Twelve

I just tucked in my 11 year old.  Tomorrow everything will change.  She’ll be 12.  I can’t believe that my daughter is TWELVE!  I have a 12 year old!  Did I mention that she will be T-W-E-L-V-E?  As I watched her get cozied up in her bed, my mind flashed back to her beginning.  Her story could have been so tragically different.

Due to some complications during birth, my daughter was intermittently deprived of oxygen.  Her faint voice cried out as she was surrounded by multiple nurses attending to her.  She was my first baby.  I had no idea anything was wrong, but my Mom who was there for the birth knew something wasn’t right.  Babies aren’t meant to come out completely purple.  I got to see her for a few seconds as they hovered her oxygen masked face over mine so I could look at my baby girl before she was whisked away, and the room was quiet.  About a half an hour later a nurse came in and said “Your baby is very sick.  We’re doing all we can.”  It wasn’t until I heard those words that I realized how dire my brand new baby girl’s situation was.  

I was able to be wheeled over to see her in the newborn intensive care unit.  After scrubbing my hands and forearms clean for a full two minutes I was wheeled past tiny little babies in huge incubators.  Then, we came to my sweet baby girl, we hadn’t even named her yet.  As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t have an official name for 5 days.  She had wires coming from everywhere, and a huge clear box over her head that was pumping pure oxygen into her tiny little lungs.  As we listened to the beeping of her heart monitor, all we could do was hold her little hand, stare at her beautiful face and pray that God would heal this sweet miracle.  I looked into her eyes and I saw her Daddy.  To this day she still looks like my husband.  

Two days later, I left the hospital…without my baby.  It was so painful and felt so wrong, but I know now that so many Moms never get to take their babies home, and my heart aches for them.  I remember feeling guilty for sleeping through the night while my baby was being watched over by a nurse whose name I didn’t even know.  We visited her everyday, I would trim her little nails, or just sit with her.  Three days after she was born, we held her for the first time, and six days later, on my birthday I got a call from the hospital.  “You can come take your baby girl home!”  

When we got into the hospital lobby I had to sit down.  I felt faint, nauseous and terrified.  How could I keep a baby alive that had been so dependent on machines for survival?  What if she dies?  After prayer and encouragement from my family, we went and put her little hat on that had a HUGE purple bow, (which looking back now was rather obnoxious), and off we went.  I am so thankful for the healing that God brought my baby girl who is now twelve years old!

Oh, by the way, we named her Emi.  She loves when we talk about her story, and what a little miracle she is.  The truth is, every single one of us is a walking, talking miracle. We all started out sick at one point or another, we all needed healing.  Healing takes time.  No one can dictate how long your healing should take, or wonder why you’re not there yet.  So, take your time, let the healing happen.  God healed my baby girl.  It wasn’t necessarily the machines, or the talented medical staff.  God reached down, and decided that He had more for Emi here on earth.  You, my friend are a living, breathing person, and that means that God has more for YOU, He is not finished with you!  Healing is coming, just wait and watch the miracle.

P.S. Happy Birthday Emi!  We love you!

Quality not quantity

A couple years ago, it was a Saturday night service at Refuge Huntington Beach. A church service just like any other. My husband was at his usual post; the sound booth. You can see everything from up there. He peered over to his right to see a woman with grey unkempt hair. Her clothes were tattered, and her tired eyes showed that life had been hard. All of her belongings were organized neatly in a utility cart she had rolled in to the sanctuary with her. She sat quietly in the back of the room.

After a few announcements, the offering bags began to be passed as the worship team played a song. My husband glanced over at the woman as she reached into her cart with her wrinkled hands. She pulled out a jar full of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. Goosebumps covered his arms as he watched her empty half of them into the offering bag! Remind you of anything? It was exactly the story told in the book of Mark 12:41-44.
 Jesus sat down near the collection box in the Temple and watched as the crowds dropped in their money. Many rich people put in large amounts. Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions. For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.”

May we all be so inclined to give, not out of our abundance, but our need. When we give out of our abundance it makes sense, we can afford to. What about when you can’t afford to? When we give out of our need, we are showing God that we trust Him to provide.

