Jesus Loves the Children

"Mom," Rylie said as she looked up at me from where she was sitting on the ground, " I'm going to miss them."  "I know, Honey," I replied, "They have a way of getting into your heart, don't they?" She nodded in agreement.

 I did know. I have been coming here for over seventeen years, and the children that live here have a way of embedding themselves in your heart. You leave thinking you have to come back and see them again, check on them, make sure that their lives are going ok, make sure they've heard about Jesus. 

Some of the kids were the ones we saw at Christmas time. The sweet shyness of the Christmas store has turned into summer fun and smiles. They've matured, gotten taller, changed a little. 

They're here at the mission for summer camp. They've come almost every day for the past four and a half weeks. They play together, hear Bible stories, do crafts, memorize Scripture, and sing praises.

Oh, the singing!

I've never heard anything like it. Not from children anyway. These mostly unchurched kids from broken homes who know about drugs, alcohol, and sex long before they ever should, sing from somewhere deep inside their hearts to Jesus. With volume and passion they sing

And it's beautiful. 

I know heaven must sit still when they are singing, because I can't move.

And God smiles. 

I'm sure of it. Because these same kids that get in our hearts after a few days, so that we can't forget them, are that much more in the heart of the King of Kings! The empathy we feel as we spend time with them is nothing compared to the love and care God feels for these precious ones! He cares about them so much He had sent His people to take care of them!

God hasn't forgotten them. They are embedded in His heart.

The call has been answered - through a Christian school, through summer camp, through birthday celebrations, (Karen and the girls make sure not one birthday is forgotten, even if it's forgotten at home), through the Christmas store, through much needed food, through hugs, through listening ears, through the mission building that provides needs, through the Gospel message that gets taught year round.

Through five missionaries that help make it all happen because they have a heart like Christ's.

These missionaries living here sometimes don't see it like those of us who come and go. Change is more obvious when you're not in the middle of the everyday.

But change has happened.

The teens that have volunteered to work at summer camp this year don't fight and argue like they used to. They're helpful and kind and work hard. You see, they've been coming to summer camp since they were babies and hearing about a Jesus who changes lives every year. You can't hear that message summer after summer without it changing you.

The streets are better. The crime is less. If you had seen the project housing seventeen years ago, you wouldn't recognize it today because it's so much nicer. Where there used to be multiple policemen, there is now one. There's not trash everywhere. Neighbors are helping neighbors. Kids are graduating from high school. More people are working. Between twenty-five and forty women come every week to a Bible study at the school. They're not comfortable enough to come to church, but they come here and learn about a God who can change their family. Kids I knew seventeen years ago, who got saved through this mission are grown up and are wonderful parents to their own children.

Change. It's happening.

It's happening because of the faithfulness of five people answering a call to obey and serve Christ.

Faithfulness.

But what about us? What about me? We're not all called to drop our life and pour our everything into a community.

But we're all called to serve.

Service to our families, service to our neighborhoods, service to our churches, service to our communities, service in helping those who are giving everything.

Service with a heart that's beating with the very beat of the Gospel of Jesus.

Because that's where change comes from.

The Gospel is the hope of people everywhere. That's it. We can bring hope; we can bring change; we can make a difference. I've seen it happen.

It's Jesus Christ, the hope of the world.

And what a privilege to be His servant!

Remember the children of Galloway, and pray for them. And the children in your home, the children in your neighborhood, the children in your city, the children in your country, and the children in your world.

May we never tire, may we never quit, may we never give up. Because there is always hope.

Gardening Hearts

"I want to plant a garden this year," Rylie said to me a few weeks ago. I grimaced a little. "Sweetie," I said as kindly as possible, "our yard is really not good for gardening." "But I really want to try," she insisted. "Well, you'll have to talk to your dad," I said, mainly because I stink at gardening.  I remembered the last time this came up. It's been about three years ago now when I wanted a garden. I talked Dan into putting one in for me. As he did it, he reminded me how I don't like gardening, or caring for plants, or weeding, or pretty much anything that has to do with gardening except eating. "I know," I told him, "but it will be different this time." That was the last time I had a garden.

I fully expected Dan to nip any gardening ideas in the bud. (pun intended) He hates gardening. And not only that, he doesn't like eating vegetables! Which makes gardening really pointless. But, Rylie trotted off with hope in her heart that this was going to be her year to be a gardener.

I had my "it's ok, we'll try something different" speech all ready for her big let down that the Van Pattens are not gardeners, when she came back in from talking with her dad with a smile on her face. "Dad says I can have my garden, Mom!" she said. "He did?" I asked. "But, he doesn't like gardening, and we all know I'm not going to help...." "But, dad said he's going to help me!" She replied excitedly. "This won't last long," I thought to myself.

