2010-03-27T05:56:00.000-07:00

Last week I went on a field trip to the Minnesota Historical Museum with my kids. One of the items on the day's agenda was an interactive breakout session on Minnesota inventors and inventions. Our small group was assigned to study the work of Earl Bakken. Founder of MN based Medtronics company but more likely renowned for his 1954 invention of the Pacemaker.

The Pacemaker is a small electronic device designed to help an individuals heart beat in regular rhythm. Over the years, the Pacemaker has evolved from what was once a bulky, awkward piece of electronic equipment, typically worn on your belt loop, to an oh-so-small device that doctors can implant right into your chest. The work of a Pacemaker gives life, sustains life, and keeps your heart beating.

When I was born I had a heart deficiency. Not the physical type but rather the spiritual. My young heart beat just fine on it's own. Independent, confidant, and self-reliant but with each passing year, I had this sinking realization that my failing heart was failing me. Often immobilized by trials and hardships (many self induced), I found that I really needed a jump start. A heart check. Eventually, over time I came to this understanding that my longing for a healthy heart was in part due to a series of very unhealthy choices. What I was in need of was a Pacemaker!

My Pacemaker is my Maker. The one who gives me a reason for living and keeps me upright though all the struggles and strife. Much like the early invention, when I first received my Pacemaker, it was big and awkward. Sorta hanging out there for the World to see that something was different about me. Now, with the progression of time my Pacemaker has been placed securely in my chest. Embedded into my heart, my Maker keeps pace with the beat of my heart. It's a life that marches to a different drum. A life that pulsates in tandem with timeless beat keeper.

Happy Saint Patricks Day!

2010-03-17T10:35:00.001-07:00

GOD AND GUINNESS: BOOK REVIEW

I had my first Guinness experience at Bull Feeney's Irish Pub in Portland, Maine. Located in the historic waterfront district, my husband and I, cautiously sipped on the tall, dark stout while enjoying fish and chips. I remember looking out into the vast waters of the Atlantic and considered the voyage that my Irish ancestors once made, many of whom landed upon the shores of Maine.

I have to admit that the reason for this month's book choice, plain and simple, was the title. God and Guinness; I was hooked. Familiar with Stephen Mansfield's work, I understood the style of writing I was getting into. The rigorous research and detail that goes into his biographical work is like a loaded potato, full of substance and topped with all sorts of extras.

From my perspective the book was laid out in three distinct parts; the history of beer, the rise of Arthur Guinness and his immediate family, and finally a legacy-in-action.

The History of Beer

During Mansfield's detailed accounts of beer statistics and its enterprise, one story stuck out to me. The story of the Pilgrims in 1621 who, while struggling for survival, were approached by a Native American. At this time, they were unsure of the natives and felt guarded by this naked, brown-skinned man who rode into their camp on horseback. But when Native American, Samoset spoke English to them saying "Welcome" and then asked for some beer. The barriers were broken, trust was being forged, all by the hospitality that beer offered.

The Rise of Arthur Guinness

Born in County Down to a father who worked as a manager of an estate, Arthur learned the many traits of his father which included brewing beer. Then in 1759 Arthur leased the property at St.Jame's Gate in Dublin to pursue his own independent brewing ambitions. Initially he fixed up the grounds and buildings, and got his new brewery brewing. It was, as most new ventures are, slow going at first. Knowing what we know now, some 250 years later, Aurthur's dream not only has survived but has transformed lives for generations. That is not to blind us to the character required to make it work, the long hours, and the fortitude of soul that a risky, expensive business launch demands. What distinguishes his story is that his success was also a calling to a purpose of God beyond himself and his family, to see the broader good he could do in the world.

Legacy In Action

Could it be true that a man be measured by the culture he creates? Culture. It means "what is encouraged to grow". Guinness the beer is magnificent, yes, but it is the Guinness culture that for nearly two centuries changed the lives of Guinness workers, transformed poverty in Dublin, and inspired other companies to understand that care for their employees was their most important work.

A few months ago, while working alongside my husband in our home office, I watched him conducting a phone meeting regarding the financial affairs of his grandmother. His grandmother, who at 60 years of age became a widow. I watched my husband as he diligently discussed matters stated in a will that his grandfather had prepared long before he was even born.

It struck me as I thought about a mans legacy. How we work so hard in life to organize and prepare and take good care of our finances all with the hope, the hope that it will live on. I doubt that my husband's grandfather had any notion that his six year old grandson would be taking his legacy and moving it forward into the next generation. I consider these things as I find myself so wrapped up in my work, my daily hardships, and what my purpose is. Would I be satisfied in this life if I never saw the fruit of my work? I look deep into the eyes of my children and ponder the idea that maybe the sowing and labor I endure today will be their harvest. Could my legacy be carried by eyes I've never met, the off-spring of my children's children, who still remain the twinkling in my Father's heart?

God and Guinness

2010-03-02T19:33:00.000-08:00

I think I need a beer! Life has been clipping along at such an amazingly, wicked pace. I do however feel very grateful that I live in a country and that I have been given the all-American entrepreneurial spirit which has enabled Aaron and I to run our financial planning business the way we desire. By day I'm working hard at promoting the business with marketing, public relations, and networking events. I'm also a mother of three children who, come 3pm, need my devotion to them just the same. Then comes my late night job, the one that requires I leave the house to care for four adult women with disabilities. It's actually a sleep job so you guessed it, I get paid to sleep. Mornings with the girls are fun as they have dubbed me Rachel the baker and insist that several days a week I make them pancakes, scones, or rolls.

At the end of the day, I need a beer. Most of you know though that I no longer consume alcoholic beverages. Long story. Read a former post. My husband who loves a good beer at the end of day (emphasis on the singular for those counting) has taken it upon himself to search out any and all non-alcoholic beers. He finds a lot of satisfaction in the taste test.

With that said, its a good night when the two of us can cheers together the end of another exhausting day, celebrating God's goodness and a good beer.

In honor of St.Patricks Day and to many of our Irish ancestral roots, I found the perfect little book to help all us who love God and love a good beer (not equally the same) to read this month.

Join me in reading "God and Guinness" by Stephen Mansfield. See you back here, none other than St. Patty's Day, to reflect on the life and legacy of Aurther Guinness. 'Tis!

Book Review: The Hole in our Gospel

2010-01-29T19:05:00.000-08:00

The Hole in our Gospel is the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The Bible says "Then the eyes of those who see will no longer be closed, and the ears of those who hear will listen." Isaiah 32:3

Author, Rich Stearns has managed to weave three poignant pieces into his book "The Hole in our Gospel" that captivate, break your heart, and motivate a movement to do something.

Captivate
Have you ever found yourself face down with indecision or, better yet, kicking and screaming because you want so desperately to get out of a situation that lacked any of the comfort zone qualities that you desire? If so, then you could relate to the raw emotions that Rich Stearns portrays when God sends him the job of President for World Vision, USA.

In his book, Stearns shares story after story of his humanness, family, and faith. He even shares his struggles to keep constant vigilance of the people he serves, the poorest of poor, on the forefront of his mind.

Break Your Heart
Some 350 to 400 million children are hungry, a child dies every five seconds from hunger-related causes, and as many as five million people die every year of water-related illnesses. These are cold hard numbers. However, Stearns didn't just spill statistics, he integrated his personal stories, like the first time he went to Africa to meet one of his sponsored children. The trip broke his heart but, meeting the child he had faithly sponsored well before his reigning days at World Vision, changed his life.

Motivate a Movement
There are a million lists of things we can and should be doing to make strides towards ending poverty in this world. Throughout the book Stearns charges his readers to do-something! He asks the question "where is the church?" I believe the motivation for moving in the right direction becomes a heart check for each of us. God will speak clearly the direction in your life on how to conquer your own piece of the puzzle.

So, if you want to know a thing or two or three about what's really going on in the world, I highly recommend lending your heart to this book. Disclaimer: Reader be wary...you may just be motivated to step out and change the world.

Let There Be Courage

2010-01-18T19:32:00.000-08:00

Every year an estimated 1 million people commingle at Times Square to watch the infamous Waterford Crystal Ball drop during the final minute of the year. New Year's Eve at the iconic center of New York City has become more than just a celebration - it's a global tradition. A tradition where in one simultaneous minute the world unites in bidding a collective farewell to the departing year, and expresses our joy and hope for the year ahead.

This year, during that final minute, as I held my breath anticipating the cheers and celebration for the joy of another year, the television talk show host turned his attention to the Waterford Crystal Ball. Given a theme for each year, the announcer proclaimed that the decided theme for this New Year would be "Let there be courage."

With those words, I felt a shiver crawl down my spine. A seemingly motivational theme "courage" ~ had become, for me, a weighted word that God was weaving into my awareness in the weeks leading up to the New Year. To explain, I should rewind a bit.

It's no secret that my heart has found a desire to write. Almost a year ago this desire took on a new shape as I felt God lay a clear message, an impression upon my heart and mind, to write a story for my daughters. I have spent much of this year researching, reading, and preparing to write. It was concluded early on that my story would take place in Ireland. An inspirational backdrop behind my historical lineage, the land of my forefathers.

