And now, summer begins. And there is much to do. And I want to do it in the same slant of Your light that drew us on this trip.

But frankly, I don’t know how. So, I’m just going to list out all the responsibilities and all I (think I) need. And I’m going to let it be a cry-out-list to You.

Quiet times: regular, devoted, passionate, fruitful, listening.

Homeschool: drills, reading, writing, science experiments, history fun, notebooks?

NCCA: summer session; preparing for fall, syllabus, Gulliver/Mere Christianity, homework plan, grading plan, consistency plan

Puppets: VBS, finish, plan for next year, new recruits, meshing with established,

Home: continue clean out, hospitality, finances, stewardship, peace filled, meal plans, re-organizations, encouragement, pool.

Personal: stability, temper, surrender, marriage, security v insecurity, nurturing kids, transparent walk with You, help, weight loss, healthy eating, exercise.

I need You, Lord! I cannot live by bread alone but by EVERY WORD that proceeds from Your mouth! Please, PLEASE help me!!!!

Yesterday, dear friends of mine said a somewhat unexpected goodbye to her Daddy. Today, I read a fellow Mom blogger’s comment that her daughter is fading today. Quite unexpectedly I gather. And I’m thinking of all those who are already Home. My Mama and Grandmama in particular.

And my Jesus. Whose voice I’ve struggled to hear this week and whose Word I’ve not necessarily heeded. Hence the struggle, I’m sure. So the tears. My heart is heavy. And my mind is reeling.

Jesus, You took my death; You are our peace. Please forgive me. Forgive me! Because of my sin, You hung on the cross. Why do You love me??? Thank You for honoring Your Father; thank You for being a willing sacrifice. I love You, my Lord.

It can also delightfully remind us why our spouses became our spouses in the first place

Normally, we set aside an evening; leave around 5pm, dawdle over dinner, watch a movie, run errands, just hang out and come home to tucked in babies and a quiet house.

Today, we did something very different. We had a date DAY. I didn’t have classes to teach and D happened to be home, so we left around noon and returned at dinner time.  This worked out GREAT! While we were out, we were able to handle some grown-up phone calls that needed to be placed during business hours (you know, the kind that, when placed at home, will have an IMMEDIATE magnetic effect on the children WHO MUST FOLLOW THE PULL IN THEIR LOUDEST VOICES).  We shopped clearance for a few spring pieces for the kids, picked up project material for our son, leisurely stood in Home Depot determining solutions to fix-it problems (well, “we” only because we are one… “we” was mainly “him”).

And we ate lunch. Lunch was cheap. And SUPER delicious. And a buffet.  So we were there for a l.o.n.g. time just hanging out and talking.

We weren’t tired after a full day of work and homeschool, we weren’t pushing to get back because we had to get up for work and homeschool. We just hung out and enjoyed each other’s company. And we got things done that absolutely could have been done with all 3 angels, but were kinda nice to have done quickly.

We got home in time to grab kids, run through a drive through (nojudgingthankyou), and head to church. We were able to maintain our family evening routine; it was as if we just slipped right back into a normal day.

You’re probably like me, and your kiddos have learned/are learning that it’s a great thing when Mommy & Daddy get to go hang out. Ours don’t get upset or “punish” us for being gone, but this was a cool change that I think even they appreciated. Beyond asking if we had fun and telling us ALLLLLLL the fun they had with our friend who kept them (which, at the rate of speech was a 5min summation), it was as if we’d never left.

Pretty cool.

So try it sometime. Head out on a Saturday morning for breakfast and errands or in the afternoon for an early (cheaper!) lunch and movie. You might even get to go to Home Depot and learn something fascinating about paint sprayers. And how handsome your husband looks when he’s in testosterone happy land. And that works for me

Head over to Kristen’s for more GREAT tips!

PS (and very important!) — I *highly* recommend Upscale Pizza if you’re ever in the Atlanta area!

Recapturing God's Global Vision for Women

Zondervan was kind enough to allow me to preview Carolyn Custis James’s latest work, Half the Church: Recapturing God’s Global Vision for Women. I’ve spent considerable hours poring over James’s text and the questions it raises.

Kristoff and WuDunn’s Half the Sky obviously incited in James a desire to inspire a Gospel response to the devaluing of women around the globe — she boldly begins by addressing the western church. “We’ve passed the point where the world of prosperity and privilege so many of us enjoy can shield us from the world of privation and atrocities, and there is no turning back.” And in reading Half the Church, no turning back is a *GOOD* thing – an opportunity for the fulfillment of God’s design for women to bear His image into the darkest places with courage and solutions.

