Acts 20:35 (NLT)
“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

Years ago, David and I read the book “The Five Love Languages”. If you’ve never read it, you should. It opens up a whole new door on why you feel loved sometimes and why you don’t…why others around you feel loved by you and why they sometimes don’t.

In case you’re wondering, the five love languages are:

– Words of affirmation
– Acts of service
– Receiving gifts
– Quality time
– Physical touch

No surprise (well, to me anyways) David’s love language turned out to be 1) Physical touch, a close second being 2) Quality time

No surprise (to me for sure), my love language is 1) Receiving gifts, a close second being 2) Words of affirmation.

Can you see a conflict just waiting to happen? It did happen… We operated on what we THOUGHT made the other person feel loved, and it was rarely right. In fact, more often than not, we tend to love others how WE like to be loved.

Here’s a big for instance: I LOVE to give gifts to people. I give gifts for no stinkin’ reason at all…just because. I’m not bragging or tooting the proverbial horn here…I’m just being honest. It brings me such a joy and happiness to make something or buy something very unique and personal for someone else.

For years, I did this, and I just assumed (expected) everyone else would put the same effort into gift-giving that I did. Specifically, the hubs. So when he either DIDN’T give me something or didn’t put as much thought into it as I would have, it hurt my feelers (sp. intentional). He would want to spend “quality time with me” to show his love…because that’s HIS love language. I’m sure he thought that would make me feel loved. Yes…but also no.

On the flip side, I would give David gifts that I thought, “Man, he’s gonna LOVE this…it’s so PERFECT…and he’s gonna LOVE ME for giving it to him.” And…yes, he liked the gift…appreciated it…but it didn’t necessarily make him feel super loved…because that’s not his love language. That’s MY love language.

In recent years (because I’ve grown up and gotten a fat clue lol) I have learned/chosen to love David in the way that makes him feel completely and unarguably loved (I get it right most of the time.) I still give him crazy fun gifts that are just right for him, and you know what?? He appreciates them more now, because now, I’m also loving him how he needs to be loved. Literally, just going on a drive in the mountains and holding hands is enough to fill up his love meter. And because he gets loved the right way, he, in turn, loves me the right way. In recent years, he has given me the most amazing, personal gifts…bought or made with such care and understanding of my personality and…yes, my love language.

So why am I telling you all this??

For a long time after I learned my love language, I felt guilty. GUILTY! How could receiving not be a selfish, self-centered thing for someone. I loved that it was one of the love languages, but I kinda wanted like “Acts of Service” or “Quality Time”…cuz those don’t necessarily involve money…just some time. And that’s better, right? No…it’s not.

Receiving is a good thing. Receiving is a very good thing. Especially receiving very good things. There’s nothing to be ashamed of for liking receiving gifts.

Don’t believe me? Look again at the verse at the beginning of this blog. Jesus himself said, “You’re far happier giving than receiving.” (msg) 

Does that say you’re not happy when you receive? That it’s not blessed…not good…not fun to receive? NO…it did not.

Here’s LeeAnn’s paraphrase:

“You know how awesome it feels to get some money from a friend to help out on a trip you’re taking? You know how amazing you feel when someone takes a lot of time picking out just the right birthday gift for you, something that makes you smile ear to ear? You know how special you feel when someone leaves a little box in your car or on your desk, just because they were thinking of you? You know how blessed you feel when ends are just not meeting, and someone steps in and anonymously pays your electric bill for you? It IS awesome, amazing, special and blessed. And it’s OK to feel awesome, amazing, special and blessed. BUT…it’s even MORE awesome, amazing, special and blessed to GIVE. And that’s a lot!!!”

So this Christmas season, enjoy the receiving and the getting and the blessings. It’s totally ok. If you didn’t receive, there’d be no reason for someone to give. It’s a symbiotic relationship, of sorts…givers and receivers need each other to make it work.

And this Christmas season, GIVE! Give generously. Give anonymously. Give promiscuously. Because you will be even more blessed. Jesus said so!

Sunday, we did a new song at church for the first time. Never Gonna Stop Singing.

OH MY GOSH!! It’s my new very favorite worship song. Here are the lyrics:

You called out into darkness
You reached out to save me
Set free, no longer bound in chains
You rescued me, and called me by name

You conquered the grave
You crossed the divide
Lost in my sin, You made me alive
How can we ever hold it inside
We can’t hold back
We’re gonna lift You
Higher, higher
Hearts burning bright like a
Fire, fire
Voices unite, make it
LOUDER, LOUDER
We’re never gonna stop singing
We’re never gonna stop singing

Every tribe, every tongue, every heart will sing
Every knee we will bow to the risen King
Lift Him up, lift Him up
We’re never gonna stop singing

Singing what? Music, yes (because I LOVE TO SING!) But for the purpose of this writing, I’m referring to this song of salvation…this song of what Jesus has done and does for us. This song that so many haven’t heard, and we better get to singing it to them so they can hear. I’ve sung this song since I was young. Many have sung it much longer.

Going to church as a teenager, then working with churches all over the country early in our marriage, and now leading in a local church (for 23 years), singing this song hasn’t always been easy. We’ve been tempted to stop singing…we’ve honestly gotten tired of singing it…others have asked us to stop singing. We’ve forgotten the words and lost the melody…and harmony was strangely missing at times.

