Her Legacy Lives On

I recently lost my mother-in-law to cancer. Twice she had beat it with great beauty and poise. The third time, however, proved too much. She fought a good fight but in the end, the aggressive disease overcame her frailty.

Those of us left behind daily experience the soreness from the lonely void of losing someone dear. You see, Sheila--known affectionately to our family as Mimi--was someone whose life shone brightly against the dismal landscape of hardships. You could call her up at any given time for a dose of 'sunshine on a cloudy day'. In short, Mimi was our family's biggest cheerleader. After a visit or phone call, you stood a little taller and felt a bit more confident to tackle whatever obstacle was currently in front of you. In the book of Acts, we are introduced to a man known as 'Barnabus' which means 'Son of Encouragement'. There is much to be gleaned from the life of Barnabus in the scriptures and I encourage you to study this Godly man who accompanied Paul on the first (of many) missionary journeys. I picture Barnabus as a kind-hearted and gentle soul, universally liked by all. Perhaps Barnabus and Paul were such a fine team on those early trips because they were such opposites? Could it be that Barnabus softened the edges of Paul's intense forthrightness with his tender and generous affection?

Soften the edges...indeed that was what Mimi did as our family's Barnabus. She softened the blow of life's hardships by helping us see the silver lining. I honestly sometimes pictured her on the sidelines with her pom-poms held high, waving us on down the field towards the end zone. She constantly reminded us of who we could be. She believed in our potential and spoke it over us on a regular basis. You see, the word encouragement has the word 'courage' right in the middle of it. With her encouragement, she imparted courage. Courage to face the scary or hard. Here's the thing though, lest you think it was some kind of pep talk full of psychological-feel-good babble. Mimi's message was doused and lathered up in God's unconditional love. His love ignited and gave life to her words. There was a song some years ago by Toby Mac called 'Speak Life'.  Some of the words of that song include:

Lift your head a little higher
Spread the love like fire
Hope will fall like rain
When you speak life with the words you say
Raise your thoughts a little higher
Use your words to inspire
Joy will fall like rain when you speak life with the things you say

That's exactly what she did. She spoke love. She spoke life. And it rained down joy and hope no matter our circumstances.

Often it's time to enter a new season whether or not we feel equipped and ready. With Mimi's recent passing came a passing of the baton. Nothing would make her prouder than for those of us that knew her to carry on her cheerleading. It's our turn to take up those pom-poms and offer strength through words. It's time to take all that we've learned through her many years of support and fan it into flame for God's glory. I know if she were here, she would also gently remind us of a very important thing:  it wasn't actually her doing all that encouraging life-speak, but God in her. She was just the willing vessel.

God knows how clumsy and ill-timed we are. He knows the passing of the baton may not be smooth. In fact, we most likely will drop it a time of two. But are we willing to try? It's not the falling down but the getting back up and striving towards the finish line that matters.

Every time we choose to speak God's life-giving words to those around us, Mimi lives on. May we grab that baton and run the race that her legacy has called us to! I can see her proudly jumping up and down, waving us on from the sidelines, can't you?

Hindsight is 20/20 Vision

As we go into 2021, I wanted to post my thoughts on 2020 before laying the year to rest. It sure has been one for the books, hasn't it? Our family chooses 'One Word' at the beginning of each year. Now if you know me, you know I struggle to choose just one and often have to choose two or three. Not only that, often times a few other significant words filter in and out of my life as the months unfold. Last January, I chose the words 'Vision' and 'Joy'. As 2020 comes to a close, I can definitely attest to the phrase, 'hindsight is 20/20 Vision', can't you? Also, 'Joy' is a word that I had to cling to and remember on the daily in 2020--that joy is not based on circumstances.  True joy comes from our relationship with the Lord.  Some days I won on that front and some days I lost massively.  My emotions were up and down as long as I let them be driven by the ever-changing pandemic rules and the ever-changing news. Joy could only be maintained by focusing on the constant and non-changing 'Truth' of God's Word. Which brings me to the third word that God impressed upon my heart beginning in April: Truth. God's Truth is the foundation of all things. When absolute truth is questioned and taken down, chaos ensues. The only way to have 20/20 vision is through the lens of God's Truth, not the world's truth. 

Vision. Joy. Truth. The three words that themed up my year. So here is a poem and some thoughts that pretty much encapsulates my navigation through this crazy year and brings those three words together as I officially say good-bye to 2020. 

2020 VISION

2020 began with such hope and grandeur,

Many ushered it in with a roar,

Flashbacks of flappers with red lips and spark, 

Full of jazz and carefree to its core.

 

It was just getting started and finding its groove,

When the year came to a screeching full halt,

We ‘sheltered in place’ to help slow the spread,

Covid-19 began its assault.

 

With little facts known, we tuned in to the news, 

Searching for inklings of hope,

Yet report on report full of gloom and of doom,

Led to panic and fear in full-scope.

 

Schools were shut down, college kids were sent home,

Virtual learning became the new norm,

Sports seasons, proms, graduations annulled,

Full-paused to weather this storm.