Will you give to God out of your need? Know that He isn’t into quantity, He’s into quality. Namely the quality of your heart. What state is your heart in? Are you sold out, and abandoned to do whatever God calls you to do, to give whatever He calls you to give? I challenge you. The woman had about as much money as my kids have in their piggy banks, yet she was quick to give it away. May we be quick to answer God’s call to give, no matter how much He requires of us.

A lot can happen in 3 days

It was about 3 years ago.  I couldn’t process the words I was hearing.  I turned down the radio, pressed my phone closer to my ear and exclaimed “WHAT?”  “We need to move in 3 days.” is what I heard my husband say on the other end of the line.  I could feel my face get hot with confusion, anger, and sheer panic!  I was speechless.

“Are you still there?” Jessie said.  “…….yes…..” I said.  I had no other words.  How on earth were we supposed to find a new home, pack and move in 3 days….that’s only 72 hours!  On top of that, it was a Wednesday.  I had to lead worship that night at my home church, then another local church Thursday night, then Friday morning at another church’s women’s ministry.  Not to mention the weekend services at my home church, my daughter’s birthday party, and all my other domestic duties at home! How could this be done??  “It’s going to be OK” he said.  “We’re going to be ok, we’ll work it out.”

I fought the tears that were streaming down my face.  “What are we going to do?”  I thought.  My oldest daughter Emi was sitting in the front seat being completely silent.  I turned to look at Mia, my youngest daughter in the back seat to find her laying down on the back seat with her hands covering her sweet little face.  “Mia what’s wrong sweet girl?”  I said, my voice trembling, as I tried (unsuccessfully) to hide the fact that I was upset.  “Are you crying?”  She sat up with tears streaming down her face.  “How will we find a place to live?” she said.  She was 7 at the time and I’m sure her poor little heart was overwhelmed.  I’m sure she was picturing our family standing on the side of the road with a cardboard sign that said “Anything will help”.

I realized I had a choice.  I could choose to be a symbol of fear, panic and uncertainty to my kids. Or, I could choose to be a symbol of solidarity in the promise that God is watching over us.  I chose the latter.  Here was my chance to show these sweet little girls what faith in God looks like in real life!  I confidently wiped the tears from my eyes, sat up straight, sweetened the tone of my voice, and said “We’re going to be just fine girls.  God already has a house picked out for us!  We just need to find it!  And, if we can’t find it in 3 days, we have plenty of friends and family!  We’ll be OK.  We will have a place to stay.  We just have to trust in God”.  “But 3 days??” Mia said “That’s like, today, then tomorrow, then that’s the 3rd day?”   Fighting back any fear or doubt I replied “Yes, you’re right, but you know what baby girl, our God is really big!  He owns everything, so finding us a house is no big deal for Him!”

I was so firm in the belief that God had a place for us, and nothing was going to shake that.  I wasn’t sure how it was going to work, but we had moved in less than 3 days in the past and we could do it again!  My faith was strong and unshakable until…one house fell through…then another.  One didn’t accept dogs, another was too expensive, and yet another was too far, etc etc etc.  On it went until I began to lose heart. And I got angry.  It wasn’t OUR fault that the landlord was foreclosing!  Why should WE have to be so inconvenienced because of HIS problems.  I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.  I wanted to call him up and tell him that he had the potential to ruin my daughter’s birthday. Momma bear was in the house, and she was on the warpath!

Then came Friday.

We were looking at 2 different houses.  One was perfectly in our price range, but the one we really liked was slightly higher in price than we were able to pay.  Quietly as we were walking through the home my husband and I had said in passing “I mean, if the rent was lowered by even $100 we would definitely take it!”  We didn’t feel comfortable asking though, so we were about to drive away, when the landlord walked up to the car window and said “Look, if it makes any difference, I can knock $100 off the price.”  WHAT?  That was WAY too precise!  Weird right?  Or was it?  Well, of course we took her up on her offer and thanks to some really great friends, we were able to move all of our belongings with time to spare before our three day deadline!  This even gave our new landlord an opportunity to see how the body of Christ cares for each other!  I remember her comment “Wow, all these people are your friends!?”  