In Luke 19, Jesus is making his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. As he rides into town, his followers and disciples are praising and singing, casting their coats on the ground in front of him.

This ticks the Pharisees OFF, and they turn to Jesus and basically tell him, “Shut them up!” to which Jesus replies, “If they kept quiet, the stones would do it for them, shouting praise.” (v. 40 Msg)

SOMETHING was gonna be praising Jesus this day…it was time. Up to this point, Jesus had discouraged people from publicly celebrating Him as Messiah. Here Jesus invites it…he welcomes public praise and adoration as Messiah. After all, Easter is coming soon.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want stones or rocks or boulders praising Jesus in my place…I want to be the one to do it. I want to be the one singing the song of praise to Jesus. They can’t sing MY song, anyway. Only I can do that.

The stones may praise him some day, BUT IT IS NOT THIS DAY! (LOTR reference lol)

Why should we sing at all? Well the followers of Christ were singing that day because they were remembering all the miracles He had done. No other person in history had ever done for them what Jesus had done…and no other person anywhere, anytime, anyhow, will do for YOU what Jesus has done for you. THAT’S why we sing!!!

So why do I stop singing this song sometimes? Why am I tempted to quiet my song? Why do I forget the words or the melody? Why do I stop singing it with others and lose the beautiful harmony?

What stops YOUR singing?

Is it sin? Bad habits? Good habits? Discouragement? Depression? Doubt? Age? Circumstances of life? Struggles? Anger? The opinions of others? Fear of rejection? Fatigue? Busyness? Business?

NOTHING SHOULD STOP OUR SONG. The religious leaders of Jesus day didn’t want to hear it…and they couldn’t stop it. World leaders of history have tried to bring it to a halt…and they couldn’t stop it.

Gloria Gaither says it so much better than I ever could:

Emperors have tried to destroy it, Philosophies have tried to stamp it out. Tyrants have tried to wash it from the face of the earth with the very blood of those who claimed it, yet it still stands [yet the song goes on]. And there shall be that final day when every voice that has ever uttered a sound, every voice of Adam’s race shall raise in one mighty chorus to proclaim the name of Jesus, for that day every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ Is truly Lord!

Ah–so you see–it was not mere chance that caused the angel one night long ago to say to a virgin maiden, “His name shall be called Jesus.”

So, especially now as the Christmas season is starting, don’t let the stress and struggle and altered-focus and busyness of the season stop your song. At this time of year, more people than ever need to hear it.

Lift Jesus higher, higher.
Let your heart burn bright like a fire, fire.
Unite voices with others and sing it LOUDER, LOUDER!
Never stop singing.

Once again…and those of you who know me well know how many times I’ve attempted this and basically failed…I’m going through papers and folders and books and stacks and everything trying to scale down and simplify and throw away the countless caca that I have accumulated over the years. I’ve thrown away much in the past, but somehow what’s left has had babies and here I go again… I often feel that I SUCK at being able to keep an organized, uncluttered, non-messy house.

In my gatherings, I found a notebook of artsy stuff and writings and found this written on one of the first pages…”everyone sucks before they get kinda good at something”.

I don’t know who originally said it or where I saw it, but apparently I had the presence of mind to write it down in an artful-ish way.

I know there are some things that I excel at, but I also know there are many things I suck at (see above).

We all suck at something. But I hope at least it’s at something we enjoy doing. Sucking at something we hate is just torture, isn’t it? But sucking at something we enjoy at least gives us something to aspire to and get better at.

You know, when we fail at something, it does something to us mentally. It cripples us, to some degree. We assume that it’s just evidence of who we really are. “I failed, therefore I am a failure.” 

For instance, maybe you asked a friend to lunch and they reject you…”I’m not good enough.”

We attempt to do some new thing at work and either it doesn’t work or doesn’t get the recognition we think it should…”I’m not a good employee.”

We try to learn some new skill and for some reason, we just can’t get the hang of it…”I’m clumsy and wasting my time.”

It’s a whole lot easier to stick with things that we are kinda good at, or with things that won’t embarrass us…right?

What’s wrong with failing? Why are we so darned afraid to fail?

Confucius say, “Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising every time we fail.”

Failure.

You didn’t make the team.

You didn’t get the part in the play.

You lost the big account.

You didn’t get the publishing deal.

You burned the brownies you made for your boyfriend.

The dishes are still dirty from…two days ago.

You washed a load of white clothes with something red.

The business you started went belly-up.

Fill in the blank. Fail, fail, fail.

You find yourself feeling embarrassed, confused, disappointed.

Failing sucks.

There’s not much worse than finding out that you’re not good enough, that you’re inferior, that you’re inadequate. But on the flip side, falling short and failing at something makes us realize that we need to improve. That’s all. Failure teaches us more about ourselves than probably any success we’ll ever have. It teaches us what we need to work on, where our weaknesses are…what went wrong and what went right and what to do differently next time.

We are so afraid of failing at something that often we just avoid it altogether. But there’s GOT to be something you’d love to do SO MUCH that you will risk failing at it just so you can do it.