 

‘Two weeks’ turned to months and while we sat in the wait,

You’d think things couldn’t get worse,

Racial tensions, burning and rioting occurred,

2020 seemed under a curse.

 

Governors created rules upon rules,

Trying to find an appropriate defense,

If I heard it once, I heard 1,000 times,

‘None of this makes any sense!’

 

Story upon story contradicting each other, 

Not knowing what’s fake and what’s fact, 

Everyone’s got an opinion to give,

A rebuttal for each rendered stat.

 

And if that’s not enough to contend with this season,

Throw in a contested election,

Half of the people believe they were cheated,

The other half find no objection.

 

Divisiveness, fighting, day in and day out,

No one wants to conform,

We yearn for some peace in these uneasy times,

A Savior to come and transform…

 

Unemployment, sickness and loss of loved ones, 

A sampling of what this year’s sown,

But perhaps the worst ache of all of these plights

Was having to do it alone.

If you find more than ever you’ve struggled this year,

To make sense of all the confusion,

If you’ve wrestled with fear, worry, sadness or doubt,

Or felt just a tad disillusioned.

 

My friend, I can tell you that you’re not alone,

I’ve been conflicted with all the above,  

Recall from Ephesians this battle we wage

Is not against flesh and blood.

 

From the day Christ was born there has been a great war,

A full-scale attack on the Truth,

The enemy masquerades as an angel of light, 

He lies with such polish and couth. 

 

As Christ’s return draweth near, as told in His Word,

Lawlessness will be on the rise, 

Lovers of pleasure and money and self,  

Exchanging God’s Truth for cheap lies.

 

Communism? Globalism? Is this for real?

Surely it’s just a bad dream?

The Great Reset? A New World Order? 

Is this a Left Behind Meme?

 

As I ponder these days I can’t help but believe,

His return is closer than ever,

In what is your hope? Comfort, status or health? 

To what do you find yourself tethered?

 

In what is your hope? Is it climate control?

In what is your false surety?

Is it government, stocks or your guns where you find 

A sense of security? 

 

I tend to get caught up in worldly events, 

Making or breaking my mood,

Yet gently I hear: ‘This is not your home!’

He reminds me: ‘You’re just passing through.’

 

He’s Overcome all the trouble you see, 

A Savior we call Prince of Peace

The Author of Truth, Hope and Love—fix your eyes!

In Jesus your striving can cease.

 

Do you hear Him? He’s calling! Return and Repent!

Wake up before it’s too late,

Your Father is calling His Prodigal home, 

With wide open arms He awaits! 

“You are a king then?” Pilate asked. “You say that I’m a king,” Jesus replied, “I was born for this, and I have come into the world for this: to testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to My voice.”  “What is truth?” said Pilate.  John 18:37-28

 

From a young age I was curious and investigated everything. My friends and I walked around with our notebooks, tape recorder and walkie-talkies, ‘spying’ and recording what was going on around us. I suppose I was the James O’Keefe of my time—LOL. I started out a journalism major in college but switched to accounting. I ended up working in public accounting, choosing to be an investigator of numbers rather than people and events. My first love has always been writing though. Including a letter or poem with our Christmas card has been an outlet for something I wish I did more of. So thank you for indulging me all of these years. Since I only get one opportunity every 365 days, I go full throttle and can be long winded; if you have read this much already, I thank you kindly.  Also, because this year has been extra dramatic, I have even more extra words than usual. So forgive me in advance . Anyway, back to my story.

 

When I became a mom, I retired from auditing numbers, but I never lost the love for digging and investigating. I don’t know if this is taught anymore, but I was always told growing up that there are no stupid questions. I have to say that the year of 2020 sure has been quite the year of unanswered questions. The questioning of journalistic stories that aren’t backed up with complete facts and stats have been met with a deafening silence. We are being asked to believe so many things that don’t make logical sense but we are not allowed to question it.  

 

I find this scripture so fitting for not only the current times in which we live, but the Christmas season. It reminds me that Jesus was born for THIS. He came into the world to testify to the Truth. The world’s response hasn’t changed in the thousands of years that have transpired since Pilate’s response. People are still wondering, ‘What is truth?’ 

 

As I have questioned much ‘truth’ being reported this year, I have struggled greatly. It has been difficult for me to submit to a narrative when I wonder about its validity. I don’t say this to be controversial. I say this to be truthful. I have sincerely had a hard time. 

 

As this scripture reads, Jesus was born into this world for one thing: to testify to the truth. The only thing that has kept me sane and at peace this year is clinging to the one truth that is Absolute—His Truth. Just as this scripture implies—His voice is Truth. He alone is trustworthy. This story is one I can completely validate from experience. I can testify through and through that He is my Prince of Peace and He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. As 2020 comes to a close, I encourage you to bring Him your questions. Dig for answers in His Word. It is the only God-breathed book that will bring Truth to your inmost being. He offers and gives a peace that this world can never give. 