“The world is a mess.” James reminds that minutes on the internet will reveal the need for a Gospel response to present day cultures.  Baby girls abandoned or killed because — because they were born.  Child brides as young as 8 years old.  Women brutalized for daring to speak out against cruelties to children or the infirmed. Girls ousted from state run orphanages at age 14 with no training or provision.

And folks, that’s my cleaned-up-non-offensive-in-case-you’re-squeamish version.

But offering that kind of Gospel response requires women to know their place in a whole new way. A Jesus way.

To this end, James holds the curtains back on the opening scenes of humanity in the first chapters of Genesis; she invites readers to reflect on God’s unique creation of both man and woman and His command to tend the garden together — be fruitful, multiply, fill, subdue. Created in His image, Adam and Eve were to be reflections of God’s character and mission. Yes, this world and all in it, the sky and all above declare the glory of His splendor. “But the place God longs to see the clearest, fullest reflection of himself is in us.” And once here, on Earth, as one of us, Jesus “had to go” through Samaria to speak to a woman, received prostitutes and the demon possessed to show that women were of Kingdom value just as men.

Once women know they are Abba’s girls, they are equipped to be a part of the global fight. Where the enemy would seek to steal, kill, and destroy, God has invited His daughters as well as His sons to bring the Hope of Jesus Christ to the world. The Gospel isn’t just for the pew sitters here in North America and the homeless they feed once a month; it is “big enough for all of us, sturdy enough to survive the worst situations, and generic enough to frame our stories in any season, culture, epoch, anywhere in the world.” The Gospel isn’t a Western Civ project — it’s the work of an eternal God in and through every life that will ever live.

James elucidates women’s callings and identities in a powerful way. Through careful study of original Hebrew root words and examination of Old and New Testament Scriptures on the commands given believers (both male and female), she compiles a Biblical sketch of women that fleshes out their capacity to be active and proactive in the work of the Kingdom.

“One of the big obstacles standing in our way is an elephantine debate that has commandeered this discussion for years…So let’s talk about that elephant.” How active? Proactive? As in, leadership? How much leadership? How far? In what capacity? The slippery slope of gender roles in the church has long distracted the mission. James confronts the camps and brilliantly handles the Truth: “…I wonder if we aren’t investing inordinate resources and energies on contested passages instead of putting our full weight down on texts that speak to us with unquestioned clarity. Simply beginning with the two greatest commandments — to love God…and to love our neighbor….”

And this is where I insert my grappling and reflections.  I live in a peculiar cultural bubble.  I am a stay at home Mom. We homeschool our children. We attend a mainline Evangelical church. I teach part time in a Christian school. My husband works for a ministry. We have a home, two vehicles, slightly more than the US average number of children, we go through drive-thrus at will, we go on vacations.  My family is NOT representative of the majority world. It simply is not. And so, because we are so insulated, Carolyn Custis James’s writing has struck a chord.

My college degree firmly in one hand and my Starbucks cup in the other, James challenged me to think beyond what I’m living — beyond what I’m teaching my daughters. Absolutely, I want them to grow up and reflect God in all they do. I hope they will be called to marry (as I would like to be slap covered in grandbabies) and will proclaim His Name and recount His wonders to the next generation. But as James points out, ‘married, raising children’ only covers about 40% of the Western church *let alone* the rest of the world. How many single women are there? Having lost my heart to Nairobi, I can *easily* think of 7 girls there under 16 who were heads of their families after AIDS ravaged their homes.

James and I may come from different theological backgrounds, our processes and our conclusions may look more contrast than complement, but the absolute Biblical Truth she levels is inarguable. There is a world breathing sullied air behind the headlines and slideshows and “God swings wide the door of access to himself and welcomes them into the privilege of knowing him.”

And as His creation — as a woman — I am *commanded* to go and tell them with my words and through my actions.

I still live here. I grind my own wheat, I wear Birks but no makeup, I’m still a wife, a Mom, a homeschooler, and a Baptist. But if you notice the extensive highlighting in my copy of Half the Church, I’m challenged to live more transparently in the identity given by the One who made me and to step more fully into the commission He has given me on behalf of those with no voice, no provision, no power, and no hope.  My Daddy loves justice. And I’m grateful for Carolyn Custis James’s reissuing the call to be an integral part of what He’s doing to see His children free and His Kingdom come.

Want to read more? You can check out Carolyn Custis James and her other titles at Zondervan. And you could win a copy of Half the Church by leaving a comment below! Tell me what you think are some of the gifts women bring to the Body and the world. The winner will be decided by random selection on Saturday.

I know, right?!  When will the pump reflect the barrel price drops, I ask you? WHEN???