The next thing I knew there was a garden being planted in my yard. Plants and dirt were bought, ground was tilled, seeds were put in, and everything was watered. Dan and Rylie spent many hours out there working on her garden. As I watched them out the window, I kept thinking about how much Dan does not like gardening. He makes it very clear every time a garden is brought up. But there he was out there bending over the dirt with his daughter building a garden. 

As I stood looking out the window, my heart was overwhelmed. I realized that the gardening was not about the garden at all.

It was about love.

It was about a dad that loves his daughter more than he loves himself. Here was a dad that had just spent a good bit of money and a lot of time doing something he hates because his 10 year old daughter wanted to try her hand at gardening. He knows the drill, he knows the odds. Chances are we'll eat one bean out of the entire garden, and buying that bean at Farmer's Market will in the end be a whole lot cheaper. But he gained something far more than vegetables.

He won her heart.

She knows she's valuable to him because what was important to her became important to him.

This is love in action, Dads. Dying to yourself and your interests for the interests of your kids. Spending time with them doing the things they want to learn even if you know how it's going to turn out. It's the best kind of parenting there is.

This is not the first time I've seen it.

Kade has an aircraft carrier designed by his dad, and made out of foam. We have model planes all over our house. (I've given up on decorating!) We have a swimming pool that gets put up and cared for every year by a dad who doesn't even use it. We go fishing, and the dad who actually likes to fish, spends most of his time baiting other people's hooks and untangling lines. This is the stuff my kids are going to remember. I'm sure that someday they'll appreciate that their dad provided for them and instructed them, but right now he's winning their hearts by being interested in what they are interested in.

Love in action.

Laying down your life for your children. It's the kind of dad I grew up with, the kind of dad my kids have, and the kind of dad I hope my sons will be someday.

I walked outside yesterday to look at Rylie's garden. There's little shoots everywhere. She proudly showed me what was coming up. The lettuce is almost ready to eat! You see, she's been faithfully taking care of her garden. She seems to actually like gardening. She would never have known that without her dad taking interest in her interest.

The garden is beautiful, and Rylie's proud smile is infectious, but me? What have I gotten out of this garden? I've fallen in love with my kid's dad all over again.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13

Crushed by Depression

I named this blog "Every Day Life" because that's what it's about. It's about my life, my thoughts, and my family. I write because I need an outlet for what's going on in my head. My life is consumed by children and homeschooling, and, well, life, so sometimes I need a moment. A moment to put my thoughts down and figure out what exactly my life is about.

So here I am. I'm not really sure how to start this post, or exactly what to say. It's one of those things that I don't particularly want to write about, but I don't think God allows things in our lives unless we learn something from them, and can hopefully encourage someone else along the way. 

Besides that, I'm willing to lay myself bare if it can help you avoid where I've been.

It started about a year ago now. It came on so slowly that I didn't even recognize it. Just like a cancer that ever so subtly eats at a body, it began to eat at my soul.

I began to feel restless. I wanted to move, change jobs, try a new place.

I felt overwhelmed. I began to feel like a failure at everything. I was sure that I was a failure at homeschooling. We were having some problems with my son, and I began to doubt that I could even parent my own children

I've always been a busy person with a hand in many different projects at once. Suddenly I didn't feel like I was able to do the things that I always did before.

My brother moved away. My baby sister left for a year long mission trip. I got a kidney stone that gave me trouble for four months. My dad was diagnosed with cancer. My other baby sister got married.

I was an emotional train wreck.

The more time that passed, the worse it got. I started to doubt God, my salvation, and the Bible. When you began to doubt your Rock, your world looks bleak.

And I kept it all in my head. I didn't tell anyone what was going on.

As the year progressed, my emotions went further downhill. Over and over I would think of what a failure I was. I would look in the mirror or at pictures of myself, and think that I was so ugly. I wondered if that's what other people saw when they saw me too.

I began to cry every day. Every. Last. Day.

I made it to December, my favorite month of the year, and all I did was cry. I didn't want to talk to my husband about it because I was afraid he would think I was unhappy with my life. I wasn't. I just felt sad every day. I was sad that I wasn't making Christmas fun for my children, but I just couldn't. I was also embarrassed because I couldn't come up with a good reason for feeling the way I was feeling. My life was good, so why was I so sad?

And then I hit an all time low. It was mid December. In the middle of all the Christmas festivities,  I found myself curled up in a chair in my house, sick to my stomach with anxiety, and so many crazy thoughts swirling in my head that I couldn't face life. I had responsibilities that I had to bail on. I could not get out of that chair. I could not make myself leave my house.This was an emotional place I had never been before, nor do I ever want to be there again

I suddenly realized I hadn't cooked my family dinner in weeks. To this day, I'm still not sure what they ate during that time. My house was a wreck. I couldn't keep it clean. My life felt like a wreck, I thought maybe I was going crazy.

And then it happened - just a small thought inside my head that spoke loud: "It would be better to die than to live feeling like this."

Tears come to my eyes now as I think about that day. The battle is still fresh, and I'm still healing.