 

In this world we will have trouble.  But take heart! I have overcome the world. John 16:33

 

Sanctify them by the truth. Your Word is truth. John 17:17

 

The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. Psalm 145:18

 

 

Easter Hit Different This Year

Yesterday across the nation and across much of the world it was a different kind of Easter. Families didn't travel to gather with their extended family to eat an Easter meal and watch the younger ones find the hidden eggs scattered across the yard. Families didn't wake up to attend church and stand with fellow Believers, worshipping the Risen Savior. I didn't rush around and iron the button downs and the khakis as I usually do on this one Sunday of the year--the one time we dress up in an effort to signify the importance of this Lord's Day above all of the others. 

Instead, we shuffled into our living room in our pajamas and morning hair. My house full of teenagers walked directly from bed to couch, dragon breath and all, to partake virtually in our church's Easter service.  

As my teenagers would say, 'Easter hit different this year.'

As I sit this morning on the other side of yet another Easter, I can't help but contemplate that God is doing a new thing in the heart of His people and He's using 'different' to accomplish it. 

Our Easter quarantine brings to mind the ancient story of the Israelites when God rescued them from the bondage of slavery in Egypt. Specifically, that they had to 'shelter in place' on the fateful evening that He unleashed the final plague. In Exodus 12: 3-13, God gave them specific instructions as they gathered in their home: kill an unblemished lamb or goat, spread the blood across the doorway of their home, eat all of the meat before morning and be dressed and ready to go. If they did these things, the Angel of Death would 'pass over' their home, sparing them the devastation of their first born dying. After God gave the Israelites their 'shelter in place' instructions, 'they fell down and worshipped' (Exodus 12:27). Every year thereafter, God's people celebrated what became known as Passover as a way to remember that He had saved and spared them.

This event in the Old Testament was a foreshadowing of what would take place in the future. Thousands of years later Jesus came to this earth for the sole purpose of saving us. He willingly hung from a cross, shedding his blood for every one of our sins, past present and future.  Three days later, He rose again and conquered death. When we put our faith and trust in this fact, His blood covers and protects us from death, just as the Israelites were protected many years ago. Thus, this Passover celebration has come to be known as Good Friday and Easter as we know it today.

There are so many lessons to be gleaned from our 'Easter that hit different' this year.

For one, just as a hen gathers its chicks, God is gathering His followers to lean in close. During this quarantine season, He has removed the distraction of busyness. No longer are we running to and fro, from one activity to the next. He has put a stop to our whirlwind of noise. He has intentionally made us be still. He has taken away our false gods of sports, activities and service. He is beckoning us into the silence. For far too long we have had divided hearts, segmented between all of the 'things' we must accomplish. Rushing around with our schedule jam-packed, we neglected our first love. Just as He called out the church of Ephesus in the book of Revelation, He is calling us out. 'Return to me,' He says. Love me with all of your mind, all of your heart and all of your soul.  How did the Israelites respond to God's 'shelter in place' instructions? By bowing down and worshiping. What is our posture during this season? How are we going to respond to God's call? What will you do with your time at home? 

Secondly, do you truly know Jesus through and through or just in name only? Do you know Him as an intimate friend or distant acquaintance? Have you bowed down in surrender and humility? He stands at the door and knocks. The door is covered in His blood of protection. Are you going to open it? 

Finally, after the darkest of nights, the first beam of sunlight shone itself. The sun steadily rose, invading and conquering the darkness. The Israelites were dressed and ready. Shoes were buckled and necessities were packed. The evening had been full of uncertainty and risk, but they chose to blindly trust and follow God's instructions. Now they were prepared to follow God out of the bondage of slavery and into the Promised Land. Weeping may have endured for the night, but there was joy in the morning. 

When Jesus burst forth from the grave, darkness was overcome with the Light of the World. Death was conquered once and for all. He is beckoning us to come out of the darkness and into His wonderful light. He doesn't just want a part of you, but he wants you in your entirety. He is the God of All in All and He wants your all. 

The past few weeks have made it glaringly clear that this world is full of uncertainty. The government can't save us. Our money can't save us. Our knowledge can't save us. Rules and regulations can't save us. Charts and graphs don't have all the answers. 

God is sounding the dinner bell on the back porch and calling His people home. He is inviting us to eat and drink from His table of Living Water and Bread of Life. Just as God led the Israelites out of bondage, He is leading us out. They were dressed and ready. Are you?

Easter may have hit different this year but I want to embrace the different by becoming different. God is doing a new thing and I don't want to miss it.


Isaiah 43:19: 'Behold, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.'


1 Chron. 22:19: Now determine in your mind and heart to seek the Lord.

Joshua's Farewell Tour

This past week was Joshua’s last week in P-Town before heading off to college. Pretty much anything Joshua wanted, Joshua got. Eric started calling it Joshua’s Farewell Tour. First, we made a special trip to the running store in Cape Girardeau. Then, I took him to get a haircut. 

Then we went to get a few pair of shorts he has been needing. Since his love language is home cooked food, I cooked his favorites each day for breakfast and dinner. One evening two of his closest friends came over for grilled steak. And when he wasn’t around, I feverishly worked on a scrapbook for him of his high school years. 

