Telling Your Story

She worried about telling her story,

She worried it would not inspire.

She worried about sharing so much of herself,

And the honesty that it would require.

Others had gone before her

With stories so moving and fierce.

And though she knew knew better than to compare

Still she worried with eyes full of tears.

Why should I tell my story? She pleaded.

What does it have to add?

A story without a brave heroine;

A story, not moving or sad.

She thought of stories she’d heard all her life

Of characters so brave and true:

Testimonies of God’s faithfulness

And all that He’d brought them through.

All stories have a main character

The One who directs the plot.

Was she the one who guided her story?

And then she realized, she was not.

She was simply an instrument

To play His beautiful song.

He was the one to write her story,

She just had to sing along.

So she told others of her story

And though she still felt small,

She finally learned to embrace her story

Because it wasn’t her story, after all.

Texting is my Love Language

I didn’t grow up texting, but I feel like it was invented just for me. I remember sending my first text in college and feeling guilty because I knew I just cost my friend 50 cents. But since then, as the popularity of texting grew, so has my affinity for it. 

I usually claim that if you call me, I will text you back (which is a problem when someone calls from a landline!). I will pin memes to my “so me” Pinterest board that say, “I’d appreciate if you’d stop calling me, but I’d probably respond if you decide to text instead.” It’s all just funny, and mostly tongue-in-cheek. And yes, occasionally, if I love you and know you love the phone, I will give you a call. But texting just suits me and all my introvert needs!

The text message takes a lot of flack, however. I’ve heard complaints about how kids never look at each other in the eyes, or never enjoy the present, because they are always texting someone else! I’ve heard that it is leading to the destruction of language and proper grammar, because no one cares about those thing when writing a text. I think these arguments have merit, but like most things in life, a balance must be sought. Text messaging is just a tool, and as with any tool, it’s how we use them that matters. 

I’m in a stage of life that is mostly dictated by my children’s schedules. And even for an introvert with some hermit-tendencies, it can get a little lonely! Even though I enjoy the occasional coffee and play dates with friends, I don’t need people around me all the time, or even that often. I don’t need endless phone conversations or a packed-full schedule. But I do need to know that I’m not alone, that I’m not forgotten, even as I putter around the house with only my three-year-old as company. I need to know that I matter to someone in the outside world and that they are thinking of me.

And then I get a text from someone saying hi and checking in or asking for a play date. Or maybe it’s just an informational text or a question about something, but it feels like a lifeline to an outside world that I may not need to be in all the time, but definitely want to know that I am a part of.  

So every once in a while, I take the time to just send out texts. Sometimes it’s just to one person who has come to my mind, and I want them to know I am thinking about them and love them. Sometimes I send out several. Because isn’t that what we all want, whether introvert or extrovert, whether texter or caller: don’t we just want to know that we aren’t alone, that we aren’t forgotten, that we matter to someone, and that they are thinking of us?

So if you get a text from me, whether just a random hi, asking a question, or giving you some sort of information, let it be a reminder to you that you are not alone. You are remembered and matter to me and I’m thinking of you. Because I am sitting alone at home or in my car, and after all, texting is my love language.

My Prayers for Las Vegas

This is my view as I sit cross-legged and arms outstretched in prayer for a city that has been host to such a terrible atrocity. And I am struck that two days ago, in a hotel less than a mile away, another looked down on this city, and, so filled with evil was he, that he took the lives of so many, including his own. And here I am, little old me, looking down on this city and trying to combat the darkness in my own way.

We planned this trip months ago when we learned that my husband’s promotion required him to attend a series of conferences in Las Vegas, and spouses were encouraged to attend as well. When we heard about the shooting, I thought possibly the conference would be cancelled (and secretly hoped), but no, it was still on, with increased security. So here we came to Las Vegas.

At the airport was the juxtaposition of the blaring signs and colorful advertisements, promoting anything you could possibly desire, with large black screens saying “We’ve been there for you in the good times. Thank you for standing with us in the bad. #VegasStrong” And that is the hashtag I almost used in my photo above, but something in me balked at the idea. Vegas Strong? No, the only help for Vegas, for any city, for our country, and for our world, can be found through prayer.

I do not believe it was a coincidence that brought me here, with a burning desire in my heart to pray. And not just pray, but to sit at the window and stretch out my arms, not out of the hate and evil of the man two days ago, but out of sadness and love.

