Not the Worst Blog You'll Ever Read

Crazy Genius

2012-02-16T13:31:00.000-05:00

The great English poet Robert Graves (in 1925) tried to make sense of the idea that creative geniuses all seem to have a touch a madness—or perhaps that madness is a prerequisite to creative genius—by saying, ‘‘Poetry is for the poet a means of informing himself on many planes simultaneously . . . of the relation in his mind of certain hitherto inharmonious interests, you may call them his sub-personalities. . . . For the poet, the writing of poetry . . . enables him to be rid of these conflicts between his sub-personalities.’’

I might say it a bit more simply, for those of us who aren't geniuses: Crazy though we be, poets make sense of paradox. An example of this can be found in the first lines of my latest poem:

Was I was predestined to have free will
or did I freely choose to be part of the elect?

Nevermind. I guess I didn't make sense of anything. Anyway, I have to go grocery shopping...

#absentmindedprofessor #poetryisforcrazypeople #procrastinatingisfun

WHO AM I?

2012-02-08T17:15:00.000-05:00

Here's a riddle for you:

Monday I had morning and evening classes—but I'm not just a student.

Tuesday my son had his wisdom teeth pulled—but I'm not just a mom.

Tuesday afternoon and evening I worked for the church—but I'm not just a designer/web developer.

Today I had student conferences all day—but I'm not just a college instructor.

Tonight I'm researching and writing—but I'm not just an author.

As I fall asleep in bed tonight I'll work on a poem—but I'm not just a poet.

Tomorrow morning I'll listen to my husband's sermon—but I'm not just a pastor' wife.

So, WHO AM I?

Hint: It's not cook, Bible study leader, housekeeper, friend, editor, speaker, grandma, racquetball player, or Sunday school teacher either.

ANSWER ________________________
(I'll let you know if I ever figure it out.)

(in)RL

2012-02-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

For over two years I've been part of a wonderful online community, a tight circle of funny, deep, kind, creative, wise, happy, Internet-extroverted (is that a word?) women—people like Angie and Sara Mae. If you haven't met these girls yet—don't wait any longer!

In some ways, I'm a lurker in this sisterhood. Most of the (in)courage girls have met at various blogging conferences and at the annual Hilton Head retreat, but I've never been able to connect in real life.

Meeting with kindred spirits online is wonderful, but there comes a point when you say, "I have to meet you in real life!" I'm at that point. I'm aching to hear the voices of these women I feel like I know so well.
But I don't want to meet only the other (in)courage hosts; I want to meet YOU! I want to meet those who regularly contribute through comments, or those who pop in occasionally—and especially those who, like me, feel like lurkers. I want to go beyond the blog post, and get connected in real life—(in)RL. Don't you?

Well, (in)courage is giving us that opportunity! It’s the un-conference that comes to your doorstep; just meet up with girl friends and tune in to our online webcast.

I'm hosting one of the meetups, and I hope so much you'll come! It costs just $10—and you get a tee-shirt! Plus there will be plenty of door prizes and goodies. (And trust me, everything DaySpring gives away is beautiful. My house is packed with goodies from them.)

WHEN
Saturday April 28, 2012 @1:00 p.m.
WHERE
Fall Creek Wesleyan Church (11721 Olio Road, Fishers, IN 46037)
WHAT
Creating a catalyst for women to connect in real life, right where they are.
WHO
For the women who’ve been hurt by friends, for the women who’ve been healed by friends, for the women who crave local Jesus community, for the women who wish they had the time, baby sitter or budget for a girl’s weekend away.
REGISTER
http://inrl.eventbrite.com/

MORE...
The (in)RL webcast kicks off on Friday, April 27 and (in)RL meetups follow on Saturday, April 28. Tune in by yourself for an hour on Friday for the community keynotes and on Saturday meet up with old friends and new to spend a few hours in real life community. Meetup hosts will share time and venue based on varied time zones and we’ll be providing video content that meetups can tune into, which explore the topic of gritty, beautiful, messy, real life community together. We have a line up of 8 videos each ranging in length from 6-25 minutes for hosts to choose from. The plan for our attendees:

Discover: New friendships that were right around the corner all the time.
Connect: Beyond the blog post and in real life with old friends and new.
Encourage: Ongoing connections that outlast this event.
Share: Real life stories about community, the impossibility of doing it all, and how social media can make us world changers without leaving our zip code.

2012-02-05T08:39:00.000-05:00

The Superbowl is coming to Indy, and every Hoosier wants to get involved (even though our beloved Colts aren't playing—no comment, please :). More than six months ago, our church in Fishers, Indiana (a suburb of Indianapolis) tried to find out how we could serve, but no more volunteers were being accepted by the Superbowl committee—I think they already had 13,000 signed up. (Can you imagine turning away volunteers? It reminds me of that scripture passage where the Israelite leaders had to tell people to quit bringing gifts because they had too much.) And no wonder they are having such an overwhelming response. This nationwide event is an exciting thing to be a part of! I mean, even when I didn't know what a first down was, I was hosting Superbowl parties in my home. For one day a year, we all come together to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

The cool thing is that volunteers are not just standing on the side of the road with a big blue hand pointing the way to the stadium. They are taking advantage of the hype to make positive changes in the city and around the nation—from environmental initiatives, to supporting tissue banks to promote the cure for cancer, to renovating youth centers, to encouraging student achievement, to enhancing the arts, to delivering gifts to hospitalized children—and so much more.

Sadly, folks with good intentions are not the only ones taking advantage of the hype. The attorney general recently warned law enforcement officers of the darker side of this world-wide event:

"Greg Zoeller says there will be an increase in demand for the illegal commercial sex trade in connection with the Super Bowl and, he says, we ought to expect that some of sex workers who come here are the victims of human trafficking."*

Officers and taxi-drivers and volunteers are being trained to identify trafficking victims and to know how to respond. Anti-trafficking organizations are praying fervently and ramping up accessibility to shelters for sex workers trying to escape from their en-slavers.

I'm thankful our leaders and grassroots organizations are dealing with this issue head on, but it's dreadful to think we even have to. How could people be so evil that they would abuse other human beings in such profound and humiliating ways? It's hard to comprehend.

I wonder, sometimes, how God bears it. When he looks down at his inheritance, his beloved children, and sees the wickedness that has overcome us, how is it possible that he doesn't avert his eyes, doesn't abandon us altogether? Oh, how I praise him for his mercy and his faithful love!

Some day the Lord will return, and that world-wide event that brings all people together on bended knee will not be tainted by ugly deeds. On that day, goodness will be released to its full degree and beauty will be our only concern. Come soon, Lord Jesus!

first published at (in)courage

The Sacred and the Mundane

2012-01-30T22:42:00.000-05:00

Communion before the worship service is always special. It's just a small group—only those who will be leading in the service. I don't join the group every time, but yesterday I needed to be there. We had received news just a few hours earlier that a two month old baby had died in the night—his parents, his sister, his grandparents, his aunt ... all dearly loved members of our congregation. We were reeling.

As my husband (the pastor) spoke of Jesus' body being broken for us and his blood being spilled—and remembering how some of Jesus' most beloved followers didn't recognize him after his Resurrection until they met at the table for this holy sacrament—I looked around the table before us. Beside the chalice and bread was a box of tissue, hand sanitizer, even a bag of marshmallows (to be used for a Sunday school lesson). The moment we were experiencing was represented visually—the sacred and the mundane together.

I'm profoundly thankful that God gets mixed up in our business, that he is absolutely holy and yet willing to love us in the midst of our mess, our pain, and our loss.

Grace and Justice

2012-01-25T11:23:00.000-05:00

My friend Suzanne Mosley has bravely chosen to publicly reveal the details of the childhood sexual abuse she experienced many years ago at the hands of her former brother in law.

Many of her readers and loved ones are supporting her and encouraging her; but one specific reader is hotly opposed to Suzanne's choice. Here is Lindsey's comment (to part 2 of the story):

"You should be ashamed of yourself. This is a disgusting way to handle this situation, completely thoughtless of [his] children."

The comments get a little wild after this. Everyone has an opinion, and sparks fly. I'm not really surprised by the hostility, as this issue is such an emotional hot button; but that's not the point of my mentioning this story. My question is, how to do you balance grace and justice?

Suzanne is absolutely justified in sharing her story and should never be made to feel guilty for revealing the secrets of a child abuser (in fact, I commend her for it); but now what?

When her parents—who are godly, loving people—found out about this many years ago, they made sure the abuse came to a stop and, well, forgave Floyd. And they expected Suzanne to forgive too.

Forgiveness is what Jesus teaches, right? And I know from experience this is the healthy thing to do as well. (I never would have found healing if I hadn't forgiven the man who raped me.) But that doesn't mean we let rapists and child abusers just walk away, hoping the warm fuzzy of forgiveness changes them somehow. God is a God of justice; his burning passion is to protect the weak and vulnerable; his Word is full of stories and proverbs and poems and admonitions that call for justice against anyone who brings harm to his children.

So how do we balance these two truths. How do we make sense of the paradox? This is a philosophical question with deep implications for life.

Step by Step

2012-01-21T07:18:00.000-05:00

As I write this blog post, I’m in my classroom at Anderson University watching my freshman students make revisions to their essays. It’s tedious work, so I give them specific things to look for:

in this reading look for passive verbs and rewrite the sentence to make it active;
now give things and people names (i.e., instead of saying she put the items on the conveyor belt, show me the bran cereal and the ruby red grapefruit);
this time cut repetitive material,
and so on.

Making improvements in my spiritual life is also tedious work, and it’s hard for me to see clearly what changes I need to make. Just as my students may look at a paragraph and be overwhelmed when I tell them to revise it, so I feel when I try to determine whether I’m spiritually healthy. Like my students, I may be tempted to throw up my hands and say it’s good enough.

Except that I don’t want to be good enough; I want to be a beautiful and shining servant of God.
What I need is a step-by-step process for evaluating myself. “First look at this, now this, this time consider X…” So I’ve created a list, and I thought you might be able to use it too.

look for complaints and rewrite them as words of appreciation
turn my unkind statements about others into words of praise
replace my laziness with productivity
instead of worrying, pray
identify my temptations and remove them (or tame them)
do what I said I would do
don’t do what I said I wouldn’t do
replace an old habit with a new experience
turn bitterness into forgiveness

How about you? Do you have any suggestions for revisions that we can all make to our lives?

Originally published at (in)courage.

in need of suggestions regarding relief work

2012-01-19T20:54:00.000-05:00

Chad works harder and better than any person I know. Seriously. I'm not just saying that because I'm his mom. Combine his work ethic with his quiet, focused personality and astonishing intellect (he's a physics and math major!), and you have a whole new understanding of the expression "Git r done." His boss likes to say, "If you want something done right, do it yourself—or ask Chad." I mean, Chad spent last summer in Canada working for my dad (the one person whose work ethic rivals Chad's), and my parents almost didn't give him back.

Chad could be fabulously wealthy (because another one of his strengths is that he doesn't spend the money he earns), but he's chosen a much nobler pursuit: He wants to serve long term in a developing country—doing work that makes a difference, not a dime. When he told me of his decision, I saw the fit immediately. Chad would be a huge asset to any NGO, and he would find true contentment in that setting.

In some ways Chad is like a missionary's kid. We didn't live abroad during his childhood, but he did live as a noticeable minority for the first ten years of his life while his dad and I lived and served in the inner city. (Plus he attended a Spanish immersion school up until sixth grade.) I thought we were making a difference in our neighborhood, but really it was our little boy who was being shaped. (Don't you love how God works?) That neighborhood, and the friends he made there, are still highly important to him. (One of them is now his brother.) He has always had a kind and gentle heart, is unfazed by people who are different from him, and sees right through the consumerism and hypocrisy of our culture.

The one skill Chad doesn't have is marketing. He could never do fundraising—asking people to support his ministry. He doesn't even like to pick up the phone to order pizza, or to call his grandparents, or to invite his buddies over. He's an introvert.

So what do we do? How can I help Chad to fulfill his calling to serve in this way? Is the skill of fundraising a prerequisite to using your spiritual gift of serving? This is not a rhetorical question. Please give me your ideas, suggestions, comments. Chad's very serious about this, and we don't know what the next step is.

Too Funny?

2012-01-09T14:14:00.001-05:00

I recently spoke at a women's event at a large church in Florida, and I had all kinds of funny stories I wanted to tell that were appropriate for female audiences only.

Like the time my friend went braless to our women's event at church, giving a whole new meaning to Girls Night Out. Or the time I strolled from my cubicle to the bathroom, chatting with people on the way, only to discover I had put my pencil in my pocket and my tampon behind my ear.

I wanted to tell those stories, but I chickened out.So why am I telling them here? Mostly because they're so funny I have to share them with someone—and people reading my blog must be open to a good laugh. But also because it's easier to say things online than in person. Which is my point.

Do you think our culture is changing because we say things in public with a few clicks of the keyboard that we would never even say to our best friends in person? Read any online news report that allows comments, and you'll think you're at a bar brawl. People say mean, ruthless, inappropriate things to each other.

One of my favorite t-shirts is one I got from Dayspring that has Kind Words written on it. People comment on this shirt all the time, revealing how hungry they are for kindness.

Listen, the Internet may be the wild wild west—with everyone making up their own rules—but if we girls make a pact to pink up the Internet with lovely, thoughtful, kind words, maybe we'll tame the outlaws our pretty little selves.

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other,

just as in Christ God forgave you. "

—Ephesians 4:32

What's In a Name?

2011-12-26T13:09:00.002-05:00

I lost my domain name (heathergemmen.com) three months ago, and have been struggling ever since about whether to fight for it or choose another.

When I published my first book my mom told me to use my maiden name (Hiemstra), and I wish now I had listened to her. (Add that to the list of good advice from her that I ignored.) I'm pretty sure Mom wasn't anticipating divorce; she just wanted me to be proud of my heritage, which I am. But Gemmen was a good name too, and it better represented who I was at the time. I published more than twenty books as Heather Gemmen.

