Every year at about this time, I case the closets of our home trying to find five different outfits that all compliment one another. Now finding an exact match would be a stretch (unless I made an extra shopping trip), so I settled today for a combination that simply had the same color scheme.
This year, we all went with kind of a Christmas feel . . . to match Makayla's Christmas dress. It is a very fancy dress that her Nana bought her about a week or so ago. One morning, she insisted on wearing that thing out to run some errands. I figured, what the heck? Who is it hurting to let her parade around in this Chris Kringle type gown?
So when I made the announcement this morning, that Makayla would be wearing her dress for the picture, her eyes lit up. She was bubbling with excitement. Fussing with her hair was another story altogether. We started by getting it wet. This brings out her curls, so naturally I played with it to get it looking bouncy and full. Then I combed her bangs down a bit, and played with the top a little.
She was devastated. I wouldn't let her put one of those headband thingy's in (she calls it a lizzie). For the next ten minutes, she cried her eyes out. Mark and I stood firm, and told her she could go play after she was done throwing her fit. The fit didn't last very much longer. A half and hour later, after playing with her brother, she waltzed back into the bathroom saying that she liked her hair now. Women - who can figure them out?
Normally getting the family ready for our annual family photo is a stressful situation. While I am trying to get my hair to cooperate, there is so much more to consider (all of less importance of course) such as Mark's shirt to iron, making sure the kid's brush their teeth and of course my all time favorite - getting out the door on time. I even decided to give Ginger a bath for the occasion so that she could join us. She added a nice touch to the picture, being the furriest one in the bunch.
Things really went pretty smooth today. We didn't have to wait very long. The pictures looked good, and there wasn't a lot of tension. I wonder if it is because the kids are getting older, and they can pretty much get themselves ready. Maybe it has something to do with my own maturity. Through the years, I have learned to let a lot of things go. A hair out of place or a wrinkle in a shirt just doesn't bother me the way it used to.
Our family takes a portrait every year around the holidays. It is really a lot of fun to see how much the kids change. Mark and I aren't getting any older though . . . it's the strangest thing.
God has given me a lot to be thankful for. My family is the greatest blessing in my life. Every portrait - every snapshot . . . has been a picture of God's incredible grace.
Saturday, November 24
Friday, November 23
Black Friday
I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. I don't know what was more surprising for me . . . the fact that I got out of bed at 3:15am on purpose, or the fact that Kohl's had a line of people waiting to get in at 4am.
It was black as night as I jumped into Steph's Tahoe. I understand now why it is called Black Friday. Not a creature was stirring, and I wondered if my brain had any signs of such. Dressed for the snow, I sat eagerly with list in hand and elbows sharpened. I had no idea what I was getting into. But one thing for sure, I was ready for just about anything.
We arrived at Kohl's at 4am, and the doors were opened. I went straight for the items on my list, and I got every single one! Then I headed for the line, which seemed like about a quarter of a mile long. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and my multiple layers made it feel like I was in a sauna. My arms ached with the load I was carrying. But I was determined. One inch at a time, and I finally made it to the check out.
At approximately 5am, we headed across the street to Target. I had to stop at McDonald's. My stomach, although it was not used to being awake that early, was confused and thought it was time to eat. I choked down an egg McMuffin and a hash brown (which was wonderful by the way) and proceeded to stand in line with the rest of the crazies.
Cold wind blew against my jacket, freezing all of the protruding parts of my body - which happened to be my nose. I had on flannel pants, Ug boots, long underwear, a heavy jacket, and a scarf. It may not have snowed after all, but standing in that line for 45 minutes it might has well have.
As the line began to move, I got a little bit nervous. I am not really much for crowds. By the time I got down to the electronic department, I found myself right smack in the middle of one. I managed to find the line, and pay for my items without too much bruising.
I was able to check off all of my Target items by now . . . score!! Stephanie's truck was getting pretty full, but we had quite a bit more to do. Off to Mervyn's, then Walgreen's and a peek at JC Penny's. Once we were packed to the gills, we headed up to Modesto to hit Toy's R Us. Boy, what a zoo.