Something clicked inside of me at that moment, and I knew I needed to get help. This was something I couldn't beat on my own. I still wasn't sure what was going on. I hadn't wanted to admit something was wrong up to this point because I've always been a strong, happy woman. I didn't want anyone (including my family) to think I was anything but that.

But, there are some facts about this life that we have to admit -

FACT - Strong women sometimes struggle with depression

FACT - Strong women sometimes have hormonal imbalances

FACT - Strong women sometimes have nervous break downs

FACT - Strong women sometimes have emotional lows that can last a long time

It was time. It was time to get out of that chair, and admit to myself that something was wrong. I was lying on my bedroom floor sobbing, when Dan came in from taking the children for a walk. Normally I go along, but I couldn't get off the floor. He came into the bedroom where I was. I looked up at him and said through my tears, "I think something's wrong with me, and I need to get some help."

I'm pretty sure he knew this already.

I wanted to be strong. I wanted to overcome my problems with just me and Jesus. But may I be so bold as to say, "Sometimes just me and Jesus are not enough?!" I know it sounds a little radical, but when God created Adam he didn't say to him, "Adam, it's just you and Me, you'll never need anything else!" No, God said, "Adam, you need a friend, a helpmeet, another person." And then God gave Adam a beautiful gift, a human being named Eve. And then Adam was complete.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-13 says, "Two are better than one, Because they have a good reward for their labor.  For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, For he has no one to help him up.  Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm; But how can one be warm alone? Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken."

I learned this lesson the hard way. I have a lot of people that care about me in my life. My parents and my sisters live down the street. I have beautiful, caring friends that have time to listen to me anytime I need them. I have a husband who loves me more than I deserve.

And you know what I did? I hid from them. I hid me from them. Jesus and I were going to deal with my emotional issues by ourselves. I didn't want to admit failure, so I hid. I hid at home. When I did go out, I put my best face on and managed to push through. I just didn't talk about what was really going on.

And it worked. My husband was the only one that knew something was wrong. When my mom found out I hadn't been cooking for weeks, she was appalled that I hadn't asked her for help. I didn't want her to know. 

But it was time. I realized I needed to talk to people. I texted a friend who I knew had been through a similar experience. I couldn't call her because I couldn't stop crying. She suggested I see a doctor. I did. I saw two. I talked to my mom and my sister because, frankly, I needed help. You know what? They were there for me. They helped me with my kids and my responsibilities. I shared with another friend the struggles I had been having. Turns out she'd been through this too. I wasn't alone.

Every time I let someone in, healing took place. It was incredible. When I hit that low back in December I thought maybe I would never be well again, but with each person I let in my broken, sad heart, a glimmer of hope emerged. And a little bit of healing took place.

Looking back, I can see God's hand on me through that whole year. He didn't forget about me, even when I doubted Him. There were friends that went out of their way to do random kind things for me, even though they didn't know anything was wrong. My husband changed jobs at work in the fall, and with his new schedule he started being home five days a week. God knew exactly when I would need him so much, and provided a way for him to be there for me and the kids. He has been invaluable to my healing.

I eliminated things from my schedule that were overwhelming to me. I started to say, "no" to people. (This is extremely hard for me.)  I prioritized the things that were essential to my life, and let the other things go. I watched funny shows with my husband in the evenings. I know there doesn't seem to be anything spiritual in that, but the Bible says, "A joyful heart is good like medicine." Laughter is definitely medicine to the heart. I started exercising and being in the sunshine whenever I could. It's amazing what a little sun will do! I snuggled with my kids and told them how much I loved them. I worked hard to stop crying all the time.

Most importantly, I admitted to myself that I had a problem and needed to proactively take steps to get better. The easy thing would have been to stay home and wallow in my depressing thoughts, but it wasn't the right thing.

Friend, if you are reading this, you're probably having one of three responses.

First - You're thinking, "Oh my! This is me. I know exactly what you're talking about."

Second -  You're remembering a time when you went through a time like this and it's bringing the emotions back with it.

Third - You're a happy person and think this could never be you.

I'm writing this because you are one of those three responses. I've always been number three. Until now, I couldn't understand depression because I had never experienced it. I couldn't understand why people couldn't pull themselves together. Why they wanted to live there. Truth is, no one wants to stay there, but you're not sure what to do about it.

If you are suffering from emotional issues, I want to encourage you to take steps, even small steps towards healing. First and foremost, tell someone. Tell more than one person. Tell people that genuinely care about you because they will take action and help you.

(If you are on the other side, and someone trusts you enough to tell you they are suffering, DO NOT FORGET ABOUT THEM! Go out of your way to make sure they are ok. Do random acts of kindness for them, pray for them, cook their family a meal, send them a card, call and check on them, invite them over, make sure they are getting help. You may be the one God is going to use to help heal them.)

