Holiday Survival Guide Installment #7 - Joy

Holiday Survival Tip #11 - Give the joy you want to receive

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
-Luke 2:8-12

When the holiday season rolls around every year, I admit that I am one who struggles with the hustle and bustle and getting the right gift and getting things done and the baking and so on... Honestly, I struggle with staying happy and joyous when I'm stressed out by the long list of things to do, and buy, and places to go, and people to see, and all of these other things I put on myself at this time of year. This year I had a pep-talk with myself just before Thanksgiving.

I prayed that God would not just help me remember the reason for the season, but why it is a time to be celebrated anyway. God, please help me keep my joy. I didn't want to be so caught up in the gifts, parties, baking, decorations, and shopping that I forgot what happened two thousand years ago that got this ball rolling: angels brought good news of great joy.

It can be a struggle to maintain your joy when you are one of the unlucky souls that has to go out in the madness that is the shopping center. Struggling to find a parking space within walking distance of your destination can cause your joy to fade. Standing in a line a mile long for the off chance that they still have your ideal gift can wear on your joy. And heaven knows my joy meter reads empty when I hear people bicker and fuss about the woman who just bought up the last carton of egg nog. Our society, in general, can completely sap a person of their joy - if you let it. And this year, I refused to let it. I vowed that I would not stress out about it. And the realization I came to was this:

What's to stress out about?!? It's not like I have to bear the sins of the world. It's not like I have to teach an entire civilization about the difference between religious rules and a holy relationship. It's not like I have to overcome death and be resurrected. So why do I try to take on so much stress on a holiday that isn't even about me? I have to admit, once I came to the realization that I was choosing to take on the stress and get myself worked up over things that weren't even, honestly, relevant to the holiday in the first place, I felt pretty sheepish. I don't say that to belittle anyone else. But I say that to, I hope, help someone else have a light bulb moment. I want for someone else to realize that when all the tinsel and bows fall, the lights turn off, and the gifts are long forgotten, none of that silly stress really matters. But the gift of our savior - the one whose birth the angels sang, the one whose entrance into humanity was announced to the humble shepherds, the one who came to save us from the insanity of the shopping malls and traffic jams - this savior, would be a reason to rejoice.

I feel like I probably ought to have given my advice on this much earlier in the season. But honestly, I felt like I should test out my theory before I started giving anyone advice. Here's what I came up with: if you want the world to rejoice with you, you have to start. Yup, that's it. To test this theory, I started small. Every day I made sure to remind myself to be joyous. Then I reminded my kids. Then I started making sure to add a "Merry Christmas" on to the end of my conversations. Then I began to smile more. And before I knew it, my kindness and joy was returned to me. It works. All you have to do to start is to make the choice to be joyous, even when the world is ugly and dark. Choose to feel joy, or at the very least, choose to look like you are feeling it. And before you know it, people are reflecting that joy right back on you. It's really that simple.

Jesus never wanted his birthday to be a burden to us. So why make it one? At the end of it all, the only thing he really wants is your heart. And that is a gift that requires no special wrapping, no prep time, no long lines, no traffic jams, no coupons, no late-night door busters, nothing stressful or difficult. All you have to do is let go of everything else and find peace and rest in the fact that this holiday season is all about one thing: good news of great joy that will be for all people.

Merry CHRISTmas, my friends!

Holiday Survival Guide Installment #6 - Gifts

Holiday survival tip # 10 - You can never give a gift good enough, so stop trying

Gifts seem to be such a major part of the Christmas tradition that we Americans know. As a child, I know I loved this part of Christmas - what kid didn't? But now, as an adult, the gift giving/receiving is such a small part of what drives my soul during the Advent season.

I recall few of the gifts I've received as a child. I suppose that's likely because there were many of them, and they probably didn't last from one year to the next. But I know every gift I've ever received from my husband. I suspect that's because his gifts (usually jewelry) are still in regular use and always present on my mind. Can't say that I remember if that Easy Bake Oven managed to make it much past Valentine's Day.

I don't usually ask for anything for Christmas. I'm so blessed - I'm healthy, I have a few dollars in the bank, and I have a beautiful family. What more could I want? But back in 2008, I had a Christmas wish that weighed heavy on my heart. I wished - I prayed - that my mom's cancer would be cured. Anyone who follows me knows that this prayer was not answered the way I had desired it would be. My mom lost her battle with cancer in January of 2009. Of course I was devastated. But I did get an amazing gift that year. My mom spent her last Christmas with my brothers and I, laughing and smiling despite her fatigue and pain. What I got that Christmas was absolutely beyond measure: she showed me what true gift-giving is. Giving a gift of the heart brings joy and is not soon forgotten - no matter the size or dollar value. What she gave me that Christmas cost her no money, but the memory is priceless. From that experience I offer you this:

My best advice on gift-giving

1. Know your recipient. If they hate chocolate (as I do), a box of chocolates is probably not the best gift. If their favorite color is green, you should probably avoid the pink sweater. It seems simple, but sometimes we get in such a hurry, we forget to think about who it is that will be receiving the gift. But a gift chosen with a specific recipient in mind will strike that person as thoughtful and kind.

2. Give with love. If you make shopping for "the perfect gift" into a chore, there will be no love in the giving, and the recipient will see that. If you can't give a gift with love, it's best to just skip it. No one likes an obligatory gift.

3. Lots of dollars makes little sense. Sure, women love jewelry. But that's not necessarily a call to go into debt over a diamond pendant. Nor does it make good sense to spend a fortune on toys for an infant, or clothes for a toddler. These things have a very limited time of use. Spend wisely. Quality gift, not quantity. Also, keep in mind that some gifts are not "bought" anyway. I'm not really a "gift person", my love language is quality time. The best gift my family can give me is the chance to be myself with them.

Perhaps the best advice I can give on gift-giving is to keep perspective. What do I mean by that? No gift you can ever give can match the gift God sent to us one cool night in a stable. All the money in all the world can't buy the salvation that God gave us in the blood of that precious baby wrapped in cloths and lying in hay.

Gifts are a fun way to celebrate one of the most fun times in the entire calendar. But it's not about the gifts that come wrapped in metallic paper with shiny bows. It's about the gift that came bundled in a manger. You can't top that gift, so don't even try to. Keep it in perspective - it's about Jesus.

Holiday Survival Guide Installment #5 - Holiday Light Displays

Ever since I can remember, holiday lights have been a part of my Christmas tradition. My parents tell stories of me being old enough to sit in a child safety seat - you know, the old rickety metal ones (what were we thinking in the 70s??) - and getting so excited to view the "Mis-mis dites" (Christmas lights) on the boats moored at Dana Point in Orange County, California. We made it a point to head into Newport Beach every year to watch the boat parade. We drove mile after mile to find the best neighborhoods for light displays. Hot chocolate in hand, Christmas tunes blasting on the radio, we piled into the minivan to search out the best of what Orange County - and later, the Inland Empire - had to offer. And every year since I can remember, my parents would lovingly reflect on the time that, as a toddler, I pulled myself out of that rickety metal car seat, climbed over the seat of my dad's old Ford Grenada, and into his lap, exclaiming, "Mis-mis dites, Daddy!! Mis-mis dites!!"

My parents looked at my young face and saw such joy at the twinkling lights and animated displays. And how my eyes sparkled at the sight of a real, live Santa in someone's yard! Even into my teenage years, this tradition continued. It was such a huge part of what I grew to love so much about Christmas - my family, united, and enjoying the season.

I still go to look at Christmas lights every year. I always say that I'm "taking the kids to look at lights" but I think everyone knows who it's really for. Even my husband, God bless him, humors me every year when he rounds the kids up and grabs the hot chocolate and cranks up the XM Christmas channel. Long after the kids have begun to complain about being tired or bored, he drives me on to the next neighborhood. And he, much like my father, must get such joy watching my face light up at the beautiful, twinkling lights.

Holiday survival tip #9 - Light it up!

You never know how a simple thing like a string of lights wrapped around a tree in the yard can create a lasting memory. You don't have to get crazy (a la Griswold), but a little light can create a lot of joy. I often think of Jesus when I look at Christmas lights. He was one person - one soul in a sea of people. But his light was bright, and shone long. He made a difference, and brought such joy to people who so desperately needed light. Christmas lights might be small, but they are bright - and mighty - in numbers. That's what Christ wants for us - join together and light up the holiday with joy and love that will last for years and years to come.

Holiday Survival Guide Installment #4 - Parties

Holiday survival tip #6 - Be a hostess with the most-est

I mentioned my mom and her attempt at a magnificent holiday party in a previous post. She was so busy trying to make everything "perfect" that she failed to be present at her own party. Major bummer. No need to re-hash that one. But recall that I said before how important it was to actually be at your own party.