But an even more pressing question in my mind is this: when will auto manufacturers get it that some of us simply won’t fit in a SmartCar? While I love the idea of a new set of skates…. errrr… a more efficient pair of vehicles for our family, the math simply doesn’t add up for us.

We have 2 drivers. We each need a vehicle (yes, need; we’ve tried 1 car, it’s simply not workable at this stage). We have 3 children and are hoping for more. Obviously, one vehicle must accommodate our current 5 (notice I didn’t even allude to “comfortably” nor will I).  Additionally, we are still in the “baby stages” — most outings require a stroller, any longer trips require a pack & play, and our luggage load is larger by a minimum of one medium (for Lissa’s clothing) and one small (for diapers & wipes & food) bag.

Now, I am by no means a math major, but the specs on a Prius — no matter how much I *LOVE* my Mom-in-law’s, and ohmywordIdoIjustdo — simply won’t accommodate our family on trips.

And we tend to take some trips.

Our second vehicle must be a work vehicle. As in a truck or panel van. It must be large enough to accommodate my husband’s basic construction tools. A truck bed with a truck box works nicely; I imagine an unseated panel van setup would work well also. Bottom line, it must have significant storage.

And to add to the dysfunction to the list of requirements, both our vehicles must be capable of towing. And I don’t mean redneck-fabulous-stick-a-hitch-on-a-Cadillac either. Real towing. Engine capable, frame designed, real towing.

Chevrolet/GMC seem to offer the only real options for us.

The hybrid Tahoe certainly offers the seating — up to 9. But we would take a significant hit to the cargo area: a Suburban offers 137 cubic feet, the hybrid Tahoe only 108 cubic feet.

I am *certain* that there are families our size with similar lifestyles who remain perfectly satisfied with the space afforded by the Tahoe; I am not criticizing. But to lose nearly 30 cubic feet of storage would require serious adjustments on my part.

If Chevrolet would like to loan me a hybrid Tahoe for a year, I will happily attempt the adjustments and report back my findings.

Until then, however, I will likely remain in our Suburban. With a price point starting just over $50,000, the hybrid Tahoe eliminates a number of potential families. That number easily equates to a husband’s or wife’s salary.

Next up, GMC’s hybrid Sierra appears a formidable offering in the full size truck market.

Wait… as best I can tell, it remains the *only* real offering in the full size truck market. And for our needs, it would be another adjustment; our current truck can easily tow 10,000lbs, the hybrid Sierra only 6,000. In addition to the loaded work trailers he rotates pulling on a weekly basis, once every few months, my husband tows a trailer that’s 5,000 empty. Problematic? At best.

The Sierra’s 40% better fuel economy would be GREAT! My husband builds/demos/rehabs/sells all around the greater Atlanta area (which, if you pay attention, you realize “greater Atlanta” stretches from Savannah to Birmingham, to Chattanooga, to Anderson). 23 mpg highway would be a marked improvement over our current 18.  But is that *enough* improvement to step into a nearly $39,000 loan?

Here’s my bottom line — I recognize that hybrids at present simply cost more at the outset; I’d love to tell you I’ve done enough research (or learned enough math) to compute the break even point in ownership.  I have not. As an avid fan of Dave Ramsey (both on and off facebook), the thought of driving a brand new car off the lot sends a shiver over stupid tax I’d prefer to skip. *Especially* the thought of driving a brand new car off the lot that isn’t a solid fit for our family.

But I am genuinely concerned about the environment and the role my family plays in respecting and preserving what a loving God has created.  And I have wrestled more than once over the need for a more Earth-friendly (and cost effective) set of wheels. In the end, we still live in the demographic that hybrid developers haven’t touched yet. Families with more than 2 children, families with trailers (box, landscaping, campers, etc).

Us and the Duggars, I guess.

Hopefully the spectrum of hybrids will broaden to include not only our segment, but those in different financial segments as well. One day, we’ll drive green. For now, we’ll be contentedly efficient in Champagne Beige and Mineral Gray.

I could post some lame stuff, too.

Why not, right? I think I’m going to make up a channel and call it The Reluctant Homeschooler. Or maybe just Reluctant Homeschooler. Or Reluctant Homeschooling.

(I don’t want to call it Reluctant Homeschool because then it sounds like my kids are going to the academy for advanced mediocrity)

I think I could find several fellow journeyers with videos about life as a homeschooler who never thought thought she’d be. Not to mention, I am the queen of random tips. Because I am the queen of random.

We all need our niche.

Anyway, just in case my youtube sensation drowns out my ability to attend regularly to this fine blog, I just thought you should know where I was (or, will be… am in the future sense….). Keepin’ it real, yo.

