Soooo, what are you doing with those pruning shears?

Gardens have always been a part of my life. Some of my earliest childhood memories are tromping on freshly tilled soil, watching my great grandparents, grandparents and parents drop seeds and plants into the ground, weeding between the rows, staking up tomatoes and beans, all the while trying to keep my sister and me from stepping on all of their hard work. Then there were the flowers and blooming bushes. Azlaelas, Sweet Williams, marigolds, dalias...lots and lots of things that make the yard look pretty. One would think that I would have a treasure trove of gardening knowledge from spending all of those hot days out there with 3 generations of gardeners…but I don’t. Seriously, I watched all that they did, and never learned a thing about growing anything.

Last Spring, I decided to put on my big girl panties, and follow in the footsteps of all of those generations before me. It all started when I made the decision that I wanted to feed my family healthier, fresher foods, and that the best starting point was to grow our own garden. Eat what we can while it’s in season, and preserve the rest.

So I took my shovel, and I broke ground, all along seeking my dad and Google for help in deciding on what to grow, how much to grow, how to fend off the thievish rabbits that abide in my backyard, and how to keep the bugs away without dousing my sweet little plants in poison.

There is so much to learn, and it’s going to take years of experience before I get it just right. It’s been a very educational experience.

One thing I have learned about myself is that I’m pretty tough. I dug up a 12x12 plot in the rocky clay soil of my backyard by hand, leaving big old blisters all over my palms, and I didn’t even cry.

I tilled it using a rear-tined tiller all by myself. For those who know the joys of a rear-tined tiller, you know what I’m saying. If you’re not sure why that matters, imagine standing behind a machine that could not be more unpredictable and jerky if it were attached to a rodeo bull, and trying to guide said machine in a straight line while it kicks dirt and rocks all over the place, and occasionally decides to do a bunny hop while you try desperately just to hold the thing to the ground. Now do that for 2 hours. Yeah. Crossfit ain’t got nothin’ on a rear-tined tiller.

I was feeling a little Super Woman-ish, but it was when I branched out into flowers that I found my kryptonite. 

First of all, they are harder to keep alive. I have to work twice as hard on the pretty things as I do on the wholesome things because they just don’t come as easily to me. But beyond even that, there’s pruning.

This is a tough one for me.

There are two main reasons to prune a flowering thing. One is to remove a part of the plant that is dead. That’s the easy one because the dead part is ugly, and it just needs to go to keep the plant healthy. The second reason is to make room for new growth. This is the tough part for me because very often, this type of pruning requires one to cut off a part of the plant that is healthy and thriving that, very likely, already has some very pretty blooms on it.

Why? Why the healthy parts? I’m not sure about the science behind it, but for whatever reason, it encourages the plant to grow more blooms, making it more vibrant and more beautiful.

I know that this kind of pruning works. This is what all successful flower gardeners do.

But it’s just so hard to let go of those perfect pretty little blooms not really truly knowing that there will be more to take their place. This kind of pruning takes a certain amount of faith.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the Gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” -John 15:1-2 (NIV)

That’s in red letters, y’all. I love it when God speaks in the most mundane things.

Sometimes the things that God cuts from our lives are not bad things. Friendships, community, positions of influence that bring joy to our lives and the lives of others. These are good things. Things that have produced spiritual fruit, things that make our lives a little more beautiful. But God wants more for us than a few blooms. He wants clusters of blooms, spilling out all over the place where we are planted, adding beauty and joy to our lives. When we flourish in this way, we are seen  as a thing of beauty, but the Gardener is the One who gets the credit.

It’s tough to be pruned in this way. I’ve had people in my life that lifted me up, and taught me things, but they were for a season. They could not go with me to the places that God wanted to take me, and I could not go with them to the places that God wanted to take them. There have been communities that I have been a part of that will forever be a bright spot in my past, but I couldn’t stay there and continue to flourish. That season ended. And there have been jobs and volunteer positions that were wonderful up to the day that God said that it was time to step down, but reluctantly, I said goodbye because God had new growth in mind.