There were a couple of electronic games I was after, and the line was unbelievable. You had to stand in line to even get into the department, and once inside, the line moved at a snail's pace. With sore arms and tired feet, I pressed on knowing the strain was worth it. I got some really great deals.
Amazingly, I have ALL of my Christmas shopping done, aside from stocking stuffers. Productivity is a big motivation for me, and although today was dangerous and a bit tiring, I would do it again in a heartbeat.
I must go and rest my sore and aching muscles now. We are trimming our tree tonight, and I am so grateful that God has provided a few packages for us to tuck underneath.
It was black as night as I jumped into Steph's Tahoe. I understand now why it is called Black Friday. Not a creature was stirring, and I wondered if my brain had any signs of such. Dressed for the snow, I sat eagerly with list in hand and elbows sharpened. I had no idea what I was getting into. But one thing for sure, I was ready for just about anything.
We arrived at Kohl's at 4am, and the doors were opened. I went straight for the items on my list, and I got every single one! Then I headed for the line, which seemed like about a quarter of a mile long. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and my multiple layers made it feel like I was in a sauna. My arms ached with the load I was carrying. But I was determined. One inch at a time, and I finally made it to the check out.
At approximately 5am, we headed across the street to Target. I had to stop at McDonald's. My stomach, although it was not used to being awake that early, was confused and thought it was time to eat. I choked down an egg McMuffin and a hash brown (which was wonderful by the way) and proceeded to stand in line with the rest of the crazies.
Cold wind blew against my jacket, freezing all of the protruding parts of my body - which happened to be my nose. I had on flannel pants, Ug boots, long underwear, a heavy jacket, and a scarf. It may not have snowed after all, but standing in that line for 45 minutes it might has well have.
As the line began to move, I got a little bit nervous. I am not really much for crowds. By the time I got down to the electronic department, I found myself right smack in the middle of one. I managed to find the line, and pay for my items without too much bruising.
I was able to check off all of my Target items by now . . . score!! Stephanie's truck was getting pretty full, but we had quite a bit more to do. Off to Mervyn's, then Walgreen's and a peek at JC Penny's. Once we were packed to the gills, we headed up to Modesto to hit Toy's R Us. Boy, what a zoo.
There were a couple of electronic games I was after, and the line was unbelievable. You had to stand in line to even get into the department, and once inside, the line moved at a snail's pace. With sore arms and tired feet, I pressed on knowing the strain was worth it. I got some really great deals.
Amazingly, I have ALL of my Christmas shopping done, aside from stocking stuffers. Productivity is a big motivation for me, and although today was dangerous and a bit tiring, I would do it again in a heartbeat.
I must go and rest my sore and aching muscles now. We are trimming our tree tonight, and I am so grateful that God has provided a few packages for us to tuck underneath.
Thursday, November 22
Madness
I won't be writing much tonight, as I have to hit the sack early. Tomorrow morning, before it is really morning . . . I will be hitting the stores with the rest of the crazy people in the world.
It was a lot of fun looking through the sales ads today, writing out my shopping list. My sister-in-law has been at this for years, so she shared her strategy with me this afternoon. Personally I have never participated in such craziness before this, but I figure what the heck? Saving a penny or two can always get my blood a pumping.
It has been a most blessed day. Turkey up to my eyeballs, gravy poured over everything. A wonderful visit with the most important people in the world to me (minus a few).
At the close of this day, I send a prayerful thanks - and look forward to the shopping madness.
It was a lot of fun looking through the sales ads today, writing out my shopping list. My sister-in-law has been at this for years, so she shared her strategy with me this afternoon. Personally I have never participated in such craziness before this, but I figure what the heck? Saving a penny or two can always get my blood a pumping.
It has been a most blessed day. Turkey up to my eyeballs, gravy poured over everything. A wonderful visit with the most important people in the world to me (minus a few).