Moving on.

Let's talk about what it means to actually be the hostess. This is an area I struggle with. I'm not sure how to be a gracious hostess. People walk in and compliment the decorations, the food, or even my hair, and I instantly go into freak out mode. I act like I've never been complimented before! "Oh, this old thing" I say of my brand new dress, or "oh it's such a mess" I say of the house I've spent all month cleaning. Maybe some of us are just trying to be modest, but there is nothing wrong with accepting a compliment. A simple "thank you" would be fine. But for some reason the thought of someone having kind words about my efforts sends me into a panic.

This year I've agreed to host a formal Christmas dinner at my house. I know this will mean a lot of hard work on my part, and I know that my family will say something kind about what they see, smell, hear, and taste - which is something that really warms my heart. I am praying genuinely that I'll be able to accept the compliment without somehow degrading my efforts with a back-handed comment like, "the turkey is too dry" or "I'm sorry the living room is such a mess."

If you're the hostess, take pride in your hard work, and then allow yourself to reap the reward! You've earned it. And no one will be upset if you bask in your success for a minute. Just make sure you don't forget to compliment Nana on that hideous Christmas sweater she insists on wearing every year and it will even out.

Holiday survival tip #7 - RSVP

I'll keep it short and sweet. If you are invited to a gathering, and you intend to be present at said gathering, make it known so that your hosts can be sure to have enough seating, refreshments, etc. It is terribly rude to assume that your hosts can read your mind and sense telepathically that you intend to show up at some point to partake of the food and entertainment, while taking up a share of the couch, and therefore they should expect enough to satisfy you. The RSVP, which is a nice way of saying "Are you coming or not???", lets your host prepare and plan so that your arrival, departure, and everything in between is as pleasurable as possible. In my opinion, no RSVP means no attendance, and your butt should have to wait outside! Having planned parties in the past, I know what goes on behind the scenes, and if you plan for only 30 people to come and you get 50, there can be a lot of hungry, cold, tired, cranky guests at your event. No one wants this. If you're coming, please say so.

At the same time, if you have agreed to attend and you are then unable, please let your host know that as well. It stinks to have food left over with no where to store it, and to have rearranged your living room for extra chairs only to discover that no one will be sitting in them. It's just a courtesy to someone who was kind enough to invite you.

Holiday survival tip #9 - Alcohol in M O D E R A T I O N

There is nothing cute or funny about finding out that your boss now has 500 photocopies of your butt after you hit the eggnog too hard at the company party. Be smart. If you are going to an office party, keep in mind that you will have to look these people in the eye again Monday morning. They would prefer that yours not be blood-shot. You'll look like a jerk. Go easy on the booze.

This rule also is important when your party takes you away from home. Unless your sled is powered by the spirit of Christmas, hand crafted by elves, and is pulled by 8 magic reindeer, you need not get behind the wheel after drinking. Period. There is no excuse for drinking and driving.

Friends, I have had the unfortunate experience of burying dear friends due to auto accidents related to excessive drinking. It's not something any mom, wife, daughter, aunt, grandmother, co-worker, or friend wants to remember every Christmas. Be considerate of society at-large and get a designated driver. Heck, you can call ME if you need to. Just please, I beg you, do not drive if you've been drinking.

Party on...

Holiday Survival Guide Installment #3 - Guests

Holiday survival tip # 4 - Strive to be Mary in a Martha world

My mother was a very social woman. One Christmas, she decided to host a Christmas Open House. From about mid-October until the party date in early December, preparations were being made. We cleaned the house with toothbrushes and a fine-toothed comb top to bottom until every surface glistened. We decorated the house with garland and lights until every room twinkled with Christmas. We selected the perfect mix of traditional and contemporary Christmas songs to play in the background. Mom baked for what seemed like an eternity (and we were NOT allowed to sample!). The refreshments were laid out on our Christmas plates, neatly arranged around the matching Christmas-patterned plates and flatware. She spent the last several hours before guests arrived primping and preening herself to look fabulous in the glow of the candles and garland. Everything was perfect. Once guests began arriving, Mom could be spotted running from here or there to refill the ice, replenish the punch, take more appetizers from the oven, more crackers, more chips, more drinks. Her feet never stopped moving. And until the last guest grabbed her coat, she was in constant motion. When the music stopped, the candles were extinguished, and the dishes were put up, she realized that she herself had not eaten or partaken of the eggnog, nor had she spent any real time visiting with the guests she had invited weeks earlier. She was so busy making the party look, smell, and taste amazing, that she hadn't actually been at the party.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Luke 10:38-42

It's hard when you're the host/hostess, and you want so badly to ensure your guests are enjoying themselves. You spend hours in the kitchen preparing the food to absolute perfection. You spend hours cleaning the house to make sure it feels clean and comfortable. You spend an hour or two sprucing yourself up, and you'll spend hours cleaning up afterward. But how much time did you spend with your guests?

This holiday season, resist the urge to strive for perfection. Chances are, your guests didn't come to judge your appearance, the appearance of your home, or the quality of your food. They came to spend time with you. So, make sure you spend time with them. Enjoy them. Treasure them.

When the lights go out and everyone has gone home, no one will be talking about how spotless your house is or how professional your catering was - but they'll remember if you sat with them, talked with them, shared a laugh over some hot chocolate with them. This is why we gather at the holidays in the first place, right?

Holiday survival tip # 5 - Call ahead for best service

Ladies, lets get real for a moment. For most of us, the pride of who we are is reflected in our home. We want it to be a place of warmth, love, comfort and welcome. But if we're being honest, we can also admit that at times it can be a place of chaos and mess. And in those times that most closely resemble the path of destruction left by a hurricane, the last thing we want is for someone to show up at our doorstep, suitcase in hand, and see the disaster we call a home. Yes, we're going to talk about uninvited guests.

First of all, I'm not one who loves surprises. The idea that anyone would show up at my house unannounced sends my heart racing. I don't like being unprepared. I am very much a "Martha" of my time. Uninvited guests don't usually get the full "welcome" experience. And that makes me sad for them. So, I generally believe it's a little bit rude to show up and expect to receive room and board and see my smiling face. I would definitely prefer that you don't show up without giving me a heads-up. But, it happens.

If you are the guest who shows up without advanced notice, be the kind of guest who comes prepared with low expectations and a gracious heart. Know that your hosts didn't intend for you to be stuck on the couch, but they didn't have time to prepare anything else. Your hosts didn't intend to call out for pizza, but the gourmet meal they wanted to serve didn't include a portion for you. Simply put: they didn't know you were coming.

The holiday season should be one of fellowship and love. Respect one another enough to realize that your host needs to know you're coming, and your guests need to feel welcome no matter how much - or how little - advanced notice you received.

Above all else, dear friends, please don't get stressed out about your guests. This is a season of love and fellowship, not stress and frustration. Jesus wants us to gather together, in his name, to rejoice in what our Heavenly Father has given to us in this special season - grace. So, give some to your guests.

Greet one another with a kiss of love. Peace to all of you who are in Christ.
1 Peter 5:14

Holiday Survival Guide Installment #2 - Shopping

Holiday survival tip #2 - Shop smarter, not harder

Black Friday

Eight years ago, my sister-in-law and I had the grand idea that since our men were going to be away the day after Thanksgiving (hers in Iraq, mine at deer camp), we would sneak away for some early morning shopping. The deals were particularly appealing that year and I was particularly broke, being that I was expecting our second child within a month of Thanksgiving. Since I was having difficulty sleeping anyway, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. So, with sale papers in hand, we left our centrally-heated homes to brave the freezing temperatures and insane crowds to get a jump-start on holiday deals.

Friends, it's called "Black Friday" for a reason. There is nothing white, pink, yellow, or green about this day. Folks lose their minds. Seriously. Something about 900 people all clamoring for the 100 items displayed at a drastically reduced price sends people into a frenzy. All sense is lost. All courtesy is forgotten. Any manners? Forget it. All bets are off.

We made the mistake of hitting Walmart first. I'm not a fan of this particular retailer in the first place, but the deals really were enticing. So, we walked (I waddled) into the store and began scoping out our points of attack. She headed for the small kitchen appliances and I teetered through the electronics section. A line had formed to even enter this section, and being claustrophobic, I decided I probably ought to just head toward the small kitchen appliances also. With my walking trail obscured by my giant (and I mean GIANT) belly, I failed to see an obstacle in my path. I tripped over a cardboard box and fell, face first, landing on all fours in the middle of the isle. At first no one saw me, for which I was grateful, considering my lack of grace at the moment. Plus, I was unsure if my maternity blue jeans had remained intact during the fall. But because of a shift in my center of gravity, and pain in my knees, getting up was difficult and took a great deal more time than I had anticipated, giving passers by plenty of time to gawk and stare. Finally, a kind gentlemen offered a hand. I was so humiliated I didn't even want to look him in the eye. Then I began to wonder if my bladder had held during the fall. What if my water had broken? Oh, dear. This could be disastrous. Fortunately, after a lot of grunting (which wasn't all my own, I might add), the kind man lifted me up and I discovered that my bag of waters was intact, and my pants were dry. Praise God. But my dignity? Yeah, that had left me.