Pruning can be painful, but I would rather have those sweet memories than to hang on until the few blooms that had budded out withered up and died, leaving me with nothing but nothing. The Gardener’s way is so much better.

Empty Places (A happy post, I promise!)

Tomorrow is my 10 year wedding anniversary, and this Sunday is Easter. These two days are so incredibly special to me, and this time of year always brings about a lot of reflection on where I've been in my life, and all that I still have ahead of me.

When I think back on my earliest thoughts and memories, all the way back to the ripe old age of 4 or 5 years old, I've always had my eye on some kind of goal. Some folks that I have known for a really long time will remember that during my middle school years, I was absolutely convinced that I would someday be President of the United States of America, and no one could convince me otherwise. Dream big, or go home...that's my motto. A few years later, I learned how slimy and corrupt politics can be, and decided that I'd rather keep my integrity intact, thank you very much.

At other times in my life I wanted to be a doctor, then a famous author, then a professional singer, a horse rancher, a civil rights lawyer, and the list goes on. But one thing remained constant...I wanted a family of my own.

To be a mother to a few (or a lot) of kids...

To have a home of my own...

To have one husband for the rest of my life.

My sweet hubby and awesome kids!

The best part is that I got it all, folks! My kids are the most awesome little people I know, and I'm blessed to be able to stay home with them full time. We live in a home that keeps us warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and we have everything that we need to thrive. We love and care for each other deeply, and support each other in every little hope and dream that floats in and out of our lives.

And it all sprouted from the most unexpected place...emptiness.

I know that sounds like a pretty dark turn for such a happy little post, but it's not. There was a time when the thought of emptiness seemed like such a desperate, hopeless thing, but I don't see it that way anymore.

Within the constantly evolving list of goals and dreams that I have had for myself, I don't think that I ever really considered that I just wasn't dreaming big enough. Over time, during my college years, it dawned on me that the fulfillment that I was looking for was not possible as long as that emptiness remained. I had to fill that spot, and I tried a lot of things. More goals, people, acts of service...nothing really worked, until I tried to put Jesus in that empty space.

All of a sudden, CLICK! Everything started to click. It didn't take long before I figured out that many of the hopes and dreams that I had for myself were dreams that He had placed within me, but here's the strangest thing. All of those dreams became secondary to becoming closer to Jesus. I was so enamored with all that I was learning about Him and His love for me and those around me that everything else paled in comparison. Up to that point, I had made a real mess of trying to do it all by myself, trying to play by my own rules, but once I gave the reigns over to Jesus, living under His protective and loving hand, He cleaned it all up. He filled up all of that empty space, and welcomed in a rush of God-given desires and dreams all at the same time.

Now my dreams had the fuel that they needed to take flight.

That's the power of First Love.

It was shortly after this remodel of my insides that things on the outside started to change. I met my husband, which was one of the first links in the chain of fulfilled hopes and dreams. Little did I know that while Jesus was working on my heart at my small college in Kentucky, he was also working on Adam's heart at his big university in Tennessee. And little did I know that God would lead Adam to my small college in Kentucky in the Fall of 2001, and that He was aligning our dreams before we ever knew that the other existed, and that He had bigger plans for our future marriage and family than we had ever dreamed.

And there is still so much more to come.

On our honeymoon in NYC! We had no idea what God had in store just 10 years down the road.

These are all reasons that it is next to impossible for me to separate these two very special days, Easter and our wedding anniversary. On Easter, we celebrate Jesus coming back to life after spending three days, dead, in a tomb so that we could have unhindered access to the grace and mercy of God, allowing us to spend all of eternity with Him. Believe it or not, He wants the very best for you, and, believe it or not, His love for us is the very best. My meeting and falling in love Adam would not have happened without Jesus. And had I not met and fallen in love with Adam, I would not be living in this house with these two awesome kids that I love spending my days with, knowing that the same Jesus who has led me into this beautiful life will lead them into their very own beautiful lives. Not perfect, and not always sunny, but always beautiful.