Keep going to church and reading your Bible. This is hard when you don't feel like seeing people and God seems far away. But it is vital. Don't feel like you have to go to every service your church offers, but try to go to one. Come in late and leave early if you have to. Remember there is a spiritual battle going on also. When you're down is when Satan kicks you. He sees an easy target because you're vulnerable. Pray. If you can't pray for yourself, have someone pray for you.

Back off on your responsibilities. It's ok to say no. It's ok not to be superwoman. Focus on yourself and your family for awhile.

Read good books, watch funny shows, talk with friends who make you laugh. Laughing is vital to healing. Take naps, go for walks - lots of them, sit in the sun, eat good food, tell your spouse you need lots of hugs.

If you need to, see a doctor. See a counselor. Turns out I was suffering from low progesterone levels and depression. There is healing for both. A good progesterone cream and these other things I listed above have proved extremely beneficial for me.

I have friends that have needed an anti depressant, and it has helped. Don't feel like Jesus isn't enough if you have to take something to get better. If I ever have cancer, I'm going to pray my heart out, but I'm also going to get treatment. It's ok. Find the treatment that is right for you.

Don't do nothing. Don't get to the point where you think it is better to die than to live. I have friends that have ended their lives because they got to that point and didn't get help. God has given us each a beautiful life to live, and surrounded us with people to help us live it.

Healing is slow, I'm still there. But be patient. It will come.

My life verse is from Deuteronomy 30:19-20 -" I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live,  loving the Lord your God, obeying his voice and holding fast to him, for he is your life and length of days..."

Always choose life. Abundant life.


Love and hope to you all.

Age....It's a Beautiful Thing (Part 2)

"Grow old with grace." I've always heard those words, and pretty much thought it would be me. Growing old in wisdom and maturity and just general grace.

The opposite couldn't be more true. I'm fighting it tooth and nail. In fact, I'm not sure the word, "grace" has crossed my mind as I look into the mirror at my aging face. More often I think, "Who is that?!" The face in my mind is not the same face staring back at me through the mirror.

It has come on gradually, but this has been a rough year for me. It started back in the early spring when I went for my annual doctor's appointment. "You need a mammogram," the doctor said. "I need a what.?" I replied. "A mammogram," she repeated, "All women your age get one." "You must not know how old I am," I said. She looked down at my chart. "August 1978?' she asked. "Yes! That's me," I said, "See I don't need a mammogram." "When can you come in for your appointment?" she replied.

I decided to show up for my appointment just to humor my doctor, not because I really needed one. "All women my age get one," was the pep talk I gave myself as I checked in at the hospital. They gave me this nice robe, and told me to "robe up" and go sit in the waiting room. I wasn't sure about this whole robing up, and then sitting in the waiting room thing, but I followed the instructions anyway.

When I got to the waiting room, I kept my head down because who wants to look around at strangers when you're "robed up." I sat in the corner pretending to read a magazine and planning my escape route, IF I HAD MORE CLOTHES, that is.

I finally peeked up to see the other women "my age" in the waiting room. THERE WERE NONE. They were all 105, and perfectly comfortable being "robed up!" As soon as those sweet grandmas caught my eye, they wanted to chat. The last thing I wanted to do was sit around in a robe and chat.

I knew the doctor was lying to me. No one born in 1978 was in there for a mammo except ME.

After what seemed like forever, the mammo tech called my name. I nervously followed her to her room. She tried to reassure my fears with words of comfort about how "everyone does this." She got me set up on her torture chamber, er, I mean, mammo machine and told me to hold still. "Hold still??" I thought as I gasped for breath and tears rolled down my cheeks, "What in the world else am I going to do?"

My feet were the only smart things in that room -

They took off.

Of course my torso didn't follow. I'm pretty sure these machines are what they use to train Irish dancers - you know the ones that dance moving their feet a hundred miles an hour, but their top half remains perfectly still.

Yep, that was me. I was outta there, well half of me was anyway.

After my tech had had her good laugh, (i.e. she finished the exam) she finally released me. I thought maybe falling to the floor in the fetal position or running away were probably both unreasonable, immature responses to having a mammogram, so I just stood there.

"Go to the waiting room until we get your results," the tech told me. So back I went. In my robe. Everyone else around me was smiling, but I didn't really see much to be smiling about as I curled up in the corner and waited to hear from the doctor.

Finally the tech came back in. "I have bad news," she said. My heart sank. "We couldn't see anything on the pictures, we're going to have do some more tests."

My feet took off. And this time my torso followed.....

And then there's my eyes....

"Are these lights as bright as they used to be?" I asked Dan. "I don't know," he answered me, "I'm sure they haven't changed." "Hmmm," I thought to myself. "Strange thing is, everything seems a little fuzzier than it used to also - I wonder if I have a brain tumor??" I started to panic. "That must be it," I told myself, "I can barely read the print in my Bible anymore, and it seems to have come on so fast. It's the only reasonable explanation!"