I waddled my way to the front of the store where I found my sister-in-law, with her treasures, and we proceeded to the checkout. This, friends, is where I saw the blackest of Black Friday...

We stood in line for around 15 minutes, me praying silently that none of the folks around me recognized me as "that pregnant lady who took a spill on isle 5." Finally, the registers opened and the cash registers began beeping and jingling. After a few folks had paid and left, the line began to move forward. My sister-in-law began to step forward, realizing that a coffee pot was blocking her path. With her foot, she nudged it out of the way. Out of nowhere, a husky voice and the smell of stale cigarette smoke hovered over us, shouting, "I was saving my place in line with that!" My sister-in-law, in her sweetest voice, said, "you can't save a place in line with a coffee pot. We've been standing here, waiting, and that's not fair." Somehow, the rather large loud woman didn't feel compelled to evacuate her reserved space. In fact, she began to move ever closer to my sister-in-law's space. (My left eye twitches feverishly as I write.) The woman proceeded to all but threaten my sister in law, over a coffee pot, in the middle of Walmart on the busiest shopping day of the year, stating that she had "been here longer" and had "reserved her place in line while [she] ran to go grab something else" and that my poor sister-in-law had better not say another word about it. At this point, I felt dizzy and I felt something kinda wet around my knee. Please, don't let me be going into labor right here in Walmart! Thankfully, it was only a little bit of blood from the abuse my knees took a few moments before. Meanwhile, my non-confrontational sister-in-law was standing her ground while this unattractive woman was losing her religion over a reserved space in line with a $5 coffee pot and a box of Marlboro reds. I don't recall the exact words, but some four letter ones were shared and finally a Walmart associate manager asked the "lady" to please step to the back of the line.

We checked out and headed to the car, which I half expected to find keyed and lit on fire. We left Walmart and headed to Old Navy where I bought a maternity sweater that I later accidentally put into the drier and had to give to my 5-year-old niece. I did save $20, though. All-in-all, the shopping trip yielded no real amazing finds. In fact, I can't recall that I actually bought any Christmas gifts at all. I think my spirit was so broken after realizing how many selfish people claim to celebrate a holiday based on the birth of the most unselfish being ever to walk upon the earth.

Holiday survival tip #3 - Spend on where it really matters

I recently had a long telephone conversation with my dad where we both recalled our favorite memories from Christmases past. Our recollections both included things like the smell of the Christmas turkey, the taste of the homemade fudge, the twinkling lights, and watching It's A Wonderful Life a dozen times in the course of a season. Nowhere in our fondest memories lie the gifts we exchanged. In fact, while I know that my parents (and grandparents) spoiled us with gifts in quantities unheard of, I can't really recall what those gifts were. I can't recall how long they lasted. And I can't recall any that I gave, either. But I remember how the time was spent.

I can only imagine the crazy kind of debt my parents went into showering us with gifts like they did. But they were spinning their wheels trying always to outdo the previous year's yield. What we remember most, what we value most, is the time spent making memories - the kind of memories I try to make with my own children.

I heard on the news a few nights ago that Americans will spend around $1.2 billion between Black Friday and Cyber Monday (Black Friday's less intrusive cousin), working out to around $400 per customer. Wow. Is there not any other way to spend $400? Would Jesus have accepted a $400 gift? And how could you top the gift He gave anyway? Why try?

This year, God has really put it on my heart to give something that cannot be exchanged, replaced, or thrown out. It can (and should be) re-gifted, though. This Christmas, I want to bless my family and friends with the gift of love. I want to spend time with them, nurture our relationships, and truly rejoice in the birth of our savior. Isn't that what Christmas is about anyway??

Now, if you feel compelled to give a gift, let me suggest the gift of life. For way less than $400, you can literally save a life. Just visit the World Vision gift catalog and buy a life-saving gift to help those who aren't concerned with getting presents for Christmas - they're concerned with living to see another Christmas.

That everyone should know him by receiving him in real, tangible ways... This, my friends, this is what Jesus wants for his birthday.

Holiday Survival Guide Installment #1 - Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving happens to be one of my most favorite holidays on the calendar. The feast aside, this holiday lands smack in the middle of my most favorite season. If you are fortunate enough to live in a climate rich with lush greenery, you may notice a change in the scenery. Leaves fall in beautiful shades of brown and vibrant orange. The atmosphere becomes crisp and cool, and the wind sends a small, but pleasant, chill in the air. Fall festivities abound. The best football games happen during the Thanksgiving weekend, and school lets out briefly. It is a fantastic time of year, and Thanksgiving day is the jewel in her crown.

I grew up having a formal Thanksgiving meal. It was the one day during the entire year we ate on real china and sat in the formal dining room. It was at this table that my mom taught me valuable lessons about proper table etiquette by stabbing me in the forearm with a real silver fork because my elbows were on the table. I learned that goblets were for water, not for Kool Aid. I learned that you do not set a jar of mayonnaise on Mom's glamorously set table to make a turkey sandwich out of her beautifully browned bird and a homemade roll while waiting for the blessing to be said. I learned the value, or lack thereof, in literally "passing a roll" down to the end of the table upon request.

I look back fondly on Thanksgiving, but my best memories have been made since I became a mother myself. Nearly every Thanksgiving since I married my husband 13 years ago, we have made the trek from wherever we had been living at the time, to a rural area in south Mississippi to enjoy a fantastically home cooked meal with my husband's grandparents, where our children run and play with their cousins and the livestock while the adults sit and talk about football, weather, and the price of gasoline while stirring the gravy and sampling the sweet potato casserole. This year was no different.

Funny thing about Thanksgiving - the holidays in general, really - is family. Some you love, some you loathe. It's a mixed blessing. We've all had to sit through uncomfortable Thanksgiving meals. That's just part of the experience, I've come to believe. But the turkey and dressing makes it worth it. I'm not sure that I would choose to sit at a table with some of my family under any other circumstance. I believe that's why God made turkey with tryptophan. You're too full and too tired to fight after a meal like that.

While the food and the table in that warm house in the deep south look very different from the one I sat - and was stabbed - at in my youth, there are some things that seem to be universal about Thanksgiving in America, and I do not refer to the turkey (although it is worth mentioning that my mother, my mother-in-law, and my grandmother-in-law are all in peak performance mode when it comes to Thanksgiving meals). After having traveled hundreds of miles, crossing multiple state lines, and grown weary of other travelers having done the same, there is something instantly re-energizing about the sight of loved ones holding hands around the table to pray. We are all one family unit - our struggles, our disagreements, and our issues aside for that brief moment we bow our heads and thank God Almighty for blessing us with another year of family, memories, and delicious food. We break bread fully knowing that it may be our last under these circumstances, but we give thanks for the chance to do so. We forgive one another, if only for a moment, for being imperfect and give thanks for being present.

Isn't that what it's really all about? Isn't it really about remembering what you have to be thankful for? Family, friends, memories... those are the real treats.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.
Psalm 107:1

Holiday survival tip #1 - be thankful that you have family around to annoy you, push your buttons, aggrivate you, and be a thorn in your side. Next year, you may not be so lucky.

A Servant's Heart

I really want to write a book. Not exactly sure what my topic would be, but I feel like it might be based on the following paragraph taken from my personal journal:

11 November 2010
Lord, I just pray that you reach into my heart and touch it in such a way that makes my yearning for Your causes permanent. God, open my eyes to the world around me that is crying out for love to be put into action. Let me be full of compassion and mercy for all of Your children. Let me love as You have. Let me reach out to those the world would discard. Show me how to love the world for what You made it to be - not what we made it to be. Give me Your eyes, that I might see people the way You do. Lord, Let me know where You want me to go for You. Where are You calling me? Where do You, Lord, need me to serve Your people? Show me where, tell me how. Break my heart for what breaks Yours - make it my life's mission, my purpose. And Lord, please give me the strength to follow Your call.

I could not have imagined that praying over my journal that night would result in my fingers running over these tear-soaked pages time and time again, pondering what God was calling my heart to. Since I wrote those words, almost exactly one year ago, I have read and re-read that prayer. There is something beautiful about being brought to your knees and moved to tears in prayer to the Father.