It all started with emptiness. First an empty tomb, and then an empty heart, waiting to be filled by the One who fills and fulfills. Emptiness does not have to be hopeless. It can be the opportunity for a fresh start, and new life.






 

For the sake of transparency...let's talk about feeling sad

I keep thinking that I should write a funny post since we have daily moments of hilarity in our home. My red-headed, too-wild-for-words son is a tremendous source of funny material, and that in combination with a spastic dog, a dry-humored husband, and a too-smart-for-her-own-good, sassy daughter give me an overflowing variety of topics to write about. We love to laugh in our house. Laughter is highly valued in our family, and I adore a good blog post that can make me belly-laugh to the point that everyone in the house wants to know what is so funny (because, of course, they want to laugh, too).

But lately, those posts just won't come out.

As a matter of fact, the reason that it has been so long since my last post is because I was holding out for a real knee-slapping post. A real zinger, you know?

But it won't come.

So for the sake of transparency, let's go with that...

Sometimes, I'm just sad.

Things make me sad. They cause me to grieve, to be dissatisfied with the way things are, to mourn things that are lost.

To be very, very clear, I am not depressed! Actually, I am generally a very happy, positive person. We are blessed beyond measure, and if my life on this earth ended tomorrow, I would feel confident that it was a very full life, indeed.

But, sometimes, I'm just sad, and there have been more of those moments in the past year than usual.

There are different kinds of sad.

Sometimes we get sad because we our feelings have been hurt. We were left out, left alone or ignored. It stings, but it seems that most of the time, there's a good explanation, and we can put on our big girl panties and move on.

Sometimes we're sad because one phase of life is ending, and another one is beginning. This can be so bittersweet. I get a little sad at the change of every season when I have to clear out the kids' closet and drawers to make room for the bigger clothes that they will wear in the upcoming season. It's an indication that they'll never be that small again, but also that, by the grace of God, I have kept them alive long enough to see another season.

Sometimes we are grieved for our friends, and sometimes for strangers. It's part of carrying one another's burdens, and is probably the least selfish kind of sadness. There have been so many very sad situations that I have watched sweet friends go through in the past year, and it can be easy to start getting lost inside of the grief of others, but it's also a great opportunity to get outside of one's self and do something for someone else.

And then sometimes we are deeply sad. The kind of sad that can go from grief to rage in a heartbeat. The kind that leaves us asking, "Why?" The kind that, no matter how badly we want to, we cannot talk ourselves out of feeling, and we struggle to mask from others. This kind of sad leaves our eyes puffy, our head aching, stomach churning, and desperate for either the life we had before the sadness, or for the life that is to come if we can just get ourselves together.

At some point in the last year, I have experienced all of these and more, and while I do not like it, I know that it is almost always a precursor to great moments of joy and breakthroughs. Not for everyone, and not all of the time, but speaking for myself, some of my greatest moments of grief and heartache have been followed up by some of the most joyful times of my life.

Lord knows that I am banking on that now.

I am praying for beauty from the ashes...

for at least temporary relief from back to back disappointment...

for curses to turn into blessings...

for redemption of every ugly and unfortunate thing that has happened.

The beauty of having lived through happy and sad times with and without Jesus in my life is that I can honestly say that they are both sweeter with Jesus, hands down. Sweeter because I know that I am not alone, and that this life is just a wink on the timeline of eternity. Before Jesus, there was no hope from the pit. This life was all that I could think about, so spending any amount of time in grief just seemed like such a waste, which drove me even further into grief. Seriously, if anyone ever got their hands on the hundreds of poems I wrote out of hopeless angst, I think that I would crawl under the table and never come out!