In early December I had a dream. It captivated my attention and subsequently I wrote it in my journal. It reads;

"Aaron and I were in a car crammed with people. As we were driving we noticed a tornado coming. I immediately grabbed Aaron's hand and said that we needed to pray. One of the lines in my prayer was 'God give us the courage to get through this.' After we passed through the eye of the tornado one of the girls in our vehicle (her name is Kelly) turned to me and repeated the word courage." I woke up.

In mid December I had another dream. My journal reads;

"I was in church and Bill O'Riley (yep, the Fox news dude) was standing next to me. The feeling was that he was my boyfriend. After church I was walking down the hall with a basket filled with fruit." I woke up.

In late December I woke with a start. Reached for my journal and penned this dream.

"Last night I dreamed that my late friend whose last name is O'Riley kept asking me on a date."

It's no secret that one of the ways I believe God is able to speak to His children is through dreams. Carefully though, with much thought and trepidation, we can receive through the gift of the Holy Spirit, instruction and inspiration for our lives.

I have taken these dreams and spent my days pondering their meaning. I have prayed over them and I have asked that God would fit the pieces together like a puzzle so that I can see the picture He is trying to show me.

This I know to be true. The word O'Riley having an Irish origin means courageous. Is courage asking me on date? Is courage supposed to be my companion?

This I know to be true. The name Kelly (woman who repeated the word courage to me in tornado dream) of Irish origin means bravery or female warrior.

This I know to be true. The Waterford Crystal Ball, symbolizing another new year, is sponsored by the Waterford Crystal company. Founded in none-other-than Waterford, Ireland.

Courage is a quality of fearless spirit. If I am to interpret the beautifully woven message that God has so creatively given to me then I would have to believe that this story laid upon my heart and the work it entails, is one that will require determined courage.

I share these intricacies of my life because I believe that God desires to inspire and teach and lavish Himself upon everyone of us. He has a plan for our lives. He is fully invested. He is just waiting for us to turn towards Him with an attentive ear. Are you listening? He's speaking to you this very moment.

Mumble, Grumble, Humble

2009-12-30T14:29:00.000-08:00

I make a snowball every Christmas. It starts out small but as the ball gets rolling it grows larger and larger. Eventually it becomes so big that I can't even budge it. What was once a simple idea with the hope to create a beautiful, magical memory ends up with a little girl crying at the base of her incomplete task.

In actuality my snowball is just a symbol for the seemingly endless to-dos, gatherings, planning, and preparations that compact into one big ginormous ball by the Eve of Christmas. To begin, my intentions are always pure and simple but for some reason I lose the true spirit of the season along the way.

This year, one week before Christmas, as I was scrambling to prepare for an annual Christmas party that we have with extended family, once again I found myself overwhelmed. I grumbled to friends and mumbled around the house as I jumbled together all the food, the gifts, the Santa bags, the packing, and so on. In the midst of it all, a relative called to remind me of my involvement in this years Nativity Story production. Keeping with the annual tradition, the children dress in Nativity character costumes while the Christmas story is read among the family. I hung up the phone, grumbled and mumbled, then added another item to the list.

There is a certain keeping of traditions among my family. They become sacred and must not be broken. The annual Christmas gathering includes a host of programs and activities and they always occur in the same order, at the same time, and always on the Saturday before Christmas. One of the final activities for the day includes a hay ride through the streets of my grandparents tiny, little town. Population 101. We sing Christmas carols and freeze our noses off. This year was no exception.

I fumbled the kids into their snow gear and mumbled a few grumblings before I stepped into my own. Headed out into the cold, jumped aboard the hay ride with my fellow family members. 15 aunts and uncles, 29 cousins, 12 second cousins, 3 children, and 1 spouse later we were Ho-Ho-Ho'ing our way through the snow packed streets. As our hayride processioned through the streets to the edge of town I caught a glimpse of my grandparent's farm . The one in which hold all my Christmas memories. Simplicity, joy, anticipation, peace, and more joy flood my heart when I recall all those childhood memories. As I gazed upon my children's sparkling eyes and red noses, their excitement and wonder for living in the moment had captivated me. Their little hearts were calm and bright. They had embraced the season with joy and anticipation. Somewhere between Silent Night and Jingle Bells, I was humbled. Humbled by the truth in my children's faces. Humbled by my mumblings and grumblings.

With the New Year before me, I pray that God would foster the courage in me to remain vigilant to these things. The ability to worry less, relax more, and live life in the truth.

The Hole in our Gospel

2009-12-21T13:47:00.000-08:00

Let me begin with an apology. I have not forgotten about my little endeavouring book club for my fellow blogger. I promise that I have a really good explanation but I'll save those rants and ramblings for future posts.

In T-minus 4 days Christmas will be here. The anticipation in our home seems to compound by the hour but what will you have to look forward to next week or the week after that? How about a life changing book for a fresh new year?

Join me in reading Rich Stearns, The Hole in our Gospel. Meet me here January 29th to weigh in on your thoughts and perspective.

Here is a little teaser on The Hole in our Gospel...

It's 1998 and Richard Stearns' heart is breaking as he sits in a mud hut and listens to the story of an orphaned child in Rakai, Uganda. His journey to this place took more than a long flight from the United States to Africa. It took answering God's call on his life, a call that hurtled him out of his presidential corner office at Lenox-America's finest tableware company-to this humble corner of Uganda.

This is a story of how a corporate CEO faced his own struggle to obey God whatever the cost, and his passionate call for Christians to change the world by actively living out their faith. Using his own journey as an example, Stearns explores the hole that exists in our understanding of the Gospel.

Just A Dog In Training

2009-12-07T21:40:00.000-08:00

This is my dog Hobbs. We rescued him from an animal shelter in Iowa 2 years ago. We realized shortly after our honeymoon with this sweet, high-energy, non-shedding, family companion that, in fact, we would be the ones in need of rescuing. Initially he was a nightmare. Jumping on counters and tables. Barrelling children over. Chewing and destroying pillows, blankets and sacred stuffed animals. Then came the runaways. Seeming to think that he owned the neighborhood and that every rabbit, deer, or squirrel was his claim. Ranking zero in the manners department, Hobbs was unruly and completely selfish.

After several agonizing months and countless human attempts to gain the upper hand, redirect, and teach this dog a few new tricks; exhasburation set in. It was time for some professional help. What this dog needed was some TRAINING!

For four weeks Hobbs attended a K9 acadamy working specifically on learning new commands, obedience, and agility. When he returned to our home it was as if we had a brand new dog. He understood us when we spoke to him and better yet he listened. Hobbs had been transformed. He was a new creation and it was all in part due to his training.

Silly to think that we could compare ourselves to dogs but in fact when I consider the ways in which a dog can go through training I think there is something to be said for how we might consider our own spiritual training.

The authentic training of a dog requires three key areas.

1. Learning the language.We gave Hobbs German commands. Separate from our everyday language when we spoke his command in German he knew that we were talking to him. Much in the same way, God desires to communicate to us. He wants us to know and learn His language so that He can teach us great and wonderful things for our lives.

2. Obedience. First, you must trust. A base of trust allows for the building blocks of respect. Without respect, obedience has no home.

3. Agility. Agility is the union of dynamic balance, or the ability to maintain balance under changing conditions. Agility is designed to demonstrate a dog's willingness to work with its handler in a variety of situations.

It took me 15 messy, chaotic years, after accepting Christ into my heart, to realize the importance of submiting to my Master. For years, God had me on the same training course. Somehow I always found myself barrelling through the same old crash course. Until slowly I began to become more aware, I focused on digging deeper into myself in search of His truths. Over time and lots of time, training and lots of training, I've found that a life which reeps a harmonious home for its soul is one that allows its Master to become the Alpha. Maybe that's why they call Him the Alpha and Omega?

The Sacred Meal

2009-11-25T08:50:00.000-08:00

Communion. The word in and of itself conjures up a series of personal images. Or, for some, maybe a gut feeling. When I think of Communion three thoughts come to mind. Food and wine, gathering together, and giving thanks. Did you know that Eucharist in Greek can be translated as "thanksgiving?" Today, on this day of Thanksgiving, I want to talk about Communion.

As a young child I was Catholic. I was Baptised, received First Communion, and was Confirmed. As a teenager my family converted to Baptist. I was Baptised, took Communion, and was saved. In college I attended the Covenant church. As a newlywed I was embraced by the United Methodist church. Throw in a couple non-denominational churches between the years. Today we worship with the Vineyard church. Basically to sum it up, I'm a religious mutt. The common thread however between all these Christian denominations is the act of Communion. Where theological differences and rules divide; Communion unites.

Recently I read the book "The Sacred Meal" by Nora Gallagher. At first glance, it appeared to carry some deep, thought provoking perspective into the practices and spirituality of Communion but I was sadly mistaken when the heart of the book was really just about the ritual and rights of passage. I would have enjoyed diving into a historical view of the subject but unfortunately this wasn't the book to take me there. Gallagher however made a few profound statements concerning this sacred meal that we call Communion.