Not perfect, but sweet.

Today we went to Atlanta to be a part of a lunch for the homeless. It’s always humbling to do. there are some amazing, beautiful people living on the streets. There were a slew of people from our church; Darren & the guys grilled hotdogs, we visited with those who’d come, visited with the gentleman who feeds these fine people week after week (often multiple times a week) with soup and bread and the Gospel.

BabyGirl, settled in her wrap on my side, was sleepy but managed some sweet smiles at the folks we met. LittleMan hung out with the boys; cooperatively, they tried to start a small fire in the middle of a downtown Atlanta parking lot using somebody’s Daddy’s glasses and a sad little pile of little brown leaves.  My sweet oldest played with the girls, helped some on the prep line, took advantage of Miss Kristy’s offer to drive to McD’s for a bathroom break; I probably would have too, there were at least 3 other little girls piled in for the trip as well.

By far, it was loading up to go home that taught us most. A gentleman asked Lise if a backpack near our car was hers; she said, “No, sir,” and smiled as she got climbed in. I was strapping BabyGirl in her seat and God spoke immediately for me to give another gentleman, whom we’d met earlier, one of the small New Testament my best friend’s kids had just given each of mine earlier in the week. I picked it up from beside her seat, walked to the back of the truck and handed it to him. He said the print was to tiny for him to read, so I asked if he’d like to keep it and pass it on; he thought a moment and said ok. He asked if I had any grocery bags; another gentleman’s ears perked up and he moved toward the back of the truck as well. I said yes and gave them each a reusable shopping bag. I also asked the first gentleman if he could use the container of Lysol wipes; he said they were “handy” and took them. As I got back up to the drivers’ side, the gentleman who’d asked Lise about the backpack came around the car; “Excuse me, you got a t-shirt in there? Some socks? Underwear? A personal hygiene pack for me? Anything?” I said I was sorry but no, however I did have some baby wipes, and held out the large white refill pack I had in the front seat. “Yeah, they’d be helpful. Thank you.” And I said, “Thank YOU.”

As we were loaded up and backing out, I saw a young woman and knew I was supposed to give her the other refill pack I had in the back of the truck. Sadly, I’m an idiot sometimes, and I didn’t turn around and do that. God forgive me, and please send someone else to her with wipes or wash cloths or anything else she might need.

As we pulled onto the street and made for the interstate onramp, I asked the kids if they could imagine life wondering when they’d have another bath. Or when they’d get to use toilet paper again.

It’s a different world, folks. We are not the norm. Billions of people on this planet and we have the privilege of choosing what we eat on a most regular basis.

Both Lise and Len said no, they couldn’t imagine that. They had prayed that morning for the people we were serving to eat a good lunch and come to know Jesus’ love. And they got a chance to do that; we are so blessed.

God, the poor are always with us; please help us be with them more consistently as well.

Amen.

I dream of you having an unshakable, all consuming love for Jesus Christ that drives every decision you make. The kind of love that spills over, pours out, and ignites every acquaintance you make. I pray that you are so filled with Jesus that others are drawn to His light, His fragrance all over you and that you are unaffected by others’ opinions because His is the Only one that matters.

I dream of you walking in security in your identity in Christ.

I dream of you having no hesitations following God’s will for your life — none at all.

I dream of  you resting securely in the love of a Daddy and Mama who adore you. I dream of you laughing with fun memories of the time you spent with us and with each other. I dream of you each saying to your own children, “I was always the favorite!”

I dream of you coming to me, Bibles open, excited and ignited to show me what God has shown you in your time alone with Him. I dream of you praying intensely for your friends, both here at home and with them personally. I can see you doing warfare on your knees, pleading for your world, interceding for those you love and those who’ve yet to love the Savior.

I dream of you on the mission field. Our oldest two especially. Out there. Wherever out there is. With our full support, the support of your church, most importantly, the love of your God. DOING IT AUTHENTICALLY. Feeding the hungry. Caring for the orphan. Clothing the desperate. Freeing the broken.  I can see you doing it, and I dream of the day I can watch you doing it.

I dream of  you with children of your own — by birth and by blessing — sharing the Gospel from one generation to the next. I dream of you loving your spouses and children in sacrificial, absolutely enthralled love. I dream of holding little hands, soft like yours, and telling familiar little wide-eyed faces about the passion with which their Jesus — and their Mommy and Daddy — love them. I dream of watching you pray over them and pray with them. I dream of hearing the verses you’ve committed to memory in sweet voices of a generation to come.