To walk through trouble and heartache with Jesus is like walking toward a light off in the distance. You know it's there. You can just see its glimmer up ahead, but to get there, you're going to trip over a few things. You might drop a four letter word or two when you stub your toe, and you're going to wonder if you're ever going to get there without falling in some hole that you can't even see...but you can still see the light. You know it's there, and you know that it will be so nice when you finally get there. That's where I am. Jesus promised, and He's brought me through some pretty dark places before, so I have no reason to think that He won't bring me through again.

He is up to something, and I'm going to just keep walking...

Mama don't do drama...

In our family, while we place a high value on being confident enough to speak up for yourself when the need arises, we also place a high value on mercy, kindness and love. We strive to see and love people as we believe that Christ does, and the fact is that some folks require a little more effort in doing this than others.  

I have always held the belief that when it came time for my sweet, impressionable little girl to start creating friendships on her own that I would not "forbid" her to play with this or that child, but rather walk with her in teaching her to navigate difficult people and the situations that often come with befriending difficult people. It's preparation for the rest of her life.  

Doesn't that sound so smart?

I surely thought so, but I wasn't counting on first grade girl drama.

Oh, the drama! The kind of drama that my 6 year old started dealing with in first grade has been the kind of stuff that creates successful soap opera script writers and memorable Jerry Springer guests. Has anybody rocked their child in the quiet of the wee morning hours during those first few months of infancy and dreamed of how their sweet little angel would one day shake her finger as though there's something stuck on it at another human being, wagging their head around while strings of bleeped out obscenities pour out of her heavily painted face on national television? No one? Okay, so now you know why I had a change of heart. 

In kindergarten, Abby befriended a little girl who seemed perfectly fine, and she talked about her everyday. She never complained about arguing with this child, and I was so happy that she was having fun with other kids at school, and navigating the beginning of outside-of-the-home relationships with ease. 

But something happened with this little friend over the summer that changed their relationship the following school year. (We'll call this child "Sue" for the sake of simplicity and protecting this child.) 

Almost as soon as first grade began, the Sue drama started. Abby would come home crying because she couldn't make Sue happy. Abby is a people pleaser, and failing to please is just miserable for her. Sue would also forbid Abby to play with anyone else in the class, which sounded pretty typical of drama-heavy little girls, until Sue started using phrases like "you hate me," and "you just want me to be sad," and my favorites, "I wish I were dead/ never born." Sue would also hold her friendship status with Abby hostage to get her to do whatever she wanted, even when Abby was afraid for her own safety.

Whoa! I was not ready for this in first grade. I mean, seriously not ready.

Now, I need to make it clear that I made Abby's teacher aware of what Abby was telling me about Sue, and her teacher was aware of the situation, and was doing what she could to be fair and helpful, and in the interest of both girls. Obviously, my primary concern was for my own child, but working with children in the mental health field for four years made me sensitive to what may be going on with Sue as well. She is still a child, clearly seeking some kind of attention in all the wrong ways, and someone in her every day life needed to be aware of her outcry.

Once I had done my due diligence for Sue, what was I going to do about my own child? 

Have her change classes? No. They would still see each other on the playground every day.

Tell her not to talk to that child at all? No, but I seriously considered this one. That would hardly be the demonstration of love, mercy and kindness that we want to instill into her heart.

What started out as tears after school was turning into her echoing those same statements in our home to her brother and to me. There was a growing hatefulness and emotional manipulation that I had never seen in her before, and that we DO NOT encourage or condone in our home, and I knew where it was coming from. It was clear that she was too young to deal with this kind of friendship successfully, and that had me on high alert.

There was this internal struggle between the desire to "let" some things happen to her so that she can grow and learn, and the knowledge that she is still a very young child, and not quite developmentally ready to deal with the kind of tension and stress that highly manipulative friendships bring to the table.

So I prayed, I corrected, and took every opportunity to talk about how to be a friend. I told her about the girls that I was friends with all through life, and the way that we treated each other.