Tears pour down my face as I pray for the people of this city, both visitors and residents, who have been broken by this act of evil. I pray that they will seek Jesus, the Savior and Ultimate Comforter, for healing and renewal. I pray for the people who are here that have not been broken, because they have built up such walls of hate and fear or even indifference, that God will break down those walls so that His love and transforming power can seep into their souls. I pray for the families of those who died, that they will seek and find comfort in Jesus; I pray for the wounded that they will be healed and give God the glory! I pray that the churches would rise up in love and be welcoming of every single sinner (and by that, I mean EVERYONE, including and especially myself) and say, “Come and gather with us, because we love you. Here you will find redemption and renewal through our Savior, Jesus Christ.” And finally, I have been praying for this city, that it will be transformed by this heinous act, and not by responding evil with evil, but by becoming a city that LOVES, as Christ loves his people. That people would feel the love of God like a broken dam, that floods through every seedy ally and small corners of every heart, and the city would be renewed and transformed by this love, by His power, and by His Grace.

Because I am dealing with my own insecurities while I am here, I feel an inadequate vessel to be pouring out such enormous prayers for this city. But for some reason I am here and feel this burden that I can’t seem to ignore, so I continue to pray things that I may never see answered, or may never see the impact of until I get to heaven. But for some reason, God chooses inadequate vessels, so maybe he did indeed choose me to be here for such a time as this.

Jesus Saves

A little Christian graffiti today. 

This is not who you are.

Tonight I've been thinking about insecurities... we all have them, the challenge is to not let them define you. So I took a lesson from Moana tonight and drew up this little picture to share! 

Ode to Audrey

She dances in glee around the garden

The sun shining off her golden hair

She counts our new sprouts with eagerness

While I enjoy her sweet presence there.

Inspiration guides her as we head inside

Where she pulls out her crayons and creates.

Dirt and seed and vegetables

With Pictures and words she elaborates.

Creation inspires more creation

and my creation inspires me.

I look into her sparkling eyes

As she hands me her book so excitedly.

A sweet little story, the life of a garden

Planting, watering, growing our seeds

Her masterpiece on sheets of paper

Mine standing in front of me.

Her likeness of me, a gift from Heaven

His wondrous Creation in my care.

I marvel at her creative spirit

And whisper praises into the air.

I water, nurture, and attend,

Cultivating this beautiful sprite

And up she grows, from seed to sprout

And I must pull out my pen and write.

Philippians 4:6

AirBnb: Our Own Mission Field

This is a guest post by the very talented Lois Barker, who also happens to be my mother and who I wrote this post about in 2007.

Two weeks ago, my husband and I traveled from our home in Fairfield, Connecticut to Williamsburg, Virginia in order to attend the wedding of a lovely young woman who stayed with us through Airbnb. She stayed with us all last summer, and every day after work, we would spend time together as she told us about her day. As we took our seats at her wedding, we both had tears in our eyes thinking of the blessings God has given us in getting to know this lovely woman and now, her husband. As I told her, she will always be remembered in our prayers. 

Who would have thought when we started AirBnb that we would form such precious relationships with our guests? And that we would be invited to share in their families' momentous occasions? And that we would be able to share our faith with people from all over the world, without ever leaving our home? But that's just a small part of the joys of hosting through Airbnb. 

And what an amazing time we had this past weekend! Again, through Airbnb, we have been honored to host two separate Chinese families over the past several years. They now consider our home their home-away-from-home. These two families had never met in China, but became friends when they were staying in our house at the same time. Both of these families had children in private schools in Connecticut. Both of these young people were the valedictorians of the respective classes and now will be attending the same university in the United States. Imagine our joy when they proudly invited us to the two separate graduations and then two graduation parties afterwards. We felt so honored and privileged to be included in such an intimate gathering. And again, as we said good-bye, we told them they would always be in our hearts and prayers. 

For many years we have been giving to missions but never felt led to go ourselves. At times, we even felt guilty as family members and friends left their homes to be missionaries around the world. Then the Lord brought us to a period of financial instability, so we decided to open our home to Airbnb. What a surprise to find that God used a time of uncertainty in our lives to bring the mission field right to us!

We put Bibles in different languages in all the rooms. We pray for opportunities to share Christ with our guests. We simply become friends and join in their lives, and through this, we have our own little mission field. We pray that we can be a blessing to our guests. And we find great joy in the blessing that they have been to us.

I cried through Cars 3.

David in some of his Lightning McQueen gear.

I cried all the way through Cars 3. And then I came home and cried some more. My husband looked at me like I was crazy, so I decided to try to put all the feelings into words. 

I'm sure I'm not the only one whose son is a Lightning McQueen fanatic. We've been fans of his for over two years now, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. In fact, I'd say they were the happiest few years of my life. Now I am not saying it is because of Lightning McQueen, but I don't think I'll ever be able to separate my fondness for these years from Lightning McQueen. And that's the reason Cars 3 hit me right in the gut: he represents something to me.