I had really wanted to give him a scrapbook in May when he graduated, but I never could get it together. I tried so hard to be super mom this week and make this scrapbook spanning four years in a matter of three days, but it just didn’t happen. So I had to give it to him as a ‘work in progress/to be continued’.  While I was busy being super mom to my oldest, I'm pretty sure the rest of my kids got neglected. Especially my two youngest (oh, you never ate lunch? Here, have some saltines.  No you can't have those four waffles.  I'm saving them for Joshua.) 

Everything this week has been prefaced with, ‘this is the last time for….’ Even the argument Joshua and Soph had regarding who got to drive what vehicle was began with, ‘this is the last time we will ever fight over this.’ Last night we had our Last Supper. I’m surprised I didn’t wash Joshua’s feet :) . Had I thought of it then, I probably would have. We were going to go up to the pool and eat dinner with Joshua, Sophie and Wes in the lifeguard office because they were supposed to work until 8:30, but someone pooped in the pool and they had to close early. I think it was a God thing, because they got to come home and we got to have our last supper around the dinner table. I am so thankful it worked out this way because it is the thing that Joshua said he is going to miss the most—our family dinners. 

After dinner, we had one last big white van ride to get ice cream. 

Then we came home and spent a few minutes taking turns praying for him as he begins his college life.

'The Hay is in the Barn'
This is what our children's first ever XC coach used to always say at the end of the season right before the state meet.  It was supposed to remind them that they’d already done all the work.  They were trained up and ready.  Now it was time to reap the benefits.  

I was reminded of this saying yesterday as we were driving to drop Joshua off at Morehead. The hay is in the barn.  We have spent nineteen years pouring our wisdom and knowledge into him, teaching him to the best of our ability.  The foundation has been laid.  He is trained up.  Now, it's time for him to go it alone .

Younger mamas, hear me when I say this.  We have missed things.  We have left gaps.  We have failed to do this parenting thing well on many occasions.  However, don't miss this: it really wasn't about our ability to begin with.  It was about taking our feeble attempts before God and asking Him to work through them and despite them.  The best thing we can do as a parent is to ask God to be our strength in our weakness and fill in the gaps where we mess up.  The best way we can parent our children is by staying so connected to God ourselves, that our 'fill up' overflows into their lives through our prayerful intercession for them and through His presence within us.  

  

Upon leaving our boy at Morehead, I am sensing that a change has taken place in our parenting role of our 19 year old.  He is no longer under our watchful eye to give him 'in the moment' advice or to coach him through situations that arise.  Maybe we will still advise on occasion, but for the most part, he's on his own.  It's time for him to mess up.  It's time for him to fail.  But what better way to learn then from his mistakes?

While our advising and teaching may no longer be as needed, there is one thing I believe God is telling us loud and clear: our main parenting job for our college student is to be on our knees in prayer.  We may no longer be able to intervene physically, but we certainly can spiritually.  

Young mamas, this is the most important weapon we have against all that will come against our child(ren) in the years to come.  We must stay on our knees for our people.  While it would be wonderful if our children leave our home with great teaching, words of wisdom and advice that we have given to them along the way, if I had to choose, my desire above all else would be that they left home with correct posture.  A posture that turns to the Lord in prayer above all else, before all else. A posture that knows that the way up is down.

Prayer--it is not a work, it is the work.

Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.  James 5:16

"Prayer is as natural an expression of faith as breathing is to life." ~Jonathon Edwards

“We think of prayer as a preparation for work, or a calm after having done work, whereas prayer is the essential work.” Oswald Chambers

TEENAGE IDENTITY THEFT

No one told me that living with teenagers would be like someone taking my purse and dumping it upside down nearly every day.  At best I am scattered.  I am unproductive.  And I am frazzled.

Before the teenage tornado swept into my home, I considered myself a semi-organized person.  I mean, in my own topsy-turvy way that only makes sense to me, I had a system going on.   At the end of the day, I could put my hand on most things.  Now my husband might beg to differ, but he also happens to be one of those super anal organized people who can always locate every single pair of socks he owns and whose shirts are folded in his drawers all particular.

Lately, though, my organization is slacking.  Take my van, for example.  Currently, my van has 'most favored car status' in our home.  Which means sometimes trying to find where my keys were laid down last becomes a game of 'Who's on first? And what's on second?'  {Okay.  I'll admit that before teenagers, I had a slight problem with losing my keys.  But now I wear a lanyard and it has solved most of my problems.}  Getting back to my story, though.  My teenagers borrow my keys ALL OF THE TIME.  Not long ago they were missing for several days.  I was so sad without my lanyard around my neck.  I felt naked.  Then one day my daughter's friend showed up at the front door with my keys.  They'd been in her bedroom she said.