When I remarried, I changed my legal name to Heather Wilson. My husband, Larry, is one of the great men, and I'm daily grateful for his love and companionship; but his last name, as lovely and noble as it is, lacks flair (not to mention web search-ability).

Now that I'm launching back into the world of writing, and, more immediately, in need of a new web domain, I'm reconsidering my author persona—and thinking about what's in a name.

Are we the only culture in which women change their last names to match their husband's? Is that a good tradition, or not? Does the way a name sounds matter more than what it means? Do names even matter at all; do they have power or just indicate who is who?

What do you think?

I may have to do some research on this subject and write an essay on what I learn. Of course, I'm not sure what name I'll use to publish it...

Good Writing

2011-11-01T13:49:00.002-04:00

Good writing simultaneously inspires me and depresses me. I read a good essay and I feel awake—much like Bernard Cooper feels when he has truth serum in his veins (“Truth Serum”). Everything is more beautiful, more textured, more real.

I wish I could spend all my time soaking up The Writer's Chronicle, or A Visit from the Goon Squad, or Ploughshares—living in a constant state of euphoria. Instead, as I read, I can’t help but channel the writer in me, and I die a little. “I’ll never be able to write like this!” I inwardly wail. “Every word I write is pathetic, entirely lacking in originality, and devoid of beauty. Every thought I want to express is trite, empty, meaningless. My cat could write a better essay than me!” And so I play a game of solitaire until 2:00 in the morning or eat a family-sized bag a chips or delete my entire folder of unfinished writing.

My inferiority complex isn’t as strong, however, as the well-written essay that put me in this state. Eventually my self-hatred is smothered by the memory of a line that made me laugh, and I have to look it up again, which propels me to get out my notebook and jot down a few thoughts, which reminds me of a story I started writing three years ago that just might work this time.

Lucky for me, I kept a backup copy of my “unfinished writing” folder on my external hard drive.

I Know This Goon!

2011-09-28T02:01:00.000-04:00

Nothing is more familiar to us than the passing of time—and yet who can comprehend it? We're simultaneously aware and unaware of its constant pressure pushing us down a linear passage, and we're often shocked by both its speed and its painful slowness. We can remember our younger years, but also realize time has changed us into altogether different people.

Who would dare to write about such a complex issue? Jennifer Egan, in her book A Visit from the Goon Squad, masterfully takes on this task through interwoven stories (ironically told out of chronological order) of various characters who are all affected by time's merciless power. Time, according to Egan, is a goon, and it visits each of us.

I can only wish I didn't understand what she's talking about.

Egan's use of linking stories is a brilliant means by which to explore the concept of time.* We see characters at different stages and ages, from various perspectives, and we can't miss how time has affected them. For some, time has given healing and hope; for others, apathy; for others, deterioration and death.

Interestingly, time—not the goon in the book, but in real life—plays a role even in how we read this book. Five or fifteen years from now when I read it again (which I will certainly do, and probably sooner—as this is now my new favorite novel), my response will be different because, alas, I'll be that much more familiar with the goon and his work in my life.

If you have ever looked in the back seat of your minivan and wondered how those children got there, if you've ever wondered how you arrived from point A to point B, if you've ever looked in the mirror and not recognized the person looking back at you—this is a book you will not want to miss. You will be enthralled by the writing, blown away by the point of view shifts that happen as seamlessly as time itself, captivated by the stories, and humbled by a keen new awareness of your old friend Time.

*Linking stories is one term used to describe a composite novel, or a collection of short stories that have a collective arc. I happen to be studying linking stories in my graduate studies.

Capitalizing on Fear

2011-09-20T09:34:00.001-04:00

I'm always envious of those in the audience of a magic show who ooh and ahh over the tricks being performed, apparently unconcerned about how the magician pulled it off. As for me, I just want to find out how it's done. That's probably why poetry scares me. The type-A, linear-thinking part of me wants to make order out of what seems to be a mess of words rather than to sit quietly in the spaces poetry creates.

Rita Gabis points out in her chapter in The Portable MFA, that "All wonderful poems are, on some level, a mystery, so you can't dissect exactly the impact a particular line break has, but you can begin to notice that there is an impact, that where a line is broken creates part of the beauty and magic of the poem" (p. 219). That's a tough message for someone like me.

And yet I'm strangely comfortable with my discomfort. Maybe I should write a poem about it to explain what I mean. The things that scare me, including poetry, pull me closer to life because I'm more guarded, more watchful, more aware.

Gabis speaks about fear a few times in her chapter. She acknowledges that writer's block is simply fear. ("When you care about something, the stakes are high," p. 222). She pushes us to use those things that preoccupy us, obsess us, haunt us to discover the themes of our life (p. 222), which really is the subject matter of great poetry. She also makes the insightful statement that "commitment is the best antidote to fear" (p. 209), urging us to not hold back as we attempt this craft.

Studying poetry pushes me beyond myself. I'd like to say that I'm going to embrace the experience and capitalize on this fear, but that's exactly what a type-A person would say. Instead, I'm going to sit back and see what happens.

True Fiction

2011-09-14T17:21:00.000-04:00

Everybody has a story. The happy-go-lucky young reporter from a small town in Ohio may seem to have nothing but opportunities before him, the elderly woman driving a Lincoln to her country club may be written off as snobby and out-of-touch, the twenty-something fathers out drinking at their local bar rather than working or staying home with their families may be harsh and earthy—but each of them have a story.

The beauty of good writing is that these stories are opened up for us, allowing us to see what we hadn’t seen before. As we begin to understand what makes characters tick, we apply this knowledge to our real-life friends, family members, and acquaintances. In this way, fiction becomes truer than reality.

Dean Bakopoulos’s Please Don’t Come Back from the Moon serves as a beautiful example of the power of fiction. He begins with a premise that cannot possibly be true—that absentee fathers live on the moon—and leads us to a conclusion that is more human, more believable, more real than the truth. Before we name what that conclusion is, let’s explore the story.

Michael Smolij is sixteen years old when his Ukrainian father abandons the family, leaving his mother, his brother, and himself to rebuild their lives in their dying, poverty-ridden, fatherless community of Maple Rock. Each family member has his or her own successes and failures in the process, but Bakopoulos focuses on the tough young Mikey through a series of short stories over a number of years revealing his relationship with various people: his cousin, his brother, his mother, his girlfriends, his step-father, his wife, his children.

The overarching question throughout these stories is whether Mickey is destined for failure, if he will be himself and not his father. We feel the pain of abandonment as we hear his story, and so understand the cost to himself and to others if he is unable to resist the mystical pull of the moon; and yet we also feel the inevitability that marks his life. How can he—who is no smarter, no more charismatic, no more special than the next guy—break the cycle?

Is Mikey’s father on the moon? Yes. He is that far removed from his family. The conclusion is that, even so, there is still happiness in Maple Rock. But will Mikey stay faithful to his family? You’ll have to read it to find out.

And you should. Reading connects you to others. The truth is that life hurts—that people hurt us, that we hurt ourselves. The fiction is that you are the only one who knows it.

How Are You?

2011-09-10T15:17:00.002-04:00

I'm going to cut the word "busy" from my vocabulary. It seems like that's the answer I give every time someone asks me how I am. It's true that every moment of my day is packed with activity or planning for an activity (with a few minutes to sleep now and then), but I LOVE everything I'm doing. Shouldn't passion blurt from my mouth when I get the standard greeting, not complaint?

I'm not busy, I'm actively engaging life. Let me tell you about all my opportunities:

Home - I get to take care of my amazing kids—they're growing up so fast, and every moment with them is precious to me. I get to spend time with my husband, who is my favorite person to spend time with. I get to take care of my beautiful home, which is a blessing from the Lord.

Church - I get to serve alongside my husband in so many ways—from praying for our people to directing communications to leading Bible studies to teaching children to counseling the hurting to building into the lives of others. What a thrill!

School - I get to study all kinds of fascinating books with other thinkers and apply my learning under the direction of skilled teachers.

Are you hearing this? I mean, who deserves this?

Work - I get to read and write books, and speak to audiences. I get to teach young men and women in the classroom, influencing not just their writing ability, but their way of thinking.

Leisure - I get to watch football games, hang out with friends, read books, play racquetball, go for walks, attend cultural events, watch movies, celebrate holidays, take naps, visit family, engage in social media, travel, run around in the back yard with my grandson, go shopping, listen to music ...

What a life! I am so blessed.

My Not-So-Secret Club

2011-09-08T08:27:00.000-04:00

I want to be in a club—you know, like bikers are. I happened to be behind a guy on a Harley for about ten miles on a sunny day; we must have passed a dozen other bikers, and each one of them dropped their hand in the traditional biker greeting, which, according to one article I read, is the “universal gesture of friendship and camaraderie.”

Maybe I should start waving to all the other slightly dinged-up Stratus drivers. It would be a nice way to say, “Yep. My teenaged son drove into the garage door too.”

Except that I want my club to be bigger than that.

Christians are in a sort of a club. We hear gospel music playing at our doctor’s office or a restaurant, and we perk up. Oooh! They’re Christians! We meet a new neighbor and feel suddenly comfortable when they mention their church. We see a Christian book in someone’s hand, or a Jesus calendar on their desk, and we know we’re in good company. I’m always thankful for the sense of belonging I have in this group, connected as we are by our love for Jesus.

Except that I want my club to be even bigger than that. I want to be part of the human race club. I want to walk by a smelly, toothless, homeless woman and feel a bond with her because she too is made in the image of God.

I want to feel a thrill of joy when I bump into a purple-headed punk rocker at the mall. Oooh! Another human!

I want to extend goodwill toward the woman at church who hurt my feelings, toward my ex-husband and his wife, toward the kid who covered my driveway with offensive graffiti.
I want to welcome a Middle-Eastern Muslim couple into my home, visit a West African family in their village hut, worship with a Korean sister at my church.

I want to give the universal gesture of friendship and camaraderie to every single person I meet, knowing they too are someone for whom Christ died.

originally published at (in)courage

My Latest Adventure

2011-09-07T22:55:00.000-04:00

I've been getting paid to read books for almost twenty years and to write them for ten. Sounds dreamy, right? It is, sort of—in the same way changing diapers of the kids you always wanted is dreamy.

Now I'm paying to read and write (graduate school is more rigorous than some jobs I've held), and I'm more excited than my kids were when I let them slide down the stairs on a blanket. (They're all high school or college aged now, and I think they'd still be excited.)

I hope I never grow out of love with learning.

Working for a Shiny Red Apple

2011-08-29T17:33:00.004-04:00

Taught my first university course today—two of them, actually.

We had a little fun with words today. (We'll be slogging through outlining and sentence structure later, so I thought I'd start off introducing the concept that words are fun.)

I found this online somewhere, and asked them to come up with their own ideas.

1. AQUADEXTROUS
(ak wa deks'trus) adj. Possessing the ability to turn the bathtub tap on and off with your toes.
2. CARPERPETUATION
(kar'pur pet u a shun) n. The act, when vacuuming, of running over a string or a piece of lint at least a dozen times, reaching over and picking it up, examining it, then putting it back down to give the vacuum one more chance.
3. DISCONFECT
(dis kon fekt') v. To sterilize the piece of confection (lolly) you dropped on the floor by blowing on it, assuming this will somehow 'remove' all the germs.
4. ELBONICS
(el bon'iks) n. The actions of two people maneuvering for one armrest in a movie theater.
5. FRUST
(frust) n. The small line of debris that refuses to be swept onto the dust pan and keeps backing a person across the room until he finally decides to give up and sweep it under the rug.
6. LACTOMANGULATION
(lak' to man gyu lay' shun) n. Manhandling the "open here" spout on a milk container so badly that one has to resort to the 'illegal' side.
7. PEPPIER
(peph ee ay') n. The waiter at a fancy restaurant whose sole purpose seems to be walking around asking diners if they want fresh ground pepper.
8. PHONESIA (fo nee' zhuh) n. The affliction of dialing a phone number and forgetting whom you were calling just as they answer.
9. PUPKUS
(pup'kus) n. The moist residue left on a window after a dog presses its nose to it.
10. TELECRASTINATION
(tel e kras tin ay' shun) n. The act of always letting the phone ring at least twice before you pick it up, even when you're only six inches away.

They came up with some great responses. (My favorite: refridgegin [re-frij-i-gin], the act of going to the fridge over and over without finding any food.)

How about you? Got any?

Forget the Moon

2011-08-28T09:07:00.000-04:00

My daughter is at a Christian boarding school for troubled teens right now. I say that as if I'm telling you it's a sunny day, but I feel like I'm looking out the window at Hurricane Irene.

I miss her. More than I thought possible. Sometimes I think I'm overreacting, acting as though I'm dealing with a death. But it's more than that. I can't help crying out to God to free her from the need for this. She should be home—going to high school, performing at color guard, hanging out with friends, lounging on the couch to watch American Idol with me, getting help from her brother with math; but she needs to be where she is.

Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful for this amazing program that is literally saving her life; I'm not second-guessing our decision. Honestly, I feel like we pushed her off the tracks seconds before the train hit. I just don't want her to need it. I want her home.

A couple weeks ago, I was praying over Rachael in the wee hours of the night, using Psalm 69. (I wrote this blog post about it, which posted to DaySpring today.) The next week (I get to talk to her at 2pm every Sunday), she said at the last second when our time was already up, "Mom! God gave me a verse. You have to read it. Psalm 69."

Some people, when separated from the people they love, say they have the same moon to look at. I'm humbled and grateful to know that Rachael and I have the same God, giving us the save words of comfort and strength.

Stop Talking Politics

2011-08-23T08:03:00.001-04:00

Normally I avoid political conversations with as much energy as I avoid bees that zoom up to me out of nowhere. I wave it away fearfully, or get up off my chair and run if I have to.

Why? Because I know we can't possibly get the full picture of what our leaders are facing, so neither can we judge them. Because if we who have just bits of information presume to tell our leaders what to do, they're going to follow public opinion just to get voted in again rather than to do what really needs to be done. Because I believe we, the people, shape what happens in our country and world through our personal choices more than public policy does. Because someone always gets red-faced before the conversation ends.