I told her about my childhood best friend, Rhonda. Rhonda and I met in first grade, and were glued at the hip for most of our young lives. Rhonda never told me that she wasn't going to be my friend because I did something that she didn't like, and the biggest argument that we ever had as children was about the existence of Santa Claus. (She was a firm believer, and I was not, which became a source of tension every December.)

Rhonda and I all ready to go to the Snowball Dance our senior year in high school.

 I told her about my girlfriends/ roommates in college that stuck with me even when I wasn't always there for them. The young women who loved me, and prayed for and with me, and encouraged me to grow in my relationship with God. I told her about how we believed in each other's dreams, and how they played a part in my becoming the wife and mother that I am now. 

Crystal, Amy & Stephanie in the front, and Amanda, myself & Alisha in the back after a reunion weekend a few years after college graduation. I love and miss these ladies so much!

Alisha, Jill, Joann, Stephanie, Crystal, myself & Amanda following Steph's Senior Recital. She's holding daisies because we corporately decided that they were her favorite flower, although she would have picked lilies. We were awesome friends like that. :)

And then I told her about the women that I am friends with now, and how we interact. I reminded her of how Miss Stephaney is so sweet and generous to our whole family, and will make the hour long trek to see us as often as possible. And also of Miss Kara and Mr. Justin, who love her and her brother to pieces, and who love our company almost as much as we love theirs. We've talked about Miss Michele and how she has always loved our family, and has invested in our dreams anytime the opportunity presents itself. We are blessed to have so many amazing people in our lives, that there have been opportunities to discuss healthy relationships at every turn. 

The point of telling her about these relationships is so that she not only sees those relationships, but also hears us acknowledge why they are good. I do not want her very first friendships to be so full of manipulation, guilt and selfishness that she begins to settle into the idea that that's how all relationships operate. My philosophy is this: If my children can learn how to have and identify healthy relationships in life, everything else will follow. 

They will have the confidence that they need to speak up for themselves in a respectful way because healthy people in their lives have made them feel that they are worth being heard.

They will know who and when to ask for help without fear of rejection or judgment because healthy relationships have taught them that true love and acceptance is unconditional.

The security that comes with healthy relationships will give them the space that they need to take leaps of faith because they are surrounded by those that believe in their dreams.

These are the kinds of things that I dream of for my sweet little fresh-faced girl. 

In the beginning of this post, I had stated that I had a change of heart in regards to forbidding my children to be friends with certain children, but I am happy to report that things have gotten better with Sue. Had they not gotten better, the solution to the problem would have resulted in a compete severing of the relationship in one way or another. I will never allow my kids to try to tread water for long periods of time when they are just learning to swim, and I will not allow them to remain in relationships that they are not ready to handle. There are still some issues with Sue from time to time, but no more tears.

After we started talking about what was going on with Sue on a regular basis, Abby started standing up for herself. When Sue would say, "If you want to be my friend, you will...", Abby would respond with, "If you were really my friend, you wouldn't ask me to do that." She started coming home and telling me about how she would talk with Sue about what it means to really be a friend, and that she would let Sue know that if she had never been born, Abby would be really sad. As much as I love seeing a great report card come walking through the door, this is the kind of thing that really makes this mama proud!

More Than Just A Job...

Being pushed around the house in a laundry basket train is on of our their favorite activities.

Being a stay-at-home mom has its fair share of perks and challenges. The greatest perk is job security. No one else wants to do what I do in my house, so if the laundry doesn't get touched for, oh, say, a week, I'm not going to get fired or written up. Life will move on, and I'll get to it when I get to it.

On the other hand, if I don't ever do the laundry, it REALLY won't get done. There is no delegating most of my responsibilities. There is no on call backup system in place for when I get sick or need a personal day. Perhaps when the kids get older, they can pick up some chores, but for right now, this is mostly a one woman show.