I always thought of myself as "charitable". Always took at least one tag off the Angel Tree. Made sure to give canned food to the Foodbank. Took my coats and blankets to the mission. Put an extra $5 in the collection plate at Christmas. Yes, I was "charitable". You can give without love, but you cannot truly love without giving. Giving, the kind that stretches you past what you think you can do on your own, the kind that makes you feel a little bit uncomfortable, the kind that pushes the limits of your heart... that kind of giving can only be done of love. And until last year, when I hit my knees and asked God to open my heart to this kind of giving - the kind that requires blood, sweat, and tears - I had no idea how beautifully painful, and awesomely rewarding it would feel to be uncomfortable for God.

The bottom line, friends, is that giving is not what you do with your hands or you money or your time... it's what you do with your heart.

Falling Leaves

Autumn is one of my most favorite times of the year. I love watching the oak trees change into browns and oranges, dropping leaves and acorns all about. I'm not a fan of raking, but it seems such a small sacrifice for such a beautiful change in scenery. Fall brings about a shift in wind and weather, dramatic colors, and delicious flavors. It is a season based on gratitude and change - two things that, at least for me, don't often go together. But they should.

Our circumstances are often a mess. No one would really choose to be homeless, jobless, hungry, or poor, would they? No one would choose the life of hardship over a life of ease, would they? Of course not. But often our circumstances place us in these difficult times. And we feel so abandoned in those times, as if God has shunned us to this spiritual wasteland. A change in circumstances, especially a negative one, often makes us a little bit bitter toward God. After all, a loving God wouldn't want to punish us this way, right??

We live in a broken, jacked up, icky, messed up world full of pain, suffering, and evil. The moment the first bite was taken of the apple, all hell broke loose - literally. Mankind allowed sin into the world, and for that we all pay. The world is not the beautiful paradise it once was when God roamed through the garden freely, and man and woman were naked an unashamed. Today, we have drugs, violence, disease, famine, and a whole host of other things that come as a result of sin's admittance to our world. Sometimes, the result of that sin spills over into innocent lives and causes circumstances to change in such a negative and nasty way that we feel that we are far, far too removed from God to even reach out to Him. Things have changed, and we can't see God's hand at work anymore.

But that doesn't mean He's stopped working. A change in our circumstances is a wonderful time to praise the Father. Sure, things seem hard now, but there is nothing - absolutely, positively nothing - that God can't see you through.

A few years ago, I experienced a dramatic change. I lost my mom to cancer. I was so busy allowing my circumstances to drown me, I forgot to ask God for a life preserver. Never once did I praise Him for the years I had with my mom - 30 years full of memories. Never once did I thank Him for allowing her to pass peacefully, though her disease was a painful, slow death. Never one did I glorify Him for allowing me to be at her bedside in her final moments, though I lived 3 states away. But often did I criticize Him for "making" her die, for "allowing" this cancer, and for "taking" her from me. My circumstances were unpleasant, and I made sure He knew how I felt about it. I knew things had changed for the worse, and I couldn't see how God could possibly use this for good. After about a month of grieving and feeling sorry for myself, God delivered a miracle. My husband gave his life to Christ. He said that he hadn't been able to give me the kind of peace and love about this situation that I needed to receive, because he didn't himself possess it. You can't give away what you never had. But once he allowed Christ to fill his heart, he understood the kind of love I needed to feel. Our marriage changed immediately. And I came to the realization that even though my circumstances had changed, God used it to make an amazing story - and for that, I should be thankful.

It's hard, I won't lie. Often all we can see is our the circumstances in life that keep us from moving forward. We feel stuck. But praise God. Praise Him for the goodness. Praise Him that in those moments when you have more month left than money, He gave you that time. When you can't park near the building and have to walk a half mile in from the parking lot, that at least you have healthy legs to do so. When you run out of laundry soap in the middle of washing clothes, that you are blessed to have that many articles of clothing to wash. When you lose someone you love unexpectedly, that you got to spend time with them and love them while they were here. There are a million reasons to praise - big and small.

I'm not a big fan of change. In fact, it makes me very anxious. But watching the leaves turn and fall off the trees gives me such a peace. Yes, the trees will soon be bare, but our God is an amazing provider, and soon enough those trees will be covered with new leaves, blossoms, and fruit. Allow Him to be present through the changes, and amazing things will happen. After all, you will go through the changes in life regardless... wouldn't it be better to go WITH God, than WITHOUT Him?

Water = Life

As many of my friends know, water - something vital to life - is very close to my heart. My family has made it our mission to be involved in bringing water, in both it's physical and spiritual forms, to those who need it most. We have been involved with Living Water International for a few years now, and have been on 5 mission trips between us, with many more planned for the future. We give regularly to this ministry, and fully support the vision for providing the world's thirsty with water that will nourish the body and the soul. To say we are passionate about water would be a small understatement.

This week I began a program sponsored by LWI called Pray for Water, a 21-day prayer guide to pray for those who need water most, and for the issues that affect them. Today, Day 3, struck me in particular because it hit so close to home for me. Today, I prayed for the mothers and fathers of children born in communities with poor sanitation and a lack of clean water. They often hold off on naming their babies until they are 2 years old, because anonymous death hurts less. I have to tell you, it was difficult not to burst into tears.

When my children were born, we were surrounded by family and friends. We were in a modern hospital with full comfort amenities. There was no lack of medicine, care, or staff to ensure the health and safety of myself or my newly born child. Surrounded by high-tech equipment, computer monitors, and air-conditioned private rooms, I was blessed to be able to love my new babies without worrying about disease or illness in the water they drank or were bathed in. I didn't worry about malnourishment or water-born illness. I worried about what outfit to put them in for pictures. I worried about making sure I looked good for pictures. I worried about the nursing staff interrupting my afternoon nap. I worried that the cafeteria food would taste good. But at that same moment, a mother somewhere around the world was burying a baby she didn't name because he or she was exposed to pathogens that would take his or her young life. Recalling the memory of those early days in my baby's life suddenly seemed so insignificant in comparison.

I often feel a little guilty for being so blessed while others suffer so. But God has given me a new peace about this. He wants to bless me. He wants me to enjoy those sweet moments when a new child enters the earthly kingdom. He wants me to soak up the smell of that new baby shampoo, joy in the tender touch of the soft, supple skin, and snuggle up close to that precious angel He has blessed me with. But I also know that He wants me to remember how blessed I am, not take it for granted, be thankful for it, and try to bless those who don't have that. He isn't asking me to feel guilty, but He is asking me to be the change I want to see in the world. He's asking me to bless someone else. He's asking me to use the experiences and resources He's blessed me with to pass on to someone else.

I feel that this call will be through organizations like Living Water. But I am open to finding ways to bless others who truly thirst. If God calls me to another path, I pray He will open my eyes to it. I know that I can't change the world by myself, but He hasn't called me to change it all by myself - He's called me to be His hands and feet, He can handle the rest. And if I partner with someone else, the impact can only be greater.

While I pray for those families who are burdened with the loss of their children, I also pray that my friends and family would feel the call to their own hearts to give to the cause. None of us has ever experienced the kind of loss and pain that says it is better to bury a child you didn't ever even name. Give, and give generously, and I promise that you will be the change that you want to see in the world. God will use what you give, and He will bless you for it. I promise you that.

Please visit www.water.cc to find out how you can give, pray, and support the cause.

My issue with government

I realize that this post may attract or invite comments - inflammatory ones - that may become offensive. I ask, kindly, that you resist the urge to blow up my Facebook page or my blog with such comments. I welcome opposing viewpoints, when offered intelligently, concisely, and reverently. But please bear in mind that this blog - MY blog - is a representation of my own personal viewpoints, interpretations, and opinions. It is not now, nor has it ever, claimed to be matter of fact. Bearing that in mind, please enjoy the following offering:

As the campaign season is upon us, in full swing, we are constantly bombarded with messages about how we should think or feel about a topic, a candidate, or an issue. I, for one, have grown weary of being essentially mandated to pick between the lesser of two (or more) evils. I am tired of selecting my candidate from a list of mediocre choices, all of whom give me cause to begin searching for land-purchase opportunities in Canada or Central America. Quite frankly, the election process has me often more angry and confused than excited to exercise the privilege of casting a ballot. Anyone else feel this way? I want Camelot back.

More than that, however, I am growing frustrated at the level of stupidity the government must believe that I, or at the very least the whole of society, must possess. Why does government, in any form or fashion, get to dictate to me how I raise my kids or how I spend my money? Is it just me, or do some of these things seem completely unconstitutional? I give you the following two examples: (1) mandatory HPV vaccinations, and (2) "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" (DADT) and/or "gay marriage."