At the close of this day, I send a prayerful thanks - and look forward to the shopping madness.
Wednesday, November 21
Gratitude
It is difficult for me to write about anything but what is on the forefront of my heart. Today, as I peel away the layers, I find an immeasurable amount of gratitude.
It was two years ago today that I was in bed, suffering a terrible stomach problem. Nausea, vomiting and unbearable pain wracked my frame. I thought it was food poisoning or maybe the touch of the flu. But I had been down for approximately three weeks, and I just wasn't getting any better.
As I munched on a saltine, I prayed that God would make me well enough to go to Nana's for Thanksgiving. I longed for a normal life, one where I could eat and not suffer. I remember tucking myself in extra early that day, so that I would have enough energy to travel over the river and through the woods.
The next day we arrived at Nana's house. The smell of turkey I had always remembered lingered. The same steam covered the windows of her little house. But sadly I was not the same. Carrying my bag of saltines, I attempted to participate by stirring the gravy. But the pain was almost unbearable.
It wasn't just the pain that was so difficult. It was the fact that I didn't know what was wrong with me, and it seemed like I was never going to get better. One day blended into the next until I just couldn't handle the pain a moment longer.
After trying to choke down a very small plate of Thanksgiving dinner, I proceeded to relax in the living room with everybody else - but my body was having a fit. Terrible pain continued all through the night, until Mark finally got me up at about 3am and proceeded to drive me back to Turlock for the emergency room. I cried all the way there, fearing what the hospital would mean. Needles . . . more pain. The thought was unbearable.
As the sun began to rise, Mark dropped me off and then left to take the kids to my in-laws. I sat there all by myself, feeling more alone than ever. I remember getting sympathy from some folks who were waiting to be seen. But their smiles couldn't even touch what I was facing.
Four days in the hospital, undergoing torturous tests and being starved, left the doctors with no answers. Since the pain was gone (because I hadn't eaten or drank anything in 48 hours), they decided to send me home.
Later on that night, after I had eaten again, the pain came back. This time much worse, and I knew that something was terrible wrong. It went from bad to worse, and the next morning I was back in the hospital. After a big protest against being sent home, I finally got an appointment with a specialist the next day. So again, I suffered through the night. The next morning, I was so sick I couldn't even walk into the doctor's office. I needed to be wheeled in. It took all of the strength I had to climb up on that examination table.
One look at me, and the doctor knew that I was in a world of trouble. Hours later, I was admitted into another hospital, where the real torture began. More tests and more doctors revealed the need for exploratory surgery.
It was one of the darkest nights of my life. They would be cutting me open the next day to try and figure out what was going on. A mass in my abdomen had everybody really worried. I cried like a little baby that night. I was terrified to be left alone. My sister stayed behind and talked to me until I fell asleep.
High doses of morphine and unspeakable pain followed the days after surgery. Edometreosis had caused a bowel obstruction. They ended up taking my appendix, one ovary and part of my bowel.
So this Thanksgiving, I need not the aroma of turkey nor a trip to the mall to make things extra special. The air in my lungs, and my healthy digestion brings a deep and lasting gratitude.
Now that I have shared one of my darkest hours with you, what has God brought you through? Was a physical ailment, or more of an emotional storm? Were you bedridden . . . heartbroken? I'd love to hear about it. Send me your story.
One thing I've learned through my experience, is that the darker the clouds, the more vibrant the color. Strangely, turkey isn't just turkey anymore. Every bite has become a feast - and every breath a gift.
It was two years ago today that I was in bed, suffering a terrible stomach problem. Nausea, vomiting and unbearable pain wracked my frame. I thought it was food poisoning or maybe the touch of the flu. But I had been down for approximately three weeks, and I just wasn't getting any better.
As I munched on a saltine, I prayed that God would make me well enough to go to Nana's for Thanksgiving. I longed for a normal life, one where I could eat and not suffer. I remember tucking myself in extra early that day, so that I would have enough energy to travel over the river and through the woods.