But with all the stuff happening in Libya right now—and hearing about it after a friend told me he escaped from there mere months ago with nothing but the clothes on his back—I realize that politics do matter. After hearing about a world in which there is no free press, I realize holding our politicians accountable is essential.

Maybe I'll start talking politics after all, no matter how red-faced my friends get.

Around the World at Home

2011-08-15T10:30:00.001-04:00

I always say, if you can't get out to see the world, invite the world to your home.

This is why I'm so excited that our new friend from the country of Jordan—Abdullah—is staying at our house. He's in my graduate program (actually, he's in the PhD program), and is looking for an apartment for himself and his wife, who will be joining him stateside soon.

(We've already consumed every last speck of the baklava he brought for us. And later this week we he's going to introduce us to shawarma and falafel.)

Of course, the best part about opening your home to others, whether from far away or next door, is not the food—it's getting to know people on a personal level. Guests always make you realize both how large and how small our world is. We have so much to learn from others, and yet so much in common.

PS I just happened to click back to a post a wrote exactly a year ago—a post about hospitality. I'm glad for the opportunity to practice what I preach. :)

Warning! Warning!

2011-08-11T07:40:00.001-04:00

About a month ago, I quit wearing my seat belt. I don't know why. I suppose I just got tired of it. I don't recommend you emulate my laziness—in fact, I'm in deep discussions with myself about changing my ways. However, this decision has given me an interesting insight: After awhile, the annoying warning sound disappears.

It happens in two ways: first, you quit hearing it. My son was in the car with me recently (yes, I even let him witness my delinquent ways) and after a minute or two he was like, "Um. Are you going to deal with that?" And I honestly didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't even hear the ding ding ding that was driving him batty.

Second: The warning quits after about 3 minutes. The car manufacturers must have figured that if someone can handle the ding ding ding for 3 minutes, they can stand it forever.

Why is this insight interesting to me? Because it reminds me of our relationship with God. His Spirit activates our conscience—protecting us from potential harm to ourselves and others. But guess what? We can ignore it. When we begin engaging in activity we shouldn't, we first just feel bad about it. When we keep going with it, we eventually don't feel bad at all.

That, I expect, is when the semi-truck comes out of nowhere and ploughs into us. ...Sigh. I guess I'll start buckling up again.

1 Thessalonians 5:19

Do not quench the Spirit.

Share the Road

2011-07-30T09:11:00.002-04:00

I’m quite smitten with the guy I married. He’s downright sexy, for one thing—though you better not eyeball him long enough to know whether you agree! :) He’s smart, funny, interesting, loving, hard working, talkative, and godly. We spend as much time together as we can—going for bike rides, sitting at the park with our kindles, watching a movie or the football game with our kids, or praying for the people and ministries of our church. Who knew marriage could be so good?

I sure didn’t … until six years ago. That’s right, my first marriage ended in divorce, and Larry and I are relative newlyweds.

Divorce is awful. It hurts not just the two people who break their vows (it was one of the worst thing I ever experienced), but their children and extended family and community of friends. It even hurts the culture around them in subtle but significant ways. And I’m convinced it goes against God’s plan every time.

And yet here I am blissful in a way I might not have been without going through the big D. How do I make sense of that?...

To read the rest of the article on (in)Courage, click here.

What Happened to Your Hand?

2011-07-25T16:25:00.002-04:00

I have the worst memory of anyone I know. I told Larry this morning it's because my mind is working ten times faster than anyone else's; 10 days ago for the average person is like 100 days for me. I'm not sure why he laughed so hard about that...

Anyway, today I attended a lovely luncheon to hear Dr. Shirley Mullen-Mills speak. She is the president of Houghton College where my step-daughter Lydia attends. Shirley challenged us to intentionally remember God's faithfulness to us by establishing concrete, visual reminders—just as the Israelites did after crossing the Jordon. That way, others, even into the next generation, will ask, "What does this mean?" and we'll have an opportunity to share what God has done.

Piles of stones in our backyards may not work so well for today, but Shirley suggested that we could have modern-day alters by journaling or scrapbooking. My creative mind started coming up with other ideas: we could create artwork, blog posts, videos, poetry, or even recipes to keep the memory of what God has done before ourselves and others.

And then suddenly I remembered the alter that I carry with me every day: my crippled hand and arm. When I was a baby, God saved me from near death after a car accident in which my right arm was burned in the motor. Usually I do what I can to keep this disfigurement inconspicuous, but I realize now I should be waving it around. What an opportunity! Whenever someone asks, "What happened to your hand?" I can tell the story of what God has done for me.

I can't tell you how much freedom this gives me. I've trained myself to have the confidence to not constantly hide my hand, but now I can proudly show it off.

Eight Times Twelve

2011-07-20T19:15:00.006-04:00

The bad thing about watching a movie in a theater is that I have to keep my mouth shut. How am I supposed to share my clever wisecracks if I’m not supposed to talk? Worse: those rare movies that deserve no criticism. The fun of watching is pointing out what’s wrong, right?

Call me Simon Cowell.

And you all thought I was sweet.

Well, I recently had the opportunity to preview the movie “Courageous” and to blog about the experience. The brave folks who gave me this opportunity clearly don’t hang out in my living room on Saturday nights. They may not have realized that as a book editor, I have a high standard of excellence; and when it comes to Christian books (and movies), I’m an even tougher judge—because I believe that we ought to lead the culture, not follow.

So I went into the theater knowing the budget for this production would be lower than most blockbusters, and steeled myself for a couple hours of didactic Christianese in the form of a predictable story. When the first good joke popped up, I nodded my head appreciatively and said to my friend, “That wasn’t too bad.” And I allowed myself to laugh freely at the next humorous scene. “It really is funny!” I whispered incredulously. The movie didn’t have special effects or premium actors, “but it’s cute,” I told myself as I settled more comfortably in my seat.

The problem came when we reached the first tear-jerking scene. I felt this odd tickle in my eye. Surely a sneeze must have been coming on; I was not going to cry over some cheesy flick. I quickly multiplied 8x7 in my head (because you’re supposed to do math to stave off unwanted emotion) and glanced at my friend so she would see my tear-free face and couldn’t accuse me of losing my Cowell-esque critiquing skills.

I didn’t look at her in the next scene. Even 8x12 wasn’t enough to keep my emotion in check.

By the time the movie was over, I was calling my husband and saying that we had to get everyone at church out to see it. “Courageous” is hitting the theaters on September 30, and we’ve already got plans to purchase a bunch of tickets.

It’s really not a bad thing to be proven wrong.

My Greatest Skill

2011-06-29T09:25:00.001-04:00

I used to brag that sleeping was my greatest skill. It's a half-joke of course—though I have been known to clunk out like an old Ford no matter what's going on.

I don't brag about sleeping well anymore. For one thing, it's been tough to pull off lately. I have had heavy burdens, and 3 o'clock in the morning is becoming a familiar hour to me. Also, I came across this passage and realize the treasure of a good night's sleep is a gift from God: "He grants sleep to those he loves" (Psalm 127:2).

Now, when I sleep well, I thank God. And I do with true gratitude.

What I brag about now is my great skill of eating.

Remembering the Wrong Things

2011-06-13T19:42:00.000-04:00

I was shin deep in my ivy bed, pulling out thistles, when my brother-in-law walked past me saying, "Watch out for snakes. They love ivy." Much to his disappointment, I didn't react—I'm a country girl and know that garter snakes slither away when humans approach—but I have to admit his little prank worked in a way he might not have expected: Five years later I still wonder every time I'm in that garden if a snake is lurking nearby.

It makes me wonder: What other subtle messages have wormed their way into my thoughts, affecting the way I live? And why do I remember them?

Startling Beauty

2011-06-11T16:25:00.001-04:00

>> download interior sample

Now available on Kindle.

Raped in her own home, Heather's terror went beyond her own safety: Were the kids sleeping soundly in the next bedroom, or did their silence mean something else? Would her husband save her, or would he face the same knife she did? And Heather's agony did not end after the rapist left: Against all odds, she became pregnant as a result of the rape. Would she and her husband remain united as they faced the tyranny of the choice before them? Would they endure the strain of anxiety as they waited for HIV test results and answered strange telephone calls?

This gripping true-life story walks readers through Heather's journey—from rape to restoration. Startling Beauty is undeniable proof that God can bring blessings out of the worst situations in our lives.

"Startling Beauty is very moving and encouraging.

It shows how the Lord can heal a shattered heart and bring unexpected and startling blessings even from the darkest experiences of our lives."

—Francine Rivers, award-winning author

"I suggest you run out and get a copy yourself."

—Montel Williams

Things I Don't Do Anymore

2011-06-11T11:57:00.001-04:00

1: Stick my finger in the cigarette lighter to see if it’s hot.
2: Wish to be older. Or younger.
3: Call the radio host by the wrong name throughout the entire interview.
4: Say, “That’s water over the bridge,” when I mean “under.”
5: Put two spaces between sentences.
6: Pronounce Rush Limbaugh’s name wrong.
7: Get a mullet haircut.
8: Let waiting stress me out.
9: Think the lyrics for “Lead on, oh King Eternal” are “Lead on, oh kinky turtle.”
10: Try to get my way.

To read the rest of this post, go to the amazing (in)courage blog.

Eating My Words

2011-06-10T11:52:00.005-04:00

I don't judge a book by its cover so much as I do by its weight and feel. Am I the only one who does that—pick up a book and see how it feels in my hand before I decide whether to read it? I notice how a book smells, how thin or thick the pages are, whether the cover is glossy or matte.

Call me a luddite, but reading a book on an electronic device seemed as enviable as using using ketchup to season a nice steak.

And then my husband got me a Kindle for Christmas. Oh my. How wrong I was. This little device is not ketchup, it's fine china! Instead of eating my words from paper plates, they're being served to me from elegant waiters at an exquisite resort. I hardly want to read a book unless I can get it on my Kindle anymore.

And so I determined to make my memoir, Startling Beauty, available to you via e-readers. I pray that as you read, you are startled by beauty.

May Winner

2011-06-08T12:37:00.004-04:00

I just finished rereading one of my favorite books, My Antonia by Willa Cather, and I came across a quote I hadn't noticed before. Jim Burden, the main character, wonders why his talented friend remained a near miss as a successful writer:

"I have sometimes thought that his bursts of imaginative talk were fatal to his poetic gift. He squandered too much in the heat of personal communication."

It made me cringe a little bit, realizing how often I my daily writing is in the form of tweets and facebook status updates, and yes, blog posts—not to mention email and text messages. This month's #definethis winner, @gavroche phrased this sentiment concisely in writing:

"I remain wistful for the days we'd write missives on paper instead of sending 140 character tweets into the ether."

He earned himself a copy of The Writer's Digest Dictionary of Concise Writing—and, now that I think about it, I haven't seen as many tweets from him. Hopefully he's off writing a book.

Thanks to all of you who are playing #definethis! Spread the word to build up your competition.

Grimy Goodness

2011-05-21T17:23:00.001-04:00

I spent the day helping to improve the home of a gentleman who couldn't care for it himself. A team of us from our church took on this dirty, difficult, time-consuming task that really went beyond our capabilities. (I mean, they had me working on sub-flooring. It's not pretty, is it?)

At the end of the day, I left hungry, tired, dirty—and entirely happy.

Working alongside people you love, making a difference in the life of another person, and getting away from the computer to work with your hands is a recipe for joy. Just thought you might like to know that.

Clean Trash

2011-05-19T12:37:00.002-04:00

. . . My son had taken my car to school and my husband had dropped me off there to watch his football game. As I was waiting for him after the game, I noticed how messy the car was; so I spent my time cleaning. I found a plastic bag and started stuffing the fast food wrappers in it, but then I noticed other strange things. Like lipstick. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. And then I noticed a receipt and discovered some strange purchases he had made—and expensive ones—and I wondered where he got all that money. It was really quite enlightening going through all this trash. That boy had a lot of explaining to do.

So when he came around the corner and said, “Mom, what are you doing?” I just nodded knowingly and waited for him to get in the car. I could see he was nervous. . .

To read the rest of this article, click here.

April Winner

2011-05-01T11:59:00.010-04:00

One of my favorite ways to work out is to go for a walk with a friend. Jill and I certainly do exercise our jaws, I admit, but we're not just shuffling our feet as an excuse to hang out. I'm red faced and dripping wet by the time our hour is up. Still, I can't keep up the girlish figure I once had ... and I blame it all on chocolate.

So when I read @speartoons' 4-26 entry for my Word of the Day game, I had to declare him winner.

"The coworker snatched the chocolate, ran to his desk and craftily ensconced the treasure behind a fitness book."

That tweet, of course, deserves the monthly prize, and so I sent Kevin a copy of Eat This! 365 Reasons to Stop Dieting by Mary McHugh. The hilarious thing is that I discovered Kevin is practically my neighbor, and I often walk in his neighborhood. What a small world! Maybe next time I'm out his way, I'll stick some chocolate in his mailbox.
Thanks to all of you who are playing #definethis! Spread the word to build up your competition.

Extraordinary

2011-04-16T11:15:00.001-04:00

Jesus made an statement explicit that seems impossible: “Anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these because I am going to the Father” (John 14:12).

In other words, your life and mine should be marked by the extraordinary. We should have lives marked by outbursts of God’s power and do incredible things.

But we don’t.

By and large, we simply do not do greater things—or things even half as great—as Jesus did. Our lives are not marked by power. We are in many ways powerless. We go to work, we make supper, we do a few chores, we get up and do it again. Where is the evidence of power in our lives? Where do we see contact with God? Where is the extraordinary?

I wish you all could come to my Wednesday night prayer meeting. We are seeing amazing answers to prayer. I can't tell them all to you because most of the things we're praying for are private. But here's a big one I can share, and it reminds me of Acts 2: A woman who knows little English was suddenly able to understand the pastor (my husband) while he was preaching. She prayed for understanding, and we had been praying for the Holy Spirit to be present in an extraordinary way so that people will be drawn into worship. And He answered in a way that astounded us. Praise the Lord!