"We need concrete things that tie the ordinary to the extraordinary, like the long lines that tether a hot air balloon to the ground, to bring the kingdom of heaven near to us. The hope is that these rituals will not diminish the holy nor make it mundane but are set aside to keep it close."

What if the Last Supper, our celebratory reason for Communion, was a lot like our Thanksgiving feasts? Preparations, gathering together, sharing food and wine, and hearts filled with gratitude for the blessings of today. Year after year, we uphold the tradition as an act of remembrance, as an act of gathering, as an act of sharing. Why? Because doing so bring us close to the ones we love and by doing so this gives us joy.

Communion is a matter of Thanksgiving. Its a matter of focusing on the blessings that have been given to us through Jesus. When it becomes anything less than that frame of mind, we've missed out. Several years back a Christmas campaign was launched. The tag line "Jesus is the reason for the season." Pins, ornaments, decor', and more all shouting a reminder to the world that the real reason for the season is Jesus. Communion deserves its own boost in the ratings. This year, as you gather together, weather it be to feast with family and friends or to unite with your church family in the divine act of Communion remember this...

"Holy Communion is a way of saying thanks. It points toward abundance." ~Nora Gallagher

Book Review: The Noticer

2009-10-31T10:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome Back! If you've participated in this months book club read then I will be anxious to hear your own thoughts, feedback, and perspective. Seeing as how the premise of the book itself revolves around perspective it might be wise to expand on the personal reflection Andrew's enticed throughout the read.

I found the book to be a very short, simple read. The main character Jones, not Mr. Jones, but just plain Jones was this harmonious blend of Gary Chapman meets Mr.Rogers. A life coach who kept hanging around the same neighborhood, dropping in on people who were in need of a fresh new perspective in their life.

I felt like I could empathize with the various characters who, after having been given their little truth filled wake up call by Jones, did not want him to leave. I consider the people who have popped into my life to inspire me, wake me up, and give me a new lease on life. Each and every time, I didn't want them to leave or I didn't want the experience to end.

I will admit that several scenarios that played out seemed to have a predictable quality to them. I'm not saying that I'm a know-it-all, my husband might disagree but well just keep this little secret between us, however for me this book presented a lot of trials and issues that I felt like I have traveled before.

There were however many Jones-ism's that struck me and caused me to take notice and ponder them in my heart. I'd like to share the couple that stuck out the most.

About Wisdom
When Jones is asked how perspective relates to wisdom he responds by saying "One way to define wisdom is the ability to see, into the future, the consequences of your choices in the present...most people can tell the difference between good and bad however, it takes a truly wise person to discern that oh-so-thin line between good and best. And that line, my friends, is the line that separates a roll of the dice about your future, from a sure thing...from trying, as the Bible says, to 'see through a dark glass' and having a perspective that allows you to see clearly the long-term consequences of your choices."

About Intentions
"Five seagulls are sitting on a dock. One of them decides to fly away. How many seagulls are left? There are still five. Deciding to fly away and actually flying away are two very different things. Despite popular belief to the contrary, there is absolutely no power in intention. The seagull may intend to fly away, may decide to do so, may talk with the other seagulls about how wonderful it is to fly, but until the seagull flaps his wings and takes to the air, he is still on the dock. There's no difference between that gull and all the others. Likewise, there is no difference in the person who intends to do things differently and the one who never thinks about it in the first place."

About Worry
"When doubts and fears assail us, we subconsciously calculate the possibilities. And soon, we are so paralyzed by the idea that disaster is imminent that we cannot function in our work-and even our relationships dissolve. We have imagined our way into self-destruction." Reaching for his napkin, he wrote down "40%" "Forty percent of the things you worry about will never occur anyway and 30% of the things you worry about are the things that have already happened- in the past. Worry is focus! But it is focus on the wrong things. Now that you are equipped to calculate the odds from this point forward, you will focus on what can be controlled. After all, it is your own imagination with which you are doing battle!"

In closing, I would like to present a question The Noticer himself asked.
"What is it about me that other people would change if they could?"

Thoughts from the Windy City

2009-10-27T19:55:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I took my daughter to Chicago to celebrate her 12th birthday. The pulsing streets of Michigan and State, infamous food venues at every corner, and all the cultural elements that only a historical city like Chicago can offer; Chicago, you had me at hello!

One afternoon while shopping we happened upon this little whimsical art gallery. I began thumbing through some pictures with attached poetry inspired pieces. I found one that captivated me, the kind that prickles your skin leaving your hair standing on end. I had to have it. Impulsively I bought it.

Later, at the counter, the sales women explained that the art work I had chosen was in fact part of a project they call Project Onward which supports the creative growth of artists with mental and developmental disabilities. This knowledge only deepened my level of inspiration.

In May of 2007, a Winnifred L. Birts completed this masterpiece and in my opinion penned the words to a thought provoking piece about our thoughts. It captivated me and I hope it captivates you too.

Thoughts

by Winnifred L. Birts

If you think about it, that everything begins with your thoughts. First comes the thought.

Second speak the words. Then last but not least do the deed. The deed becomes habit, and habit

hardens into character. This is the reason that our thoughts are so important. So, think about

the changes that you want to make in your life. Your thoughts are your subconscious mind,

guiding you to action. But you shouldn't act on every thought that you get. If we act on all the

thoughts that we get there will be chaos. Our thoughts can lead us into damnation or can lead us

into a positive action. And the creation of thought, in us, is a given from God. What we do with

our minds, determines what happens to our bodies. What comes from our Spirit effects our

minds, what comes from our minds effects our bodies, and last on the list is what we have in our

pockets. Which is where our heart is. So figure where your hearts at then let your light shine.

A Second Hand Christmas

2009-10-10T05:01:00.000-07:00

No doubt the economic recession has hit hard and hit home for most of us. At one point in my life I suppose I would have played the woe is me fiddle, but not this time! This time my heart is filled with joy and gratitude and oddly I feel commissioned. Although I could sit at home counting my pennies I have instead taken this opportunity, once again, to dutifully and diligently get creative about how, when, and where to spend our money.

A few months ago, while thinking ahead to Christmas, I had an idea pop into my head. Some might say that I'm a garage sale diva or a thrift store junkie but the truth is I just love finding that treasure, for half the price no less. While my husband hunts for our daily food, I gather the necessities for survival!

This year I've made the decision that our family will celebrate Christmas second hand style. Although the reigning reason might be money. Spending less of it this year. There are two other reasons which play a deeper role in factoring into this decision. First, I love finding a treasure. Digging for and discovering that diamond in the ruff creates a story unparalleled to what those retailers have to offer. There will be no gift receipts this year for my bearer of gifts. The second reason for this out of the box idea comes from the desire of my heart. To give to the poor. Almost all second hand stores operate as a non-profit. The poor, the down and out, and those charities in need are the recipients of these well stocked, meticulously organized, operations run by tireless volunteers. So you see its a win-win on both sides of the counter.

So before you turn up your nose to second hand store you might want to give it a second thought. Consider stepping out of the box, adjusting your thinking caps, and putting into motion your own economic friendly, awe inspiring Christmas. Then take time to enjoy the real reason for the season!

October Book Read

2009-10-10T04:53:00.001-07:00

This month's read is The Noticer by Andy Andrews. Andrews is the best selling author of The Travels Gift. A blend of inspirational story and self instruction. I'm anxious to get reading.

Meet you back here on the 31st to weigh in on your thoughts!

Book Review: Kabul 24

2009-09-30T07:25:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucker for ordinary people doing extraordinary things. When you add politics and religion to the mix its hardly a category I can pass up exploring.

A few weeks ago I introduced this idea to start a little online book club. I'll throw out a read once a month and hopefully we can come together and chat cyber-taniously about our thoughts, opinions, and feedback. Sound good? So here's to our first book, Kabul 24.

Book Overview
Kabul 24 is the true story of twenty-four individuals who were abducted by the Taliban while living in Afghanistan. These individuals consisting of 16 local Afghans and 8 foreigners all worked for the same non-profit organization, Shelter Now International. The calling of SNI was to help Afghan refugees rebuild their lives following decades of war but in 2001, extremists set out to rid the country of anyone they deemed to pose a threat to Islam and the Taliban regime.

Staged by the Taliban, a local Afghan family asked two of the SNI women to share one of their films about Jesus. The set-up worked and within days 8 foreign SNI workers and 16 local SNI workers were abducted and thrown into prison. Separated from the 16 locals, the book focuses on the 8 foreigners and their life and death encounters. Interrogated, falsely accused, having to live in despicable prison quarters, and even being set on trial before the almighty judge. Finally after 105 days of captivity they were miraculously and systematically set free!