The more I worried about it the blurrier my vision became. I decided right then and there to go see an eye doctor. A random eye doctor. Any eye doctor that would see me IMMEDIATELY in the likely case I was suffering from a brain tumor!

That poor eye doctor. I'm sure he regrets having any openings that morning.

He was gracious. And kind. Not once did he suggest I see a shrink, which is, I'm quite sure, exactly what he was thinking.

"You're not dying," he said slowly. "You're aging," he said even slower. For some reason I don't think he thought I would get it.  "I'm what?!" I said, "I'm only 37!"  "Your eyes are aging; it happens to everyone." he repeated. He then proceeded to slowly explain to me the science behind aging eyes, and tell me that I probably had a few more good years left.

"Do you have glasses?" he asked me when my appointment was over. "Well, yes," I said. "Where are they?" "At home, of course!" I answered. "I really don't think I need them." "Maybe you should try wearing them," he said slowly again. I'm really not sure why he was talking to me so slowly, when I was speaking so fast and frantically to him.

I got home, told Dan the good news that I wasn't dying of a brain tumor, and then put on my glasses.

I took a look in the mirror. Hey! The face in the mirror looks more like my face than I thought! Maybe I won't die of aging after all!

At least not yet....

A Response to the Baxter County Courthouse Nativity Ruling

I woke up early this morning. It's one of the few mornings that I see the sun rise, and it's beautiful. The whole world is lit up orange and pink.  It's December10th and the Christmas season is swirling by me. I want everything to go into slow motion. I love this time of year and I want each to day to be long so I can enjoy every minute of it.

When I say I love this time of year, it might be a slight understatement. We're the family that starts listening to Christmas music in October. We put up our decorations mid November, and our house is the most lit up house in our neighborhood. I still do a massive amount of Christmas baking, and we drive around just to look at Christmas lights.

I love it.

Most of all though, I love that every Christmas, what God did for us so long ago is renewed in my heart. I fall in love with Jesus all over again because we stop and REMEMBER that He came to earth as a baby to save us. Yes, it's very important to remember.

Which brings me to the subject at hand - There is a war on Christmas because it's about Christ and some people don't want it to be about Christ. They want to change every "Christmas" word into "Holiday." You know, "holiday trees" or "holiday gifts." Somehow they think that it's not about Jesus anymore if we change the name.

So, every year here in Baxter County we have a tree lighting ceremony on the lawn of the courthouse. Lots of people come to this event. There is singing and hot chocolate and a parade. They light up the tree and the beautiful life sized nativity set that sits on the lawn in front of the courthouse. A lovely Christian couple in our community sponsor this event by heading it up and providing the nativity set. A few years ago someone decided that this was an issue. It was too Christian..... The issue went to court, and this year it was decided that the tradition we'd had for years would  no longer be. No more nativity on the courthouse lawn. No more Jesus in Christmas.

I was irritated to say the least. My thought was, "I guess we'll show them. There'll be no lighting of the Christmas tree ceremony this year! No more singing. No more hot chocolate. They will all be sorry they ruined our tradition."

It was final in my mind.

But then, (There's always a "but then" it seems.)  I heard that the same family that always did the tree lighting WAS DOING THE TREE LIGHTING. "What?!" I thought. "Why are they doing that? How can we show everyone what they are missing if we do it anyway?? And besides, aren't they offended their Christmas gift to the community has been rejected?"

But then, (There it was again.) my heart was broken. "You want to keep Me in Christmas?" Jesus spoke to me. "Then you be Me in Christmas." "But God," I argued, "Don't you want us to have symbols of you everywhere so the world can see that Christmas is about Jesus?! It feels like they are taking our freedoms away!" "Sure," God said to me, "But, I told you that would happen. It's far more important to Me that the world see you being Christ in Christmas than having a fake Jesus in your yard."

Then I figured it out.

 Christmas isn't about a symbol or a bumper sticker that says, "Keep Christ in Christmas," or a button, or saying, "Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays," or a silly red Starbucks cup, or even HAVING A NATIVITY on the courthouse lawn. It's about that special Baby who is living, breathing, walking EVEYWHERE in our community. Through me. And you.

That's what keeping Christ in Christmas is. Being Christ in Christmas. It's something no one can shut down. The judge can rule that we can't have a nativity in front of our government buildings, but he can't stop the family from being gracious to the community and still leading the tree lighting.

I read this quote somewhere, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head, "Want to keep Christ in Christmas? Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the unwanted, care for the ill, love your enemies, and do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

I can a wear a "keep Christ in Christmas" shirt all December, stick a bumper sticker on my car, and deliberately say, "Merry Christmas to anyone who dares say," Happy Holidays" to me, but it's meaningless if I'm impatient with the over abundance of shoppers and the slow cashier at Walmart, or I'm not kind to my neighbors or my in laws, or I don't stop and see the real needs in our community, or I forget about the child who has nothing for Christmas when my own have so much.