Since my van has most favored status and since teenagers never know their 'exact' plans until literally five minutes beforehand, they often 'forget' to get my personal stuff out of the van before they drive off.  A few nights ago, my purse traveled along with eight teenagers to a soccer game in Graves County.  My sons 'forgot' they needed money to get in the game and buy dinner.  But it was their lucky day because their mom's purse just happened to be right there.  So they made the executive decision to borrow my cash.  Of course they forgot to tell me this.  I discovered it the next day when I reached in my purse to pay for something.  Awesome. 

And then there's my clothing.  It's not unusual to walk into a ball game and see my favorite sweater on someone in the student section.  Or for my Nike shorts to suddenly disappear.  Gone forever.  While my Husband can put his hand on every single piece of clothing he owns, my clothing gets eaten at a catastrophic rate by my daughter's bedroom.   And if it doesn't get eaten by her room, then it somehow gets mixed in with one of the other four children's laundry.  Or maybe a teenage friend's laundry.  Or sometimes I come home from a XC meet and I can't wait to put on my comfy slides but they are on one of my teenager's smelly feet on the opposite side of town.  Of course, I find this out after I spend the latter amount of twenty minutes looking for them.

Or what about the bathroom?  Every time I need my bathroom, it's occupied with someone 'borrowing' our shower.

My mascara.  My mascara and makeup disappears on a recurring basis.

And I believe I've invested a small fortune in buying myself a new phone charger a long with 274 hours of searching for my missing phone charger.

Ear buds?  Don't even get me started.  I'd almost completely given up on owning a pair.  It's just not worth the amount of time I spend searching for the stolen things.  However, my husband did recently get a new I-phone and, feeling sorry for his wife, gave me his old buds.  I was completely enjoying the luxury of listening to music while running until I left them sitting out on my desk one day.  

GONE.  

I questioned them all.  Not me they all said.  I stared at them all wild-eyed in my blue robe with my hair in disarray and stormed all over the house looking for them.  I finally found a pair out in their car.  I snagged them.  I'm pretty sure they were too scared to cross me about it.  

That husband mentioned up there tells me it's my fault.  Don't let them borrow these things he says.  Don't allow this he says.  Hide your stuff he says.  But he doesn't understand.  I'm pretty sure it's part of the unwritten mom code that everything you own also belongs to all of your offspring.  And they know all my hiding spots.  Besides, if I hide things in new places I will just forget where I hid them.


Not only has my stuff been strung all over the West KY area, let's talk about time.  Like when my freshmen told me the night before Homecoming that maybe he really did need some new dress pants and a bow tie.  Oh and probably some dress shoes too.  Or the text from my other son letting me know the day before that he kind of forgot about buying a corsage for his date.  Or someone coming in my room right before I'm getting ready to crawl into bed asking if I can help with ten geometry problems.  Oh and proofread a paper, if you don't mind. 

SWELL.

Hey can you iron this shirt right now before I leave for school in five minutes?  And make my lunch while you're at it.  Can you wash my uniform before my meet that is in two hours?

Teenagers will also migrate to the room that you haven't bothered cleaning for a while and it will become their hangout.  Take Homecoming recently when all twelve people met at our house and somehow ended up in mine and Eric's bedroom.  The room that was completely ransacked from head to toe.  One by one they just kept coming in...until all twelve were hanging out in there amidst the unmade bed and dirty clothes all over the floor.  Because that's what everyone does before Homecoming, right?  Hang out in the parent's bedroom.  I finally joked that they could take their pics in our room if they liked.  They just stared at me because teenagers never get mom jokes EVER. 

Not only has my stuff and my time been stolen, let's talk about my sleep, or the lack thereof.  No one ever told me that I would be more sleep deprived with teenagers than I ever was with toddlers.  You can put toddlers to bed and know they are safe and secure.  You can go to bed at peace.  Not so with teenagers.  When my bedtime hits, they are often still out and about, driving or being driven.  Unsafe and unsecure.  And Mama bears just can't go to sleep until all the cubs are home.  And when the teenage cubs ARE home, mama bears still can't sleep.  Because teenagers are nocturnal and like to slam bathroom doors and kitchen cabinets at all hours of the night.  And they and their friends will do outrageous things like hang out on your roof at 2 in the morning.  Meanwhile my dear husband is snoring away.  He tells me it's my fault that I can't sleep.  Just go to sleep he says. 

Couple the teenage tornado with the fact that my younger two children still do things like leave their slick winter coat on the steps so their mama can accidentally slip on it and fall down the hard wooden steps on her back.

Yep. 

My black and blue, unorganized, sleep-deprived life is not my own.  I've been bought at a price. 

And so, I rest my case.  My state of mind has been taken over by teenagers and tumultuously deranged.  So if you see me at Wal-mart shuffling my feet, make-up-less and with unkept hair, wondering aloud why I walked in there in the first place, have pity on me.   If we have a conversation and I can't find the words I need or mutter unintelligibly, bless my heart.

Teenage identity theft has swept through our home.    

The Power of the Group

Two years ago I started running with a group of women here in Paducah and it has changed my life.  You see, left to myself, I am not the most disciplined person to get myself out the door to exercise.  I need accountability.  And a little pushing.