I begin with the HPV vaccination issue. HPV (human papillomavirus) is a sexually-transmitted disease that has been linked to cervical cancer in women. This link has recently been called into question with a study done by the CDC that showed that 95% of HPV-infected women did NOT get cervical cancer. Obviously, there is a lot of work to be done in this area, as the HPV studies are all relatively new and somewhat inconclusive. That aside, Governor Rick Perry signed an executive order in 2007 mandating all teen girls in the state of Texas get the HPV vaccine. This was later overturned by the state legislature, but not without harsh criticism from Perry, and serious opposition in his recent debates with other Republican presidential hopefuls. This particular issue irritated me. I have a daughter. Do I need government telling me to vaccinate my girl against an STD? Let me give my personal opinion on the matter. I would likely vaccinate her. In fact, I think it's a safe bet that I would and will vaccinate my daughter - all of my kids, actually - against any and all diseases if I knew for certain that it could and would eliminate, or at least drastically reduce, the probability that they would get the disease. That's just good parenting, if you ask me. My issue is this: why does the government get to decide what "good parenting" is? Why do legislators who don't even live in my neighborhood or send their kids to my schools get to decide what vaccines are needed and which are not? Oh, I know what you're thinking - she doesn't vaccinate?? No, I definitely do. And I believe everyone should - especially against very highly communicable diseases like measles, mumps, pertussis, etc. But HPV is a sexually-transmitted disease. It's transmitted during sexual contact, not coughing in the same classroom as my baby. Something like that, I believe, should be at the parent's discretion, not the government's. Isn't this also why we don't have mandatory birth control? Moreover, I hate the idea that government thinks I am such an idiot that I wouldn't look into issues to protect my child's health. I know there are plenty of morons in the world that don't, but it irritates me to be governed as if I'm one of them. Or governed by one of them... as a side note, Michele Bachmann, no study conducted thus far has shown the HPV vaccine to cause or be linked to mental retardation... apparently, that's just you.

Now we come to issue #2. The "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" issue. This could get sticky. See, I personally believe that marriage was created for a man and a woman. I personally believe that if a guy wants to make a promise to another guy to be faithful and monogamous, then he should certainly be allowed to do so through a "civil union" - a promise recognized by the state to receive benefits and rights as two humans who have vowed to run their household jointly. Just don't slap the label of "marriage" on it, because that word was set apart by God to represent the union that He created. I, in my heart, believe that such unions were intended for men and women to join, to create families, and to give rise to future generations that promote lineage. However, I don't believe that homosexuality is any more sinful than things that I do daily - lie, lust, mistreat my body, etc. Let's be real, folks: who among us does not sin? Hate to be the one to break it to you, but all sin - ALL SIN - is ugly and black and unholy and cannot be in the presence of a holy God. So we ALL fall short of the glory. ALL of us - homosexuals, heterosexuals, blacks, whites, rich, poor, whoever. No one escapes this life without sin. So why bother to point out how two dudes committing is so bad? I didn't realize that you hadn't ever done anything God wouldn't be proud of... just sayin'. Meanwhile, let's bring it back to the DADT policy. I never liked this policy, but I understood why it existed. Let's be real for a minute. We may all say we know a gay person and they are our best friend or whatever. But if we didn't know this person so well, would we be comfortable undressing in front of them? Sharing a bunk with them? A shower? Likely not. So if the majority of the military is "straight" and only a few are "gay", it seemed to make more sense to keep the gays quiet so our military could function. That sucks, but it seems to be at least logical. So now what? While I don't personally have any issue whatsoever with a person's sexuality, perhaps we need to look at it from a logistical standpoint. Furthermore, I have issue with ANY person in uniform having "inappropriate displays of affection" in uniform - whether you are kissing a guy or a chick. Bottom line here: the military is your job, and it is also your life. Perhaps the guidelines should be more strict across the board? No one needs to see anyone else's tongue down anyone's throat - regardless. Class it up, Department of Defense. And to the members of our military who think that since DADT is gone that they may flaunt about with their sexuality, remember this: you signed up to be a soldier/sailor/airman/marine/etc. FIRST, and an ordinary US citizen second - meaning that when you took the oath, you pledged to follow the military lifestyle with all of its rules, despite what you think is fair or cool or whatever. I know, because I took that oath once, too. It isn't easy - but that's the beauty of having a VOLUNTEER MILITARY - no one MADE you agree to this lifestyle. You agreed to it, deal with it. So, to wrap this up, I think that homosexual unions should be allowed, homosexuals should be allowed to serve in our military, and government should butt out of both of those instances. But the individuals who participate in those commitments - both civilian and military, gay and straight - should respect the commitments that they make, whether to one another or the government they serve.

I realize that I get worked up, and may sound harsh sometimes. I guess, for me, it's just super-frustrating to think that our government - which is of the people, for the people, and by the people - seems to represent only itself, not its constituents... unless it is that we are all completely silent, and unwilling to make our representatives hear how we feel. Or do we, the majority, really feel this way? I don't know. But I believe in the privilege of voting, and I encourage everyone to do so. No one gets the right to complain if you haven't cast your ballot.

E pluribus unum

As the ten-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 approaches, most of America seems to be in a state of reflection. I am no exception. It's difficult not to think about an event that changed the way the world looks at America, and the way America looks at the world.

Every American over the age of about 14 has a story about that day. Where they were, what they were doing, and who they were with. Again, I am no exception.

I boarded a train on Atlanta's north side and headed into my office downtown. I worked for SunTrust Bank as an Investment Specialist. Specifically, I worked in the SunTrust Securities office, collateralizing and securing deposits of government entities. It sounds more complicated than it was. However, it required me to attend monthly telephone meetings with traders in New York City to move and gain assets to cover the deposits held by our bank in the name of customers like the City of Baltimore. As I did most mornings, I sat on the train with dozens of other early-risers headed into the city. We didn't speak to one another, and often never raised our eyes above the newspaper to even acknowledge one another. The faint smell of cheap coffee rose above the smell of bus exhaust at the last stop before I would exit.

Once in downtown, I gathered my belongings and stood. Once the double doors opened, we made our way like herded cattle out of the station and onto the bustling city streets. Even at just 7:30 in the morning, downtown Atlanta was a busy city with people coming and going every which way. I headed to my building and pushed the button for the 23rd floor and waited - stopping at seemingly every floor. Finally, I made my way to my desk, stopping grab a cup of lukewarm coffee and settle in to my morning routine: checking my mail, sifting through my inbox, and checking my voicemail.

By 8:30, I had settled in the conference room for a meeting. Our entire team was on a conference call to our partners in New York, located in the World Trade Center. We began discussing our usual business. Not a lot of small talk, which I recall made my team uncomfortable. I recall my boss saying once of our New York partners, "they are rude and abrasive." Thinking of the accounts for which I was responsible in Maryland and Virginia, I asked about purchasing assets for collateral. Before my Yankee representative could finish discussing possible allocation, a strange "crinkle" noise came over the line, and then it went dead.

We were unable to reestablish our connection, and left the conference room bewildered. The televisions on our trading floor were on during business hours every day - usually tuned to Bloomberg TV. As we left the conference room and headed past the trading room floor and back to our offices, we caught a glimpse of a news reporter with a caption that read something like "world trade center fire". At that point, we had no idea that anything other a freak accident. We turned the volume up and listened as the reporter explained that an airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center. My heart sank a little. But before I had the chance to put together the events from the phone conference and the images of smoke plumes shooting out of the first World Trade Center tower, I watched an airliner drive into the second tower. And I had the sudden urge to vomit.

It was at that moment around 9:00 that I realized that what I was witnessing was no coincidence. We were unofficially, but undeniably, under attack. By whom? And why? How come we didn't know? Are we vulnerable everywhere? I was filled with a million questions, but even if I knew the words to speak, my tongue seemed to be swelling inside my mouth and my jaws felt as if they were locked tight. My knees seemed weak. I wasn't sure if I had begun to sweat through my suit, but I felt certain that I wouldn't be the only one. Everyone in the room seemed white as a ghost and almost immediately grief-stricken. I couldn't help but turn my eyes slightly left to peer out the windows. Only minutes from Atlanta's Hartsfield Airport, I had developed what previously had seemed like an irrational fear of rogue jets escaping the runway.

I decided to head back to my desk and figure out what work I might be able to put off to another time - a time of less distraction. After a few moments, I looked up and find a much larger crowd had gathered around the television. People I didn't recognize, perhaps from another floor or department. I stood up and made my way back to the television. As if in slow-motion like a dream, I saw something horrific and devastating: the south tower crumbled to the ground. I pulled my hands up to my mouth as if to keep a scream from escaping. I let out a gasp, just to keep myself from fainting.