That's the Christ in Christmas that will NEVER go away. That's the Christ in Christmas that's going to show our neighbors that Jesus loves them. That's the Christ in Christmas that's actually going to feed the hungry and care for the orphan. That's the Christ in Christmas that is gong to change the world.

It's not just a symbol or something we say, it's who we are.

So this Christmas, I will say, "Merry Christmas," and I have a lovely nativity that lights up my front yard, but most importantly I want to teach my children that Christmas really is all about Jesus. I want them to see me being Christ in Christmas, and I want them to see that it's so beautiful that they want to be Him too.

Our community will no longer drive by the courthouse and see the beautiful nativity that used to sit there, but I hope our community will see Jesus everywhere else so much they that they fall in love with Him this Chirstmas because -

they can't help it.

Fighting Normal

I get up in the morning. I snuggle with my babies. I make breakfast. I teach four children their school lessons. I make lunch. I do dishes. I teach more school. I do a frantic cleaning of my house before my piano students arrive. I give piano lessons. I make dinner. I clean up dishes. I go for a walk. I work on projects that didn't get finished or play with my family. I read a biography to my children before bed. I put my kids to bed. I sit on the couch, stare at my husband, and wish I wasn't so tired. I go to bed.

And then I start over.

Normal. That's what my life is. Way too normal, and I don't like it. Normalcy plagues me!

We just finished reading the biographies of George Mueller, Amy Charmichael, and Gladys Aylward. They all have fascinating lives, and did amazing things for God! And the little voice inside my head starts to say, "You don't really do anything for God, you're just....normal. And I know it's true. Basically my whole life right now can be summed up in one paragraph. (See the first paragraph of this post!)

Just normal.

I've been fighting this all summer. I don't even have a "claim to fame!" I don't have an amazing college degree I can bring up, I haven't started a local ministry, I don't travel around proclaiming the Gospel, I don't even have an Etsy account! Some days as I barely drag myself to bed,  I wonder how I would have time or energy for anything else anyway.

Just normal.

And normal equals not pleasing to God, right? That's what my head's been telling me. Why would He want any of us to just be normal? I must be doing something wrong.

In my morning devotions I'm reading through the Old Testament. I thoroughly enjoyed Genesis, and the first part of Exodus. And then.......came the instructions for building the temple. I kept thinking of reasons to skip this section. (Sacriligious right??) I'm just going to flat say it -it's boring, especially in the good ole KJV. I can so plan my whole day out while reading the details on how to hang the curtains in the temple. I'm pretty sure the only ones that find this section fascinating are Biblical history teachers! And I'm not. (Remember the no exciting college degree part....) But, I'm reading it anyway. I am determined to read through the whole Bible again. (Without skipping genealogies this time...And without planning my day out through the boring parts....) If God truly inspired the Bible, then it's all there for a reason. I don't want to miss what He might want to say to me if I just listen.

So, there I am fighting normal and reading Exodus 31, and BAM! There it is. My new Bible hero. He's got a weird name. I've never even noticed him before, but there he is. Bezalel. Not a household Bible hero name, right? Never heard of him? That's because he's NORMAL!! But there he is - right there in the God inspired Word.

Exodus 31:1-5 says, "The Lord said to Moses, ² “See, I have called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, ³ and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with ability and intelligence, with knowledge and all craftsmanship, ⁴ to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze, ⁵ in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, to work in every craft."

Here was this guy who was really good at crafty things. He did fantastic work in gold, silver, bronze, stone work, and wood carving. I'm just speculating here, but I would almost guarantee this was his J-O-B. He was good at it, he was artistic, people liked his work, and it's probably how he made his living. Normal alert - Bezalel has a normal job, doing what he's good at. Because for some reason he's really good at this stuff. He probably did this back in Egypt; maybe he helped carve the Sphinx. Maybe he was a little bored in the desert without as much carving to do.

All I know is he's a pretty normal guy with a normal job.

And then it happens. God wants to dwell with His people, and he can't because of their sin. He needs a place, a holy place, where He can meet them. He gives instructions to Moses to make a the tabernacle. AND THEN HE SAYS, " You know Bezalel? That guy that's really good at making things. Truth is, I put my Spirit in him and gave him that talent for JUST THIS TIME. That guy, that NORMAL guy that spends every day making things for a living, HE is going to handcraft the place where I will meet My people. Because he's really good at it." (My paraphrase.) And Bezalel says, "Yes, LORD, I will put aside my "normal" and work for You." (Also my paraphrase.) And then he begins to handcraft the ark of the covenant. The ARK OF THE COVENANT! God used a normal Joe to handcraft the thing that was so holy no one else could even touch it or they would die! This ark was to be set in the Holy of Holies, and God would actually come down to the mercy seat (that normal Bezalel made) to communicate, and be with His people. He could have had the great leader, Moses make it, but you know what? That's not what Moses was good at. Moses was good at shepherding. He spent forty years, yes, forty! being a smelly "normal" shepherd before God said, "Now is the time to use your shepherding talent. You're going to shepherd millions of My people through the desert to the Promised Land. But, Bezalel is going to make the most holy thing. The place where I will dwell.