And one day, I dream of worshiping with you before the Throne; standing side by side as brothers and sisters in Christ, awed by the love of the Father and enraptured by the love of the Son. On that day, may you hear, “Well done, My good and faithful servant” in a voice far beyond your imagination yet so familiar to your prayers.

I love you, child. Each of you. And I commit to doing everything I can and allowing Him to do all I can’t in order to see these things come to pass. YOU are my greatest mission! You are worth a life’s investing. And I count it the single greatest privilege of my life to hear you call me Mama.

I love you. And we will see His will be done.

HOOORAYYY!!!

I just LOVE Christmas Eve!   There is something so precious, so sacred, so anticipatory about Christmas Eve.

Here’s the thing:  I understand that Jesus was likely born at another time in the year, but HE WAS BORN.  We met friends in Africa who had no idea what their actual birthday was; there are literally thousands of orphans who do not know their birthdays.  However, once these little ones (and big ones!) are adopted — whether by a traditionally adoptive family or a spiritually adoptive family — people surround them annually to celebrate their birth into this world.

So, as far as I’m concerned, Paul’s instruction about “one man considers one day more holy than another, one man regards all days the same” covers our family’s celebration of Christ’s birth on December 25th.

We just want to celbrate HIM!  Doesn’t matter to us as much when as it does that we do.  Make sense?

By Biblical accounts, it appears Jesus was born at night.  Joseph & Mary unsuccessfully sought lodging and ended up in a stable.  The shepherds were watching their sheep that night when the angel made the (literally) Glory-ous announcement.

So even if it didn’t happen in the early morning hours of the 25th, that night before was spent in a stable, Mary in labor, Joseph serving as husband and midwife (and I’m guessing that wasn’t a traditional role for Hebrew men), sheep and cows and oxen and mice all eating and noising about perfectly oblivious to the Deity born before them (well… all of nature cries out, so maybe they knew).

But this is why Christmas Eve is so very, very dear to me.  What a sacredness accompanies His birth!

Now that I’m a mother, the thought of laboring in those conditions makes me shudder.  The Eternal God — Elohim — our LORD chose to come in skin in a barn surrounded by straw, dirt, and critters.

WOW.

What a MIGHTY and MERCIFUL God we serve!

This Christmas Eve, I’m going to sit and wait, in anxious anticipation.  I’m going to love on my babies and we’re going to read Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth and act it out with the quilted Nativity scene and we’re going to get EXCITED!!!  We’re going to bake His birthday cake and we’re going to sing to Him twice — once that night when we finish making the cake and again on Christmas Day to officially celebrate His birthday.

We sure do love birthdays around here; we celebrate BIG and we sure sing LOUD.  And this year, we’re going to be dancing and singing and eating and laughing at the BEST birthday party of all — the One who made celebrations possible!

But before we get to that, we’re going to huddle together by candlelight and firelight, read in hushed voices and anticipate.

I love Christmas Eve — just waiting for Him, just waiting for the party, just waiting for His company.

Kind of like the other 364 days, isn’t it?  I’m just waiting for Him, for the wedding party, for His physical presence in my life.

Come, Lord Jesus, come!     (And VERY happy birthday, too!!!)

(repost from December 2007)

This has so been a “Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep” couple of weeks. We’re talking intense prayer and intense answers and intense pains and intense joys. Our family has had the privilege of “standing in the gap” with some amazing people who are walking through some of the toughest situations life could possibly include.

And I have prayed. In many ways I’ve not prayed before.

There’s something very humbling in knowing that I can do *absolutely nothing* to stop circumstances, mitigate pain, change decisions for others. And yet, the God of all the universe allows me to come boldly before Him — like I’m pushing open oaken doors to run in, interrupting a Sovereign’s chamber — and grants access to all the power that raised Christ — on Whom all the sin of the *entire* world for *all time* had been laid — from the dead.

Ugh… beautiful agony. Aching grace.

I don’t want to be praying prayers for children losing parents, parents losing children, bodies struggling against disease; hearts in slivers, minds in terror, bodies in pain.

It is a stark contrast to the dancing we will one day do around the Throne. The ceaseless praise takes on new meaning after a week like this; crying out on the floor, eyes raised to my only hope in Heaven, begging and beseeching and why-ing and sobbing.

Lord Jesus, I do not understand why people we love and friends we adore and students we appreciate and folks with whom we worship have to walk through these things. But why’s don’t matter when healing is available in Your Name. And only You know what healing looks like in each situation. We know the healing we long to see here — the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living that we want; only You know the healing that is perfect. Please help us accept perfect. Because we are not. Jesus, I love You. I do not deserve You, but I love You so.
amen.