My memory fades with my age, but I do remember early on in my life, when I was learning to play the piano, I wanted so badly to play the pop songs I was hearing on the radio. But I wasn’t good enough. I was taking lessons from a wonderful teacher, but it was simply the basics…and I’d learned it and was ready to move on.

So, in the front room of our house, I sat at the piano, which was conveniently positioned right next to our record player, I would put my favorite albums on to play, or I would turn the radio on to my favorite station, and I would work, and work, and work, and work on matching what I heard until I finally got it.

I guarantee I sucked when I first started. I’m sure my parents were sitting in the living room with something covering their ears while I was practicing.

If I had looked at those beginning days as a failure…”I’ll NEVER be able to play like I want to!!!”…I would have given up. I would have labeled myself as a failure at playing the songs I so longed to learn. But I loved playing the piano so much that I kept working on it until I mastered it.

Do you look at someone you admire, that is a master at some particular craft or ability, and wish that you could be that or do that? We look at that “end result”…that mastery…that perfection. But we conveniently forget that when they started, they sucked at it! Ok, I’m sure there are a few that were perfection incarnate when they first put their hand to their craft, but not many!

These “perfect masters” became “perfect masters” because they enjoyed doing that thing so much that, even though they sucked at it in the beginning, they worked, and worked, and worked, and worked, until they moved from “sucking” to “slightly less sucky” to “not terrible” to “pretty okay” to eventually “dang, I’m getting good at this!”

Good news about being absolutely sucky at something…I can only get better at it. And every little improvement proves to me that I CAN and I WILL get better…if I don’t quit.

Life is short, y’all. We all know that. And if we don’t spend time doing things we enjoy for part of our time, we’ll be miserable. We need to take a little time each day to spend time on the things we love doing. After all, if we are spending some time doing something we enjoy (no matter how bad we suck at it), we are making our lives better…and we’re far more likely to improve at that thing.

So here’s my encouragement…

Find something you enjoy, that you know you suck at, and just start doing it. The important thing is to get started and be okay with sucking at it. Pick something that you’ve always wanted to do but have been afraid to try.

Do you like cooking? Then make a bad meal TODAY!

Like drawing? Draw a really horrible stick person TONIGHT!

Wish you could dance? Then go dance around your living room like a crazy person IMMEDIATELY!

Want to get stronger? Do one awkward, weak pushup RIGHT NOW!

Always wanted to learn to play an instrument? Then warn your family and play that thing!

Want to write a book? Then write one paragraph of something before the day is over, even if it’s the silliest thing ever.

Then do it a little each and every day. No matter how much you suck at it right now, or how bad you still are in another month, at least you’ve picked something challenging that you enjoy…and you ARE getting better. But, hey…even if you don’t improve, at least you’ve spent some time having fun.

October is Pastor & Church Staff Appreciation Month. I personally believe that we should appreciate our pastors every month. But it’s nice to have a specific time to really think about pastors and honor them and hold them in high regard for what they are called to do.

As a pastor’s wife, I feel I can talk knowledgeably about the ins and outs of being a pastor…the ups and downs…the highs and lows. We sometimes say it as a joke, and there are a lot of people that really believe it, when they say, “Oh, you’re a pastor? Nice. So what do you do during the week?” Most people see pastors as people who love God, love people, get to pray for people, lead them to Christ and teach Bible stuff. If that’s all there was to it, sign me up! Read the Bible all day, pray, play a little golf and preach on the weekends? Sounds cushy to me.

Now don’t get me wrong…there are so, so many rewards of being a pastor. So many wonderful things that happen when a pastor is in line with what God has called him to do. And I believe that the good and wonderful things far outweigh the struggles and the negative. Serving God in a pastoral role isn’t always sunshine and kittens. Pastors don’t always share those things with anyone but the people in their inner circle. But let’s discuss a few of them. Based on my own life living with a pastor for 23 years, and what I’ve heard other pastor’s wives, literally from around the globe, talk about, I want to share some things that almost every pastor struggles with.

Did you know that being a pastor is one of the four most stressful jobs in America? The other 3 in the top 4 include being President of the United States, being a university president, and being the CEO of a hospital…in no particular order.

Most churches in America average about 89 people. Having a church that small brings a lot of challenges, mainly because those churches usually have very few people on staff, yet they still face the same overwhelming basic needs that larger churches do. Just in the 23-1/2 years we’ve lived here in Cortez and pastored Rock Springs, David has had to not only be pastor, but also a Bible teacher, small group leader, accountant, administrator, strategist, visionary, computer tech, youth leader, chauffeur, counselor, public speaker, worship leader, prayer warrior, mentor, mediator, leadership trainer, fundraiser, pizza runner…and believe it or not, grounds-keeper and janitor.

Thank the Lord that many of those jobs are now being done by amazing and wonderful and servant-hearted people who also feel called to serve God in the local church!

But I can tell you this much for certain: As hard as it’s been at times, David has always done any and all of the above with a servant heart and a vision and dream that was bigger and farther reaching than the immediate need of making sure there was toilet paper in the restrooms.

So, in order to truly appreciate all pastors everywhere (not just David, but any pastor that you know), I want to talk about some of the struggles that pastors face, oftentimes behind the scenes and always in their quiet moments alone.