And it was beautiful, because Bezalel was good at making things.


In reading Exodus that day, I realized "normal" is ok. God has placed inside each one of us something that we are really good at. And we go around feeling guilty because we spend our time doing that "thing" we're good at and enjoy. We feel badly because we're just normal. We're not doing great exploits for God, so we must be doing something wrong. We like to "make things" (fill in the blank), but we are surely wasting our time because nobody's getting saved because we're "making things."


Friend, may I be so bold as to suggest that if you are a child of God, that there will be a time when God will call you out of the ordinary and into the extraordinary?


My sister, Krista, works as a graphic designer. She's never been to school for this, she's just good at it. Naturally. This is how she spends every normal day, making a living. But then, one day our church puts on an evangelistic event for the community, and we need flyers and mail outs. Well done, catchy ones. Not ones like I would make that nobody would even look at twice. But good ones. Who do we call? We call Krista because she's good at that. People come to these events and hear the Gospel because of those flyers. A local adoption group needs things designed and printed to promote the need for children to be adopted. They call Krista because she's good at this. Children are adopted through these efforts.


Krista steps out of the ordinary and into the extraordinary. She answers the call to serve God doing the exact "normal" thing that the Spirit of God placed in her, and she's really good at it!


My friend, Karla, is really fantastic at taking pictures of people. She can make a normal person look stunning in a picture. This is a talent. My sisters will ask a stranger to take their pictures before they will ask me. I can make a beautiful person look terrible in a picture. I'm good at that. So when an organization that helps foster children needed their portraits taken, they didn't call me - they called Karla. Karla took beautiful photos of these children to help them find families. Karla takes pictures for people all the time, she's good at it, she likes it, but when the call came to do something for God using the gift He gave her, she said, "Yes."


She stepped out of the ordinary into the extraordinary.


I could go on and on! My aunt makes quilts. Lots of them. She loves quilting so much her husband bought her a quilting machine. She has a whole room devoted to quilts. And you know what? For some "strange reason" she's really good at designing and making them. She quilts for fun, she quilts for work.......and then every year, she makes quilts that are sold to raise money for a children's home in Missouri.


Ordinary becoming extraordinary.


Normal people using their gifts to worship God. Because that's what it is. When we are doing the things God gave us talent to do, it is a form of worship. We're giving back to Him the gift He gave us.


Even if it's just normal.


So, Bezalel is my new hero, and I'm embracing normal. I'm getting on my knees, and with my hands lifted, this is my prayer, "God, I'm so normal, but I really like doing _________. I'm going to stop feeling guilty for doing this every day. I want You to know I'm ready, I am so ready, Lord. Whether it's forty years away like Moses' was, or today, I'm ready to use my normal for You. I'm ready for Your call. I'm ready to build the ark of the covenant, or make flyers, or take pictures, or quilt, or talk, or write, or teach, or crochet, or garden, or cook.  All for the purpose of my ordinary talent to explode into the extraordinary that You created me for."


My life is normal. And it's ok.

A Crooked Adventure

We woke up on a Saturday morning with nothing on the agenda. A strange phenomenon at the Van Patten house. Dan rolled over in bed and said to me, "You wanna float Crooked Creek?" We'd often talked about floating Crooked Creek, but never had actually done it. "Why not," I replied, "We don't have anything else going on."

We got the kids out of bed and kicked preparations into high gear. "How far are we going to float?" I asked Dan as we drove towards the river. "From the bridge to the park," he said. "How far is that?" I asked. "Not sure," was his confident reply.

We have this problem. We love adventure, but we forget sometimes that small children are involved and bite off more than we can handle. I didn't want this to be one of those times. I felt a little relieved as the drive from the park to the bridge was only about 12 minutes. "It can't be that far by river, " I thought to myself.

Dan pulled off onto the side of the road near a small creek. "We're paddling that?" I asked. I was pretty sure we would be walking in that trickle. "No," he said, "that's where we're putting the canoes in. It will meet the river eventually, I think..." "Oh," was my heartfelt reply. We drug the canoes down a long steep embankment to the creek. And by drug, I literally mean "Dan is the only one of the Van Pattens that's actually strong enough to carry a canoe farther then, oh say, five feet. So we push, pull, and drag." That's how we roll, and I vow to workout more every time I do it.

We put the kids in the canoes and Dan and I "drug" the canoes down this small trickle toward what he said would be the river. After we had been doing this awhile, I had my doubts and started committing to more exercise if I made it home again. We passed a dead snake. I don't mind snakes, especially dead ones, but Dan doesn't like them at all. He informed me that if we came across a live one, he and his canoe would be sailing across the water at high speeds past me. "Every man for himself," were the words I think I heard him mutter.