Jesus made this kind of power available to everyone. It is released in three ways:

1. From a connection to God. Power comes form a life immersed in God, co-lived, symbiotic, infused with the Holy Spirit.

2. For others, not for ourselves. God’s power will be released when we see needs in the lives of others and begin to act on things that affect God’s heart.

3. Through faith. Be ready to let God turn your world upside-down. Faith means letting go of what you can cling to, believing more.

What has God done in your life lately? What are you asking for him to do?

Bring On the Estrogen!

2011-04-11T12:51:00.007-04:00

Two women and two teenaged girls making a 14-hour road trip to Myrtle Beach and back to attend a women's retreat sound a bit like overdosing on estrogen. But it was awesome!

When I was young and immature I always said that I preferred to hang out with guys. I thought female drama was ridiculous (though undoubtedly I was causing much of it). I'm so glad that I grew up and have learned to appreciate the sisterhood!

I won't go so far as to say along with the Mary Poppins character that, "We adore men individually, but we agree that as a group they're rather stupid!"—I'm no feminist. But I will say that it's crazy how women can tear each other apart rather than building up the bond between us.

Check out this article about American Idol, and how female voters aren't voting for the female contestants. Girls, are we fighting for women's rights, but against each other? What's the point of giving women rights if we ourselves don't respect each other? Think about it: Do you want women to have equal rights, but don't personally want a female pastor or boss or president?

I was speaking at the South Carolina Wesleyan Women's retreat this weekend, and I fell in love with these ladies. They were funny and interesting and compassionate and authentic and vulnerable and strong and kind and encouraging and talented and wise. And the girls I traveled with—my good friend, my daughter, and her good friend—I can't say how much I love them.

Let's start loving our own gender (and the opposite one), and not just vying for power. That's when we all win!

Half the Church

2011-04-06T07:56:00.003-04:00

Recently I came across a book I wish everyone would read. I want to write a dazzling blog post to get you to pick up the book, but my summary just doesn't feel like enough. Think the post would be too long if I quoted, say, the entire book?

How about I just give a couple copies away instead. To win a copy, just write a comment here or retweet this: Win a copy of HALF THE CHURCH http://t.co/vX8j1D4 via @heatherwilson

I want you to read this book not because it will get you fired up about women's rights, but because your sense of global justice will be impassioned.

"No longer could I tell myself my white, middle-class, suburban America is all that mattered. No longer could I close my eyes to these unfamiliar (and sometimes disturbing) realities and convince myself that life as I know it here is, or even ought to be considered, the norm. No longer could I continue my quest to unearth the Bible's message for women in the isolation of the West."

Reading a book like this is kind of like exercising or eating right. It's easier to stay on the couch or to fill ourselves with junk; but expanding our minds with thoughtful, dynamic, world-changing writing pulls us off the figurative couch so we interact with the world as God intends.

Check out the video trailer for more information.

PS You may be interested to know that another title by Carolyn Custis James—The Gospel of Ruth—is currently being offered as a FREE e-book on Amazon.

Watching Over Me

2011-04-02T15:19:00.001-04:00

When my daughter was three years old, she saw an angel.

We were sitting on the floor in our living room playing with toys when something caught Rachael’s attention. She looked toward the kitchen, smiled, and waved. I thought her dad must be home early, but when I turned around no one was there.

“Who were you waving to, sweetie?” I asked.

Rachael pointed as if it should be perfectly clear. “The brown lady,” she said, and then went back to playing. I pressed her a bit, looking over my shoulder often, but the only other information I got was that the lady was watching us.

To read the rest of the article, click here.

March Winner

2011-04-01T11:46:00.000-04:00

I'm a bit of an over analyzer—even with jokes. Someone will say something hilarious, and I'll respond by saying very seriously, "That was funny." I enjoy the joke by appreciating the clever twist or the funny visual image they have created, and I nod at it like an artist would a painting. Yes. Very nice.

Which is why I've chosen @AvenueJay to be the March Winner for #definethis. I'm a sucker for anything that makes me laugh out loud before I can get my judge's hat on.

Here is what he wrote:

When I was a kid, I thought all adults were omniscient savants. Then I grew-up.

Aptly, he won a copy of See Dick and Jane Grow Up by David Hawksins.

Thanks to all of you who are playing #definethis! Spread the word to build up your competition.

Resilience

2011-03-30T16:20:00.000-04:00

I think God gave me children so that I'd learn to stick with something for a long time. A lifetime.

I tend to want to begin new things all the time, which isn't such a bad thing. What's not so great is that when I move on, I leave so many things behind. I even do it with friendship! (I have maybe one or two friends from high school that I am still in touch with—and those were great years for me! I loved those people.)

But my kids? I'll never move on from them. I'm currently visiting my grown son in Florida, and staying in his lovely little home, watching him take out trash and sweep up the crumbs his three year old son leaves in his wake. (haha! Payback time!) And I realize that this whole mom thing will never get old. Perhaps I thought I was working myself out of a job when the kids were little, but I was wrong. I was working myself into a promotion: grandma.

I'm thankful God used such a pleasant experience to teach me that sticking with something for a long time is much more rewarding than moving on.

Penance of Time

2011-03-22T20:48:00.001-04:00

I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but all this green grass is about to bust my heart open. (Sorry. I am watching Where the Red Fern Grows with my daughter as I write this and my language may be affected.) It seemed to change color overnight, and oddly the presence of spring is surprising me this year.

It kind of reminds me of my recovery from divorce. At first I wanted to move on quickly—to forgive and to be forgiven as soon as possible. I remarried quickly (perhaps to assuage the pain of rejection, but also because Larry was—and is—a perfect match for me) and expected to continue my writing and speaking ministry without missing a beat. I didn't realize I needed to pay the penance of time.

I learned quickly though. Not only did my sorrow overwhelm me, but I realized other people who loved me needed time to process what had happened too.

I quit writing for awhile. I quit expecting my family to fall in love with my new husband as I had. I sort of retreated from life as I had known it. During that time, Larry and I just leaned on each other and rested in the restorative love of God.

And then suddenly the grass was green again. I don't just mean circumstantially, though that happened too; I mean that the fog I hadn't even known was hovering over us lifted and the landscape was green again. Full of life. And it surprised me.

That's what God does. For you too. He heals us ... in his own time. And he brings spring into our lives when we least expect it.

In His Presence

2011-03-20T16:37:00.002-04:00

There was a time in my life when I didn’t think I could go on. My circumstances were so painful that I was literally sick. I was not even able to drive a car because my mental capacity was so overloaded I couldn’t discern whether a light was red or green. Thankfully that time was short-lived and long in my past. My life is so full of joy now that I can hardly believe it was me who went through that experience.

I’m thankful I did though. It was through my desperate pain that I came to know God intimately. I had loved God all my life and had long before made Him my Lord and Savior; but it was when I had nothing left, when I could do nothing but cry out to Him, that I discovered the beauty of his presence. The Psalms voiced the groaning of my heart, and sustained me; I clung to those pages the way a drowning person grabs a life jacket.

The Bible is a wonderful tool for training, our precious handbook for living, the light unto our path, the unifying force for all Christians, a book of wisdom, a treasure box—but it is so much more than that. The Bible is a living Word that ushers us into the very presence of God.

Again?

2011-03-18T06:40:00.001-04:00

If you could go back to any point in your own history and relive your life—knowing then what you know now—how far back would you go?

Would you go so far as to be a child again? Would you go back to your young adult days—perhaps to a time when your body was healthier and more attractive? Would you go back to a time shortly after your kids were born, just to be sure you wouldn’t miss out on them? You could be a child genius, or see deceased relatives, or avoid a disaster. You could decide whether to marry your spouse again, knowing exactly how he’ll turn out. You could change your entire career path. Oh, the possibilities!

To read the rest of this article at (in)courage, click here.

Empowered

2011-03-15T13:20:00.006-04:00

Public speaking is NOT one of my greatest strengths. I can get by when I have to, but usually I forget familiar words and mangle common expressions. (i.e. I've been known to say, "That's water over the bridge," and "a velvet fist with an iron glove," and "switch and bait.")

Last night I spoke at a fundraiser attended by over 700 people at a banquet hall in New Jersey that was as elegant and extravagant as any I've been to. But for some reason I wasn't nervous.

Actually, I know the reason. My excellent pastor (who happens to be my husband) expressed it for me perfectly this past Sunday: God miraculously enables us to do what he calls us to do. (Click here to hear sermon. It's powerful—worth listening to even though the recording is not great.)

And he did! I shared my testimony, giving witness to the marvelous things God has done for me–and afterward people rushed over to tell me what God said to them. It was awesome—and certainly a faith-strengthening experience for me.

Still, I keep hoping his next call to me will be to take a cruise in the Mediterranean. :)

Love What You're Doing

2011-03-07T20:51:00.041-05:00

Whatever I'm doing, I want to do more. Anyone else have that?

When I was working in-house as an acquisitions editor, I was a workaholic; now that I'm freelancing from home, I grimace at the thought of going back into the rat race.

When traveling to foreign countries, I never want to go home; when I'm relaxing with my family, I never want to leave home.

When I'm at church for worship or prayer or fellowship, I wish it would never end; when I miss a week for whatever reason I have to force myself to go back.

The list could go on.

The good thing about this personality type is that I pretty much enjoy everything I'm doing. I mean, I even like housework (when I get around to doing it). The bad thing—wait. I'm going to stop here. I mean, I could see flip side if I bothered to think about it, but for now my mind is focused on what's good.

Remember

2011-03-04T18:12:00.001-05:00

Life is kind of tough for me right now...but oh well. As I always say, life's a river. These white waters can't go on forever, right? I have confidence that my life is in God's hands, and that his plans for me are good, so why worry?

I'm not trying to minimize the struggle. My anguish is real and overwhelming. It's just that I know life never stands still. This too shall pass, so I might as well persevere for a little bit longer. (Of course, I have to hold loosely to those moments when everything is good too.)

The danger of embracing this philosophy is that I forget important things. I don't look back much because it feels pointless—swimming upstream is counterproductive and exhausting. But I have to look back sometimes because God told his people to remember. He created feasts and had his people set up alters and told them to repeat stories so they would not forget.

I'll almost certainly make it around the bend to discover calm waters, but may I never forget how God brought me through.

What do you do to remember God's work in your life?

February Winner

2011-02-28T21:46:00.003-05:00

I like making people winners. Maybe that's why I'm an editor. There's nothing like seeing people shine, knowing that you played a little part in their success.

It's easy to make people shine with my @definethis game. I simply run a feed from Merriam Webster to get the word of the day, and all you lovely people write witty tweets using that word effectively. Each day I choose a winner, but the best fun comes at the end of the month when I scroll through the favorites (which are all the daily winners) and choose the one I love the most.

This month the winner is someone I happen to know IRL: @kristinjhand. Her tweet, using the word fraternize, goes as follows:

Sometimes we need only fraternize with others, and other times it's necessary to bare our souls to our friends.

That sentence resonated with me because I often struggle, especially as a pastor's wife, with knowing when to simply fraternize with folks and when to go deeper. I think we're all challenged to figure out how to be authentic without inappropriately pushing boundaries.

Kristin's prize is a copy of The Twelve Teas of Friendship by Emilie Barnes. Maybe we'll go out for tea sometime and let our souls fraternize.

You Are ALL Special

2011-02-24T21:27:00.002-05:00

I absolutely adore every single one of you. I am beyond thrilled by this fantastic opportunity, and I will be eternally grateful.

Which is to say ... nothing.

Our culture has become so used to overstatements that our words are empty. We prefer hype over reality, impact over truth. As a result, we have to keep thinking up more extreme ways to communicate basic concepts.

Today I heard someone say she was addicted to a certain brand of bubblegum, though she had tried it only once. I think she was trying to say she liked the flavor.

On American Idol the judges have run out of ways to compliment the contestants; but the show must go on, so they make up words like fantabulous. (In my opinion, all Steven Tyler has to do is smile.)

I even hear kids use the word rape to joke about how someone gave them a friendly hug. Rape? Really?

It's not just that I mind cliches (I do), it's that I'm worried we are losing our heart. We see too many people brutally killed on TV shows, and we start to be bored by it; we consume too many antibiotics, and eventually we become immune to it—likewise, we hear too much hype, and we no longer listen; we exaggerate too often and soon we don't believe our own words.

What's wrong with yes, no, I love you, I like that, thank you?

What are some words that annoy you because they are devoid of meaning?

Define This

2011-02-21T08:29:00.011-05:00

Next time your wife says, "Are you wasting your time twitting again?" you don't need to resort to correcting her jargon. You can say, "No, I'm learning new words and engaging in a challenging writing exercise to stimulate my mind. Furthermore, I'm using my skills and expertise to win us free books."

Rules

Use the word of the day in one of your tweets. (WOTD is fed from M-W Dictionary. It will be given in my first tweet of the day.)
Add #definethis to your tweet so I and others can see your entry. You can also use the hashtag to easily find other people's entries.
Daily winner announced after 9pm EST every day (except holidays, unless I feel like it) IF I have more than 3 entries and I find any of them worthy of the honor.
Monthly winner announced last day of the month. The prize (a book) will be especially chosen for the monthly winner based on the winning tweet. (Winner may or may not like the prize.)

Judging
The judge is entirely biased (and can be bribed), but is influenced by the following:

Interesting, uplifting, funny, or informational tweets. (Irony appreciated.)
Accurate use and spelling of the WOTD. (Feel free to conjugate.)
Tweets that show the meaning of the WOTD.

Note: the winning tweets do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of the judge.
Tips

Go to favorites to see daily winners.
Create a group in tweetdeck (or other app) to see other people's entries. (Click on search, enter "definethis", save group.) Not only will you be able to see your competition, you'll have the WOTD reinforced, which really is the whole point, after all.
Enter as often as you like, multiple times a day. (If you get annoying, I'll tell you.)
If you love someone else's entry, let me know; I am easily influenced. (No lobbying for your own entry! )

Help get the word out! The game is only fun with lots of good healthy competition.