1. Criticism. Pastors are criticized by a lot of people for a lot of things. “The music is too loud.” “Worship is too long.” “Worship isn’t long enough.” “Your sermon isn’t deep enough. And you preach too long.” “The pastor must think he’s too important to talk to me. It took me 3 weeks to get an appointment to talk to him.”

What’s ridiculous is that most of the things people are critical of are not doctrine, but some trivial, personal opinion or issue that really doesn’t matter in the long run. I know pastors try not to take it personally and try to learn from criticism. But it’s still a tough pill to swallow.

2. Rejection. Members leave, leaders leave, friends leave. The harsh truth is, people leave. Some leave for perfectly legit reasons, but others leave “ungracefully” (in a snit, as we say in the south.) When people leave because they “want something deeper,” or their “needs aren’t getting met,” or they’re “not getting fed the meat of the Word,” it can feel like a personal rejection. And this happens in every single church, no matter how big or small, no matter how well-known or not well-known the pastor is. And every pastor struggles with feeling rejected. It’s hard to develop a tough skin and yet at the same time, keep a soft heart.

3. Loneliness. “Who’s my friend? Who can I trust? If I tell someone my problems, will they criticize me, or tell others, or just treat me weird? Are my friends really my friends, or are they just using me until something better comes along?” Seventy percent of pastors don’t have someone they consider a close heart friend. Pastors desperately need friends who will support them, pray for them, protect them, make sure their being is well, and gracefully kick them in the rear when they’re getting off track.

4. Weariness. Keeping yourself physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually healthy is  vital! So many pastors cover all the responsibilities I mentioned before, and they are just physically worn to a frazzle. But even when there are others taking care of those things for him, he can still become weary in well-doing. There is still a lot on their plate, day in and day out, weekend in and weekend out. They can easily slip into fatigue, and even depression, when their health and time and heart are not taken care of.

A pastor’s life is a life of emotional highs and lows…critics and adoring fans…unreasonable expectations of church members. And stress and weariness follow very closely.

5. Frustrations. These come in many ways. Pastors work and work and work to help their churches grow and flourish and mature, but sometimes it’s hard to know if they’re being “successful.” Pastoring is a rare animal in that “good work + good effort doesn’t always guarantee visible success.” Sometimes, in spite of all the work they put into something, it’s just not “clicking”…and that’s very frustrating.

I know from experience that pastors sometimes feel like they can’t get anything right. For instance, the church finally feels like they’re gaining some momentum, and then a key leader in the church falls or fails. Churches need money to keep ministries going and growing, but pastors are hesitant many times to talk about money because of the stigma attached to it… “I knew it! All they talk about is money!” And that’s frustrating.

6. Personal difficulties. There are lots of times when something is going on in a pastor’s life…in their families, in their finances, in their friendships…that very few know about or need to know about. There are situations like a family member passing away, a child who has gone AWOL, a former church member shunning you in the grocery store, a “friendly, personal letter” from a “well-meaning parishioner” who needs to air some grievances. Church members rarely know all that’s going on in the personal life of a pastor, nor should they. But they need to be sensitive and realize that there may be times that the pastor is smiling on the outside, but aching on the inside.

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These are just a few things that most pastors deal with on an all-too-regular basis…and some pastors more than others. Not every pastor deals with all of these things. There are many who have learned how to manage the struggles and not become overwhelmed by imperfection and circumstances.

So…how do we show appreciation for our pastors?

Encourage them for their work and for their ministry. Thank them for their sacrifice. Talk honorably about them to other people. Tell them that you’re praying for them…and then actually PRAY for them.

Pray for God’s guidance and protection and provision. Pray for them to develop healthy heart-friendships. Pray for their marriage and their family.

Protect your pastor as best as you can. Don’t start or participate in gossip or criticism. Don’t stir up conflict. Don’t assume the worst about him. Find ways that you can serve him and maybe lighten the work load to prevent burnout.

And above all, remember that pastors are only human. They’re never going to be perfect because they’re not Jesus, and they’re not the Holy Spirit. Out of 100 things they do, they’ll probably get at least one thing wrong. But God didn’t call them to pastor because they were perfect and flawless…He called them because they had a willing heart.

And on a final personal note…thank you, Rock Springs family, for always encouraging, praying for and protecting David and our family. We are so blessed! ❤ ❤

I was asked by a dear friend to please do a “birthday blog”…so, since my audience awaits (at least one…)

This past Monday, I turned 55. A speed limit. Double nickels. I qualify for the 10% discount at Jiffy Lube. Five years past half a century, which means that I’ve already passed “middle age,” because I doubt I will live to be 110. Of course, my great-grandmother lived to be 99 and her daughter, my great-aunt, just turned 100. You never know…maybe I got the long-life gene. Suffice it to say, I’m heading well into my second half.

I was privileged to be able to go “home” to my parents’ house in Texas for a few days to celebrate my birthday with them and other family members. That Monday morning, I woke up, walked into the living room, as I did every morning. My dad was already there in his chair, my mom walked in soon after I came in…she walked over to my daddy, put her hand on his shoulder, looked at me with a quizzical expression and asked me, “Do we look old enough to have a 55-year-old?” to which I replied, “Heck, no!”…because honestly, they don’t. Then my mom said, “Well, you don’t look 55 years old.” #happyme

What does 55 look like? When I was little, 55 was ancient. Who am I kidding? THIRTY-FIVE was ancient. Fifty-five is getting younger all the time. And 55 came quick…getting older always does.There’s a saying that goes, “I thought getting older was going to take a lot longer.” Yes.