My group enables me to get my behiney out of bed and meet them for our 5 AM runs.  Believe me, I wouldn't be getting up that early for me, myself and I.  But knowing that people are waiting on me makes me do it.

My running group distracts me, in a good way.  Running produces a lot of randoms pains here and there, from a side stitch to a muscle or foot ache.  When I run by myself, it's hard to not fixate my mind on those pains and make them bigger and worse than they really are.  Not so with my running group.  My mind is able to focus on our conversations, which keeps the pain in check and out of the fore front of my mind.

My running group makes me a better runner. They push me in ways I would never push myself. They spur me on when I don't feel like it. I kind of don't have a choice--if I stop then I will have to run by myself. And most of the time I'm really not sure of the route or where we are exactly (since it's dark), so I'd probably get lost or end up running in circles.  Besides that, I'm a big scaredy cat in the dark.  Thinking that you can't stop on a run is good for the mind, because it's always looking for any excuse to give up. If the mind is tricked into believing there's no way out of running, it will stop trying to nag you into quitting.

My running group is eager to conquer an array of problems. Anything from parenting concerns to work issues, we got you. We're not even afraid to broach the political hot topics of the day. It's kind of like stepping into Lucy's Psychiatric Booth as we counsel one another through the ups and downs of life. It's much cheaper than therapy; the only downside is sometimes the one venting tends to run faster than normal. Of course, all of us Garmin wearing fools are more than happy to announce that we have ventured off pace!

On occasion one of us runners will injure ourselves. Left on our own, we are likely to talk ourselves into running on our injury. 'It's really not that bad,' we justify. This is when the group has to speak truth into the injured one's life. We remind her that she needs to stop running or she will have an even bigger problem to contend with. There have also been moments when we have to yell out 'Stop!' to one of our fellow runners when she attempts to cross an intersection and doesn't see an oncoming car.  It's times like these when the group steps in and serves as a warning bell.
Lately, we have been increasing our miles as we are training for a half marathon this spring. I have been amazed that I have been able to do this. I suffered from plantar fasciitis for so long that I really thought my long distance running days were over. Every time I express my astonishment that I am able to finish one of our long runs, Terri (a fellow groupie) replies, 'It's the power of the group!'

The power of the group.

I've been thinking about this phrase a lot lately. There IS power in a group and it doesn't just apply to running. It applies to many different aspects of life, especially spiritually.

Proverbs 27:17 reminds us that 'As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.'  When iron blades are rubbed together, each becomes sharper and more effective. Just as the people in my running group challenge me to become a more effective runner, I need people in my life to challenge me to be a more effective Christian. I need someone to remind me of God's attributes and His promises when I'm having a difficult day. I need someone to give me God's perspective from His Word when I am tempted to get caught up in the world's perspective.

In the same way that my running group distracts me from the pain and negative thoughts in my head, I need people in my life who believe in me and will encouragingly cheer and spur me on when I'm tempted to be down and out.

Just as my running group serves as a warning bell when faced with injuries or dangerous situations, I sometimes need the people around me to step in and caution me in regards to life's trajectories. I need to be told to stop and consider a decision or choice I am about to make. I need someone to ask me hard questions, reminding me to slow down and critically think through a dilemma.

We only have to look as far as Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 to understand why there is such power in a group:

'Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.'

A group can pick us up or take over the load when we don't have the strength to do so ourselves.  A group is stronger and more powerful operating together than when we try to operate individually. Groups have one another backs and can recognize danger that we ourselves might miss.  Two or more brains processing a problem is far better than one on its own.

Throughout the years, I have been involved in many 'power groups'.  They have come in the face of running partners/groups, Bible studies, church small groups, prayer groups, neighborhood friends, a marriage/parenting mentorship and a homeschooling coop.  Some groups have been as small as myself and one other person; others have been quite large. Some groups began specifically to meet the need of spiritual growth, others (like my current running group) started out meeting a physical need but has morphed into something more.

There is a quote I often share with my teenage children and my FCA huddles: 'You become like the five people you spend the most time with, so choose carefully.' Today I challenge you to consider with whom you are surrounding yourself. Are they making you bitter or better? Are they spurring you on to do great things for God or are they hindering your progress? Are they encouraging or discouraging? Do your times together include honest, transparent conversation or do these friendships stay at surface level?

Perhaps you are in a lonely season of life right now and you don't have such a group--maybe you've moved, changed jobs or such. My husband and I were in such a season after moving four years ago.  Even now, we still sometimes struggle to find our spot or sense of belonging.  I do believe with all of my heart that God wants to answer our prayers when we ask him to bring more fellowship into our lives; sometimes, though, he puts us through a waiting period of quiet isolation in order to fill that void with Himself and Him alone.  If we are willing to see this solitary season as a gift and a blessing, I believe it can be some of the most treasured time with our Father that we will ever experience on this side of heaven.  Such seasons, however, should not be the extended norm; we were created to be in relationship with both Him AND other believers, it's not an either/or.  Also, we need to realize that we have responsibility in the process of cultivating relationships; we can't expect to just sit back and wait for friendships to happen.  Relationships are a two way street and we have to be willing to do our part to pursue them.