My Two-Cents
In my opinion, this is a story of faith above all else. Few of us will ever truly walk the dusty roads of Kabul on a mission to rebuild their city. For myself I try to imagine a mindset and a heart with that sort of passion and for that reason I'm awe inspired by the eight men and women who put themselves in the midst of such adversity. Kabul 24 offered me the opportunity to step into another culture (without the discomfort of actually doing it). This book gave me the opportunity to hear pieces of a language that is not so common to my ear. I found myself googling more Islamic words than ever before. As an American I see the prejudices we place on those from other cultures, specifically those of Middle Eastern decent. I've wondered how we, a melting pot of immigrant decedents, have forgotten the efforts of our forefathers who came to America because they only wanted a better way of life. With that said, I think that Kabul 24 shows us several key Afghan men who moved with their heart to help protect the lives and even aid in the US mission to recover these eight. While the 8 were moved to one prison after another they were forced to fall into deeper and darker conditions. All the while continually seeking God and rolling over their situation into His hands. Blindly they could not see where they were going but in the end God used their Faith to sustain them and in the end God used this Faith to move mountains and restore their freedoms without harm or death.

Produced by Michael W. Smith this book is now available in motion picture. For more information or to order a copy of this DVD visit http://kabul24movie.com/

Stay tuned for the launch of Octobers cyber book choice....I hope to hear from all of you who partook in the reading fun!

Guard It, Girlfriend!

2009-09-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

I'm a hypocrite. A chronic case of do as I say, not as I do. The topic I'm about to present is a major thorn in my side however, I feel compelled to share it because it presents another one of those rough edges that I fear I will forever be attempting to smooth.

It's my tongue. My words. The very bane of my passion is to write, to speak, to use words as a means of artful expression. On the flip side, these passions have an awful tendency to get me into a lot of trouble. Many a times I have wanted to retrieve my words, like a lab to its owner after the hunt. They have the power to sting, bite, and inflict pain. I have been on both the giving and receiving end of each line.

In recent weeks I decided to dig up what God might have to say on the subject. I found this simple verse written by David in the Psalms. Its says " Set a guard over my mouth, O' Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips."

A few days later I found myself wrapped up in a conversation that was full of fire and ice. Oh, how I wanted to add my commentary. Just as I opened my mouth to speak my peace I heard this subtle voice from within say "Guard It, Girlfriend." My mouth came crashing shut, stunned with disbelief, I said nothing.

We have this tendency to believe that what one doesn't know doesn't hurt them. True. Yet completely false. While words spoken behind someones back or without their knowledge may not directly affect the person at large; the sting and the bite and the poison is still present. Our mouths carrying the deadly disease.

So what should one do? Guard it! Our gut, our internal compass, the divine Spirit that lives within us gives us all the nudgings that one needs for each day. If we pay attention to those promptings then I believe we have the ability to receive the fullness of life that were intended to have. I'm hopeful that the next time I'm tempted to speak beyond myself I'll remember to whisper a prayerful reminder to myself to "Guard It, Girlfriend!"

Join me in a little book club fun!

2009-09-21T12:05:00.000-07:00

I did not begin reading novels on a regular basis until I was 30 years old. When a friend of mine launched her monthly book club three years ago I politely declined her requests to join in the fun month after month. Except, a funny thing happened. Each and every month I found myself curious enough to go out and pick up that months book. Always making the excuse that I was way too busy for such a trivial thing as book club. Well, curiosity got the best of me (and so did the challenge to finish something month after month) and before long I was attending the club with my value added two cents. The kicker is that I have fallen in love with books!

Recently I was given the opportunity to become a Book Review Blogger for Thomas Nelson Publishing. My responsibility is to read one of their selected books and blog about it. How fun! How Easy! It's got me thinking that this could be a really great experience for all of you as well. So my plan is this, every month I will announce our book for the month, place a deadline for completion, and then when I post my review for the book it will allow you an opportunity to comment with your own review of the book.

This month I have chosen Kabul 24 by Henry Arnold and Ben Pearson. It is a true story about 8 humanitarian aid workers, serving in Afghanistan, who were imprisoned by the Taliban for both political and religious reasons. This story is about the hope that would free them from captivity long before their dramatic rescue by American Special Forces 105 days after their abduction.

Date of completion: lets aim for Friday, October 2nd. Its an easy read so I know we all can do it! Be inspired and well chat soon.

Choosing the Big Rocks

2009-09-12T07:21:00.000-07:00

Wherever we go, we leave traces of our presence by piling up stones. It seems to be a universal human need, like staking blocks, or leaving our mark for someone coming along after us to notice.

Ancient Cairns appear throughout the world. These man made piles of stones typically stacked in conical form, have been used to mark important graves, map out a path, or even celebrate the summit of a mountain. Some Cairns are tall, intricately stacked ten to twenty feet high. Others are tiny with just a few stones precariously balancing upon one another. The beauty and mystery in Cairns is that they are unique and individual to their creator.

A few months ago my husband proposed an assignment to me. He asked me to consider, pray, and contemplate about the big rocks in my life. Then write the top three down. This may seem like a simple task. For many of us we offer the canned response; God, Family, Church. It's the plain old right thing to say so, that might as well be the end of it. The disclaimer to this assignment however, was that my response could not portray the qualities of a 30 second commercial.

After several grueling weeks of deliberation, analyzing, squeezing, contorting, and maneuvering I finally concluded. I know, I know you must be thinking what on earth is the matter with this girl. She just had to pick three rocks. Well did you know that A connects with B, B to C, and before you know it you've sung the whole alphabet and A through Z make up one rock because the alphabet is cohesive. Get where I'm coming from?

So here they are...drum roll please... Family, Legacy Wealth Management (our family-owned business), and Writing.

In case your wondering why "God" isn't a rock it's because He is my rock! Colossians 3: 3-4 says "For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory." The basic point is this, Christ IS my life, were inter-woven together so everything I do, the big rocks in my life, revolve around Him for His glory.

So what are your big rocks? Do they come by you naturally or does choosing your rocks require some slicing and dicing to reconfigure their priority into your life. If you've never taken the time to ponder, reflect, and write out your three big rocks I highly recommend this assignment. May you find joy in the process of stacking your stones with purpose.

The Great Plains

2009-08-31T20:46:00.000-07:00

I love the mountains. My beloved husband proposed to me at 14,000 feet in the Rocky Mountains. Our elevated captivation then inspired a simple wedding in a chapel overlooking the Sawtooth Mountains. The mountains swell in mysterious adoration. One can hardly believe that such an experience, such a sight could possibly be so grand.

The journey however to the mountains lacks in any luster. For me, traveling to euphoric splendor requires that I go through the Great Plains. A stretch of land filled with more of the same. Open fields leading to open fields. Mile after mile. Hour after hour. It's a quest where patience and waiting is required.

In life we talk about our highs and lows, ups and downs, mountains and valleys. But what about The Great Plains? The place in life where everything looks and feels the same. It's a nice straight smooth ride. It's comfortable and easy. Ground Hog's Day set on cruise-control. As I write this posting, I myself am traveling through The Great Plains. Over and over I ask God what he wants from me right now. Over and over I think I hear Him asking me to"Be still" and "Wait Patiently." For some of us, we would much rather remain traveling along life's steady, unchanging byways. However, I find myself camping alongside the campaign for change and more change. Needless to say stillness and patience challenges me to the core.

Spelled out, the Great P.L.A.I.N.S. provide the perfect acronym to guide us through what might otherwise feel like a boring, wasted season of life.

P is for Patience
L is for Listening
A is for Anticipation
I is for Instruction
N is for Nourishment
S is for Silence

For me, now is the time to be silent and listen. For me, now is the time to receive nourishment through instruction. For me, now is the time to patiently anticipate the next season that I must walk through. But what about you? What season are you in? Any tips for a fellow traveler?

Those who give to the poor will lack nothing

2009-08-17T07:25:00.000-07:00

Two years ago my best friend Jill found herself the most down on her luck. Well, I believe luck didn't really have anything to do with it but that's another story. Their family owned business was forced to close it doors leaving in its wake a desperate economic crisis within the walls of their home. Faced with mounting bills, heat and electric disconnections, and foreclosure notices an odd thing occurred.

Out of their distressed situation this very real, spiritually driven compulsion to give to others in more dire circumstances began pulsing through their hearts and minds. Jill has described that during one Sunday, while sitting in church, she had this idea come to her. Why not have a family potluck-fundraising event in their own backyard. It would be a day filled with bands, kids events, and fundraising for impoverished children around the world. After some thoughtful prayer, Jill remembered receiving, at Christmas time, a catalog from an organization called World Vision. In this catalog you could purchase livestock animals as Christmas gifts for children all over the world.

With her family-friendly live music event in one hand and the World Vision resources in the other; the idea for Livestock was birthed. In June of 2008 the first annual Livestock rocked neighborhoods all over St.Peter, MN. Raising more than $4,000 through the purchases of animals such as goats, chickens, sheep, cows, pigs, bull, and fish ponds.

This year we held our 2nd annual Livestock event. Bigger bands, expanded food tents, larger crowds but most importantly a nearly doubled fundraising total. $7,000 worth of livestock to be distributed via World Vision to some of the worlds most down and out families.