I know this much about turning 55: I refuse to look at getting older as a tragedy or as a “slippery slope”…it most certainly is not. I EARNED my laugh lines; I EARNED my scars; I EARNED any aches and pains. My prize for living longer and learning more and living deeper and experiencing struggle is grace, joy, confidence and gratitude.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten sharper and at the same time softer in the ways that really matter. As my older self, I don’t ask permission to be here; I don’t apologize for my packaging.

I will be my wonderful, older self and love it. I love my life, I love my people, I love this little silver I’ve been given.

Life is gorgeous. Like Maya Angelou wrote, “Life loves the liver of it.” I will be a big-time life liver, because this is the only one I’ve got, and I am already halfway through.

As I continue to grow older, God willing, I want to say with Paul, “It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.” (Philippians 1:20)

Here’s to a beautiful, life-filled, Christ-honoring second half!

Disclaimer: I cannot even completely express the overwhelming joy, relief, take-a-deep-breath feeling I’m experiencing knowing that my husband literally walked away from a could-have-been-fatal car accident…and that the couple in the truck that hit him also walked away relatively unscathed. So as you read this blog, know that I am in no way lessening the God-outcome of Friday night. And there’s no deep spiritual meaning or lesson in this blog post…this is simply a glimpse into my often peculiar thought-life. lol

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So, in the whole of my life, I have had the tendency to project/assign “animate” characteristics or feelings or emotions or thoughts to inanimate objects. I have no idea what to attribute that to, except that my imagination works way overtime.

Here is a recent example of this. I recently took a 10-day trip with my dear friend Bethany Turner. On the return trip home, we flew into Denver International Airport from Cincinnati. We had landed, unboarded the plane and had made our way to baggage claim. As we were standing at the baggage claim carousel, no bags were coming from our flight yet, so we parked ourselves at the spot nearest the bag depositor conveyor belt. I noticed this one small black suitcase still left on the carousel…from a previous flight. No one had picked it up yet. As we stood there, it went round…and round…and round…and no one was claiming her. (See, I’m already doing it.)

I told Bethany that it made me feel kinda sad…this one little lone suitcase had no one to come home to. It’s obvious that all other bags from her flight had been picked up by their owners, but she was left alone. She had already been separated from her owner down in the baggage compartment of the big plane, probably cold and a bit confused…all alone amongst other bags that were most likely a tad intimidating because they were all much bigger than she was. She had probably been thrown around and man-handled by the baggage handlers who had no respect for her feelings.

I imagined her, on that round-and-round-and-round trip on the carousel, glancing at the faces of those of us standing there watching her..trying to find someone familiar. I imagined her asking, like the bunny in the children’s book of the same name from years ago, “Are you my mother?”

Before long, new bags from newer flights began to drop onto the carousel, several of them bumping into her and not giving her any consideration whatsoever. To my knowledge, she was still going round and round on that baggage carousel when we walked away with our suitcases. I hope her mommy or daddy finally came to her rescue.

So Little Blue, David’s electric-blue Ford Ranger, came into our life years ago as an amazing and most-unexpected blessing. One of our dear young adults at Rock Springs at the time WON the truck in a drawing/raffle at one of the major county events that was happening at the local fair grounds. Because this young man loved David so much and knew we were in need of another car (I believe we were only driving one car at the time), he gave the truck to David. And we were ever so grateful. And still are.

Little Blue became a part of our family and I became very familiar with that little blue truck. I could tell it was David from a mile away in town because of that unmistakable color. I loved seeing it at the church office parking lot as I would drive by. Whenever I would come home from running errands or a meeting of some sort in the early evening, I would look toward the house from the road and it brought me comfort to see Little Blue parked next to our house. Little Blue’s bed was packed full to overflowing when we moved our son CD to college in Durango his first year. David has come home to pick me up for lunch or some errand many, many times, and I would watch from our front windows or the front door for Little Blue to turn into our long driveway…my prince in his trusty steed!

Because it wasn’t very fuel efficient, we rarely took long trips in it, but we definitely have taken our share of day trips in our area…to go drive around one of the lakes or to go up into the mountains to see the wildflowers or to visit with friends or to take our dog Silas to the dog park or to run to the church campus for some reason or another. Lots and lots of little local trips through the years.

So when I drove up to the church property on Friday night, September 2, 2016, at about 6:15pm, and I saw Little Blue sitting in the ditch next to the driveway leading onto the property, and I noticed the bed of Little Blue literally accordianed and twisted and bent and beaten, my heart sank. I knew it was the end of Little Blue.

I knew that I wouldn’t be riding in that passenger seat ever again. I knew that I wouldn’t see it turning into the driveway of our property ever again. I knew that I’d never hear the familiar hum of the engine ever again. Never ever again.

And even now, a lump forms in my throat thinking about Little Blue sitting at the tow-yard, broken and beaten and bruised. All alone, nothing around him looking familiar in the slightest.