How about you?  Do you have a 'power group'?  If not, I encourage you to commit to pursuing and praying for one in 2017.

ODE TO THE BIG WHITE VAN Circa: 2007

Hi.  I’m a van.  A big white one at that.  And I’ve been given the privilege of writing to all of you this Christmas season.  For one, I’ve been at the center of all the 2016 family adventures, so it just seemed appropriate.  Secondly, I’ve had a pretty big year: I’ve been vandalized, become insta-famous and been to the beach.  AND just the other day I got pulled over.  Big happenings, big happenings. 

Before I get started on 2016, though, I’ve got to reminisce just a little and travel back in time.  I will never forget that cold, blustery day in 2007; I had just spent two weeks on the road traveling all the way from sunny California to Louisville, KY to meet my new owners.  I sat in the driveway on Lanfair in front of a two-story colonial brick home, wondering why this family had bought me.  Up to this point I had been a rental van driven for business use.

Suddenly, a slew of children came running out of the house towards me screaming like a bunch of wild Indians.  You would have thought that I was a Corvette or something.  They jumped in, so excited to pick out their seats.  The oldest child, who was eight at the time, quickly and proudly chose the very back seat.  Little did I know that one day that eight-year-old would be driving me…

It took me a while to become adapted to this new life of transporting these young children and their countless friends.  Many drinks and crumbs were spilled upon my once clean grey carpet.  Not only was I thrown up in and cried in, but their mother—the main driver of me--was just a wee bit near sighted.  She backed me into a car, two different poles and ran up on several curbs.  The years sped by and the miles stacked up, as I drove to Boston, NYC, Chicago and Florida.  Just as I was getting settled into Louisville, we upped and moved to Paducah.  No more interstate and thick-traffic driving for me!  Now it was all about rural roading and deer dodging.

And in a blink of an eye, that eight-year-old had his license… At this point, I had over 170,000 miles to my name.  I was becoming quite decrepit looking and most owners would have put me to rest.  But one person’s trash is another one’s treasure and this 16-year-old found me intriguing.  Maybe it was the fact that I’m from California that we hit it off.  Mostly, though, I think he liked that he could drive around a large number of friends all at the same time.  At first the parents wouldn’t let him drive me.  I was completely OFF LIMITS.  But as he got more experienced and gained their trust, they began to give in little by little.  I mean, let’s face it.  If I got into a tangle with another vehicle, I most surely would win.  I’m kind of a bully like that.

My first big outing with my young driver was taking a group to Homecoming in 2016.  It was such a hit that I was allowed to chauffeur a group to prom.  These excursions just whetted the palette and soon I was in high demand.  The summer of 2016 will go down as one to remember.  I may look like a white carton of milk on the outside, but my teenage driver really knows how to channel my inner Bentley {Soap Box Rant: Just for the record, most big white vans are not creeper vans.  I’ve been categorically judged all of my life; on behalf of all my fellow big white vans, please get to know us before you judge us. Okay, back to the story.}  I went on a day trip to Kentucky Lake and saw bison for the very first time.  I went bowling in Illinois and watched fireworks on the Ohio River.  However, the van rides cranked up a notch when my teenage drivers bought me an aux cord.  This is when things got serious {some of you may have noticed the plural word ‘drivers’.  Yes, teenage Grogan driver #2 had now entered the scene}.  What a life, driving around #vanbabes and jamming to the latest hits.  Clearly, though, my best moment had to have been when some friends from Louisville came to visit and I was called a chick magnet.  That’s when I achieved a status like no other white van in history.  Right around this time was when my Instagram account came into being.  I was living the dream.

Once school started, my teenage drivers (A Senior and Junior, respectfully) made me the official McCracken County Pep Van.  I attended all football tailgates and games and was given special parking privileges.  My roof was used for such things as bull-horn special announcements and couch sitting (yes, I once drove around the parking lot with a couch on my roof).  After one heated football game with a rival school, some not-so-nice words were written on my hood.  However, it was impressive to see the amount of people who called and texted from our rival school apologizing on behalf of this student.  It gave everyone pause to remember that a game is not worth getting heated and all worked up over.  The event caused the presidents of both school’s pep clubs to meet half court at the volleyball game the following week and shake hands before the game.  In a strange kind of way, I was able to bring these two schools together. 

With fall break quickly approaching, my young drivers begged the parents to drive me to Gulf Shores.  Well along in my years, I was a risky choice.  But after some serious praying and a week at the shop, I was a go.  Driving south down the interstate felt like old times.  I was footloose and fancy free.  It was a great week of cruising the beach strip with #vanbabes.  I held up well until the last two hours of our trip home.   That’s when my age finally caught up with me.  My engine died thirteen times between Nashville and Paducah.  It got to be kind of funny, having to pull over to the side of the road and start me back up.  Daddy Grogan would start me up and take off as fast as I would let him so that when I died again they could cruise at least two or three miles before pulling over again.  We were all extremely grateful to pull into P-town that night.  I immensely enjoyed what was most likely my last trip out of the state of Kentucky as currently I am probated to local area roads only.