*Note: Many thanks to @michellerayburn for running @definethis for the past nine months while I was taking a break from the heavy responsibility.

Peace, Love, and Coffee beans

2011-02-15T21:54:00.002-05:00

Whoever invented coffee shops ought to get gold star or something. I don't even drink the stuff, and I love hanging out where the smell of coffee beans is heartwarming. Coffee shops are ... well, as my mom would say, gezellig.

My new favorite shop is Gathering Grounds in small-town Pendleton—just a few miles from my house. The warm brick walls and cozy seating, the thick, ceramic mugs full of steaming hot chai lattes, the steady flow of customers walking in from main street—all of it sets the mood for creativity and connectedness.

I think I'm going to break my homebody tendencies, pack up my mac, and get a couple hours of writing or editing done there whenever I can. If a friend happens to join me, the ole computer will just have to take a little break.

Are You Mr. Right?

2011-02-14T20:05:00.006-05:00

If a child has cancer and the family doesn't have money to pay for treatments, they can seek donations from others. They simply tell their story, and people give. I've happily been the giver in this kind of situation numerous times.

It's a win-win situation. Philanthropists love to bless others with their generosity; often they are searching for a worthy cause and delighted to discover a way to make an impact through their giving. And the individual, family, or organization in need is able to use the money to restore lives.

That happy marriage between benefactor and recipient is formed only if the two parties become aware of each other. My question is, what happens when a person in need is not able to share his or her story publicly? How does the cupid of finances bring people together?

I wish I could tell you the story that's on my heart. You would be wrecked. Your compassion would be ignited and you would long to join me in pursuing a solution for this crisis. I wish I could use my (limited) platform as author, speaker, and pastor's wife to be the matchmaker in this unique situation. Unfortunately, this story cannot be told publicly because it's about a child whose identity needs to be protected. What I can tell you is that the need is no less urgent, no less important than stories that may make headlines.

So I'm making a plea on behalf of this unnamed family. If you are able to donate $45-$70 thousand (to a reputable nonprofit organization that specializes in helping families in crisis) for this specific situation, please contact me ASAP. To the serious inquirer, I can give as many details as required. The donor will be able to get a tax write-off—and can even publicly announce the contribution to the organization (as long as the connection is not made to the child).

Please pray about it! Please contact me soon.

No More Magic

2011-02-09T08:04:00.002-05:00

I bought a Wii yesterday, but it may be another empty road.

I was hoping by getting the amazing Wii Fit Plus program, I would be launched into a passion for exercise. Rather than being bored and demotivated, I would suddenly look forward to my hour of sweating and all this post-35 weight would magically disappear.

Turns out that whether you're standing in the gym or on a white balance board in your living room, working out is working out.

I just have to do it, don't I? I have to quit looking for the fun way to exercise and simply discipline myself to do something that I may not enjoy but that is good for me.

Ugh.

Miracles

2011-02-07T10:23:00.000-05:00

One of the advantages of being married to the pastor is that I get to hear people's testimonies—and more than that, to become a part of their story. We are privy to people's deepest secrets, we get to pray with them for deliverance, and we get to see how God responds.

I wish I could tell you all the ways I have seen God miraculously intervening in the lives of his people who are earnestly seeking him. Your faith would explode. Revival would consume us and we would flock to prayer meeting, anxious to touch the robe of Jesus as he walks by.

Thank you, dear Jesus, for your beautiful love and terrifying power.

Telling Stories

2011-02-05T23:07:00.001-05:00

He had been a drug user, a convict, a wife abuser, a God-hater—and if he hadn't told me, I never would have known. How could I, as I sat in his beautiful home eating pizza and laughing with his family? He and his wife seemed to enjoy each other, their teenaged boys were polite and friendly, he held a prestigious job for the church.

So why did he tell his dark history? Most of us keep our dark side a secret—and for good reason. People can be so judgmental.

I think Alfredo couldn't help but tell his story because he was still amazed at God's work in his life. It just gushed out. If he had kept quiet, the rocks would have called out. He had been freed from a darkness that I couldn't even imagine, and 20 years later he still had the fire of God in him.

Alfredo took the risk of sharing his story, and it affected me profoundly. I remembered the power of God, of how our loving Father is still active in the world today, redeeming souls and restoring lives. I fell asleep praying last night, and I woke up praying. May my love for God be as contagious!

I'm in Love with My Car

2011-02-01T08:15:00.004-05:00

I got my driver's license the day I turned 16, and that wasn't soon enough, as far as I was concerned. I knew even at that young age that being able to drive where I want when I want would give me the power and freedom I longed for.

Maybe that's why North Americans are so obsessed with our vehicles. We love the independence it gives us.

One little sentence in the book I'm reading hit me hard: "He had a driver’s license, but he had never felt the need to own a car." (From The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo—great read, by the way.) The book takes place in Sweden, where apparently it's easier to catch a train to a neighboring city than it is here.

What would it take to change our infrastructure from highways and byways to effective public transportation? The change would require such a massive overhaul that it's hard to even imagine it could happen.

But think of the benefits. Ditching our cars would

prompt us to walk or bike more often,
prevent us from being isolated from each other,
force all classes of people to mingle with each other (yes, this is a good thing),
allow us to be better stewards of our world,
provide a means of transportation for folks who can't afford a car,
free us to use our travel time more efficiently (rather than being behind the wheel),
save us money on gas and insurance and car repairs.

Love is blind. I wonder what will finally break our love affair with cars so we can see clearly again.

You Are What You Tweet

2011-02-01T07:33:00.002-05:00

My most embarrassing twitter moment was when I sent a public tweet to my husband, thinking it was a private direct message. I wrote: You cleaned the bathroom. You’re sexy.

It turned out to be my most retweeted comment.

In our electronic world, it’s tough to keep our private thoughts from going public. We send an email to the wrong person. We post a negative critique of a book only to get a note back from the author. Not so long ago, facebook had a glitch in their system that caused chat conversations to be viewable by all.

Yikes! Who wants the whole world to see the real you?

Go to (in)Courage.me to see the rest of the article.

Scale Almighty

2011-01-30T09:20:00.001-05:00

I ate fast food and candy bars all week, but when I stepped on the scale this morning, I silently prayed, "Let me have lost weight!"

And then I wondered who I was talking to. I wasn't praying to the scale, or to my body, or to the universe. But I would never dare to ask God to change the laws of nature because of my misbehavior. He's loving and gracious and approachable and calls himself my friend and all that ... but he's still God. If I act like a spoiled brat, he growls. And God's holy growl is intense.

Quickly, I changed my whisper to, "Give me the strength to resist temptation next week, Lord."

When I think about who I'm sending my prayer requests to, my prayers change. And because of his power, my prayers change me.

Can't wait to step on the scale next week...

He's My Superhero

2011-01-20T17:46:00.003-05:00

Stess is too small of a word to describe what I was feeling. Three letters? What I was going through had to be more letters than the whole alphabet. I faced a life-and-death crisis that required more ability than I had, and no one could do it but me. Think John Cusak in 2012. Or Will Smith in I Am Legend.

Okay, maybe it wasn't as huge as saving all of mankind—but it was big.

Anyway, I was braving facing the elements and slowly getting crushed, but confidently trusting that God wouldn't have given me this task if he hadn't equipped me for it—and then I heard God ask me to let him take care of it.

So, either I got fired, or I finally figured out what I was supposed to do.

Either way, the moment I accepted in my heart that this was too big for me but that it was a snap of the fingers for God, and trusted him to take care of it, I felt relief. Peace. Confidence. That's the good news. The bad news is that I won't be the hero in some doomsday film.

A couple days later, I was invited to be a guest on Dr. Phil. This show could provide resources to address the very issue on my heart, in a way I had never even imagined. The question is: Was God providing the opportunity or was I being tested?

How do you discern that? For any issue we're facing? How do we know whether something is from God or from our desires—or from the Enemy? I went to a few of my wisest friends for advice, including my parents; and I went to a few of the best prayer warriors I know, including my parents-in-law. I listened to them and waited for them to pray.

In the end I turned down the opportunity. Hardest. Decision. Ever.

Good thing God doesn't need Dr. Phil to take care of my problems.

Jesus Talk

2011-01-17T07:35:00.001-05:00

I don't generally have spiritual conversations with people unless I know them well. Even at church I usually ask my friends about their circumstances, not their faith. I greet guests with friendly things like, "Have you been here before?" or "Isn't it cold out there?" or "How bout them Colts?"—which has nothing to do with why they are there.

I need to learn how to open the door to conversations about Jesus, so I'm brainstorming conversation starters that would lead us to what matters most.

At church I could ask a newcomer:

* Is church a new experience for you? (Their answer could lead me all sorts of directions: was there something specific that kept you away, what brought you back, has church been a good experience for you, etc.)

* What brought you here? (Wouldn't it be fascinating to hear their answer, especially if they dared to answer at a spiritual level?)

What else? Is it just me, or is it remarkably hard to think of a question that is spiritually leading without being invasive?

It's hard enough to talk about spiritual things at church, but how about with people I meet at the grocery store, who cut my hair or refill my diet coke, who sit next to me at the doctor's office or on the bleachers? I can't just say, "Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus?" I mean, I wouldn't want a stranger to presume such intimacy with me.

I can't say nothing about it, though. It's too important. It's not that I want to force my religion on anyone; I want to prompt people to open their eyes for just a moment to spiritual things because I know the Holy Spirit is hovering over them, ready to swoop in with his beauty and peace and power and authority and joy and love if only their hearts will flutter a tiny opening for him.

So what do I say to them? Maybe:

To the woman who does my nails: I see you have a Buddha statue. Are you a spiritual person?

To the acquaintance I bump into at the grocery store: How have you been? Can I pray for you about anything? (yikes! maybe not? help me come up with a better idea)

To the folks I play racquetball with: Have you tried praying? Might help you beat me next time. (just kidding!)

Clearly I'm no good at this. Help!

In his presence I find the strength to face the day...

2011-01-09T21:24:00.001-05:00

Updating facebook with uplifting, witty, or frivolous soundbites is fun. For a moment, life's difficulties pause on that happy thought.

Being a football fan is fun too. You can escape from real-life problems and believe, for a whole afternoon, that one more first down will make everything right.

Traveling is extremely fun. You can retreat from reality for an extended period of time, enjoying new and fresh sights and insights.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to run away from anything. I have a great life, and by nature I'm a happy person. But I have my share of burdens, and I see the many burdens that people I love are carrying. Sometimes it seems, even to a sanguine like me, that burdens are all we have. And sometimes it's hard to be resilient.

Escape, whether for a moment or several days, isn't denial, in my opinion. It's intentionally finding joy. I highly recommend it. However, even a healthy dose of laughter won't make this world bearable. We have an enemy who wants to tear us down, who wants to destroy every good thing, who attacks us relentlessly—like waves against the rock.

I can't withstand that kind of pressure. You can't either. There comes a point when we just have to accept that fact that we need the Lord.

And he is enough.

I just gave myself goosebumps. He is enough! Thank the Lord there is something bigger than me.

Super-Christian Fizzle

2010-12-28T07:58:00.001-05:00

When I was in my twenties, I was a super-Christian. I really was.

Not only did I live in the inner city, serving as the president of the board for my local Christian community development organization; not only did I recycle, using a complex system to sort all my trash; not only did I volunteer at my local pregnancy care center, even taking the midnight shift for the hot line; not only did I regularly deliver food to the homebound—I did all this because I was excited to be used by the Lord. (I was also a mother and wife, I had a job, and I was very involved in my church. Looking back, I have no idea how I managed all of that, but maybe this is a clue: I watched TV once, and was overwhelmed with guilt for wasting that half hour.)

Now that I’m an o-o-o-l-l-l-d lady (turning 40 next year!), I feel like a mediocre Christian...

to read the rest of this post, join me here

For Me?

2010-12-16T17:06:00.002-05:00

Give without expecting something in return—that's the real meaning of love, right?* It sounds good, and I believe it to the core of my being ... but I don't really know how to do it.

I sacrifice a lot for my husband, but he sacrifices a lot for me too. What if he didn't? Could I keep it up? Do I love him only because he loves me?

I volunteer many hours for my church each week. Why? Because I love the church. I believe in it. This is my calling. So why do I sometimes feel burned out?

I saved up my spending money for months to buy my kids their Christmas presents, and I took weeks to pick out just the right gifts for them. What if they shrug after they open their gifts and head back to their bedrooms? I did this for them because I love them, so why should I care whether they show appreciation?

If giving is more rewarding than receiving, why can't I give endlessly without tiring of it?

*This is from Larry's most recent sermon.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep...

2010-12-09T08:35:00.005-05:00

Last night I needed to finish some important things, and wanted to get them done before I went to bed—all I needed was another 8 hours or so. Why did God create us to need sleep? I mumbled to myself before dragging my half-dead self to bed.

I must have been in a state of delirium to ask such a question. I was certainly in a state of something, because I had this vision in my head as I was falling asleep:

I was waitressing at the London Husky (a truck stop I worked at throughout high school), carrying two plates of food for a table in the back corner. Just as I was about to start towards them, another waitress handed me a cup of coffee which I carried by the handle with my pinky finger; the cook told me to wait and placed two more plates of food on my forearms. I started walking, and a customer dropped his dirty dishes on top of the food and a kid grabbed my leg to get pulled along as I walked. Someone else put a heavy coat over my shoulders and everyone started asking for the bill at the same time. As I walked by tables, people put their dirty dishes on top of the food. Who knows why, but I kept going—balancing my huge load with a strained smile. My boss walked by and asked for my time sheet, which was in easy reach in my pocket, but I couldn't give it to him. Actually, I couldn't do anything.

Perhaps my husband snored last night, maybe my cat climbed on me begging to be fed, maybe my kids were throwing a party in the living room. I have no idea. I didn't move until my alarm went off this morning.

And guess what? I woke up refreshed. My to-do list seemed to have shrunk in the night, and what's left looks rather exciting.

I may not know exactly why God created us to need rest, but I am thankful he did.