I honestly don't remember the second tower collapsing. Everything in the next hour is a complete blur. I know that at some point I returned to my desk and gathered up my things, leaving my computer on and my voicemail inactivated. Our building manager informed us that the train service in Atlanta would likely be temporarily halted and that we should leave immediately. It seemed as if I hadn't even blinked, but had gotten myself off the train, into my car, and was putting my key into the lock. I went inside and immediately turned on the TV. I then learned that an airplane had hit the Pentagon, and another crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. The wave of nausea I felt before seemed to be rising up in me again and I needed to sit down. Then I remembered that I had a son, 2, waiting for me at a day care 20 minutes away. In a panic, I rushed to grab my keys and make my way to the school.

That evening I couldn't help but squeeze my baby boy a little tighter, and my husband a little closer. I now felt something I had never felt before: fear. I was afraid of an enemy I didn't know and couldn't see. I was afraid of being attacked for reasons I didn't know or understand. I was afraid and I didn't know how to be anything but.

In the past 10 years, I have grown used to the inconveniences associated with travel and the security associated with visiting any government building. I have seen firsthand the faces of war. The world is a very different place. And I have learned to accept life in a "post-9/11 world". But I have never forgotten that day.

My two younger children have never known life any different, and a part of me mourns for them. They don't remember being able to walk a family member to the gate at the airport, or not having to be fondled before going there. They don't remember a time of innocence in America. They don't remember a time we weren't involved in "the war on terror". The only "normal" they know is war - a war that took their family members away to a land halfway around the world to fight an enemy they couldn't find.

I often wish I could, but I can't forget that day. And I fear that I never will. But perhaps it is important to bear the burden of the memory... so that we may never be victimized again.

If I had to find silver lining it is this: we had become reunited with our fellow Americans. We forgot how we were different, if even just for a short time, to come together as American people. Out of many, we rose again as one...

Katrina: 6 years later

Six years ago today, I witnessed the fury and power of Mother Nature as she blew into the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Hurricane Katrina was one of the most awesome and terrifying displays of power my eyes have ever beheld. Even after six years, I won't ever forget it.

In the days before the storm, most coastal Mississippians were busy in preparation. Fully aware of the destruction she left in her wake on the beaches of Miami as a Category 1 hurricane, local residents proceeded with their pre-storm preparations. Meanwhile, Katrina spent 4 days churning over warm gulf waters, building herself into a massive Category 5 hurricane, with sustained winds around 175 miles per hour, and gusts up to 215. By August 28, mandatory evacuation orders were issued in Louisiana, Mississippi, and parts of Alabama in anticipation of her arrival. Up in the Jackson area, where I lived, we were told to anticipate thunderstorms - some may be severe - heavy rainfall, and wind. Essentially, no real preparation was necessary. So, we kept the television on and watched for our friends to the south. In Jackson, we had no supplies, no plan, and no idea what was about to unfold...

On the morning of August 29, 2005, Matt and I were in a "business as usual" mode. Matt went in to work at his usual time. The kids did not have school that day. By mid-morning, the skies were black and the clouds were thick with rain. Ominous in the background, I decided to turn on The Weather Channel. Katrina, big and aggressive, was already working her way into New Orleans and battering the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Matt came home before lunch, and the skies began to pour. I had never seen rain so heavy, so thick, and so continuous. By mid-afternoon, we had lost power, roof shingles, a few trees, and all hope of escaping Katrina's wrath unscathed. The weather reports had been, initially, that Jackson should anticipate Katrina being only a tropical depression... she hit central Mississippi as a Category 1 - 2 hurricane. Our guard was down and we paid dearly.

By nightfall, the kids were tired and afraid. We had no power, and all of us assembled in the coolest room of the house to eat and listen to the radio by candlelight. Our fears of total devastation were realized upon hearing initial reports from the only local Jackson station broadcasting at the time. While news from New Orleans was grim, our neighbors directly south in places like Long Beach, Biloxi, Kiln, Bay St. Louis, and Pascagoula, were downright heartbreaking.

After 4 days without power, having eaten all of our canned goods and bread, and having burned all of our candles and used all of our remaining batteries, I penned the following in my journal:

I feel certain that 50 years or more from now people will know what I'm talking about. Hurricane Katrina. We had no idea how bad it was going to be. Biloxi and Gulfport are gone. New Orleans is ruined. It's all just total devastation. I don't even know where to start. I'm going to begin by explaining our current condition. Here in the Jackson area, it's rough. I'll start by saying that here in our home, we're learning to cope. At present, it's 96 degrees, humid, and dark. We have no power. So, we have no air conditioning. Not even a fan. We have to boil our water. We'll have to throw out a freezer and refrigerator full of food that will spoil if we don't get power back on soon. They say most places will be without power for weeks. There is no ice or water in most of the state right now. Nor is there gas. And if there was gas, it's over $3 per gallon in some places - if they have power to pump it. We've heard that there are some folks selling gas to people waiting in line for $20 a gallon. Or folks charging $6 a gallon at the pump. So, we've got nothing. And no way to get anything. If we could go out, I doubt it would do much good - no stores have power. Most stores will only take cash since the credit card machines are down. Unfortunately, we've got no cash since the ATMs are down, too. We are fortunate enough that our family is all okay, and our house only suffered minimal damage. I say that because the Mississippi coast line is destroyed. Leveled. There are no words that could possibly describe how incredible this hurricane was. I've never seen anything like this. And I've been fortunate that I've now lived through it with no harm done except terrible inconvenience. I would never want to make like of the situation, but it's been hard for me with the kids. We've got no air conditioning in this heat, no food or water, no way to leave, no money. We just feel helpless. And our only real connection to the world outside is the radio - if our batteries hadn't died. We know it's bad out there, but we haven't seen it yet for lack of power. Here in Clinton, we've got trees down all over the place, no power anywhere, no clean water, no ice, no gas, and NO PATIENCE! But in New Orleans they say there are bodies floating in canals, people sitting on roofs waiting to be rescued, people starving to death or dehydrating, hospitals losing power. At the Superdome, 10,000 evacuees are knee-deep in water, no power, no running water. They have to urinate and defecate in barrels that are overflowing. They're starving. And they're scared. We even hear rumors that a man killed himself inside. The military is supposed to be flying down to help evacuate those people to Houston, but had to stop because someone fired shots at the helicopters. It's so chaotic. And looters have gotten all the retail buildings picked clean and are now looting hotels and hospitals! That completely blows my mind! And all that is just New Orleans. I haven't mentioned the Mississippi coast or Hattiesburg yet. Hattiesburg was hit hard - third worst behind New Orleans and the Biloxi/Gulfport area. Gulfport and Biloxi are totally wiped out. The casino industry on the coast no longer exists. One casino was gutted up the third floor. Another was picked up and placed atop another. And another was thrown to the other side of highway 90. There really aren't any buildings left from the beach to about a mile inland. Matt says it looks like a nuclear bomb went off. Slabs with no houses. It's just incredible. The awesome power of Mother Nature! People in New Orleans are just wandering aimlessly on the freeway overpasses because they're starving and thirsty and completely displaced. In the Biloxi/Gulfport area, the death toll keeps rising, the bridges are wiped out, the power company has lost its ability to generate and distribute power. There is such a difference between the destruction in New Orleans and the destruction in Mississippi. On the Mississippi coast, there simply is nothing left. New Orleans still exists, just under water. And I should mention Mobile, too. Mobile is flooded. Storm swells pushed ships into one another in the bay. 50 years from now, if someone reads this, I hope they can truly understand that this storm has changed everything. The Mississippi coastline has been wiped out. New Orleans is forever changed. And our hearts are changed, too. Iraq hurt us. September 11 shocked us. But this... Hurricane Katrina hit home. Our own neighbors have lost everything. And all we can do now is sit, wait, and pray. We all want to help, but we just can't get help to the ones who need it. There are people who are absolutely desperate to survive right now. When I think of all the mothers and fathers who can't feed their children, or themselves, or the kids who are hungry and scared, or the sick and hurt who just need help... it just breaks my heart. It's beyond words. They're calling it the worst natural disaster on US soil. But I was one of the lucky ones... I survived.

We would go 5 more days before power was restored. We managed to drive an hour north - nearly exhausting our gasoline - to find an ATM that was operational and had cash and a grocery store that still had bread and canned goods and batteries.

Matt was deployed shortly after our power was back on to spend 4 months on the Mississippi coast at Keesler AFB, helping the Army with "Operation Blue Roof". He rode from Biloxi to New Orleans in a Blackhawk, taking incredible aerial shots of the massive destruction. I was proud of him - and all of the Army - for their recovery efforts, though it must've felt overwhelming.



The casino blown across the highway:

My brother-in-law deployed with the National Guard to perform search and rescue operations, that later turned into recovery efforts, marking property to inform of bodies left on the premises.