Allow me to stop the train right here for a moment to clarify that, yes, my husband also lives here, and yes, he could do a little more, but I, personally, don't ask that of him...often. He holds down jobs (plural) outside of our home, and works very hard all day long, just like me. When he has time off, I don't usually do anymore than is absolutely necessary so that we can spend that time together, and we wouldn't be able to spend that time together if he had to walk in the door and start yet another task. Yes, we may have to sometimes clear away a space on the couch to snuggle for the evening, and by the end of a weekend off we look like we're living in an episode of hoarders, but this is our home. Not a to-do list. We do a really good job of living in it. Anyone who doesn't like that...Tough. Noogies.

Back on track...

So yeah, I get crabby. I get resentful and negligent of my responsibilities when it feels like I'm up to my neck in dirty dishes, and demands for snack time and bath time and playtime, and the plumber needs to be called again, and the car is due for an oil change, and and and...

I have the right to be crabby, right? Right?

Well, no, actually. I don't. It doesn't mean that it won't happen anyway, but it's not my right to let my emotions rule my day.

A few days ago, the Lord brought this verse to my attention...again:

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." -Colossians 3:23-24 NIV

I've read it a million times. I know this one. Got it. Moving on.

(Oh, how God must roll His eyes and sigh at me when I treat His Word in this way. Much the same way that I roll my eyes at my kids when they insist they know how to do something that I know they have not yet mastered.)

Tuckered out after a day at Dollywood.

As I was putting my son down for his nap this afternoon, he asked me to sit and sing to him before leaving the room. Sounds like a sweet little request, right? Well, I know better than that. What started out a few weeks ago as a sweet little request has become another way to delay the inevitable commencement of the afternoon nap. Sneaky little monkey.

I was feeling generous (not to mention that he's just so darn cute, sneaky monkey or not), so I sat down in the rocking chair beside his crib, and promised him one song. As I was choosing the most soothing song from our sleepy time repertoire, Colossians 3:23-24 came roaring into my mind.

God was telling me in the way that only He can, 

"Sing to him like it is the a job that I gave you to do...because in this moment, it is the job that I am giving you to do. And, please, do this for your son as though you care what I think."

That stung a bit, but in the very sweetest way.

I sang to him.

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus...

And when I sang to him, I felt joy that He notices, and that He cares. I felt joy knowing that I am not just doing a job that no one else wants to do, but I am doing the thing that He made me to do in this season of life. No one can do this the way that I can. If I'm really honest, this was the first time that I can remember truly being humbled that God would choose me to mother my two little turtles over anyone else in the world. 

Wow.

It's so easy to fall into self-pity when no one seems to see or notice what you do, day in and day out. But the truth is that God sees, and He wants to reward us for a job well done. For me, it is so much easier to find joy in the seemingly mundane when I know that it puts a smile upon my Daddy's face.

I don't ever want to forget this sweet correction from my Heavenly Father, but I no doubt will. Perhaps it will be the day that my little feller stuffs the toilet full of toilet paper...again.

Or when he tears apart my brand new bag of potting soil all over the deck.

Or when my little lady gets into my craft supplies and makes an irreparable mess of my yarn because she just wanted one little piece for her craft project. 

Or when she pushes a snowball into her brother's face just as I snap the picture.

It takes daily reminding that in raising, serving and investing in my children, these little treasures that He has given me stewardship over, it is for Him. He has wonderful plans and purposes for their lives, and He wants ME, of all people, to be the first on the ground to help prepare them for all that He has for them. The reality of that is enough to bring a person to their knees, as it well should.

I'm back!

...with a new blog name, a new focus, and hopefully a more regular schedule. :)

My good friend, Jenny, over at Rediscovering Yesterday has graciously invited me to be a guest blogger as part of her "Share the Love" series, and has put a fire under my butt to get back on the writing/ blogging wagon. Thank you so much, Jenny! Check it out!

If you've never read anything on Rediscovering Yesterday, I encourage you to do so. Jenny is a very talented lady with some great things to say.