My husband and I frequently discuss our favorite Pixar movies. His are Wall-E, Up, and Ratatouille (the worst ones, in my opinion, but by that I don't mean bad!) Mine had been Brave and The Incredibles. But then my son, David, made me watch Cars over and over and over again. And something changed. After watching it the tenth time, I really enjoyed it. After the fiftieth time, I loved it. And after the one hundredth time, it became my favorite Pixar (and probably kids' movie) of all time! How often do you hear of that happening? 

The themes of Cars and Cars 3 are both very poignant and moving. The ends of both are sweet and surprising. Not perhaps how you want them to end upon first watch, but better when you realize the message that is being sent. (And I'm not a hater of Cars 2 like most people. It's a fun side-story.)

Cars 3, though, has Lightning McQueen getting older, slower, and considering retirement. And he's not particularly happy about it. (Who is?) I found myself identifying with Lightning McQueen, as newer, younger cars began to replace him and become more relevant. And not only that, but in saying goodbye to Lightning McQueen's racing career, I found myself recognizing an end of an era: David's toddlerhood. Days I will never get back that have been so happy for me and him, as I watch him line up his Cars characters, call them his "guys", and give them all kisses. Soon, I was picturing myself an old women, seeing an old Lightning McQueen die cast toy car, and remembering all those sweet days with my little boy!

Overreaction? Yes.

But that's why I cried through Cars 3. 

Deeper Magic

"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" cried Lucy and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses.

"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.

"It means," said Aslan, "that thought the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards." (emphasis added)

C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe

An Invitation to His Plan

Last week I wrote about my sometimes bad attitude. I've been thinking a lot about it and I wish I could say I've conquered it forever and absolutely! But instead, it will probably continue in those hard days. So for now, I will work to contemplate God's grace. 

If I think of my obligations as just that - obligations - then that's what they always will be. But instead, I am trying to remember that God has a plan that will be accomplished, whether I am a part of it or not! But because of His love and grace to me, he gently invites me to be a part of accomplishing His perfect plan. He uses my flawed attitude, my faithless hands, to carry out his Perfect Plan. 

And what a beautiful gift!

I don't have to do anything to earn His love.
I get to do His work because of His love. 

Yesterday I spent some time looking at my hands and I offer them to Him. They are His hands, to use on this earth, to accomplish His Will. "Not my will but yours," Jesus says in the garden before His death, and I try to echo that in my fallen, imperfect way.

I hesitate to even write these thoughts, because it sound so pious, so put-together. But in fact, it is the exact opposite. These are the thoughts in my head as I feel worn down and just trying to keep my head above water. 

And my bad attitude will come and go as the days roll in and out. But His love for me will continue, and His plan will continue, and I get to be a part of it.

The Bad Attitude and the Blessing

I have a confession to make.

Many, many times throughout the day, I have a bad attitude. I'm working on it, I really am. But seriously, I'm a mom. I'm tired. I have more to do than I can get done, and none of it is what I want to be doing. Hence the bad attitude.

But recently I've noticed an amazing phenomenon: 

God uses me despite my bad attitude. 

It has happened time and time again in the past months (and probably years, if I really look back far enough). Here is the common situation:

An obligation is approaching, usually one that I myself signed up for many weeks earlier. But as the day approaches that I need to fulfill the obligation, I start to whine. Then the day arrives, and I get on my phone and complain to my friends about the obligation. I wonder why I signed up for the obligation in the first place! 

Then comes the amazing part. Once the obligation is done, I realize that God used me and my bad attitude and made something beautiful come out of it. I look back on the obligation and realize it was an act of beauty, it was received with love, and my life was blessed by it. And in looking back on what was once thought of as an obligation, but now I realize was a blessing, I am humbled. 

What kind of God uses me to bless others when I am a whiner, complainer, and a bad-attitude haver? And not only uses me, but blesses me through it? It is a God of love, kindness, mercy, and forgiveness. The kind of God who wants to pour out his blessings, if we would only open our eyes and see them. 

And it makes me think.

What kind of blessing would I be (and therefore receive) if I could just knock-off that bad attitude? Would the blessings to others be multiplied if I truly did these things out of love instead of obligation?

Am I as bad as Joseph's brothers? "You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good." (Genesis 50:20)

(To be fair, I never intend harm! A bad attitude can't be as bad as that, right?) 

Only an all-powerful and gracious God can make all these things come out for the good.

So I continue to work on it. Those busy days come and go and so do the bad attitudes (a lot of times it depends on the amount of sleep I get, to which I think most mothers can attest!).

And even in those times, in all times, God is faithful and I am blessed.