After all this time, Katrina is still a very real presence in our lives. It changed the way we prepare for a storm, the way we deal with the storm, and the way we recover from a storm. In the weeks and months that followed Katrina, Matt and I were forced to make difficult decisions about future weather systems. We had plans in place, kits and supplies, and established escape routes. We would never be caught unprepared again.

The Mississippi coast is rebuilding, but it will take time. Even now, her beautiful historic coastal communities, with magnolias in full bloom and mossy oaks, remain scarred from the wrath of the worst storm to hit our nation since record-keeping began. Mississippians will recover, but they will never be the same. Katrina leaves a foul taste in the mouths of those who were blessed enough to survive. But that's what Mississippians do - they pick themselves up, wipe off the mud, and persevere.

What's in a name?

I remember asking my parents some years ago about how they came to decide on my name. Was I named after a family member? A place? A time in their life? No, it turns out that they just happened to hear my name called out to another child and they liked it. So, they gave it to me.

In the Bible, many of the characters we read of were given their names based on a particular characteristic or trait their parents saw in them. For example, Esau was given his name because he was "red, and his whole body was like a hairy garment" (Genesis 25:25), and his brother, Jacob, was given his name because he "came out, with his hand grasping Esau's heel" (Genesis 25:26). Some characters had their names changed because of an intimate encounter with God. Abram was known as Abraham after he and God made a covenant. Scripture says, "Abram fell facedown, and God said to him, 'As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.'" (Genesis 17:3-5)

Names have significance. They describe people, and places, and help us to fulfill an identity given us by our Creator. It is what we are called, how we are known, and what we will answer to. It separates us from everyone we are surrounded by, and defines our lineage.

So what about the name above all names?

Jesus was given a number of names. The Bible calls him: Jesus, Prince of Peace, Mighty God, Wonderful Counselor, Holy One, Lamb of God, Prince of Life, Lord God Almighty, Lion of the Tribe of Judah, Root of David, Lily of the Valley, The Living Water, The Door, The True Vine, Yahweh, Word of Life, Redeemer, Master, Author and Finisher of our faith, Advocate, Rabbi, The Way, Dayspring, Teacher, Immanuel, Bridegroom, Lord of All, I Am, Son of God, Shepherd, Messiah, Son of Man, The Truth, Savior, Chief Cornerstone, King of Kings, Righteous Judge, Light of the World, Head of the Church, Morning Star, Son of Righteousness, Lord Jesus Christ, Resurrection and Life, Horn of Salvation, Bread of Life, Governor, Alpha and Omega (just to name a few).

But what good is a name if it has no meaning, no power? If I tell you "John Smith is coming to dinner" you might ask me, "who is that?" But if I tell you "Bill Gates is coming to dinner" you would probably rush to polish your silver and clean off your fine china. His name has significance. Bill Gates has power and authority, to a degree, and can greatly impact your life - especially if he's coming to dinner at your house!

And what about the name of Jesus? What kind of power and authority does he have in our lives? Scripture has a lot to say about this. In the book of Acts, you can find many examples of the apostles calling on the name of Jesus to perform miracles, and bring God's children closer to Him.

There is a beautiful song called Your Great Name that sums it up nicely:

Lost are saved, find their way... at the sound of Your great name
All condemned feel no shame... at the sound of Your great name
Every fear has no place... at the sound of Your great name
The enemy, he has to leave... at the sound of Your great name

Jesus, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for us,
Son of God and Man
You are high and lifted up, and all the world will praise
Your great name

All the weak find their strength... at the sound of Your great name
Hungry souls receive grace... at the sound of Your great name
The fatherless, they find their rest... at the sound of Your great name
Sick are healed, and the dead are raised... at the sound of Your great name

Jesus, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for us,
Son of God and Man
You are high and lifted up, and all the world will praise
Your great name

Redeemer, My Healer, Lord Almighty
My Savior, Defender, You are My King

The power in the name is great enough to do all these things and more. In fact, Jesus says in John 14:13-14, "And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." Anything? Let's talk about that...

God is not a vending machine. He's not a genie in a lamp you call on for your 3 wishes. It doesn't work like that. What Jesus is telling us is that if you are trying to do what God has called you to do, He will help you. It won't be impossible - God's plans never are. If what you are doing is to glorify your Father in Heaven, He's going to make it happen. This is not your chance to ask for 3 more wishes or millions of dollars.

And let's also distinguish between something that is "good" and something that "glorifies God." Asking God to heal your dying mother is a "good" thing. But it might be that what brings the most glory to God is a result of her passing. I know that's a tough pill to swallow, but God can see so much farther past our current circumstances. He can see eternal results. I speak on this subject with much authority and experience. I prayed, in Jesus' name, for my mother to be healed. She was not. But now, almost 3 years later, I realize that God was glorified in so many ways after her passing as a result of the experiences we went through during her illness, the funeral, and learning to redefine our family. God knew that. So, while it was painful for us, I know He was actually doing what was best for all of us by not healing her. Make sense? I know, it's hard to grasp. It took me months to get it.

The bottom line is that the beautiful name of Jesus, no matter which "name" you use, has power - power to heal, power to revive, power to cleanse, and power to save. If you call on his mighty name, something amazing is bound to happen...

You know you've been to Guatemala if...

I've compiled a list of 30 of my favorite memories from my recent Guatemala trip. Hopefully my friends will get a little giggle out of some of these.

You know you've been to Guatemala if...

1. You can ride side saddle on the back of a motorcycle along with 6 other family members.

2. You say "whiskey" when you take a picture.

3. You have two basic seasons a year: rainy, and hot.

4. You trust your three-year-old to take care of your infant.

5. You are not a dog or a cat person.

6. You are used to taking cold showers.

7. You understand the mating call of the gecko.

8. "Mud" is your favorite color.

9. You believe that stripes on the road are merely for decoration only.

10. You have been called a "gringo" and it's a compliment.

11. You can buy anything for 10% of the original asking price.

12. You can convert dollars to Qs in your head.

13. You've been served vital organs in your chicken soup.

14. You make corn tortillas for breakfast.

15. You can balance a basket on your head.

16. You think you're an old maid at 18.

17. You can play soccer barefoot.

18. You share a bathroom with scorpions.

19. You've jumped off "the dragon."

20. You've eaten your weight in Pringles.

21. You walk to school with a machete.

22. You've learned the hard way not to play "got your nose".

23. Your baby drinks coffee.

24. You know what a "chicken bus" is... and never want to ride one.

25. You've had a dog wander into your classroom repeatedly.

26. You've made Play-Dough poop.

27. Seeing the Coke truck brought a tear to your eye.

28. You have seen fruit known to make a man go blind.

29. You have no problem going potty on the front porch.

30. You have had one or more cheeks go numb in the van.

31. You can taste the difference between Diet Coke and Coca Light.

32. You know what a "cleavage purse" is.

33. The locals think YOUR accent is funny.

34. You know what mosquito spray tastes like.

35. You've mistaken a grown man for an 12-year-old.

36. Your first-grader wears political t-shirts.

37. You know what a "pick-a-tarian" is.

38. You own at least one Salvavidas bottle.

39. You have ridden 10 or more miles holding your breath down the highway.

40. You own a blue and white soccer jersey.

41. You know who "senor jabon" is.

42. You know how many pounds of coffee can fit into your suitcase.

43. You've played American football with - and gotten schooled by - Guatemalan kids.

44. You ask, "photo?" before you take a picture, and then automatically squat down to show it.

45. You have "gatos".

46. You laugh when you hear "badonkadonk".

47. You've had to quickly slam your van door shut to avoid "stowaways".

48. You know the rules to "giants and midgets".

49. You and your Apple product tie up the available internet connection.

50. You have a desire to come and get sweaty and dirty all over again.

A Revelation About Feet

I have taken for granted the ability I have every day to step out of my bed, onto soft carpet, and walk to wherever I feel the need to go. Not because I take for granted my comfy bed, soft carpet, or climate-controlled home. But because I take for granted feet. Well, that is, until recently.


Many of you know that I have been "laid up" for a couple of weeks following a simple foot surgery. During this time period, I discovered how much walking I do in a day. It had become, at one point, torturous to walk from my recliner to the bathroom, because of the incredible pain in said foot. At night, I couldn't find a comfortable position to lie down in because of the pain. I had numbness and tingling for a few days, and swelling for several days. I realized that I depended an awful lot on my two feet. And even though I still had one fully operational foot, it seemed that the pair was doomed for failure as long as one of the two was inoperable.

