Scars Tell a Story

Saturday is my cleaning day.... Has been for years. I usually have till noon to myself which gives me time to crank up the radio and tackle my dust bunnies. We have been blessed to live in a very old house that was built in 1927. Fortunately the house had been occupied by the same owners for 50 years when we bought it. Unlike a lot of home of that age, the interior of our home remained pretty much untouched by "updates". The original oak trim remain unpainted, the oak floors with walnut inlay remain intact. The house was even fortunate enough to have the original light fixtures throughout much of the house. Except for the kitchen area which we reconfigured, we have been very reluctant to change anything of substance in the house. When doing the kitchen our main priority was when it was completed it look as if it was still original to the house. We really feel more like guardians than owners. So, every Saturday I get up close and personal with my hardwood and tile. There are many, many scars on the floors, nicks on doors here and there that we haven't "fixed" because something about those nicks and scratches seem to tell a story... Not only about us, but about the time before we lived here. That's what we love about old homes. The history they hold in the walls, the architecture, the floors. When we were buying the home, the Grandson of the owner showed us through and explained some of the scars that were apparent on the hardwood floors. Something about those stories just make it impossible for me to "fix" the flaw which in my mind would cover up the story. It takes a special kind of person to live in an old house. Someone who is comfortable with the past and can over look the less than pristine. Some days I would love to come home to a nice new home with carpet and central heat and air. But on Saturdays when I'm cleaning my drafty home and dusting the endless nooks and crannies, I cherish the old and I look at the scars as works of art from a generation passed. My heart is a little like the hardwood floors in my home.... It has a lot of nicks, scratches and scars. Each scar tells a story and is a testimony that life goes on, regardless of what happens, life goes on. It also gives me hope that although my heart may not be pristine and flawless, it is a work of art and an expression of a faithful God who never promised we wouldn't have hurts, but has the ability to weave each and every hurt into a tapestry that tells not only our story, but the story of His love for us.

The Dark Dance

I went to get my nails done this week and my friend gave me a belated birthday present. Since I was still a little tacky (not attitude, just the nails), I asked her to open it for me because I couldn't wait to see what it was. She opened it up and it was a framed print that said...

Gosh!!! I got tears in my eyes and I just gave her the biggest hug because she couldn't have gotten me anything more perfect. I won't retell the story, if you wish to read it you can find it at....
http://tbirecovery4sp.blogspot.com/  Let's just say last year was a difficult year. In fact it was so clumsy and awkward it makes even my skiing look graceful in comparison. If you've ever been fortunate enough to see me ski, you would understand what a statement that truly is. My favorite ballet is the Nutcracker. I would go see it every Christmas if I could. Last year had it's ups and downs just like a ballet. It was a roller coaster of emotion, events and drama. I wish I had been a more graceful dancer, but then again if I were graceful, I wouldn't have a story to tell. As Momma would say, "It looked like a bull in a china cabinet." Looking back from this side, I realize more and more just how dark it was. Thankfully I wasn't left out on the dance floor alone and it wasn't the final act of the ballet. I stumbled into His arms last year and did a dark dance in the shelter of His love. I'm living in daylight now and yes, I'm ready to dance, but this time I think I'd rather break out the disco ball and boogie down.

Ecclesiastes 3:4

⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance
  

Cycle of Influence

Yesterday I was thinking of how lucky I am to have such great kids. Two of them are now adults and #3 is on his way. It's such a blessing to watch how they have grown into their own identities, to watch them slowly develop into who they are today. Looking back I have to give credit to the multitude of people

who have influenced their lives. My kids have been blessed by being surrounded by the best. There are countless people who have influenced their lives from the time they were tiny tots to today. Babysitters who played with them, teachers who taught them, grandparents who loved them, an uncle who would wrestle them till his eyes bled, church family who counseled them, children's workers who guided them, youth leaders who admonished them, parents of peers who sat a good examples for them, coaches who challenged them, employers who depended on them and co-workers who befriended them. Countless people who touched their lives in small ways, ordinary ways and outstanding ways. Each touch adding to another, molding, shaping and helping them become who they are today. Most of those people have no clue the amount of influence they've had on them. Some of them did so intentionally, but others did so just by living their lives, doing what

they do every day without thinking twice about the words that were spoken or the deeds that were done. Wow!!! Makes you stop and think doesn't it. When I thought about all of the people who touched their lives,  it reminded me of the quote from Ronald Reagan....

"Surround yourself with the best people you can find, delegate authority, and don't interfere as long as the policy you've decided upon is being carried out".

This seems like an odd quote to associate with parenting, but then again, if you change the word policy to values, it fits perfectly!