In the Bible we are told that those who give to the poor will lack nothing (Proverbs 28:27). As Americans its hard to conceive what it means to lack anything. For most of us, this means we lack a bigger house, better car, or that promotion to secure those monetary hopes and dreams for our future. To lack nothing means that we have it all. Could this simple divine instruction quite possibly be the end-all, cure-all to all our life's problems?

We all have broken imperfect lives. Always lacking in some fashion. When I consider the work of giving to the poor I believe its out of our own lacking that God can use us best. In Jill's case, lacking in her own families financial provision, she stepped out in faith to do what God placed upon her heart. Giving to those in need was not guilt driven task but a passionate plea from her Father. She obeyed and today it's her heart that lacks nothing.

Preserve it if's and why's

2009-07-22T20:47:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up I ate whatever I wanted. My brother and I would walk nearly a mile, up-hill both ways, to get to the candy store. Pockets loaded with lemon sours, pop rocks, and candy cigarettes(whatever happened to those?) all for just a pennies-price. As a kid I remember snacking on things like Doritos, Twinkies, Nutty Bars, Spaghettios, and Dinty Moore Beef Stew right from the can.

Back then I didn't know what preservatives were. Back then I didn't understand the concept of artificial ingredients. Back then it was more about living in the moment and instant gratification. You might say over the years I've become more educated on food consumption but in reality the older I get the more I desire things that are pure.

Purity. I find myself staring down upon it like an unwavering scale. Unforgiving and unattainable or so it seems. I'm curious though what it really means to be pure? I'm willing to bet it has a lot to do with preservatives. Preserving my thoughts; Guarding my mind from thoughts that reel themselves over and over like an on screen drama. Preserving my words; One too many times I have owned spoken words that could break my mothers back. Preserving my deeds; The choices I made yesterday, last month, and many moons ago are all pieces of who I am today.

I'm no goody two shoes. In fact, I don't think I could be one if I wanted too but somewhere deep inside of me has a new-found longing to relish the things that are clean and fresh and innocent. When its all said and done, I want the preservation of my soul to matter most. I ponder the role that purity plays in my keeping.

Let Your Lamp Shine

2009-06-10T20:09:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had the feeling that someone was watching you? Spine chilling to consider our every move under the gaze of some strange, unknown eyes. Yes, I've had my fair share of these fear-filled episodes. All of which turned out to be my minds wander lust for creating the most horrific means to my end.

For the last three years I have been watched. Going to get the mail, mowing the lawn, and digging in the garden have all been observed by the same watchful eyes. My comings and goings; all documented. My children's outdoor playfulness; all consumed. Though you might consider this to reign in the creepy camp it, in fact, has been one of the biggest blessings to our move to Mankato.

Alice, our 68 year old neighbor, lives due North of our home. Her picturesque living room windows, facing due South, have made a haven for enjoying wildlife, nature, and her neighbors (that would be us). In her living room sits her own chair and next to it is a lamp that is always on. Its rare that I can see her sitting there but I always know she is there because of the glowing lamp.

In the last three years we've culminated a lot of sweet neighborly gestures. One time my car got stuck in our driveway after a snowstorm. Within minutes her husband had been commissioned to my rescue with his snow chains. Notes pop up in my mailbox filled with insurmountable gratitude and words of praise just for being neighbors. Then there was the time that I was feeling the most down on my luck when she randomly stopped by with a plate of cookies and smiling cheer. Every morning I leave the house at 5am for my bakery job and every morning her lamp is glowing from her living room windows. It has filled my day with peace just knowing that she is there. I guess you could say that its become, in my minds eye, some sort of guardianship.

When I grow up I want to be like Alice. She always has a positive spin on life even though circumstances might suggest otherwise. For 2 years now she has been battling Ovarian Cancer. Through all the treatments, traditional and experimental, she has been determined that she will overcome this challenge. When I go to visit she always says "It's a good day because its the one I've been given." In recent weeks I've noticed an increasing glow about her. Her skin has radiated brightness. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

A few days ago I learned that dispite her efforts to forge through this unwanted physical battle it was quickly taking its claim. Today I learned that she has crossed the river and is now in the presence of God. I will miss her greatly but celebrate in knowing that she is walking in splendor.

When my grandma was living, I remember her caring eyes for the neighbors out her front window. It never came with judgements or nosiness but rather, a heart of love and care for the ones before her very eyes. For this reason, I admire the way Alice has watched me and my family. One of my favorite verses in the Bible is the one where the Kings mother is telling her son about what to look for in a woman. Specifically what God sees as beautiful in His eyes. It reads:

"She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all." Proverbs 31:25-29

In further passages were told that this women's lamp does not go out night. I could interpret that many ways but for the sake of Alice I believe that her "lamp" suggests her light from within. The way she carefully watches over her family, friends, and neighbors. The way she breathed light and encouragement into the lives of those around her. Alice, you will be missed but your lamp will continue to shine brightly!

What the Duke!

2009-05-26T07:43:00.000-07:00

What the Duke! I have a girlfriend who regularly uses this expression. I believe its original intention was to supplement expletive words in an effort to protect young ears or maybe even blameless hearts who otherwise wouldn't be able to bear such language. It's so catchy that I now find myself slipping it into conversations. It adds just the amount of pizazz to garner a silly or sarcastic expression. I love it!

This past week I was invited to speak at church. I'm not quite sure how I've gotten to this place. The place where I'm standing before others and sharing what's on my heart. Who the duke cares what I have to say anyways? At least that's what it feels like to me. Thankfully God and those closest to me are breathing words of encouragement through me that, to be honest, at this moment in my life I don't think I see in quite the same way.

So what the duke is going on here? I love words. I love to write. I love to hear stories. I love to tell stories and if you've ever caught the long-wind of any of them then you know that the theatrics and wild hand gestures are a package deal. It's not my fault though. It's genetic. The theatrics stem from my fathers side and the wild hand gestures inherently bend from my mothers side.

Words. They have the power to break and yet they have the power to heal. They have the power to diminish and the strength to empower. They can be catchy and infectious and spread like the swine-flu on the winds of a media frenzy. Maybe because of my hearts passion for them, God is willing to use me to share them. Who the duke knows?

Princess with a "P"

2009-04-28T13:48:00.000-07:00

The other day, while working at the coffee shop, my dad decided to pay me a visit. I had just brought up some freshly baked scones from the kitchen and hadn't noticed him standing there. I turned to head back to the kitchen when I heard him say "Hey, Ralphy!" Having got my attention, I spun around to see him standing there.

My birth name is Rachel but to my father I have always and will always exist to be called "Ralphy." Honestly, no one can really get away with calling me that name. Not that it bothers me any, its just that the tone in my dad's voice actually makes it sound like he is simply just saying my name. Others have attempted to call me by my nick-name but it's usually met with awkwardness as the tone deflects from tongue to lobe. It's then, in the silence, that it's usually predetermined that they will only use my God given name from here on out.

I believe it would be fair to say that the relationship I have with my birth-father and the relationship I have with my Creator-father have pretty strong parallels. They are both great listeners, slow to anger, passionate about my work, and like I just indicated; speak to me in a language that few people understand.

One of my favorite God speak moments was during my pregnancy with our third child. We had determined that we would not find out the gender of the baby. A boy's name had been easily chosen but as this baby's birth date began closing in, frustration mounted over the indecision with a girls name. It was then that I began to pray. Choosing a name means a lot to me. Each of my children have names that have meaning far beyond their audible expression.

Lily, my eldest child, had suggested that the girls name should be named after a flower. Paying homage to the origin of her name, she found it fitting that a sister carry the name of a flower as well. That well-intended thought led to deeper discussions about flowery girl names. Iris, Daisy, Violet to name a few. Lily's official vote was Rose. My husband and I smiled at her request but yet nothing jumped out at us as being the name.

Shortly after I began praying that God would give me a girls name I thought I heard the faintest whisper of the name Sarah. You know how when your driving in your car and some random thought pops into your head or for some reason you remember that friend that you haven't talked to in forever. It's a subtle sense. No fireworks, just soft. That's how the name Sarah came to me. The thing is, it kept coming. I'd be taking a shower or going for a walk and I'd hear that name. When I was growing up a very close family friend's name was Sarah. When we were kids we always talked and laughed about the meaning of our names. Sarah meaning Princess and Rachel meaning Ewe or sheep. You can guess which one got the laugh.

So when the sweet name of Sarah came, unfortunately, it arrived with no fireflies from within. I basically told God "Thanks. Its a sweet name but that's not the one." The same pattern of conversation continued on for weeks. Then one random night while thumbing through my baby names book I scrolled across the name Perah. "Oooo, I thought to myself. I like this one." The surprise then came when I discovered that Perah being of Hebrew origin means "flower." Welcome fireflies. I loved the name and so did the rest of the family.