I hope he knows how much we loved him…how thankful we were for the gift of him…for all the times he took us all over the county and all the memories we made with him.

But above all else, I hope he knows what a hero he is for sacrificing part of himself in order to literally save the life of my prince. Had his cab not held together, had the seatbelt David was wearing not held, had the windows broken out…David may not be with us today. And at the least, he might not have walked away with just some soreness, a few bruises and a cut on his head.

Thank you, Little Blue. You lived a good life and we will never forget you. David’s next vehicle has some pretty big tires to fill.

I recently had the amazing privilege of staying a night at a dear friend’s house…she and her husband lived in Cortez and attended and served faithfully at Rock Springs…and, for economic reasons, had to move to another town, thankfully still in Colorado. I have missed them both immeasurably. So this was a God-gift to get to spend some time with them both.

My friend and I had a chance to talk one-on-one for a while. I knew she had had trouble with her back before she moved away, but it has become worse and is relatively untreatable except through pain meds, which she will not take because she doesn’t like the side effects. So she does all she can to deal with the pain. It is a degenerative condition and will only get worse with time.

But, in spite of the pain and discomfort, she carries on with an amazing attitude of joy and peace, being as active as she can and continuing to minister to so many, especially to young single moms. She is a treasure and I count it a JOY to consider her one of my closest friends (even if she is almost old enough to be my mom.)

We were discussing her ailment the morning before i left, and she said she views her back pain as a reminder that she’s not “all that and a bag of chips” after all. It reminds her that it is not her that is in control, but God…and that He uses her in spite of her pain. And she finds joy in that.

It reminded me of the Apostle Paul’s “thorn in the flesh”…the thing that God allowed in his life to keep him from thinking he was “all that and a bag of chips.”

In 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10, Paul says “…in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

You know what? We have no idea what Paul’s thorn in the flesh was. SO MANY PEOPLE have speculated what they think it was…”an eye problem”…”a nagging wife”… “migraines”…”ear aches”…but actually, none of us has any idea what it really was. All we know is that it was painful to him…physically, emotionally or spiritually.

I believe that Paul didn’t reveal the true source of his pain (or God instructed him to keep it secret) because…what if we knew? What if he had told us the exact cause of his pain or distraction? We most likely would have used our armchair counseling to tell him that he needed to develop a positive attitude about his “thorn”…or that if he just had “more faith,” he could overcome this affliction. Or we would have told him he just needed a strong support group around him to help him deal with it. Or we would tell him that if he just took this-or-that medication or applied this specific essential oil, it would help him overcome the effects of his affliction.

But I have a different idea. I think I know exactly what would have happened (because I do this very thing)…you and I would have started comparing HIS thorn to OUR thorn.

As I told my friend, it is so easy to compare and contrast between ourselves. I could look at my friend and her severe back pain and I could say, “Well, at least I don’t have to deal with THAT! All I have to deal with is….(fill in the blank)” Or I could say, “You think back pain is a problem? You should experience my (fill in the blank) for a while…back pain would be the least of your concerns.”

Comparing and contrasting and “measuring against each other” has never been good form with God. It’s so easy to do…but we need to STOP IT!! Just because it’s not YOUR thorn doesn’t mean it’s not a thorn to someone else. We are each given our own thorn in the flesh to keep us from thinking we’re “all that and a bag of chips”. We are all faced with a limitation that should keep us from “becoming conceited”…because it’s not at all about US, but it is all about GOD. And if it takes a “thorn” in our lives to keep us humble and grounded, you can bet your sweet bippy that God is gonna keep it there.

But to me, the most important part of that passage in 2 Corinthians is this part…“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Whatever MY thorn is…whatever YOUR thorn is…if God has not removed it from our lives, then it has a purpose. And His grace is SUFFICIENT!

Grace is the favor and love of God in action. It means He loves us and is pleased by us…NO MATTER WHAT! God tells us, “My love is enough for you.” AND IT IS!!

(After our conversation, David told me in no uncertain terms, “This should be your next blog.” So when the hubs speaks, I try to listen…sometimes)

Last night, I told David something I have never told him in our 34 years of marriage. No, not some deep secret I was hiding or some huge bank account I’d never told him about. It was pretty simple, actually.

This is what I told him: “I’ve never told you this, but every time I wring out a washrag or a dishcloth, I think of your grandmother Ivy” to which he replied with a puzzled look on his face, “Why?”

I had two amazing grandmothers growing up. I respected them, admired them and loved them dearly. I got to spend many days and weeks with both of them, learning from them and enjoying their company.

When David and I got married (actually before that even), I got to meet his two grandmothers…Georgia Brown Ramsey and Lillian Orand Ivy. After David and I married, we practically lived with his Mamu and Pawpaw Ramsey, since they had a large home in Waco and that was the base of our ministry, and had been for David and his family for years.

David’s other grandmother, Grandmother Ivy, lived in the northwest corner of Arkansas…Centerton, to be exact. She had a 2-story farmhouse, meagerly but tastefully decorated, shelves and shelves of books (and literally stacks of romantic novel paperbacks in her upstairs closet).

Without going into more and more endless details about her life or her home, let’s suffice it say, she was a pretty amazing woman.