Psalm 127:1-2

Unless the LORD builds the house,
the builders labor in vain.
Unless the LORD watches over the city,
the guards stand watch in vain.

In vain you rise early
and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
for he grants sleep to those he loves.

The Old Adventures of the New Heather

2010-12-04T23:01:00.001-05:00

I generally consider myself an early adapter of technology, but one thing has kept me in the dark ages: the tube—or should I say the flat screen high definition television receiver.

I grew up without a TV, and didn't even notice how out of touch I was. People would talk about Marcia Brady's latest adventures, and I thought they were referring to a girl at school I hadn't met. I didn't get a TV when I was out on my own, and when my kids finally talked me into it, I never watched it. I mean that literally. If you drilled me down on what "never" meant, I would tell you I watched about 20 minutes a year, all added up.

Then I discovered football.

And The Office.

And American Idol.

This year for Christmas, Larry and I got a HUGE TV (42"), cable, and, yes, DVR. Today, for the first time ever, I paused live TV. Who knew the future was already here? (And who knew I'd ever be so old, I'd consider clicking a button an exciting adventure?)

I admit that I kind of miss my naive, TV-illiterate self, but there's just no going back.

Should this trouble me? I think it should, but really I'm just looking forward to the game tomorrow.

Viva Technology!

2010-12-02T18:57:00.001-05:00

Lately, the woman who delivers my mail honks her horn in my driveway a couple times a week so I can run out in whatever state of disaster I happen to find myself (today I was wearing bright yellow hospital socks because I couldn't find my slippers) to pick up my latest package. I apologized for increasing her work load so much lately. "You and everyone else," she said. "It's job security. Long live Cyber Monday!"

We're all worried about how our online networking is going to replace real-life living; but I don't think that will ever happen. I may not be talking to the clerk at the store when I do my Christmas shopping, but yesterday the UPS guy stuck the notification sticker on my forehead when I opened the door; clearly, we're getting to know each other better than I would get to know the clerk. I may not be outside chatting with my next-door neighbor, but not so long ago one of my twitter friends on the other side of the country flew out to visit me.

Community is going to happen no matter what, because we're relational beings. We're just finding it in different places.

I'm Back!

2010-11-21T23:16:00.001-05:00

Almost two years ago, my husband accepted a call to go back into the pastorate...and suddenly I was a pastor's wife. An exciting role, and entirely consuming for me—so consuming that I neglected my blog and even lost interest in my previous preoccupation with twitter. (Once upon a time, I had TWO twitter personalities that were both hovering in the top 20 in Indianapolis.)

I'm still crazy about the church (and I admit it gives me a thrill to be on such close terms with the pastor :), but I'm ready now to pay a little more attention to my blog again. I miss all of you!

Anyway, this site will be under construction for some time, but I hope to get it up and running over Thanksgiving break (replacing my web site).

It feels good to be back!

Nostolgia

2010-02-15T12:30:00.001-05:00

When my son Chad was little, he said the cutest things. He once asked why his bald grandpa had "blind hair." Another time he put his sleeve up to his cheek after I kissed him and said, "Don't worry, Mom, I'm wiping off the wet, not the kiss."

I miss that little boy. What I would give to pull him in my lap and squeeze him.

Sometimes I go through old photographs or watch home videos of Chad and get a little choked up. Not because Chad is gone—he's living right here in my house with me—but because he's grown up now, a handsome young man of 19, and I hope to God I've done my job well.

I always knew that parenting was working myself out of a job, helping my kids to become independent and self-sufficient; but I didn't know how much it would hurt.

Dreamy Words

2010-02-13T08:46:00.004-05:00

He reached for my hand and pulled me to himself. "I love you, baby," he said. "You know that, right?" I smiled and kissed his forehead, but he put both hands on my face and stared intently into my eyes. "I mean it," he said. "You are the perfect woman, and I would be lost without you."
Those dreamy words are exactly what every woman longs to hear, and my husband actually said them.

To be fair, I should mention that he was in a drug-induced state at the time, just hours after undergoing surgery. I should probably relate the rest of the story as well. Moments later, when I changed his oozing, sticky bandage, he yelped like a banshee. Our culture promotes a chick-flick view of romance that would have us believe the man’s role is to spout dreamy words on demand and to be helpless to resist us even when we’re snarky. It’s a view of romance in which there are no oozy bandages and in which the man exists only to meet the woman’s every need.

Take this poem, for instance (by Colin Martin) which is quoted on social networking sites as if it were scripture.

Find a man who calls you beautiful instead of hot,
Who calls you back when you hang up on him,
Who will ... stay awake just to watch you sleep...
Who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats.

Does such a person exist? Yes, but it’s more likely to be your best girlfriend than your husband. As for me, I want a real man, even if it takes a little Percoset to make him gushy.

Listen, you’ll never find love if you’re looking for romance. You'll find romance. Maybe.

If you want love, don't pursue it. Simply be loving. In other words, put his needs before your own. It may sound old-fashioned, but a good wife dotes on her man, builds him up, and yes, even tries to look good for him. (A good husband does the same thing, but that's not our business.) And we shouldn't be surprised to discover that by submitting (yikes! I said it!), we gain so much more than we lose. That's typical in the kingdom of God.

I used to demand love, and I lost it entirely. Now I give love, and I get back more than I dreamed possible. You can do the same. Take a risk. Trust God. Love! Let God worry about what comes next.

"If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met." —Matthew 6:33, The Message

Bliss

2010-01-06T09:43:00.001-05:00

I'm an ENFP, which means I'm supposed to be the life of the party.

But I don't always feel outgoing and optimistic.

I'm still confident in the sovereignty of God and know that "it'll all work out," and I'm still certainly a people-lover—but I don't always feel as exuberant as I did when I was young(er).

A friend of mine who knows all things Myers-Briggs says it's because I've been tempered by life's circumstances and have become more balanced. I'm still an ENFP, just softer around the edges. (I don't think she was referring to my BMI.)

But I'd rather be extremely happy than moderately wise.

No wonder they say ignorance is bliss.

I Like People

2010-01-02T20:23:00.001-05:00

Hecklers. You find them everywhere.

I was doing a 5K with my family—walking fast, but certainly without any intention of racing—when I heard a guy yelling out to the participants. He was standing on his front porch, grinning.

"Is the race over?" he called out. "Is that why you're walking? If you walk any slower you'll be going backwards! I got out of bed for this parade? Where's my candy?"

His friendly heckling drew lots of laughter, and warmed the mood of cluster of racers around us.

And he wasn't the only one creating camaraderie on that morning. Other spectators stood alongside the road, yelling out, "You can do it! Keep it up!" One family placed huge speakers on their driveway and blared out upbeat music as they handed out cups of water.

Once, when a particularly enthusiastic spectator began jogging beside a discouraged racer and then other racers slowed down to support him, my step-daughter and I looked at each other and said at the same time, "I like people."

Just a few moments later, however, the mood changed drastically. A woman drove her car for about 100 yards (very slowly) on the race course to make it from the main road to her driveway.

These same people who had been singing kum-bah-ya together (well, not literally) as we walked shoulder-to-shoulder for the great cause of feeding the homeless began yelling obscenities at her and rushing at the car. So much for the holiday spirit.

The woman who drove on the race course was ill-mannered, to be sure; but the crowd's lack of grace struck me as even worse. Our camaraderie suddenly felt meaningless and hollow because acceptance was clearly conditional. "If you're one of us, we'll love you," the message warned, "but if you get in our way beware."

Jesus said, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?"*

We need grace in our society, but grace is more than harnessing road rage. It goes beyond getting off the cell phone when checking out at the cash register. It's not just donating money to a good cause.

Jesus calls us to love, and he calls us to love those who are not easy to love. To do that—to be gracious people—we must engage others authentically. We must attempt to see situations from the perspective of others, putting our own agendas aside. And we must humble ourselves.

I'd like to add a Dayspring ending here, to say that the woman's car broke down and everyone teamed up to push her car into her driveway...or something heartwarming like that. But the crowd moved forward and the little interruption was forgotten.

My step-daughter still likes people, and thousands of dollars were raised to feed the hungry in Indianapolis. and I'll choose to love not only the woman in the car, but my fellow racers who weren't so lovely.

Who wants to join me in spreading a little grace this year?

Leave a comment on the DaySpring blog.

LOL Devotions

2009-11-22T08:18:00.001-05:00

Normally I'm a proper and dignified mother. Really.

I've even been known to serve brussel sprouts to my family. I may not be president of the Parent-Teacher Association, but I do show up for parent-teacher conferences. I may not diligently nag my kids to floss their teeth, but I do take them to the dentist.

I'm not supermom, but I pretty much have things under control.

Usually.

I think that's why everyone was so surprised when it happened:

We had finished dinner and I turned to Hosea 3. We'd read chapters 1 and 2 the nights before, and you'd think the outburst would have happened then, while reading about the sensitive topic of adultery—and it would have been immature teenagers who got out of line. But it was the raisin cakes that got me.

"The LORD said to me, 'Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the LORD loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes.'"

I started laughing. When I tried to explain what was so funny, I realized I simply had no explanation, and so began laughing even more. "Sacred raisin cakes!" is all I managed to sputter. The kids smiled a little, and looked at my husband to see if he were secretly dialing for help from strong men in white coats.

Read More

Words

2009-11-21T11:47:00.002-05:00

Words matter. What we say and read and hear affects our beliefs and attitudes and behavior. That's why I tell my fellow twits, "You are what you tweet," and why one of my favorite quotes is, "Words are a form of action, capable of influencing change."*

We can't just say the right words though; we have to get our heart right so the positive words will come naturally. ("Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks."*)

We can't just happen upon the right words to read; we have to seek out material that will challenge us and inspire us. (I highly recommend the Bible. It is full of the most exciting, challenging, inspiring, helpful, interesting, life-giving words you'll ever find. Seriously.)

We can't just tune out destructive words; we have to avoid them. (That may mean turning off some music and not watching some shows; it may even mean changing friendship circles.)

A big fad lately is to use word art to decorate walls. I love that idea! (Out of the overflow of the heart, the walls speak?) My latest home decor purchase is word art. (Actually, it was another gift from DaySpring). Larry and I carefully selected the words that best reflected the passion of our hearts. It's a wonderful reminder for us to persevere no matter what the circumstances.

What words have affected you?

Look, Mom!

2009-11-17T11:39:00.002-05:00

First I made my own earrings and necklace (long story), and now I made my own Christmas cards. I'm getting to be a regular artist. Not bad for someone who can't draw stick figures. I admit I'm not quite as talented as some of you who make your own cards by cutting out paper and using beautiful handwriting, but this is a pretty good step for me.

As a blogger for (in)Courage (a division of DaySpring), I was given the opportunity to design my own Christmas card at an incredible savings (okay ... free!). It was so much fun! A bit addicting, actually. There are so many beautiful designs and fun clip art to choose from.

Here's the good news for you, besides the fact that you might get a pretty card from us this Christmas*: You can do it too! DaySpring is offering my readers a coupon for 15% off your purchase with coupon code: CHILDREN15 (expires Dec 7).

The BEST part is that 6% of the sale goes to COMPASSION automatically!

Check it out at www.studiodayspring.com.

*disclaimer: we send cards only to people who do not live nearby us (or to people we can tweet)

Newlyweds

2009-11-17T06:22:00.001-05:00

I woke up early this morning. A silent house in the wee hours feels sacred somehow, doesn't it? Usually I'm scrambling to get my Bible study homework done between chaotic moments (and it's amazing how God speaks even then), but this morning I took a bit more time to soak it up.

This week's unit is about knowing God's will as a church, and I just had to share this profound thought with you:

"When God speaks to people about the church, they should relate to the body what they sense God is saying. As members tell what God is saying, the whole church body goes to God in prayer to discern His will. In His timing God confirms to the body what He is saying. Individual opinions are not that important. God's will is crucial. No single method can be given for discerning God's will as a body. Pastors, other church leaders, and members are to have such deep relationships with God and the church body that spiritual guidance is the outcome. When Christ guides each spiritual leader and member of the body to function properly, the whole body knows and is enabled to do God's will." (Henry Blackaby, Experiencing God.)

I love the church. (That includes Fall Creek, of course, but I'm speaking about the church universal here.) I find it thrilling to be joining others as the Bride of Christ. Larry and I often say that we still feel like newlyweds because we're so crazy about each other; and that's how I feel about the church too. It's exciting to be in a love relationship that is healthy and strong and life-giving. When we are a church united in our desire to know and act on God's will, we are in the most beautiful love relationship of all.

I think I'll change my ring tone to "Going to the chapel, and I'm gonna get mar-a-aried..."

Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready. Revelation 19:7

It's Much Happier to Be Happy

2009-11-09T13:10:00.001-05:00

The first thing I did when I got the frantic call, "Come quick! Your husband got hit by a car on his bike!" was to write a facebook status update. Well, not the first thing. First I grabbed my keys and my phone, and drove the one mile in about 3 seconds flat ... and then watched helplessly as the medics lifted him into the ambulance. That's when I used my blackberry to tell everyone I knew to pray.

The good news is that Larry didn't have any internal injuries. (Plus he hadn't been hit by a car.) The bad news is that he had several broken bones and would be in pain for about six weeks.

I continued the facebook updates from the hospital room for the next several days, and everyone was so gracious; but I realized how quickly I went from caring for others to caring for us. My mind was entirely preoccupied with helping Larry, managing the kids, and surviving on minimal sleep myself.

When in a crisis, we should take care of self, of course. We're not much good to anyone if we're not well, so getting better is our number-one responsibility. During our few weeks of difficulty after Larry's fall, we had meals delivered to us, cards sent, words of encouragement given constantly—and it was all wonderful.

But we don't need that kind of care anymore, and I'm glad. My world became much smaller when it was all about me (or in this case, us). Once I could turn my focus towards others again, I was much happier.

I know a few broken bones is nothing compared to what some people are facing right now. If you're in a crisis, you have all my compassion. But let the analogy work for you. If you're in a crisis—whether it's a medical issue, a relationship problem, an addiction, too much work to do, spiritual unrest—look for the light at the end of the tunnel, and head toward it! Be intentional about making things better, and ask others to help you. Take steps toward healing. This is your happiness at stake. Fight for it!