The next day we arrived at Nana's house. The smell of turkey I had always remembered lingered. The same steam covered the windows of her little house. But sadly I was not the same. Carrying my bag of saltines, I attempted to participate by stirring the gravy. But the pain was almost unbearable.
It wasn't just the pain that was so difficult. It was the fact that I didn't know what was wrong with me, and it seemed like I was never going to get better. One day blended into the next until I just couldn't handle the pain a moment longer.
After trying to choke down a very small plate of Thanksgiving dinner, I proceeded to relax in the living room with everybody else - but my body was having a fit. Terrible pain continued all through the night, until Mark finally got me up at about 3am and proceeded to drive me back to Turlock for the emergency room. I cried all the way there, fearing what the hospital would mean. Needles . . . more pain. The thought was unbearable.
As the sun began to rise, Mark dropped me off and then left to take the kids to my in-laws. I sat there all by myself, feeling more alone than ever. I remember getting sympathy from some folks who were waiting to be seen. But their smiles couldn't even touch what I was facing.
Four days in the hospital, undergoing torturous tests and being starved, left the doctors with no answers. Since the pain was gone (because I hadn't eaten or drank anything in 48 hours), they decided to send me home.
Later on that night, after I had eaten again, the pain came back. This time much worse, and I knew that something was terrible wrong. It went from bad to worse, and the next morning I was back in the hospital. After a big protest against being sent home, I finally got an appointment with a specialist the next day. So again, I suffered through the night. The next morning, I was so sick I couldn't even walk into the doctor's office. I needed to be wheeled in. It took all of the strength I had to climb up on that examination table.
One look at me, and the doctor knew that I was in a world of trouble. Hours later, I was admitted into another hospital, where the real torture began. More tests and more doctors revealed the need for exploratory surgery.
It was one of the darkest nights of my life. They would be cutting me open the next day to try and figure out what was going on. A mass in my abdomen had everybody really worried. I cried like a little baby that night. I was terrified to be left alone. My sister stayed behind and talked to me until I fell asleep.
High doses of morphine and unspeakable pain followed the days after surgery. Edometreosis had caused a bowel obstruction. They ended up taking my appendix, one ovary and part of my bowel.
So this Thanksgiving, I need not the aroma of turkey nor a trip to the mall to make things extra special. The air in my lungs, and my healthy digestion brings a deep and lasting gratitude.
Now that I have shared one of my darkest hours with you, what has God brought you through? Was a physical ailment, or more of an emotional storm? Were you bedridden . . . heartbroken? I'd love to hear about it. Send me your story.
One thing I've learned through my experience, is that the darker the clouds, the more vibrant the color. Strangely, turkey isn't just turkey anymore. Every bite has become a feast - and every breath a gift.
Tuesday, November 20
Lost and Found
Tucked in the corner of our church's library stands a table of misplaced sweeties. Some are old and dusty. You can tell they've been around for quite a while. They have notes scribbled in, and pages all wrinkled and torn. Then there are the youngin's, all shiny and new with a name engraved in gold.
Then there are all of the ones in between, the student editions, the King James and study mix all sandwiched together in one pathetic line. The larger ones tower over the pint size, but all are equally as important - and were at one time treasured by somebody.
I speak today of our lost and found table which is full of misplaced Bibles. Having lost my own Bible last week, my heart aches with the sight of them. I know that somebody, somewhere must be missing these little beauties. I wonder if they feel as lost as I do.
We have had several people call withing the past week or two, saying that they have lost their Bible. It must be an epidemic or something . . . maybe there is some kind of a Bible caper out there, scoffing up the Word. But I keep thinking that if somebody found my Bible, surely they would want to return it. In the same way, I think about the table sitting in our library. Surely these Bibles belong to somebody - why are they all still abandoned?