On May 12th, 2005 I gave birth to a 7lb.7oz baby girl. I'll be honest when I say that it took a while to connect the dots. The prompting whisper of "Sarah" eventually leading me down a path to discover the chosen name "Perah" by her Creator-father was pretty awe inspiring. A Princess with a "P".

Remember how my dad calls me Ralphy, understood by only me. It's got me wondering how we can know and understand the inflections in our Creator's voice when he calls our name? I recall reading something that said "Ask and you shall receive." Maybe asking seems like a good place to start!

The Learning of a Language

2009-03-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

Hola! Como' Estas?
When I was in high school we were required to take two years of a foreign language. Spanish was my choice. I enjoyed it so much that I actually took three years. Nowadays I don't find much use for it since I live in a primarily English speaking community and surround myself with like-spoken people. However in the past couple years I've been to both Mexico and Puerto Rico and enjoyed rejuvenating the language of Espanol.

During our trip to Puerto Rico, my husband and I met a woman named Laticia. She worked at the resort we were staying at and over the coarse of our stay she quickly turned from an acquaintance to friend. So much so, that on the last full day of our trip she offered to take us around the island. The day included shopping, beaches, and authentic cuisine. She even took us to her home and showed us her lemon, orange, banana, and avocado trees. Oh, delicioso! My favorite part of the day though, was when she took me into a small music shop and bought me a CD of her favorite Puerto Rican musician. With love, she handed it to me and with her hand over her heart she said "You may not understand the language but you will feel it!"

If you know me very well you know that I'm captivated by dreams. Not the goal setting type(although those are great too) but rather the ones that come to you during your state of sleeping. I'm often inspired, perplexed, and have even been tested by them. It hasn't always been this way but the Lord works in mysterious ways. For me, this is one of them!

In my previous entry I shared a very raw piece of my past but what I didn't share with you is that several months prior to my final surrender to alcohol I received three very vivid dreams. Each of these dreams came exactly one week apart from each other. Sunday after consecutive Sunday they came. Although they played out differently the message was the same. Death.

Do you believe God can use dream language to speak to us? I certainly do! My forefathers, the pilgrims of my Christian faith have declared it throughout the pages of the Bible. I will be quick to note that this is not some pie in the sky subject matter. The language is real and like any other requires careful study. Initially you may not understand it but, with open hearts and minds, focused on the Lords guidance and protection you will feel it!

I will venture to say that you can expect more from me concerning the mysteries of God's divine dream language and the impact it has in my life... so...until then...

My Surrender to Rebellion

2009-03-05T13:51:00.000-08:00

Rule breakers catch my attention. Not to be confused with law breakers which would most certainly constitute an internal frown. I'm attracted to the stick your neck out there, fighters for causes, sort. Although I may not agree with the "cause" I can appreciate an honest person going to bat for what they believe in.

My past is filled with rebellious rule breaking. Now days I like to coin the term feisty when describing a characteristic of myself. I think it sounds nicer than rebellious and, to be honest, I'm getting too old and tired to be so rebellious anymore. Or am I?

At church we have been tackling a sermon series concerning Adam and Eve's choice to rebel against God and how to find hope in the genetic downfall that they have since passed onto you and me. The timeliness of these messages curiously strikes me since I too have recently questioned my very personal genetic downfall.

When I was 14 years old my dad confessed to being a closet alcoholic. For years he hid behind the clutch of alcohol. In adolescent awe I witnessed my father lay down alcohol in his life and morph into a solid, God fearing man. It was surely a wonder.

Somewhere along the way I remember overhearing conversations about my grandma who was quoted as saying that she too could have easily slipped into the bottle. Then there was my great-grandfather who was found face down in a Minneapolis gutter clinging to life and the bottle simultaneously. Most family reunions continue the same old silent story. I'm left wondering how could this happen? What I'm beginning to realize is that this specific thorn is one that has been passed down to me by those who have gone before me. In the book of Exodus, God specifically told Moses that He will punish the children for the sin of their fathers to the third and fourth generations.

I took my first drink when I was 12 years old. I took my last at age 31. Years of attempting to conquer alcohol consumption by myself, by my own power, ultimately left me in a broken heap. For me, most drinking experiences left my soul in significant spiritual torment. I'd end up sliding down a slippery slope of selfishness and wind up breaking a lot of things along the way.

TIME OUT: Do I personally believe that consuming alcohol is sinful? Absolutely not! If I am who I say I am, a follower of Jesus, then I choose to live my life following His footsteps. During the last supper, while Jesus was with His friends, he took the cup and drank from it!

My choice to surrender to this personal rebellion is a matter of life or death. Drinking brings me to a state of death. I realize that some may criticize me for trying to "be good." This makes me laugh because I believe that attempts at being good are man-made and ultimately leave you feeling empty anyways.

Instead my pursuit is simple. To listen to God's leading in my life. I know that He wants me, and my children, and my great grandchildren to have a life that is ultimately filled with all His best and most abundant blessings. Musician, Sarah Groves writes the following words in her song Generations. My thoughts could not be more beautifully expressed.

"I can taste the fruit of Eve. I'm aware of sickness death and disease. The results of her choices were vast. Eve was the first but she wasn't the last. If I were honest with myself, had I been standing at that tree, my mouth and my hands would be covered with fruit. Things I shouldn't know and things I shouldn't see. Remind me of this with every decision. Generations will reap what I sow. I can pass on a curse or a blessing to those I will never know. She taught us to fear the serpent. I'm learning to fear myself and all of the things I am capable of in my search for acceptance, wisdom and wealth. To say the devil made me do it is a cop-out and a lie. The devil can't make me do anything when I'm calling on Jesus Christ. To my great-great-great-granddaughter, live in peace. To my great-great-great-grandson, live in peace. To my great-great-great granddaughter, live in peace. To my great-great-great-grandson, live in peace, live in peace."

A New Set Of Eyes 20,000 Feet Above Ground

2009-02-20T12:10:00.000-08:00

Several months ago I flew down to Florida to visit a good friend of mine. She's had quite a down and out year so I felt that, if anything, I could offer some encouragement with a few days of good girl time. On my flight home I had a very unexpected, life changing encounter. The following comes from my journal.

9/24/2008
Once I arrived at the airport, check-in was smooth and I found myself boarding my 6:10am flight within minutes.

As I settled into my seat I began sipping my 8oz. - $3.50 cup of coffee. Thinking of the tiny airport shop that sold it to me and their clever marketing campaign. "Free refills", the lady behind the counter proudly proclaimed. As I buckled myself into my seat, taking my final sips, I thought "A lot of good those free refills will do me thousands of feet off the ground bound for a destination a million miles away." I smiled and laughed at the brilliance of it all. Within moments a woman approached my row. She glanced at the row behind me, which was filled up, and then turned to me and said "I think my seat has been taken. Do you mind if I sit next to you?" "No Problem" I said with a smile. The woman sat down. Her coarse blond hair, which could be equated to the length of Crystal Gale's, began to wisp my arm, as well as, the perimeter around us. She held a book with her plane ticket and boarding pass stuffed into the pages. In her other had she held a cup of coffee. The same 8oz. - $3.50 "free refill" cup as mine. "They got her too!" I thought.

The initial moments of her getting settled were quite tornadic. She dropped her book, spilling out all its papers underneath the seat. Both of us reaching and contorting to gather them up. All of which, in a flurry of hair. Then, in an effort to gain composure, she unlatched the table top to set her coffee down. She then bumped it with her knee spilling her hot coffee all over her leg which caused a knee-jerk reaction sending her book flying, once again, into the air. Papers everywhere. "Oh my goodness" I think to myself. We were both gathering up items strewn about and as I'm watching her I realize her jitterness. Her hands are shaking as she fumbles through her black, tattered purse. All the while she is pleasantly talking to me through her wavering voice. "My name's Chris" she says warmly as she extends her hand to mine. I notice that she is missing some teeth. "I'm Rachel" I say smiling, wondering where on earth God is going to take me with this. Chris is wearing a gray tank top. A tattoo on her left bosom is peeking out. I notice right away that her light blue wind-breaker pants are filthy. She begins to role up her wet, coffee stained pant leg. I see 3 tattoos cascading down her leg. This make 5 tattoos, including the one on her right shoulder. For a split second I recall watching a documentary in which the expert on the show stated that a high percentage of individuals with multiple tattoos tend to have mental health issues. But that thought is irrelevant. I'm fully captivated by her regardless of appearances and first impressions. That would be judging and I hate judgements!

I ask Chris about her destination and that's when I notice her wet eyes. She wasn't crying but it became more clear that her spirit had been shaken. "I'm on my way to Denver for my fathers unexpected funeral."

Our flight seemed to last 5 minutes. There was not one lull in our conversation. She told me about her 7 children. Two biological and five step children. At age 42 she was now a grandmother of 4. She told me about her near death experience after a motorcycle accident. They had to take a piece of her hip bone for reconstructive surgery which later caused some of her teeth to fall out. Her frustrated expression led me to believe that she never had the means to fix them. She told me all sorts of dysfunctional stories concerning ex's and clients with horrible diseases. I discovered that she and her husband own a tattoo shop outside of Pensacola. Which explains why her pants were so dirty, soiled with ink!