It'll be worth it. Because as soon as you can take care of others again, it'll feel like 70 degree weather in November. Even better.

Note: Some people are in perpetual crisis by no choice of their own. May the Lord bless you with an extra measure of perseverance.

The Good Life--for All

2009-10-08T08:35:00.001-04:00

When I go out for dinner, I almost always forget to quit eating the free appetizers before I’m too full for the meal. Chips and salsa. Buttery dinner rolls. Endless French fries. How do you say no to that? Good thing I’m not quite elegant enough to refuse a takeout box.

The problem comes when I step out of the restaurant and realize my car is the opposite direction as the movie theater. Do I ask my poor husband to walk all the way back to the car or do I endure the inconvenience of carrying around the Styrofoam box?

All these troublesome little problems melted away one night when we went to see the movie Taken, a story that, in all its Hollywood glory, revealed the dark world of human trafficking. My paradigm shifted. I had known of prostitution, of course, and even at some level knew the women were in danger; but I hadn’t opened my eyes to their desperate situation.

After watching Taken, I knew I had to find out more. Does this really happen today?

Click HERE to read the rest of the story.

Good Grammar

2009-09-28T19:00:00.001-04:00

I spent most of my weekend scanning through Webster's dictionary, trying to determine whether to insert or delete hyphens and spaces in words like pickup, facedown, and anymore, whether to use I or me, who or whom, lie or lay. Important stuff like that.

When I think about Dawn coming up her to last chemotherapy treatment, or Brian and Amy going to visit their 7 month baby who has never been out of the hospital, or Cindy mourning the death of her dear husband Larry who was one of the great men of God—the tiny little details that I have to concern myself with frankly feel inane.* Who cares whether someone says, "There are two things we know..." or "We know two things...."

And yet I want to get it right. It matters to me that the minute details are perfect, even as I realize they are not nearly so important as looking up from my work to laugh at my kids' jokes or to adjust a pillow for my injured husband or to send out an announcement to the church or to pray on behalf of trafficked victims around the world. I always go back to my tedious work though, and can't bear to send a manuscript to the publisher until I'm sure I've covered everything--even though I'm sure most people who read the book will not know or care whether it's grammatically correct.

Maybe I care about the details because in my heart of hearts, I know details matter.

It reminds me of the dream I had recently. I was praying for the continents of the world by editing html code. I was seeing each bracket that fit into another bracket that fit into another bracket, etc. The code was massive and impossible to edit alone, but I knew I had to get the code I was editing to be perfect because if even one bracket was left off, the whole thing would be distorted. I had to care about the tiny details so that the site as a whole would work.

I suppose that's why I'm good at my job. I look at the macro and the micro simultaneously. I see how one affects the other. The problem comes when I focus too much on one or the other. Looking only at the hyphens makes me forget why my work even matters; forgetting the small things makes my work sloppy and ineffective.

I need to remember this balance in every area of life. I need to see individuals and the world, my church and the Church, tedious tasks and my higher purpose.

Okay, I can go back to my editing now. I remember why I'm doing it. Thanks for letting me think out loud.

* I don't usually copy edit anymore, so maybe that's why I'm feeling reflective about this. More often I do macro editing. Macro editing looks at the big picture--judging readability, logic, structure, theology, content, etc. Copy editing is revising sentences to improve ease of reading. (Proofreading is fixing commas, capitalization, etc.)

No More Pizza Please

2009-09-23T20:40:00.001-04:00

I couldn't believe I said it. I was the guest speaker at a mega church, and I made a mega misspeak. I was telling the story of how my husband and I met at a writer’s conference: "He was a publisher looking for an author,” I said. “Let me tell you, he found one—and he did a whole lot more than publish me." The audience burst out laughing, and I blushed. Yikes! I didn't mean for it to sound like that!

The show must go on, of course, so I continued my talk and led them from that humorous moment to a poignant awareness of God’s grace. As soon as I got to the privacy of backstage, however, I put my hands over my face and laughed at myself.

Only to discover I hadn't turned off my microphone.

The sound guy came running over and yanked the mic from my ear and the pastor gave the crowd a moment to laugh again at my second blunder.

Yes, some days are like that. Some days we just dig ourselves deeper and deeper.

Here’s the good news: The spiral effect can go the other way too. When we start doing things right, they keep getting better...

To read the rest of the post, please go to (in)courage.

Be Still

2009-09-19T10:00:00.001-04:00

I've been having a revival. Not because I've joined a huge crowd inside a hot tent where we shouted out the name of Je-sus! (Though I have to admit I'd probably do that right now if someone invited me.) I've become intimately aware of God again by attending, of all things, a training.

Last weekend I went to the Hands of Hope training at The Wesleyan Church headquarters on how to identify and care for human trafficking victims. (The process of getting me to that event is a story in itself that reveals God's leading.) The presence of God was evident every moment of the training. (Which makes sense. Here were a group of people who were giving their sacrifice of praise by defending the weak. See what God says about that.)

But the real impact for me came after the event.

When I was driving home from the training, I started to think of the many stories I had heard. I know just a few trafficking victims personally, and that was tough enough; but suddenly I was overwhelmed with compassion for all the people I didn't know who were trapped right now, feeling hopeless and alone and scared. I wanted to save them all. I wanted to rush back to the training and to rally everyone together to take immediate action!

The logical side of me knew I couldn't do that, but the feeling wouldn't go away. And I began to wonder if we really can make any difference at all. The crime of trafficking is too big, too rampant, too organized, too desperate.

As the tears of compassion and frustration mingled, I suddenly became aware of a verse that I've known for years but had never known so beautifully: "Be still and know that I am God."

A message straight from God to me. I instantly calmed down, in awe. God sees those people I was praying for; he knows them by name. He knows the most deeply entrenched trafficker by name too. He is God. I can be still and wait for him to lead me to my next step.

I don't deserve to beg at the foot of the cross, and yet God is using me to do his work. I am a broken, sinful person, and yet I am entirely restored by the touch of God. I am free! I get to join with others to bring a radical change to our world, to free those in captivity, to overthrow the agents of darkness, to bring hope and beauty to our world. I am an abolitionist!

I started laughing. (Yes, I know I sound like a freak. I felt like I was an emotional teenager again.) With the profound knowledge of these two things, I had to laugh: I love this God who is so good and just. And he loves me.

Now, that's revival!

Pretty Things

2009-09-08T00:04:00.001-04:00

I bought some pretty things today.

I'm not a big spender—I'm Dutch, don't forget—so to get so much all at once is rather exciting. Making things look good is fun! I remember once when I finished decorating a bathroom, I would find myself standing outside the door staring in dreamily. I like pretty things. Is that bad?

The reason I even question that is because I'm not just a girl-girl. I'm also a person who is passionate about social justice, about defending the weak, about seeking first the kingdom of God.

How do I reconcile my love of homemaking with my passion for impacting the world? How do I delight in loveliness when there is so much suffering?

I don't have any answers.

I suppose living in conflict is not a bad thing. Not comfortable, but probably healthy. God loves beauty too, and one of his dominant characteristics is his compassionate for the weak. If he does both, I can strive for that too.

~~

In case you're interested, here are the pretty things I bought:

This lovely dining set was chosen by Larry and me as our 4-year anniversary present to ourselves. Believe it or not, my manly man wanted this too; last year we bought silverware, and he wanted that too. (No wonder I'm so madly in love with him.) Each year we purchase something to build up our home. We like being home together.

This fun set I've only just begun to collect, beginning with the pitcher. (Isn't it cute?! Click on the pitcher to see the rest of the set.) I get a little bit each month--paying only shipping because I'm a writer for DaySpring's blog (in)Courage. (Gotta love it when hobbies pay off.) And I can't wait to invite over some girlfriends to enjoy it with me.

This metal wall hanging reminds us of our trip (last fall!) to upper state New York. We picked up Larry's daughter Lydia and took her to Vermont with us. The fall colors were gorgeous as we drove through the mountains, and we just didn't have time to do any shopping to find a keepsake. (We like to buy something every time we travel together...and slowly collect meaningful treasures.) I've been keeping my eyes open for something pretty all this time, and finally found it.

This wall hanging reminds us of our trip last month to Celebrate Church in Sioux Falls, Iowa. We couldn't find just the right thing on that trip either, but knew we wanted something that was beautiful, mysterious, simple, and powerful all at once ... because that was how we experienced Celebrate Church. (The caption on this picture is "Celebration" by the way, and I got it free from DaySpring too :) We don't want to forget our encounter with God there as he worked through the Church.

A Year From Today

2009-08-27T07:40:00.003-04:00

My divorce lawyer’s last name was Makepeace.

Really.

In Mr. Makepeace’s office, my soon-to-be ex-husband and I divvied up our property and worked out child custody plans—moving closer to separation, not peace. Once, when my husband stepped out of the room, I could not hold in the sorrow. My denial failed and became a messy display of tears and snot and hiccups. The harder I tried to pull myself together, the more I fell apart. Makepeace sat back in his chair and waited. I apologized, but he brushed it off with a wave of his hand.
Have you been there—so traumatized you can’t even function? Are you there now? I’m sorry. It’s lousy. I hate to even think back to that memory, let alone talk about it. But I will in case you don’t have a Makepeace in your life to say what you need to hear...

When I finally composed myself, Makepeace leaned forward and said, “Just wait one year. Everything will be different then. You’ll be okay.”

I went home and curled up in bed thinking about how much my husband had hurt me, how cruel he was for leaving his children. Makepeace was wrong. I was not going to be okay.

After I couldn’t cry anymore, I opened my Bible to the Psalms. To my surprise, the rough-edged man who was making divorce a reality in my life was dead on. Over and over I bumped into this theme: She who keeps her heart steadfast will hope again.

I fell asleep with the Bible in my arms, determined to seek joy. I quit blaming others and humbled myself before the Lord, confessing my own sin. I quit obsessing about my own troubles and began noticing others again. I quit worrying about my future, and gave generously.

Life wasn’t suddenly easy (though it certainly was better). I was still in deep sorrow. The day we stood in court I cried so much I could not even speak to answer the judge. Daily, I felt the loss; I hated being home alone, parenting alone, and going to church alone. Once I bumped into my ex and his girlfriend at the grocery store, hand in hand—and I thought I must be the most dowdy, unlovable person alive. But the feeling passed, and I was okay.

A year later, my life really was entirely different than it had been that dark day in Makepeace’s office. I suppose it helped that I met a guy (and what a guy!); but even if it weren’t for Larry, I would be okay. In fact, I don’t think I would have connected with him if I hadn’t been fundamentally okay. God had freed me to mourn authentically even as I embraced life and lived graciously.

I don’t know what you’re going through, but if you’re driving through traffic lights like I was simply because you’re too traumatized to think straight, focus on this: “You’ll be okay.” Not because someone called Makepeace says so, but because the one who makes peace does. Hope is in reach. I pray that you will receive it.

Belly Up

2009-08-15T10:37:00.001-04:00

All day long a lovely little hummingbird flits back forth from a simple feeder filled with sugar water. I can see him from where work at my desk—and every time I do, I smile.

I was studying a book on spiritual disciplines this summer with some women from my church, and one of the topics was hospitality. The author encouraged us to see this ministry not as a way to showcase our great entertaining skills, but to make others feel welcome and safe. He suggested that if welcoming people was too hard, to give it a try with animals.

I laughed at first—but then I thought of my hummingbird friend. And my cat. And all the animals I have welcomed to my home over the years. Providing for their needs does nothing to fill my ego; rather, seeing them lounge in my good will fills my heart with joy. I like making creatures feel happy and safe. (You should see my cat sleep—sprawled out on his back with his neck exposed, not a care in the world.)

I want to be that kind of person with humans too. Whether in my home or at church or in the grocery story or on twitter, I want to make people feel happy and to know they are safe. When they're with me, I want them to know they belong.

Why? Because that's what God does for me. You think my cat looks crazy with his belly exposed? That's what I look like in God's presence. There's no better place to be.

Friends and Strangers

2009-08-08T06:00:00.002-04:00

I think we need a new dictionary to describe relationships.

Are people from my church considered friends or family? And does that go for people just in my local church, or the church universal? Are the people I meet online and engage frequently in meaningful conversation friends or strangers? Are the people I considered my best friends 20 or 30 years ago still my friends today even if I hardly or never talk to them?

I'm connecting with two new communities this weekend, and even though they are probably strangers in the strict sense of the word, I feel close to them. Is that normal?

The first community is Celebrate Church in Sioux Falls, SD. I'll be sharing an intimate story with this congregation on Saturday night and Sunday morning, and I've been praying for them long before I was to meet them. I did meet the pastor, Keith Loy, in person last year. We were at a church conference, and while his kids joyfully ran all over the resort, we enjoyed dinner together with our spouses. It was awesome to hear his testimony of growing a tiny church to 3000 people, and it was clear his message of love was matched only by his actions of love. If his people are anything like their pastor, I know we'll bond.

The second community is a group of women who love to blog. On Monday this exciting new project called (in)Courage will launch; and those of us who have been invited by DaySpring to participate have been emailing and twittering and chatting on forums for several months in preparation for this exciting event. Without meeting any of them (except Holley Gerth, the Big Cheese of the whole operation), I already have a great sense of connection with them. They are good, thoughtful, funny, lovely people—and admittedly a bit zany.

You may have landed on my blog because Ginny Martyn introduced you to me. I've been reading her blog and have had my thoughts stimulated time and time again because of her willingness to articulate deep concepts. Plus, she called me a triple threat. She's my friend forever now. :)

Another new friend from this group is Robin Dance. I knew her first because we have many mutual friends (there's that word again) on Twitter. I was led to her blog because of (in)Courage, and am delighted to discover that she's not only good with 140 characters—that girl can conjure up gorgeous images when she frees herself to use 140+ sentences. (I'm a sucker for word pictures!)

So is it normal to call these people friends?