Thankfully this crick did eventually empty into Crooked Creek, which was fairly high and flowing quite nicely. We were all glad to see it, and gratefully hopped into the canoe to float instead of drag.

The float started out perfect! It's a beautiful float, and I hoped it wouldn't be too short. The wildlife  was abundant. It started out with a bald eagle flying right over us. Then there were deer, fish, turkey, lizards, snakes, turtles, and the most exciting of all - a black bear! My first sighting in Arkansas.

After we had been on the river about three days, I decided that the float was definitely not too short, and may never end. Crooked Creek got it's name for a reason! That 12 minute drive by road was absolutely NOT a good judge of the distance on the water! I was getting a little agitated because the child in the front of my boat was not pulling his weight with the paddling. Understandably so though, because we had been paddling for so many days by then. I think he was tired, and he wasn't the only one.

 Every few minutes he would decide to rest from paddling and fish. Fish! I was happy to let him fish when we set out days ago, but by this time all I wanted to do was paddle down this crooked river to the end. Why fish when you can paddle to your car and comfort and real food! But, fish he did, and I tried to humor him. He threw his line in the water as I paddled furiously to try to keep up with Dan, which if no one has noticed is twice my size and has four times my strength. It equals to one paddle stroke to my fifteen..... Zack was in no real hurry to help as he relaxed in the front of the boat and slowly reeled his line in.

"Mom, stop!" He shouted seconds after he begin to fish for the forty-third time. "My line is stuck." "Really? Now?' I thought. Dan was too far ahead to paddle back and help. I was going to have to be a big girl and paddle back up stream to save the line and lure. I was not happy about it. "What did you do that for?" I asked harshly. He looked at me like I might be a crazy woman. "J=
Please just paddle, Mom," he said. We got somewhat close to the stuck line, and he jumped into the river to see what he could salvage. I got out of the boat to hold it in place against the current. As I watched my son wade out into the middle of the river, I heard a commotion on the bank across from us. It sounded like a large animal lumbering through the woods. "That can't be a deer," I thought to myself. I was quite distracted watching the bushes bend under the weight of this creature while Zack was still busying himself with the fishing line. All of the sudden it burst through an opening in the trees - a black bear! I couldn't believe it! Right there, on the other side of the river! Excitement turned to fear as I realized there was a black bear right there on the other side of the river!

"Zack! Zack! Get in the boat!!" I shouted a little frantically. If the bear didn't know we were there before, it did now. I had just made sure of it with my shouting. I was pretty confident that fat black bear was going to come down to the river and eat my child as he collected his fishing line. "Now!!" I yelled, 'There's a bear!!" Of course Zack stopped what he was doing to look because, who doesn't want to see a bear? That made me a little more frantic and caused me to do a bit more yelling. I finally got my son, the fishing line and the pole in the canoe. I grabbed my paddle and took off with the renewed energy that comes with the knowledge that there is a bear swimming after your boat and about to eat your children. If the Olympic committee had been there, they would have signed me up, no questions asked.

Of course, the bear was nowhere to be seen by this time, but I wasn't taking the time to turn around and make sure. I had already let him know that we were on his river, and I was going to do my best to get off of it.

I caught up with Dan quicker than we all thought possible. He was extremely disappointed to have missed the bear sighting altogether, and was much more calm about the whole affair. He suggested we paddle back up the river to take a look. I gave him a "look" that promptly made him decide heading on down the river was by far the best idea he could come up with.

We paddled for another two or three days when we finally came upon the first pull out we had we seen. A road! People! I was excited. "Dan," I asked, "do you know how much farther it is to the car." "No idea," he answered. I was determined to find out. I found a couple of paddlers that looked like they might know the river, and asked how much farther we had to go. "Oh, it's about four more miles," they said nonchalantly, "should take you about another four hours." The look on my face must have been something because they immediately offered to give us a ride out. I didn't hesitate. "We'll take it!" I said. I walked over to Dan to give him the joyful news that we had an out. He wasn't thrilled at all. "No, we can do it," he said. My heart sank as the canoers drove off in the comfort of their car, leaving us to paddle four more hours.

I looked at Dan with the attitude of a martyr. I took in the situation, and came up with what I thought was a fantastic idea. I suggested we ditch my canoe and all six of us ride in his. He looked at me like I was a crazy woman. I was beginning to feel like I was one! "I'm tired," I whined, "I want to go home. I don't want to paddle four more miles with a non paddling helper!" "Why not? You used to not be so wimpy," was the only reply he could come up with.

Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. I thanked God for cell phones, and called my sister and begged her to drive over and bail us out. I even bribed her. I admit it.

She came. God bless her.

We've talked about finishing Crooked Creek ever since that day - it has yet to happen. Maybe when the children are older and the bears are gone.....