Hey, are you thinking what I'm thinking? If I am missing my Bible, and these all need homes then I should adopt one. But I don't think I could really bring myself to do it. I mean to use somebody else's Bible would be like brushing my teeth with a used toothbrush. There is something so intimate about a person's Bible, don't you think? I know that I wouldn't want the person who found mine precious Bible to go fondling through the pages. Those notes were private, between me and the Lord. I would never want to violate somebody's privacy.
I liken this whole scenario to the world's hunger problem (although I know that is a stretch). We do what we can by feeding one child at a time, but what about the millions who go to bed starving every night? It is kind of the same with these Bibles. I look at that table and think, what a waste! These treasures are just sitting on the shelf of life, waiting to be reclaimed. How could I even scratch the surface of a problem this large?
Sitting on a lost and found table or not, I think the Bible gets a great deal of neglect. I am sure that in our home we have at least a dozen, maybe more laying around. What about people in other countries, or even in our own city who have never seen or heard about the Word of God? Just like with food, we could make a difference . . . one Bible at a time.
I am going to pray over that table of Bibles tomorrow. Maybe there is something special God would have me do with that bunch. Putting them into the hand of someone who is starving for a little bit of hope would be a good way to start scratching that surface.
Then there are all of the ones in between, the student editions, the King James and study mix all sandwiched together in one pathetic line. The larger ones tower over the pint size, but all are equally as important - and were at one time treasured by somebody.
I speak today of our lost and found table which is full of misplaced Bibles. Having lost my own Bible last week, my heart aches with the sight of them. I know that somebody, somewhere must be missing these little beauties. I wonder if they feel as lost as I do.
We have had several people call withing the past week or two, saying that they have lost their Bible. It must be an epidemic or something . . . maybe there is some kind of a Bible caper out there, scoffing up the Word. But I keep thinking that if somebody found my Bible, surely they would want to return it. In the same way, I think about the table sitting in our library. Surely these Bibles belong to somebody - why are they all still abandoned?
Hey, are you thinking what I'm thinking? If I am missing my Bible, and these all need homes then I should adopt one. But I don't think I could really bring myself to do it. I mean to use somebody else's Bible would be like brushing my teeth with a used toothbrush. There is something so intimate about a person's Bible, don't you think? I know that I wouldn't want the person who found mine precious Bible to go fondling through the pages. Those notes were private, between me and the Lord. I would never want to violate somebody's privacy.
I liken this whole scenario to the world's hunger problem (although I know that is a stretch). We do what we can by feeding one child at a time, but what about the millions who go to bed starving every night? It is kind of the same with these Bibles. I look at that table and think, what a waste! These treasures are just sitting on the shelf of life, waiting to be reclaimed. How could I even scratch the surface of a problem this large?
Sitting on a lost and found table or not, I think the Bible gets a great deal of neglect. I am sure that in our home we have at least a dozen, maybe more laying around. What about people in other countries, or even in our own city who have never seen or heard about the Word of God? Just like with food, we could make a difference . . . one Bible at a time.
I am going to pray over that table of Bibles tomorrow. Maybe there is something special God would have me do with that bunch. Putting them into the hand of someone who is starving for a little bit of hope would be a good way to start scratching that surface.
Monday, November 19
Brownies
When I got home from work this afternoon, I decided to make a pan of brownies. This was to override another pan that was made last week. See, Mark didn't realize it, but the wrong mix was purchased - leaving an aftertaste in my mouth, and a heaviness in my heart.
I have to admit, I am a very thrifty kind of a shopper. I will either buy the generic brand of something, or whatever is on sale. Aside from a few irresponsible purchases here and there, I guess you could say that I am frugal. But every once in a while, I will splurge on something a little bit more expensive if the generic brand just doesn't cut it. Brownies are a great example.
Being a creature of habit, years ago I was stuck in a rut of buying . . . let's call it the red box of brownie mix. It was all that my Mom had ever bought, so naturally when I grew up and started my own love affair with the red box.