I can remember as a young bride, standing in the kitchen watching her bake biscuits and sweet rolls with no measuring tools except the palm of her hand. I hung on every word she said as she would tell me what she was doing and why she was doing it. She gave me a couple of her favorite novels that she loved, she taught me how to make freezer jam and how to knit a dishcloth. She made breathtaking quilts, all by hand…never used a sewing machine to quilt.

But…back to my admission to David last night. I can remember helping Grandmother wash dishes when we would visit. She would wash, I would dry (she had no dishwasher). And as she would finish washing, she would take the dishrag and wring it out, then hang it over the faucet to dry. But she didn’t wring the dishcloth out like I’d ever seen.

Most people position their hands fist to fist…thumbs to thumbs. But Grandmother always had her left hand in a fist, palm down…and her right hand in a fist, palm up…like when you hold a baseball bat. Hard to describe in words, but she would then twist her hands in opposite directions…thus wringing out the dishcloth.

Why was this important to me? To be honest, I’m not really sure, except I had just never seen anyone wring a dishcloth like that. And I wasn’t sure why she did…until recently.

As I told David, although it fascinated me to watch, I now think I know why she did it that way. In recent months, I have developed a mild form of arthritis or something in both of my thumbs. I blame it on years of banging on a piano, drawing, writing…just about anything involving working with my hands. And it has begun to hurt my hands to wring out my dishcloth or washcloth the way I always have. But when I do it the way Grandmother did, it doesn’t hurt so much.

Grandmother Ivy had a working woman’s hands…beautiful, thin hands, but her knuckles were slightly enlarged, I’m sure due to some form of arthritis developed through decades of using her hands for cooking, quilting, knitting, gardening, canning, etc. etc. Plus I believe there was a degree of heredity involved, because my mother-in-law’s hands look very similar, but she’ll be the first to tell you it wasn’t from one second of quilting, knitting, gardening or canning or anything of the sort lol

So, that’s the story behind my admission.

I have been so blessed to have had 4 grandmothers in my life that have left a legacy of all kinds of lessons and knowledge and advice and love and humor. I pray I honor them with the life I live and the lessons. love and humor I pass on to others around me (maybe even a grandchild one day…if I live to see it) lol

[SPOILER ALERT: If you have NOT seen “Finding Dory” and you intend to, do not read this post until after you’ve seen it. If you HAVE seen it, or if you have no intention of ever seeing it, go ahead a proceed. Be forewarned…lol]

David and I went to see Finding Dory tonight. He had a very stressful week last week…physically, emotionally, spiritually. So today, I planned a day for just us, where he wouldn’t have to think too much but just be with his wifey and enjoy the beautiful day. So, after a long, lazy morning and a late breakfast of scrambled eggs and coffee, we loaded up and went to Durango.

We started at Home Depot, to take a look at flooring and dream of what our eventually-renovated kitchen/living room/dining room might look like. Then an early supper at Cuckoo’s Chicken House for hot wings and onion rings…our favorite go-to spot.

Then I had planned an evening at the movie. I picked Finding Dory for several reasons: 1) I’ve been waiting to see it since it was released, 2) others have seen it and I wanted to be able to talk to them about it, and 3) I thought it would be a fun, feel-good, low-thought-involved movie that David could watch and not have to think too much or feel too much…just watch, laugh and be entertained.

Little did I know……

I won’t go into the entire plot of the movie except to say that, as a baby-Dory (an absolutely adorable one, at that), she gets separated from her parents…her very loving, patient, encouraging parents that do everything they can to keep her from being ashamed or overly-sensitive about her “short term remembery loss” They never get frustrated with Dory’s inability to remember, but they do worry she will get lost. They teach her several coping strategies, including how to find her way home by following a trail of shells.

…and, after Dory asks them one day, “Will you ever forget me?” they lovingly respond, “No, Dory. We will never ever forget you.” She doesn’t want to forget her parents…but after being lost from them for a long while, she forgets. And she forgets she has forgotten.

A series of events start some small memories to start popping into her cute little blue brain, and she insists on finding her family and “going home.” The rest of the movie is her journey to find her parents…with the help of Marlin and Nemo and Hank, the “septopus”… This journey leads her through twists and turns, obstacles to overcome, predators to escape, echolocation and semi-trucks.

Finally, all alone in a dark murky water, she finds a shell that reminds her of her parents. She has a melancholy memory for a moment, figuring she’ll be alone and forget everyone and everything anyway, giving up hope…when she suddenly sees another shell…and another…and another. She follows this trail of seemingly-neverending shells, only to find the place where her parents have been waiting…setting up shell trails from every direction, leading “home”…because they knew “she’d remember one day.”

The most moving part of this part of the movie to me was when the camera pans high above Dory’s parents home, and you see thousands of shells, going out from every direction. They radiate out from their house like the points on a star or the rays of the sun. Every trail points back to the center, back to home, back to the place where someone who loves Dory is waiting for her.

So much for a movie that won’t make us think or feel too much. I wept.

How many parents have sat at home, with children that are far away. Maybe the children have left deliberately or maybe they’ve been led astray by others or by the crapness that life can throw. Or sometimes, kids leave home and they are not “estranged” from their parents, but maybe they’ve decided to go their own way and ignore the teachings or trainings of their parents…doing their own thing.