It may not have been said with parenting in mind, but it certainly makes sense. Values are important and the more people you have setting examples of your values to your children, the more likely they'll be to "get it". It was always funny to me how my husband and I could suggest something and our kids would think we were totally wacked out, but have someone else say the same thing, and suddenly it takes on a whole different tune.  Little did they know the voices all around them were echoing our values. I'll never credit myself for being a great parent, but I will give myself credit for making sure my kids were surrounded by people who were a great influence on them.  I wish I could reach out to each and every person who helped them become who they are today. The amazing thing is now they are the ones influencing others, who will influence someone else and the cycle continues.


Proverbs 27:

 ¹⁷ As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.
   

Losing the Battle But Winning the War

Ephesians 6:12 (New International Version, ©2011)

¹² For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Today I certainly feel like I lost the battle. My weakness is that all too often I don't recognize my stuggles as being spiritual, but tend to look at them as being all emotions and just the drama of day to day living. If I would just stop for one second and look at things as they are instead of how they appear, I would be much better off. Having been raised in Girl World (which is my personal term for all things female), I sluff things off as just being pure emotion rather than looking at them for what they are which is a spiritual attack from the very bowels of hell. Why, why, why do I do that? Oh wait.... maybe because I'm human. I don't look at myself as a mighty warrior because deep down inside I don't feel like I'm enough of a threat to be in the war (I'm just being... well I won't say real, but I will say brutally honest). Honestly I wish I could just tuck my emotions in a suitcase and ship them to another universe, or give them the strong arm out the back door so I wouldn't have to deal with them. Then again if I woke up every morning prepared for the days battle, I might be a little more successful in knocking a few of those battles out. I've come to know that arming yourself isn't a one time deal but something you do every second of every minute of every hour of every day of your life.  Yep, you got it.... This is a self scholding blog post. So Jac, today you lost the battle but at least you live to fight another day and will rise to win the war because Sister it's not over till the fat lady sings or the trumpet blows. Gird yourself up girl and let's get-er-done, with a little more style tomorrow and in really cute shoes (cause in heavenly Girl World the whole armor includes cute shoes.... They kick butt)

Ephesians 6:11 (New International Version, ©2011)

¹¹ Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.

At The Foot of The Cross On 9/11

My youngest son and I walked hand in hand down the street to his elementary school. It was a beautiful September morning and I was savoring the feel of his tiny hand in mine. I knew a day would come when walking to school while holding my hand would be unacceptable, but today was not that day. We live half a block from his school and I can see the front entrance from my porch, but still the world seems too big and he seemed too small to walk that few steps without me. When we got to the corner I gave him a kiss and he carefully crossed the street with a back pack that seemed to swallow his small frame. When he was safely inside the school, I turned around and headed to the house. I turned on the stove, popped a pan on the burner and waited for it to heat. In the den the T.V. was announcing the days headlines. I popped my head in the doorway to see what was going on in the world around me. The station was on a "live location" with the sight of a burning high rise being filmed from a helicopter. From the skyline I could tell it was in New York. The news reporters were narrating  or trying to narrate on a scene that they really had no information about. They were batting theories back and forth, trying to buy time until a producer could feed them more information in their ear buds. I stood there trying to grasp what was going on and was somewhat amused at the reporters like I always am when they are having to report on the fly. Suddenly, a plane came into view on the screen and right before my eyes it turned and flew right into the high rise as if on purpose. The building swallowed up the plane as smoke and flames burst toward the sky. My amusement quickly left me as I listened to the stunned reporters attempt to describe the surreal image. It seemed as time just froze as I stood there stunned. The rest of the day was a hazy scary fog. I don't remember getting ready for work, but I remember the day seemed eerily quiet. I was the office manager for a busy doctor. When I walked through the doors of the office, I always felt like I was strapping myself into a roller coaster ride that would last 8 hours. But that was on a normal day. Today the phones did not ring, people did not show up for their appointments and the drug reps that came in had the same dazed look on their faces as I knew was on mine. When I got home from work the television was immediately turned on. The only relief I had was knowing all of my family was safe and sound. We watched for hours as the terror unfolded before our very eyes, the images unbelievable, the destruction looked like something from a horror film. I remember my husband turning to our family and saying...  "Today the world has been changed forever"..... How right he was. Weeks later I bought a sticker for my car that said "Never Forget 9/11".....  In the days and weeks that followed that tragedy, the nation united together and turned to the only source they knew could offer comfort, God. There were public displays of faith, public forums of prayer as our nation reached out for a power greater  than weapons and bombs could offer. It was a refreshing difference than the way our nation was on 9/10. In the heat of the battle, even a nation that had turned it's back on God, knew he was the only source of security on which they could depend. Although the act in itself was tragic, seeing a nation on it's knees was a beautiful, humbling sight. Unfortunately the images quickly faded and the hearts that had began to soften returned to their hardened state. It makes me wonder what the next tragedy will be that will once again bring us to where we truly belong..... To the foot of the cross.