But then one day, I was introduced to the blue box. Richer, moister, chocolaty-er (I know, that isn't really a word) . . . I could hardly believe my mouth. I had to find out which mix this was, and if it was a homemade batch I simply had to have the recipe. When I discovered that it was merely the difference between red and blue, I became puzzled. How could there be that much of a difference? Oh believe you me - there is.
So when I went to the grocery store this weekend, I bought two boxes of blue, which happened to be on sale. It was my way of trumping that red box for good. I shared with my beloved spouse the difference, so I can be pretty sure from now on we won't run into such disgrace.
As I sit and type, my house doesn't just smell like freshly baked brownies, but instead more like a chocolate mountain exploded. I can't wait to dive in after dinner.
I know that tying every little thing to some kind of a spiritual lesson can be viewed by some as over the top, but I love the challenge of trying. Remember now, the red box was generic, cheap and less than a brownie's best. How many other places in my life do I settle for red? Is it because I am stuck in routine? Have I settled for what the generation before has passed down? Maybe I don't even know any different.
The role our friends play along this journey called life is indispensable. Just like all of those years ago, I needed somebody to teach me about the blue box. I was in the dark, putting up with nasty tasting brownies . . . all for what?
In the same way, I need my friends to point out lots of other things that I could never see otherwise. It may be that I am really gullible in one place, or needing to watch my words in another. True friends speak the truth in love. I have a few of these treasured friendships in my life, and they top any brownie - even the ones coated with powdered sugar.
So what about you? Have you discovered the best treat in the world, our precious Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? What are you waiting for? Don't get too caught up in red or blue, He doesn't ever expect a perfected exterior. God is far more concerned with what's inside that box.
If you already know the sweetness of the Spirit's aroma, then take a chance and share the Good News with somebody. You never know . . . you just might be saving a precious soul from the terrible aftertaste of sin.
I have to admit, I am a very thrifty kind of a shopper. I will either buy the generic brand of something, or whatever is on sale. Aside from a few irresponsible purchases here and there, I guess you could say that I am frugal. But every once in a while, I will splurge on something a little bit more expensive if the generic brand just doesn't cut it. Brownies are a great example.
Being a creature of habit, years ago I was stuck in a rut of buying . . . let's call it the red box of brownie mix. It was all that my Mom had ever bought, so naturally when I grew up and started my own love affair with the red box.
But then one day, I was introduced to the blue box. Richer, moister, chocolaty-er (I know, that isn't really a word) . . . I could hardly believe my mouth. I had to find out which mix this was, and if it was a homemade batch I simply had to have the recipe. When I discovered that it was merely the difference between red and blue, I became puzzled. How could there be that much of a difference? Oh believe you me - there is.
So when I went to the grocery store this weekend, I bought two boxes of blue, which happened to be on sale. It was my way of trumping that red box for good. I shared with my beloved spouse the difference, so I can be pretty sure from now on we won't run into such disgrace.
As I sit and type, my house doesn't just smell like freshly baked brownies, but instead more like a chocolate mountain exploded. I can't wait to dive in after dinner.
I know that tying every little thing to some kind of a spiritual lesson can be viewed by some as over the top, but I love the challenge of trying. Remember now, the red box was generic, cheap and less than a brownie's best. How many other places in my life do I settle for red? Is it because I am stuck in routine? Have I settled for what the generation before has passed down? Maybe I don't even know any different.
The role our friends play along this journey called life is indispensable. Just like all of those years ago, I needed somebody to teach me about the blue box. I was in the dark, putting up with nasty tasting brownies . . . all for what?
In the same way, I need my friends to point out lots of other things that I could never see otherwise. It may be that I am really gullible in one place, or needing to watch my words in another. True friends speak the truth in love. I have a few of these treasured friendships in my life, and they top any brownie - even the ones coated with powdered sugar.
So what about you? Have you discovered the best treat in the world, our precious Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? What are you waiting for? Don't get too caught up in red or blue, He doesn't ever expect a perfected exterior. God is far more concerned with what's inside that box.