I barely had time to recover from fall break before I was decorated up as the Mystery Machine for Halloween.  Fred drove me around town and to a local haunted house along with Daphne, Shaggy and Velma.  While that was a good time and all, it doesn’t even begin to stack up to what happened next.  I was entered in the Paducah Christmas Parade.  Clark Griswold—my new nickname for my Christmas-crazed teenage driver—decorated me as Rudolph, sporting large tree limbs decorated with Christmas lights out of each front window.  I also had a lighted wreath on my hood (acting as a nose) and lighted reins (ropes) hanging off the back of me with #vanbabes holding them and walking along behind.  Buddy the Elf stood on my roof, yelling many of his favorite quotes, including, “THE BEST WAY TO SPREAD CHRISTMAS CHEER IS SINGING LOUD FOR ALL TO HEAR!”  While my lights went out within the first five minutes of the parade and I looked a bit redneck, I still somehow managed to win third place!  I received $100 and a giant trophy that I proudly display in my front seat.  I am still wearing the lighted wreath attached to my hood, ducktape and all.  I’m quite sure that my festiveness had something to do with Mama Grogan getting off with a warning for rolling through two stop signs recently.

For a Big White Van, I’ve lived a full and long life. It’s been one unusual and engaging decade wrought with adventure. While I doubt that this happens, Griswold’s dream is to wrap up my decade of life by taking me and a van full of friends out west on a two-week trip after high school graduation. Word on the street is that they would drive me by day and sleep in me at night under the open sky. Of course, the issue with my engine dying every so often would have to be fixed, but there’s been talk of creating a Go Fund me page. <-- Mama Grogan says that idea is not even the least bit funny and DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. For the record, though, I think a visit to my old stomping grounds would make for a great 10-year anniversary trip, don’t you?

So this is the part of the letter where I take everything you’ve just read and create some kind of life lesson to ponder and bring us all back around to the real meaning of Christmas.  You might be wondering how a big white van could offer up any type of deep thinking philosophy.  However, being on the road gives me lots of opportunity to reflect on things.  And hauling young people around gives me a window into their souls.  What I’ve noticed this past year is how consumed we’ve become with image making.  I’m the perfect example of this.  I mean, I’m a van and I have an Instagram account!  Have you ever contemplated how much time we spend snapping images of ourselves in the form of ‘selfies’?  Then, we perfect our images with filters and such in hopes that others will gaze upon us and be impressed.  We post our images to pages we have created about ourselves in hopes that they will result in more followers and more likes.  Have you ever considered what the word ‘image’ actually means?  Webster defines it as: a visual representation of something: as (1): a likeness of an object produced on a photographic material (2): a picture produced on an electronic display (as a television or computer screen).  Interestingly, God’s ten commandments start with these words in Exodus 20: 3-4a: “You shall have no other gods before me.  You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them (emphasis mine).”

Now don’t misunderstand me. I am not suggesting that Instagram, FB or Snapchat in themselves are wrong. The danger is the amount of time we spend doing it. How we spend our time will always indicate what images or idols we are bowing down to. God’s Word tells us in Genesis 1:26 that He created us in His image to reflect Him. He sent His son to this earth in the form of a baby many years ago to save us from ourselves. To save us from our self-absorption and our self-consumption. When we turn to Jesus and put our hope and trust in him, we become His image bearers. Being His Image bearer means we are Christ followers who reflect Him with the hope of attracting others to Him and not ourselves. But are we more consumed about having our own followers than we are about being a Christ follower? Are we more concerned about the wording of our tweets than we are about the reading of His Word? Are we more concerned about building ourselves up to please men or building others up to please God? Do we live for an audience of One or a virtual audience of thousands? Little devices that can fit in our back pocket have become the norm. But should our preoccupation with them and ourselves be the norm? Has this preoccupation become so big in our lives that there isn’t any room left for Him? Wow, for a van I just did some serious preaching :)

To close, I just want to thank the teenage drivers in my life for seeing the opportunity in me.  They could have easily been embarrassed of my ugliness.  They could have focused on the fact that I’m a bit of an eyesore.  Instead, they chose to take what most would see as a lemon and make some lemonade.  They turned trash into a treasure and now we have a year full of unforgettable, crazy memories.  This is what Jesus does for you and me.  His forte is taking our junk and rubbish and transforming it into something beautiful.  He looks for the unlovely and the ordinary, the lowly and the average.  He’s not interested in the Mercedes and the Cadillacs of this world who have it all together and can basically drive themselves.  He searches out those who are willing to open their hood, admit there’s a problem and allow Him to do some tinkering.  He wants those who will belt out some Carrie Underwood over the speakers, move on over to the passenger seat and let Him take the wheel.  May you sit back in 2017, let Him do the driving and enjoy the ride.

Sincerely,
BWV
@thebigwhite_van

P.S.  Owen wants all of you to know that you can rest easy cause he’s planning on taking me over in 2024.