I had a pair of crutches that I relied heavily on for a few days and I managed to find a way to scoot around as I needed to. I had friends coming to bring me dinner and offering to clean my house and drive me to here and there so that I could give my poor foot time to heal. While I greatly appreciated all the efforts made by my friends, my husband, and my kids, my heart yearned to be free. Oh, how I wanted to run and jump and dance! I was even looking forward to the days of standing in the kitchen over a hot stove just to be able to stand on my own two feet again!!

I learned something during this experience. It's weird how, if you're not careful, God will sneak up and teach you things in the most unexpected ways. But I learned a lesson about the "body of Christ" that we always hear about in church. We, as Christ-followers, make up this "body." We are all dependent upon the rest of the parts to fully function and get us through this mess we call "life". If one foot fails to work properly, walking gets a lot harder. We need people in our lives to support us, to love us, to pick us up, and to pull us along. We need community: people with whom we share a commonality.

I want to thank those in my "community" that supported me for the last two weeks. Thanks to my church family with your incredible meals. Thanks to my sweet friends who brought food, magazines, movies, and offered to drive me around and run my errands. Thanks to my kids who did a billion little "favors" for me while I wasn't walking. And a great big thanks to my incredible husband, who put up with me the whole time and never once got cross with me. It must be love!

If ever I was to be the "hands and feet" of God - going and doing what He asked to further His kingdom - these precious angels I call friends would be my "supportive orthpedic shoes" that have helped me move along. :)

Guatemala trip, in a nutshell

I had the pleasure of spending a week in the beautiful country of Guatemala. Many of my friends and family asked about my trip. I wanted to share with you some highlights of that trip.

Day One - arrival in Guatemala

Our flight landed before lunch into Guatemala City. After gathering our team and all of our luggage, we hopped into the van and made our way from Guatemala City up to Antigua. Guatemala City is not one of my favorite places. It's very urban. Very crowded. A city bustling with life. But it's just too crowded. People everywhere. It's like going into downtown Los Angeles - you almost miss out on what there is to see because of all the other people there. But Antigua, that is different. Antigua is the oldest city in our hemisphere. It's beautiful. Surrounded by active volcanoes and nestled among coffee plantations, it's got a quaint old-world feel to it. I love Antigua. We visited the mercado, one of my least favorite places, on this day. I opted not to go inside because I'm not a fan of hanging meat. I stayed outside and watched people coming and going, buying and selling. I'm a people-watcher.

After the mercado, we took a shopping trip to one of the local grocers to load up on snacks for the long drive from Antigua to the coast, the week at the drill site, and the drive back.

Day two - breakfast, church and travel
We rise early on Sunday to go into Antigua to enjoy breakfast at a little place called Cafe Condessa. This cafe, as delicious as it is, offers a lot more scenery and mystery than it does food. Legend holds that a count found his countess having an affair with hired help and he killed them both, putting their bones in the walls. During renovation, workers found skeletons in the walls. True or not, it definitely adds atmosphere and allure to the bistro-style restaurant. It has lovely fountains, outdoor seating, and the best real-fruit smoothies you'll find anywhere. Here's a picture of Matt & I inside the cafe:

After stopping in the square to buy banana bread (and trust me, this banana bread is worth a special trip!), we headed back to the team house to gather up our stuff and get ready for church. The church is evangelical, laid-back, and similar in style and content to our church here in Sugar Land. I enjoy hearing songs popular back home sung in Spanish by a crowd of Spanish and English speakers alike.

After church, we load up and begin our trip from Antigua to the coastal community of Champerico. The ride is about 4 hours in a van about as comfortable as riding in a cardboard box duct-taped to a skateboard. The roads are bumpy and in disrepair and the rules of driving are... well... nonexistant. Anything goes. Drivers play "chicken" down two-lane roads against other cars, motorcycles, 18-wheelers, ambulances, whatever comes down the path. This is honestly my favorite and least favorite part of the trip. During this drive you will see some amazing geography, like this rock:

And the hillsides covered with lean-tos and "houses" like these:


Once we arrive in Champerico, we get our hotel rooms and settle in for the evening. At this point, everyone is exhausted and looking forward to a hot meal, and a soft bed. Well, at least our food was hot. The hotel rooms are far from luxurious, lacking hot water and towels made of anything softer than sandpaper. But we are not here to be tourists. We are here to serve a community with needs greater than a pillow-top mattress. So, we pray, we eat, we talk, we sleep. And the next morning, we begin our real work...

Day three - drilling & community work begins
We leave the hotel before 7 am. First stop: pick up the drill rig. Once we have all our equipment, we head into the village where we will be serving. This village is called 20 de Octubre. While the "drill team" sets up the rig, discusses the plan, and begins their work at the drill site, the "hygiene team" begins our work, too. We head into the village, door-to-door, inviting women from the community to come into the village to learn about hygiene and the maintenance of their new well. For the most part, we are greeted warmly. Few decline our invitation, although we know that half will not show. Though most of us on the team do not speak fluent Spanish, smiles are universal and we exchange them warmly.

By lunchtime, we have visited the community and have also prepared the first lesson we will teach to the children - handwashing.

Most people don't even really think about this as something that needs to be specially taught. But it does. A lot of people just simply do not know basic hygiene habits. Not because they are stupid, but because no one ever really told them how to do it right. And poor hygiene leads to disease and illness. We want to stop that. We want people to live long, healthy, active lives and thrive. Hopefully, we accomplished that.

Day four - drilling and hygiene continues
Drilling by this day has progressed. The team will drill down to nearly 200 feet. On this day, they will finish drilling the bore hole.

This afternoon, I taught a class to the ladies of the village about dental hygiene. Admittedly, not one of my finer moments. This day was extremely hot, I was tired, dehydrated, and feeling a little uneasy. I had difficulty concentrating. But I managed to teach the lesson without passing out, so I call that a victory. We also taught the children the same lesson and handed out toothbrushes.

Day five - well improvement, hygiene
With the drilling complete, the men cleaned up the rig and prepared the casing to be lowered into the well. At this point, the well stops being a "hole" and starts becoming a "well".

The best part of this day, by far, was the water...

Everything tested well. We knew we had found a clean, reliable, safe drinking water source. It felt good. It felt good to know that we were instrumental in God's plan to provide the community with clean water, and teach them how to keep it - and themselves - clean. I know that God was praised that day.

Day six - dedicate the well, travel back to Antigua
The final steps to make the hole into a well are done on this day. All the hardware is attached, and the pump is lowered into the hole:


At the end of it all, this is what it's all about:

After the dedication service at the church, we load up and head back up to Antigua. The drive is long, but 90% of us pass out on the way. We can overlook the discomfort of the rickety van and terrible roads - we are exhausted. The bunk beds of the Antigua team house have never looked better. That night, we enjoy Domino's pizza, talk about our "adventures", fellowship, and praise God for our health and safety. Then, we call it a night.

Day seven - tourist!
Most of us sleep in. We enjoy a delicious home-cooked breakfast at the team house before heading out to sight-see, shop, and enjoy the city of Antigua. Our first stop is the giant cross that overlooks Antigua. Next, we visit the jade factory (one of my favorite stops). Then, we enjoy lunch before we shop. The shopping is an experience not to be missed. We bought 10 lbs of coffee, a jade chess set, a purse, 3 socker jerseys, 1 soccer jacket, 2 Christmas ornaments, 2 decorative water bottle holders, 2 book marks, 3 bracelets, a wooden cross, 2 magnets, jade earrings, 2 jade pendants, a picture frame, a Mayan figurine, a shotglass, 6 Cuban cigars, and 2 t-shirts for about $150. If you're not negotiating, you're over paying by at least double! There is an art to negotiating a bargain here, and I personally like it! Dave Ramsey would approve! The shopping is almost as fun as the actual buying! And if you see it in one store or booth, you're sure to see it in another! No need to continue negotiating with a vendor who won't budge. It's a lot of fun, and I look forward to this part of the trip every time.

With our loot in hand, we head back to the team house. We eat one last dinner together, talk, and head off to bed. Morning comes early for this team.

Final day - travel home
We leave for the airport before the sun rises. We load up the van with our luggage, load ourselves into the van, and head down the mountain toward Guatemala City. With the airport in sight, we shake the sleep from our eyes and prepare to head back to the States. We clear security and watch the sun rise through the terminal windows. Then, the quick flight over the Gulf and back into Texas. We're tired. We're hungry. We're cranky. We're ready to go back to bed (we've been up since 3 am). We get through customs, get our luggage, and drive home. Maybe this would be a good time to reflect on our trip, but we're too exhausted. The laundry can wait...

After a few days of unpacking, washing filthy Guatemalan mud from our clothes, and distributing the gifts and souveniers, we realize that the year we have to wait from now until the next trip is a long one.

We are signed up for Guatemala 2012. Can't wait...