If you already know the sweetness of the Spirit's aroma, then take a chance and share the Good News with somebody. You never know . . . you just might be saving a precious soul from the terrible aftertaste of sin.
Sunday, November 18
Victory
It has been a victorious day. The Dominators won today's game, which means we take first place!! This is big news in the Reese home.
I wrestled back and forth last night about whether or not I should be at Michael's game this morning. It was either church, or Michael's game. With a meeting scheduled for second service, I opted to go to first and miss Mikey's game.
The whole thing felt all wrong. I've been trying to think of ways to connect with Michael, as he his going through a phase where he doesn't want to be seen with me - I embarrass him. Yes, he is only eight.
It was a quarter to nine . . . okay, honestly it was about two minutes to nine as I drove towards the church. I was dressed in my Sunday best, driving only half of my family to the morning's service. Makayla and Matthew proceeded to head to their classes, and all alone, I took my place in the pew. (I know we don't have pews, but it sounded good.)
My focus went from the empty seat beside me, on to the goodness of our God. Tuning everything out, I could hear God remind me of priorities . . . God, family - then ministry. When the last worship song ended, I knew that I had to go. I just couldn't bear to miss Michael's championship game.
Although I think it is important to put church before other activities, this was no regular Sunday morning. Today it was more about whether or not I would put my own convenience aside for the sake of my son. I never want my children to think that ministry is more important to me than they are. This was God's way of giving me the chance to put feet to my convictions.
When I arrived at the soccer field they were really running behind. Ironic as it is, I never even got to see my big guy play. I did decide to keep my meeting commitment, so at 10:30 had to head on back to the church. I sent a very discreet wave in his direction, letting him know that he was tops in my heart. Even though I didn't get to stay for the whole thing, I am hoping my appearance meant something.
I think a lot of times winning doesn't look the way we expect it to. If I had been stuck in a legalistic rut, I would have felt very guilty about stepping away from the church service this morning. But interestingly enough, God had church prepared for me on the soccer field.
Some folks might argue that God would never call somebody out of church for the day. But voice I heard - the God I know, and love, and serve . . . values relationships above all.
I wrestled back and forth last night about whether or not I should be at Michael's game this morning. It was either church, or Michael's game. With a meeting scheduled for second service, I opted to go to first and miss Mikey's game.
The whole thing felt all wrong. I've been trying to think of ways to connect with Michael, as he his going through a phase where he doesn't want to be seen with me - I embarrass him. Yes, he is only eight.
It was a quarter to nine . . . okay, honestly it was about two minutes to nine as I drove towards the church. I was dressed in my Sunday best, driving only half of my family to the morning's service. Makayla and Matthew proceeded to head to their classes, and all alone, I took my place in the pew. (I know we don't have pews, but it sounded good.)
My focus went from the empty seat beside me, on to the goodness of our God. Tuning everything out, I could hear God remind me of priorities . . . God, family - then ministry. When the last worship song ended, I knew that I had to go. I just couldn't bear to miss Michael's championship game.
Although I think it is important to put church before other activities, this was no regular Sunday morning. Today it was more about whether or not I would put my own convenience aside for the sake of my son. I never want my children to think that ministry is more important to me than they are. This was God's way of giving me the chance to put feet to my convictions.
When I arrived at the soccer field they were really running behind. Ironic as it is, I never even got to see my big guy play. I did decide to keep my meeting commitment, so at 10:30 had to head on back to the church. I sent a very discreet wave in his direction, letting him know that he was tops in my heart. Even though I didn't get to stay for the whole thing, I am hoping my appearance meant something.
I think a lot of times winning doesn't look the way we expect it to. If I had been stuck in a legalistic rut, I would have felt very guilty about stepping away from the church service this morning. But interestingly enough, God had church prepared for me on the soccer field.
Some folks might argue that God would never call somebody out of church for the day. But voice I heard - the God I know, and love, and serve . . . values relationships above all.
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