Having been in some sort of ministry for 34+ years, to some degree or another, I have talked to, counseled, heard about “prodigal children”…and it always touches a very tender spot in my heart. And good, loving, encouraging, patient parents do all they can to leave “shell trails” for their children to find their way back home. They are doing all they can, hopeful and prayerful that their “Dory” will “remember”.

With the sad prodigal stories I’ve heard, I’ve also heard many “come home” stories…kids that found the shell trails and followed them back home and back into the good graces and loving arms of parents, family, friends. I love those stories.

And many of those “come home” stories wouldn’t have happened without the help of loving friends and acquaintances along the way (like Marlin, Nemo, Hank, Destiny and Bailey) to support and guide and encourage them back on the right track.

But…what about me?

I forget sometimes. I forget that God loves me. God knows I forget. And He sets out shell trails for me to find him again…a shell of answered prayer, a shell of unanswered prayer, a shell of forgiveness, a shell of a mended relationship, a shell of healing, a shell of a beautiful sunset, a shell from a moment of grace…shell after shell after shell.

But I “do life” and forget about the answered prayers and moments of grace. I forget that I’m loved and embraced. Sometimes I get so far from home, from God, that I forget I have forgotten.

Dory’s parents never stopped creating shell trails because they never gave up on her. God never gives up on me, either. Sometimes I forget who I am, but each time I get back on the trail, God throws a party. (see Luke 15:11-32)

And one day, I’ll be able to see from God’s perspective…and see miles and miles of trails that were always leading me back to him…where God’s clues were inviting me to find my way home.

****Disclaimer: This post is in by no means meant to be “judgmental” or “critical” of anyone…because I am as guilty as the next person. But when God convicts me of something and tells me to share it, I share it. No shame…all love here. End of story….****

••••••••

This year, I decided to read through the Bible. Believe it or not, it’s the first time I’ve done so. I’ve read lots of it throughout my 50-something years, but never all through it intentionally…day by day.

This week, a passage crossed my path that convicted me to the BONE. The passage is from Matthew 5, within verses 33-37.

In the Message paraphrase, it is worded like this:

“…don’t say anything you don’t mean…You only make things worse when you lay down a smoke screen of pious talk, saying, ‘I’ll pray for you,’ and never doing it, or saying, ‘God be with you,’ and not meaning it. You don’t make your words true by embellishing them with religious lace. In making your speech sound more religious, it becomes less true.”

Oh, my holy lordy. That hit me where it hurts. Especially as a pastor’s wife, it’s easy to slip into the  “Christ-speak” that you know is “the thing to say.” Sad…but true.

Social media can be so very powerful…in the most positive of ways. But it can be dangerous, as well. We need to be so very careful. Just as we can “spout off” political statements or religious statements or our own opinions…so easily (because it’s a lot easier to say something in ‘type’ on a screen from our comfy chairs, than it is to say something out loud in front of other people)…it’s just as easy to “spout off” religious jargon…”church talk”, if you will…when maybe, actually, we don’t mean it at all…we MEAN to mean it…but we are wanting to seem as spiritual and “Christian” as the next person.

If that person were standing right in front of you, it would be no different. If they come to you and say something like, “I really need you to pray for me” and you say “I will pray”, you darn better pray.

Recently, there have been many friends and family members who truly need prayer support for something they’re legit going through or someone they love is legit going through…physical, relational, spiritual, vocational, emotional, etc…and I am quick to ‘comment’ and say “praying” or “I’m praying for you.”

But I’ll be totally honest and transparent…sometimes, I pray, but sometimes I DON’T. I know that may come as a surprise, but it’s true. But before you judge…chances are, it’s true for YOU, too. Isn’t it?

How many times have you commented on a Facebook or Instagram or whatever post that you would be praying…and then just keep scrolling and don’t pray one tiny single word for that person or their situation? I’ll be honest…I’ve done it. Some cute cat or baby video or some strange political situation or someone falling down stairs catches your eye in the next “scroll” and you don’t think of that person or his/her situation again.

Matthew warns against this. Be VERY CAREFUL not to pepper your “posts” with a religious “smoke screen” to make yourself look more spiritual or religious than you intend to be. Don’t comment “praying” unless you truly intend to “pray”.

A few verses later in Matthew 5 says, “When you manipulate words to get your own way, [or to make yourself look good] you go wrong.”

PLEASE…don’t manipulate your words to make yourself look better. In other words…DON’T say you are going to pray for someone if you don’t intend to pray for someone. And if you DO say you are going to pray for someone, PRAY FOR THAT SOMEONE AT THAT VERY MOMENT. It literally only takes a minute in the middle of whatever you’re doing. There is such power in prayer. And when prayer is done lovingly and intentionally and authentically, it can change circumstances and move mountains, people!!!

Sometimes I don’t think we take God’s Word seriously enough. It warns us against making “empty promises”…Jesus never did that. Neither should we. And of course, I know we are only human and sometimes things simply slip our earthly minds. But be very careful whenever you say, “I’ll pray for you”…if you say it, DO IT…don’t wait…and do it immediately. Their situation may very well depend on the prayers of those who say they will pray…and actually do it.