Is it odd that we had three days to move, and we found a house in two?  Is it odd that this home was almost the exact same size, but had an area for our new dog?  Is it odd that our landlord was a single mom who could use some help fixing up her place, and my husband just happens to be pretty handy? NOPE!  This was definitely no coincidence.  Because that’s how God works.  He doesn’t work on our timetable.  He changes things when HE’S ready to change things.  All we have to do is be ready to roll with the punches, and move when He says move.  (Sometimes literally)

P.S. for a short time you can head on over to my music website to download 5 live acoustic songs!  Hurry, they won’t be there long!

Deep Tissue Massage

We have the best chiropractor.  He prefers to have his patients receive a massage before he gives them their adjustment.  No arguments there, I’m always up for a nice massage.  I was sitting in his office reading my Real Simple magazine in the lobby, when I heard my name called.  I followed my massage therapist down the hallway, we exchanged the usual pleasantries.  Once we reached the massage room, she asked, “What sort of pressure would you like today?”  I really don’t like to pay someone to gently scratch my back, so I replied with “Nice firm pressure…deep tissue please.”  She said that would be no problem, and she left the room long enough for me to get situated.  Before I carry on with this story, there’s something you need to know about me.  I’m one of those people who will not acknowledge that something is too hard for me.  For example, if I am carrying a box that is far too heavy for me and someone offers to carry it, I will plant a fake smile on my face, and assure them that I am just fine, even though it feels as if my arms will dislocate and fall off my body at an given moment.  I know, I know, it’s pride, I’m working on it!

Okay, back to the massage room.  As she begin working on my neck and shoulders I tried to breathe deeply and relax.  Suddenly something that felt like an iron fist moved along my back up to my shoulders.  My eyes popped wide open, and my mouth gaped in a silent scream.  What on earth?!  Is this the same person who walked me down the hallway only moments earlier, she looked completely harmless!  Maybe she had secretly been replaced by Attila the Hun?  “Wow!” I thought to myself “she isn’t kidding around”.  However, as you now know how prideful I am, you’ll realize that I am not one to back down.  I decided that I was just fine, and just focused on breathing a bit deeper and focusing on relaxation.  This was becoming increasingly difficult, on account of the fact that my sweet little massage therapist was evidently trying to kill me, one muscle at a time.  With every movement she made, I felt as if I was being crushed to death.  “How’s the pressure?  Is it too much?”  she asked in a sweet voice. With a slight grunt I said “hmph…nope!  It’s great….hmph….perfect”.  I wasn’t about to look like a weakling, I was going to handle this. 

I did my best to hide my utter agony, wondering how much time had passed.  I’m not sure how good I was at  hiding my intense urge to scream “OH MY STARS, what are you DOING!  Trying to KILL me?!?!”  I felt like I was stuck in some crazy wrestling match, and I was fighting to not be the first one to call “Uncle”.  I clenched my fists the entire time like a woman giving birth, and flashed back to the therapeutic breathing techniques I used when I was in labor.  “Hoo, hoo, hee, hee”.  After an hour of this torture, she whispered “Alright we’re all done, I’ll wait outside while you get ready”.  I was exhausted.  It had been one of the most unrelaxing massages I had ever had in my life!  As I left, I thanked this “sweet” little powerhouse of a masseuse for my “delightful” massage and told her to have a great day.  I could just imagine her laughing with her friends after work that day “…ha ha ha, and THEN she said she wanted DEEP TISSUE!!  Ha ha ha ha”.  I was the fool for sure!

After my adjustment, I was walking to my car and it dawned on me that I had simply been too prideful to tell my therapist that I just couldn’t take anymore, that it was too much pressure, and that I needed her to lighten up.  As I thought more about this I realized that I often do the same thing with God.  Have you ever felt in over your head, beat down, discouraged, and just out of ideas for how anything will work out or get better?  Isn’t it amazing how long we sometimes wait to turn our eyes to Jesus?  I know that I have been guilty of only turning to Jesus when I have run out of ideas of how to fix my situation.  It makes me think of one of my favorite hymns “What a Friend we have in Jesus”.  I am always convicted when I sing the words:

"Oh what peace we often forfeit Oh what needless pain we bear

All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer”

You see, Jesus has His hand on the switch and His eyes on us.  He knows how much we can handle, and He will never give us more than we are able to handle.  Ah, but here is the catch…us humans are true and complete weaklings!  Contrary to what we think, we have no strength of our own, and any power we have comes from Jesus Himself!  The Bible says that in our weakness, He gets to show us how strong He really is! (2 Corinthians 12:9)  We so often don’t allow God the opportunity to show us His greatness because we are too busy trying to handle the pressure without buckling underneath it.  Just like I was too prideful to admit that I truly felt like my massage therapist was trying to kill me like a boa constrictor kills its prey, we are often so prideful, or too caught up in ourselves,to admit that we need Jesus.