I asked Chris if she had a church home. She told me a story about one church she attended with a great pastor. The pastor had gotten bit by a spider and later due to an infection had to have his leg amputated. The church members felt that this pastor was now incapacitated to do his job so they made him leave. Ousted by the church because he no longer fit the mold.

Then she told me about the time a friend invited her to a Bible study covering the book of Revelation. Intrigued, she accepted her friends offer. When she got to the church the woman leading the Bible study told her that because of all her tattoos she would likely go to Hell. Chris met with the pastor of this church who backed up this position by saying that if she continued to get more tattoos she would be sinning and God would never let her into Heaven.

Chris looked at me and said "I've always believed that my body is just a shell and its my soul that goes to Heaven anyways." I was amazed by her. You would think after 42 years of disappointment and rejection that this woman would be so angry and bitter but I could not find a hint of it anywhere.

As our flight made its final dissension I asked her if we could pray together. I've never stepped out of my comfort zone like this before but it just seemed so appropriate. To my surprise, she grabbed my hand and before I knew it was leading an all out prayer to the Lord. It was so beautiful. As we said our good-byes she just kept looking at me. I can't describe it other than to say her eyes were filled with a sort of twinkling bewilderment.

In this life, its likely, I'll never fully grasp the full scope of what really occurred during that flight. All I can say is that I have been given a new set of eyes. Eyes that consider my role in loving rather than judging. Eyes that find worth and value in each and every soul I encounter.

Insights on The Shack

2009-02-08T06:52:00.000-08:00

Last week I had an amazing opportunity to attend a premiere event for a new organization called Nudge the World. The featured guest was William Paul Young, author of the best selling book The Shack. For those of you who have read the book, no doubt you've walked away with a different image of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. Some have claimed this as the best book they have ever read, life changing. Others have closed the book with a throbbing question mark pounding in their head. While a select few get to a certain point, slam the book shut, and cry out "Heresy!"

Currently an unprecedented 6.1 million copies of The Shack have been sold. The numbers according to media and publishing gurus are staggering. Something profound is happening to the Spirit of its 6.1 million readers. What could one book have to say that could cause such a movement?

If there's one thing that gets my goat, its when someone messes up my kitchen. I'm a baker by ancestry default. The passion of pastries has been weaved throughout past generations for as far as my eye can see. I know all the basics when it comes to baking but what I enjoy most is the process. It's become a ritual for me. Choosing the ingredients, mixing to my desired consistency, then baking to perfection. The process fits so nicely in my soul. If your a baker, you know what I'm talking about. The same could likely be said for any passion that you hold dear.

I must admit however that when my kids come into my kitchen and mix up a batch of something, I have a hard time with their process. They are so messy. The whole thing sends pangs of uneasiness through me. I know, I know they are just kids. Thankfully in the end, their cookie dough kisses make up for all my internal anguish.

In Young's book he has created this vivid imagery of God that does not conform with our traditional thinking minds. His adaptation of God through the pages of The Shack allows us to see a man faced with unspeakable loss and brokenness enter into a real relationship with the living God. I think I can understand why, for some readers, it may have felt like someone just came their kitchen and messed it up. Some of us have spent our entire lives believing that God is this distant, pie in the sky, divine person who may or may not be fully engaged in the details of our lives. Gaining a perspective like the one The Shack offers leaves us asking the question "Could I have a REAL relationship with God?"

For a long time I've searched for finding that perfect place that would continually feed my soul. I've attempted to fill it with wholesome friends, a loving family, and a close-knit church. I can't tell you how many times while talking about church that I would say something like "It just feeds me." I'm beginning to sense that something has changed in me. In part were always looking to be fed but what's the actual driving force behind the desire to be fed? Hunger! Maybe its time that I dig a little deeper within to discover what's making me hungry. Hungry for what Papa wants to teach me, hungry for a life that hinges on going where He leads me, and hungry for a REAL relationship with a God that loves me for just being me. Are you hungry yet? I am!

Hillbillylily's Growing Up

2009-01-28T08:48:00.000-08:00

My eldest child is no longer just a child. She is growing up. Lily, formally know as, Lillian is now 11 years old. She is my break-through child. No pun intended, although she is habitually known for breaking things. With any first born child, we (as parents) tend to experience a certain euphoria when a new milestone has been met. Yet on the flip side, with each new break-through, a piece of ourselves cracks and breaks off as we lend ourselves to the natural cycle of raising up and eventually letting go.

In our home we are on the cusp of entering phase II, otherwise know as adolescence. Still a tween, physically and socially I am beginning to see the teenage sparkle in her eye. Lily's heart wants to be all grown-up.

During a recent mother-daughter date day we decided to go shopping and use up her gift cards from Christmas. We had so much fun together. The ultimate bonding experience. After all her pieces had been tried on and picked out I noticed that it now was the time to upgrade from her training bra to the real deal. So with a quick sweep through the personnel department we found a simple, white bra. A real one. As I put it into the cart, I felt the tears start to well. I can't believe it. Another milestone...the bra. Or maybe the tears were out of jealousy seeing that her cup size was nearly that of her dear old mom. Uggg! Lily was of coarse embarrassed that I was making a big deal about it, which actually made me smile. Never the less, Lily is growing up.

In addition to her "gift card" Christmas she was also given a generous gift from her other family who lives down in Texas. A lap top. With that, came a whole new set of guidelines in the Britz home but for Lily the ultimate prize was establishing her very own email account. It's been the 5th grade debate in our home. Did you know that EVERY 5th grader has email? So after spending much time creating her personal email account and carefully laying out all the ground rules Hillbillylily11@gmail.com now exists to communicate with the outside world. Or at least that's what she thinks.

The Plate Spinner

2008-12-26T19:00:00.000-08:00

The other day, while driving in the car, I heard a man on the radio talking about one of his favorite late night television moments as a child. On this particular show the host had invited a plate spinner on to his program. During his segment, the plate spinner began by spinning one plate faster and faster and then quickly adding another plate. Repeating the same procedure by spinning each new plate faster and faster before adding the next. By the time the segment was over the plate spinner had 9 plates spinning round and round. All the entertainer could do at this point was run franticly between each plate and continue to spin them faster and faster to keep them from crashing to the floor. Hearing this story got me thinking.

We’ve all seen an act like this. They make us smile and often leave us saying “How do they do that?” But in an interesting comparison I imagine we could consider ourselves acclaimed plate spinners as well. Our marriages, our families, our careers, the PTA, soccer club, church commitments, and the lists go on. Each plate representing one more thing to spin into our crazy lives. It seems like the priorities that reign in our hearts (marriage and family) tend to get the same attention as the rest of our plates.

During a recent Woman’s Gathering for church I was given an opportunity to share an inspirational story for the event. Believe it or not, as I prepared, I found a perfect example in the Bible of a Plate Spinner. Let me share with you how the story goes (interpretation mine).

Jesus is a grown man and is in the prime of his ministry. He has already done a few healings and the buzz concerning who he really is has made headlines around the countryside. While traveling one day he comes into a village where a woman named Martha opens up her home to him. As Jesus is talking and telling stories to the guests Martha is franticly running around trying to get everything ready. I assume she is making all the preparations for dinner along with all the other responsibilities involved with hosting a special event. Just then, as she is running around, she glances over and sees her sister Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet listening to him. Irritated that her sister isn’t helping she later says to Jesus “Don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all this work by myself?” Jesus then replies by saying “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

I think that there are a couple very important things to point out. Its obvious to me that Martha really loves Jesus. If she didn’t, all those preparations wouldn’t be that important to her. Secondly, Jesus isn’t saying to Martha that her sister is a better person. He simply says that she has chosen what is better. Similarly, I think that if we take a closer look at our plates we would find things that we love about each of them. But the real question is are we choosing to spin the plates that will not be taken away from us?

This plate spinning scenario can apply to us spiritually as well as literally. Once we slip into our “doing” mode, it’s often hard to downshift. Being quiet and contemplative makes us feel guilty- shouldn’t we be doing something for someone somewhere? I believe that as we enter the New Year we should all resolve to stop spinning our plates for just a moment. Take time to sit at the feet of Jesus and really hear what he is trying to say to us. Maybe just maybe He is trying to walk with us down a path that is better!

Fear: Part Two

2008-12-17T17:24:00.000-08:00

In my previous entry I offered a glimpse into my personal foundation of fear. Yes, it’s true. It has always been that small, scurrying creature that has reigned in my minds-eye as the ever clutching base of FEAR. Through the years I have attempted a variety of means to overcome the ridiculousness of it all. I have even received counseling over the matter. Thankfully I did not have to pay for the session since my good friend is a psychologist but I did bake her some cookies for compensation.

In taking a deeper look I’m beginning to realize something about myself that I wasn’t aware of before. My entire life has been governed by this fear. In a closer evaluation I discovered that in almost every area of my life I have some fear driving factor. When I run outdoors I fear I’ll be chased down by a dog and bitten, if our first floor windows are not locked and sealed I fear that someone will break into our house, and when driving next to a semi I wouldn’t dare pass them for fear that I will be crushed beneath its massive frame.

A few years ago I had a very candid conversation with a good friend of mine concerning God’s sovereignty. Sovereignty, its such a big word. Weather it rolls off your tongue or is overheard in conversation it seems to belong to a special club. But what does is really mean? It seems the full comprehension of “sovereignty” falls into the gray area for most of us. We think we know what it means but what the heck do we do with it? As my friend further explained, this sovereignty is the definition used to describe a peace-filled state of mind where we rest in God’s complete and total control over EVERYTHING. The good, the bad, and the ugly. To say that God is sovereign is to declare that he is Almighty (ALL MIGHTY), the possessor of all power in heaven and earth. No one can defeat Him or His purposes. He is the Governor of all nations. He is absolute and completely infinite.

I’ll have to admit that if we truly put these matters into our heart its all too overwhelming to comprehend. Its easy for us to see God’s face painted upon the pictures of good but when it comes to the bad, rotten, and ugliness of this world it really challenges our hearts and mind to step outside of our faith-filled comfort zone and proclaim “God is Sovereign.”

I believe that in order for us to be freed from fear we must begin to see the healing elements that sovereignty has to offer. The pieces of our fears, our failures, our joys, and our sorrows all must join together with God’s Sovereignty. When we embrace the “sovereignty” puzzle in our lives we have the potential to see a much bigger, clearer picture through the eyes of a peace-filled heart.

Fear: Part 1

2008-11-30T19:52:00.000-08:00

When I was 9 years old I saw my first mouse. Growing up in the city did not foster the kind of appreciation for creatures, critters, and dark open spaces that the country so easily provides. Thankfully my childhood wasn’t completely void of these certain experiences.

My grandparents, Roy and Dorthy Rohlik, grew up and raised up their ten children on a small farm in southwestern Minnesota. Going to the farm meant feeding the chickens, milking the cows, playing in the grove (it’s a wonder we never contracted an infectious disease from all that debris), rolling in the hay which included an onslaught of asthma attacks, and then of coarse; the late night game of kick-the-can. Among all those beautiful early childhood memories on the farm; seeing my first mouse has achieved substantial ratings in the memory department.

There is no big story to tell other than this; it was a typical warm summer afternoon on the farm. As I was strolling along the gravel driveway in search of that afternoon’s mischief I decided to poke around in the cow barn. Maybe I would watch Grandpa milk a cow or maybe I could feed a bottle to one of the babies? That would not be the case on this particular breezy manure scented day. In fact, on this day I would see my first mouse scurrying across the floorboards of the barn. In awe of what I was witnessing, I froze in amazement.

Definition of Amazement:
Bewilderment; overwhelming wonder, as from surprise, sudden fear, horror, or admiration. Frenzy; madness.

The later two definitions could easily sum up my thoughts concerning the subject at hand. Fortunately, the remainder of my city-life childhood offered little opportunities to face this certain fear but that is not to say that the feelings have dissolved. In fact, as a grown adult I find more and more paralysis over the issue than I care to admit.

Mice, snakes, spiders … they may be small but they often pack a powerful punch in the fear department. The popular book series “Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff” offers thousands of simple suggestions designed to shed those little fears and anxieties so that we can finally have the happier more harmonious life we long for.

But what happens when the small stuff snowballs into the larger and larger stuff. How does one stop the frenzy that often ensues from those mere small, seemingly innocent fears?

Let’s face it; you just need to face it. Look at it square in the eye and tell it what you think about it. Seems easy enough but when it comes down to it, it’s just not that simple.

About seven years ago we rented a small farm house just outside of Cannon Falls, MN. At the time, my husband was just getting his financial practice off the ground which required some overnight travel on his part. This particular night, after a day at the office, I intended on curling up with a good movie for the night however; after I took one step into our cozy little farm house I realized that there would be a change of plans. Evidence of the furry visitor was everywhere. From contentment to sheer mental hysteria I would need to muster up the courage to face the deep seeded fears of my youth.

So that’s what I did. Mustered something, trapped it, and the following morning looked it square in the eye and told it what I thought.

If My Life Were A Bank Account...

2008-11-14T14:53:00.000-08:00

If my life were a bank account, many times I would be considered bankrupt. Withdraws titled “life’s monotonous hum-drum”, “broken expectations” and “misguided judgments” are highlighted in crimson red as I look upon my statement.

In 2003 the book “Beautiful in God’s Eyes” completely captivated me. Elizabeth George’s portrayal of the Proverbs 31 woman, whom God sees as pleasing and beautiful, was a woman that felt I could reach out and grab a hold of if only I stretched myself a little further. By my side, with George as my literate cheerleader I became filled with joyous anticipation of this new discovery and charge upon my life.

At that time, two major life events spurred on this venture. First, I bid farewell to my professional “corporate ladder” management career and secondly, I welcomed the arrival of my second child Walker.

Today, I realize that the simple stretch I set out to accomplish five years ago has become increasingly far fetched. You see my intention was simple. I was eager to earn the trust and respect of God and my husband in such a way that their pleasure in me would and could be used to do some really great and powerful things for my family and God’s will.

Looking back on this journey, I have found that I HAVE grown and I AM better today at some things. I’ve taken some of the books ideas and invested them into my own family. For example, a deeper evaluation of Proverbs 31:17-18 (She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night) inspired the birth of my cookie business. Today these cookies still provide my family with simple, extra pleasures we would otherwise do without. In addition, I’ve worked hard at being more conscious of commitments I make for myself and our family.

This leads me into my synopsis for the recent overdrawn statement. Over the past five years I have become increasingly consumed with one’s pleasure in me. The way others view me has become an almost anxiety ridden ordeal. My ability to talk and thing big has frankly been consumed by how and what the most important people in my life think.

Instead of getting the results I’ve longed for, which would be a reciprocated feeling of joyous approval and verbal appreciation for me; it has been met with, in my eyes, significant failure. At times, I’ve felt like Rachel’s authenticity has been compromised. All of my passions and feistiness is futile when I consider the loss of myself.

What should one do to regain herself? The thought of ceremoniously burning that book has come to mind yet it would be unfair to blame a book for ones feelings of loss-of-self. In fact, maybe the book will prove to be the greatest forge of rebirth after all. It may be possible that my approach and attitude was all wrong to begin with.

God being the master behind life and death has encouraged me to think outside of myself. 1 Samuel 2: 6-8 provides an offering of peace and comfort that propels me to rise up.

“The Lord brings death and makes alive; He brings down to the grave and raises up. The Lord sends poverty and wealth; He humbles and he exalts. He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; He seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor. For the foundations of the earth are the Lords; upon them he has set the world. “

The Essence of Pearls

2008-10-26T13:26:00.001-07:00

In July of this year my 89 year old grandmother passed away. She was one of those women that we often hear about; one who was faithfully devoted to her husband (70 years I might add), family, and the church. When we think of these certain special people and the impact they have had on our lives our memories tend to lead us into an abyss of sensory overdrive. For example, my Grandma Mabel carried the scent of Irish Spring within the fabric of her being. It’s been said that when Grandma gave you a bath she would about take your skin off, scrubbing so hard. I assume that years of her own bathing regiment had enabled this fresh soap scent to naturally permeate her body. A hug from Grandma was always sealed with her signature smell. The list goes on. Her homemade apple pies, a game of Scrabble, and watching bowling on TV are just a few more that come to mind. Most of all, I believe that I will miss that sparkle in her eye. She always knew more about life than she let on and her eyes (not her words) spoke loud and clear.

After her funeral I was given one of her necklaces. It is a genuine cultured pearl necklace. For me, it offers a tangible reminder of the woman she was and the legacy that she has placed within me. Her life was simple. She wasn’t renowned for any major accomplishments according to this world but her presence in my life has left a mark that will undeniably run within me the remainder of my earthly days.

Clinging to this delicate necklace has sparked my curiosity about pearls. What I’ve discovered is beautiful in it’s own right. Did you know that the formation of a pearl takes years? The journey first begins when a foreign substance slips into an oyster and begins to irritate it. It's kind of like the oyster getting a splinter. Over time the oyster secrets nacre, this shiny substance that coats the “foreign substance”. Then, in a process that takes years and years, a lustrous pearl finally forms.

I love the beauty of this process because in many ways I see a sweet, simple comparison of how God takes those irritations or pains in our own life, covers them with a little bit of His “shine” and over time turns us into a rare, organic gem.

This blog, The Essence of Pearls, is a document of discovering those gems through my own life’s experiences. In the book of Habakkuk, God tells him to record his visions and inscribe them on tablets so that when the time comes the message will bear truth to the recipient (Hab. 2:2). This year God has given me a precise call to write. The foundation of this platform is fully intended to bring glory to the work that God plans to do in and through me. I pray that you may find familiarity and comfort in my “work-in-progress” life.