Friends, my heart’s desire is to lean on Jesus for everything.  I want Him to be my light, my very breath, to live through me, and cause me to want to follow and obey Him!  God’s word says in Ezekiel 36:26-27 that God will give us a new heart and new desires so that we will WANT to follow Him!  There is nothing weak about letting go and allowing God to take up the slack that we cannot handle.  He is a loving and kind God who waits to give us the strength we need to get through every day, every hour, every moment.  His power is greater than any human strength we can muster.  So, when you are beginning to feel overwhelmed, before you are just bursting at the seams with stress, stop whatever it is you are striving for, and turn your agenda over to God.  His ways are perfect, and He will never steer you wrong.  Your life is safe in His hands.  He’s not only your life planner He is your life protector.  When you walk with Him, you are safe, when you don’t you are easily crushed.  So, if  you’re feeling like you are in a vice, and having the life squeezed out of you, call to The Lord and ask Him for help.  He’ll either tone down the pressure, or make you strong enough to bear it.  

Be The Pansy

I’d never had a window box before, but I always wanted one.  Well, lo and behold, I finally got my window box.  Our tiny little house came with the sweetest little wooden box hanging outside our kitchen window.  Our landlord had planted some pansies, but they had unfortunately not done so well, and withered more every day.  I’ve never had much of a green thumb, but I decided to make this window box my project.  So, off I went to Home Depot to get some more pansies.  How hard could it be right?  Just throw in some plants and they’ll grow!  Famous last words.

It didn’t take long for the pansies to die.  I felt pretty silly asking friends why my pansies weren’t surviving.  I mean c’mon, their name is synonymous with the word ‘sissy’.  Even bullies use it when they pick on the little nerdy kid in school, “hey c’mon you pansy!”

Well, first came the snails.  Those ravenous little herbivores made a Las Vegas buffet out of my window box.  Not for long though, good old Morton’s salt took care of them.  Forgive me for being morbid, but I rejoiced when those little suckers met their doom!  So, I moved on to snapdragons.  Not much luck with them either, they withered away in no time.  I’d kept them moist, I’d let them dry out.  I’d made sure they got enough sun, I tilled the soil.  Nothing I did has made the slightest bit of difference.  They were, without question, going to die.  I was fighting a losing battle.  Maybe I should’ve planted weeds, they never seem to have any trouble do they?

One day as I was doing the dishes, I peeked out at my sad little window box. I’m not sure what I was hoping for.  But, there amongst a sad, shriveling garden of pink snapdragons was a single, solitary bright yellow pansy.  It is beyond me how that little flower made it’s way through the soil!  But of course, true to form, God taught me a lesson through that measly little flower!  I’ve seen it embroidered on a pillow somewhere “bloom where you’re planted”.  We are all planted in our own little places in life.  Some of us are single, some married, divorced, widowed, working, students, unemployed, parents, teachers, pilots, housekeepers, nannies, musicians, or maybe you’re retired. No matter what your place is right now, you have been planted right there at this moment by God, it is no coincidence.  He has you right where you are for a purpose, and now it’s your choice.  Are you going to grow or are you going to shrivel up and die?

The Bible says that God has given us everything we need for life.  In the same way I gave my flowers soil, water, sunlight, and some TLC, God is faithful to give us all the tools we need to thrive in the place He has us.  What if God has planted you in a place where surviving seems impossible? Can you still grow?  Better yet, can you THRIVE?!  Absolutely!  It’s not your power, it’s God’s power working in you.  

Obviously, my window box, for whatever reason, is not conducive to growing much of anything, but somehow that little flower had enough oomph to push it’s little pansy self up through the soil.  It was determined to soak up the sunlight beaming down on it!  

So, even if all the other snapdragons around you are wilting and fading away, it is up to you to do the growing!  C’mon you pansy, you can do it!