I think so. I think we've entered a new era where "small world" takes on new meaning. We can connect on a deep level with folks we meet around the world without neglecting our next-door neighbor. Treasuring old friends and near friends, new friends and virtual friends enriches our lives. How does that old ditty go? "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold."

I hope you'll connect with your church family tomorrow—and surf the net.

Rejection

2009-08-05T18:17:00.001-04:00

Never trust a youth pastor. Mine invited me to come on the youth missions trip, promising me I would have fun. Sleeping on an air mattress in a hot church basement five nights in a row didn't exactly sound fun; but since three of my own teens were signed up to go, I thought I should do my part. Besides, my suffering for Jesus lately had been grabbing a Chai Tea Latte at Starbucks with friends from church. (Gotta love friendship ministry.) It was time to do a little more.

The first day I was assigned to teach ten 5-year-olds. Sounds as sweet as Chai tea, right? Wrong. It was so crazy the woman on staff left after an hour. "I just have to," she said. The kids were out of control.

I'm used to being loved by kids. Larry says that wherever Heather goes, kids follow. Maybe it's because I'm such a spectacle. (With a malformed arm and missing digits on my right hand, due to a car accident, kids usually love to get into long, theological conversations about the marvel of being able to pick up a pencil with two fingers.) But I think it's really because I love them so much, and they know it.

These kids, however, knocked the confidence out of me. They didn't like me. One boy kept looking at me as if I were something you find at the bottom of a toilet, saying, "Disgusting. Disgusting." Another one ran screaming out of the classroom every time I approached, terrified I would touch her. (I considered threatening to touch them if they didn't behave, but I refrained.)

It wasn't "fun."

The next morning I read about Moses who was overwhelmed by God's call to him to save the Israelites—and how he did it anyway. It was enough to get me going. God would equip me to care for these kids. Besides, it wasn't about how much the kids loved me; it was about giving glory to God.

When we arrived, a little boy named Mikael walked over to me. "I'm not afraid of your hand," he said. "I'll be your friend." He held my hand all day, and bit by bit the other kids became less afraid of me. And they began to listen. And we sang songs and played games and wrote words and read books. Soon, they clamored to hold both my hands.

It felt good to be accepted again, but that's not what gave me so much joy. I saw hope for these kids, and I knew God would raise up leaders in this heart-breaking community to bring restoration—beginning with Mikael. And I told him that. "You are a great person, Mikael. You saw a need, and you helped. Keep doing the right thing, no matter how much pressure you feel to do the wrong thing, and God will use you in a powerful way."

He smiled. "I helped you," he said, "and you helped me."

I guess that's how God works. Thank goodness the youth pastor tricked me.

Is Blogging for Me?

2009-07-16T21:17:00.002-04:00

I have no idea whether or not to blog. I certainly haven't taken it seriously yet. Does there really need to be another blog out there? So many people have so many good things to say already, and one more blog seems rather pointless. Besides, I have so much to do already, making time to write MORE than I'm already writing might keep me from doing more productive things.

And yet....

Well, for now I'll stick with my microblog: @heatherwilson.

Have You Heard of the Proverbs 32 Woman?

2009-07-11T13:09:00.001-04:00

A certain chapter of the Bible has been read and studied so frequently at women’s events around the world that the character who emerges from these pages is known by everyone as the Proverbs 31 woman, a wife who is worth more than rubies: She loves her work and is busy from the wee hours of the morning until late at night, she provides for her family with beauty and abundance, she has people who work for her, she is business savvy and profitable, she is physically strong, she generously cares for the poor, she is married to a leader, she has dignity and peace, she is wise and loved, and she fears the Lord. What a woman!

What a woman? What a person! It’s not just women who can learn from her. All of us could hold her up as a model, though I suppose many of us would quickly turn the page when comparing ourselves to her, hoping to find a Proverbs 32 woman who is not quite so intimidating.

Perhaps it would go something like this:

She is not a bad person, better than nothing.
Her husband doesn’t have many complaints about her
because he pretty much gets what he needs.
She brings trouble on him only some of the time.
She selects decent TV shows
and starts her work when he complains.
She is like a pizza delivery guy,
bringing food when she has to.
She gets up well before noon;
she doesn’t leave the fridge empty for more than a few days
and almost always pays her bills.
She surfs the Internet and buys lots of clothes at great discounts;
with her credit she grows a healthy debt.
She sets about her socializing vigorously;
her facebook is strong (with about 600 friends).
She sees that her lounging is perfected,
and her TV does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the remote
and grasps the mouse with her fingers.
She opens her arms to people who give her attention
and extends her hands to wealthy people who might help her out someday.
When it snows, she yells at her husband to start shoveling;
for he’s the only one out of bed.
She makes a lap tray for her bed;
she is clothed in flannel pajamas that need to be washed.
Her husband is out hunting as often as he can,
so he can get away from the chaos.
She has garage sales and sells junk,
and supplies the neighbors with broken knickknacks.
She is clothed with wit and arrogance;
she makes wisecracks about the days to come.
She speaks as a know-it-all,
and constant instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of other people’s households
and eats up the all the juicy gossip.
Her children arise and roll their eyes at her;
her husband also, and he uses sarcasm against her:
“Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but she spends thousands on plastic surgery.
Give her the reward she has earned,
and let her works give them something to talk about at the city gate.

Having high expectations of ourselves may be intimidating, but it sure beats having low expectations. I’m glad that God doesn’t think our being like the Proverbs 31 woman is out of reach. He wants the best for us, and he’s made it possible for us to achieve that.

Writing Bloopers (or Why Authors Need Editors):

2009-06-17T20:11:00.001-04:00

Here are just a few examples of errors I've come across as I edit books:

1. "I used to get all those states in the Mid East mixed up. I couldn't tell the difference between Indiana and Illinois."

2. "A leopard can't change its stripes."

3. "I once thought condoms were dreadful; now I live in one and wouldn't go back to a house."

4. "...it all started when Martin Luther King Jr. nailed the 95 Theses to the door."

5. "The best thing about the mountains in Colorado is that they tell me which way is East."

6. "I prefer intinction for Communion, mostly because people get squeamish about sharing from a common cup."

7. "I smell a fishy rat."

8. [Note to Editor: Where's the verse that says "God helps those who help themselves"?]

9. "It was completely fatal."

10. Naming the villain, a white supremacist, Les White.

I'm Not a Lazy Sloth ... All the Time

2009-05-27T21:45:00.001-04:00

I'm a person who does things.

I have to say that to myself when I'm sitting in my PJs at 3 in the afternoon staring at a manuscript on my computer. Maybe if I say it often enough to myself, I'll get dressed ... and get a life.

Words have power.

Larry and I almost didn't go for a bike ride on a fantastic trail on a gorgeous day because it would have been a bother to load up the bikes. "But remember, we're people who do things," we said, and the bikes were loaded in about 10 minutes. We hardly wanted to quit even after 20 miles of hard riding, it was so much fun.

I almost didn't arrange a women's book study this summer at church because it would be tough to figure out child care. "But I'm a person who does things," I said, and now 20 other women are meeting with me to be spiritually challenged and invigorated.

I almost didn't go get a free back massage, pedicure, and manicure tonight (invited along with other bloggers to this lovely event due to my twittering!) because it would be a 40 minute drive, and my book was interesting. I had to tell myself a few times that I'm a person who does things, but I finally listened. And good things happen in a spa with a bunch of women who like words. (More on that later.)

It's easy to be lazy. It's much more fun to engage life.

WHAM

2009-03-02T12:38:00.001-05:00

Larry recently preached a sermon in which he said something like:

During Pentecost, the gift of tongues was not so that the disciples could have a spiritual high; it was given to them so they could communicate with the thousands of people from all over the world who were in the city that day. It was like the disciples were saying, "If only we could talk to them" and WHAM, they had the gift of tongues. That's what the Holy Spirit does now, too. If we need something that's out of our reach in order to do ministry, God will provide it.

The same week Larry preached that sermon, he and I were saying, "If only we lived in Fishers so we could connect better with folks in that community," and WHAM, we got a random phone call from someone who remembered we had our house for sale last year; she wanted to know if we were still interested in selling.

The poor economy—and even our lack of granite countertops—is not too great an obstacle for God. If he needs us in Fishers, it'll all work out. Best of all, if God has really chosen us for this great responsibility (as it seems he has), I'm confident he'll equip us for every step along the way.

What do you need to be effective in ministry? Don't be afraid to ask God for it.

PS The potential buyer is viewing our house on Friday. Please join us in praying that our house will be a perfect fit for this family.

Important Discoveries

2009-01-28T23:26:00.001-05:00

Part 1: When I soften my facial expression, I actually feel happier.
Part 2: Most people don't get irony. Incidentally, many of my jokes are misunderstood.
Part 3: Telling jokes that other people don't get is still fun.
Part 4: When I put less soap in my dishwasher, the dishes get cleaner.
Part 5: People pay closer attention when I whisper than when I yell.
Part 6: If my son calls my web page butter, that's a good thing.
Part 7: Not everyone likes to be the center of attention. I know. Isn't that weird?
Part 8: If I quit thinking about whether I want to do something and just do it, it gets done.
Part 9: Alice Cooper is not a girl.
Part 10: When I don't get my way, everything turns out fine anyway.

Church Is Not a Social Club

2009-01-25T18:32:00.001-05:00

I once was part of a church where one of my good friend wasn't allowed to play on the church softball team (which competed against other churches in the league) because she wasn't a member. Ironically, she was gladly welcomed to teach Sunday school each week, shaping the lives of the members' children.

Given the sometimes arbitrary ways rules are applied, does church membership make any sense at all?

I posed this question on Twitter and Facebook, and heard strong opinions on both sides.

Here are some of the reasons (all of which I agree with) why people support membership:

It encourages commitment, investment, and ownership
It is a public pronouncement that benefits others
It creates a strong sense of belonging
It is mutually beneficial (for members and the church)
It is a formal acknowledgement that you can't be a Christian alone
It forces you to consider carefully before leaving

Here are some of the reasons why people opposed membership:

"I feel at home at my church, but I sometimes wonder if I'm not considered as important as the members."
"It seems to discourage independent thought."
"It's only a formality, so not necessary."
"I don't want to join a social club."
"The pressure from church leaders to join was off-putting."
"I once thought I was saved just because I was a member. I didn't know there was more to it."
"It divides churches and denominations."

As for me, I'm an optimist. I think it's possible to enjoy all the pros of church membership while avoiding the cons.

I believe we can truly value all people, whether or not they are members ... or even attendees.
I believe we can probe spiritual issues deeply even as we hold to basic tenets of the faith.
I believe the formality of membership can have great significance in people's lives.
I believe membership creates a sense of belonging to a community that is much deeper than companionship.
I believe church leaders can affirm people by inviting them to membership without using pressure.
I believe truth can be communicated about the difference between membership and faith.
I believe churches and denominations can work together even more effectively if they have a strong sense of identity based on who they are in Christ.

In the interest of full disclosure, I must say that I've been a part of the church all my life. I was baptized as an infant, made profession of faith as a young teen, and have been a church member ever since. I have served on church boards and am now married to the pastor-elect of my own local church. I may be a bit biased.

The church is intended to be a community that gathers to worship God, encourages each other in the faith, and invites others to experience God and his people. All should be welcome and valued in this place, whether they are long-term leaders or first-time visitors. If membership is introduced in such a way that it hurts others, it has lost its true purpose.

Whether we like it or not, the church is a human organization, and we need the structure that membership provides. Don't get me wrong; the church is not a social club, as if our whole purpose is to meet new people who have similar morals. Jesus himself created the church. I will not minimize it. Even so, it is run by people like you and me, and without clear guidelines, we will not have order. How can we call people to account if we have not agreed on what we believe? How can we select leaders if we don't know whether they adhere to any set of principles? Truth is not relative, and scripture is not easily interpreted.

Membership should be offered to people who would like to make a personal and public declaration of commitment to their local body and who would like to become leaders in their church. However, church leaders should be wary of pressuring others to make this step, and they should be intentional about avoiding the potential pitfalls that are sometimes associated with membership.

Regardless of how many mistakes the church makes, I am in love with this institution, and it has my undying commitment. It is because of the church that I know Christ and his love.

Fat and Happy

2009-01-08T20:05:00.001-05:00

I’m happy. How could I not be? I’ve got me a good man and a plethora of children. I have meaningful work and a gorgeous home. Best of all, I am in love with the Lord and know how treasured I am by him.

Sometimes I feel guilty for being so happy. Some of my closest friends are going through difficult times; I read the news; I’ve been to Africa and seen the suffering there. The world is not always a happy place. But then I remember the words that held me when I thought I would die of despair. “Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,” (Psalm 90:15). God must have been smiling when I bawled out those words, knowing he would answer that prayer beyond what I could ask or imagine.

I know what it is to suffer, but as I always say, “Through all the circumstances of my life, I have gained more than I have lost ... and I'm not just talking weight.”

Maybe I should talk weight, though. I mean, all this happiness is causing my scale to malfunction. (Certainly, I don’t weigh that much!) I’ve been enjoying my life so much—“taking time to heal,” as my friends all say—that I’m edging toward gluttony. My blessing intake is not balanced with my blessing output.

In Africa, fat is in. Not many there can afford the amount of food it takes to get overweight, so big bellies are shown off the way Americans might show off a new Porsche or a fancy home. I've seen a large woman in Liberia rub her jelly belly as lovingly as one would pet the family dog ... as I held a starving, orphan boy in my arms. Her arrogance disgusted me.

It disgusted me all the more when I realized I was just like her.

I don’t want to be fat and happy. I don’t want to be rubbing my jelly-belly blessings when others are suffering. God blesses me so I can be a blessing to others. God didn’t give Abraham a son so that old Abe could show off his family photo album to his friends; God gave Abraham a son so that all nations could be blessed through him.

With this in mind, I took a small step and volunteered at a homeless shelter today. I was surprised to discover that I was nervous about going; I mean, it wasn't so long ago that my own home in the inner city acted as a sort of homeless shelter for my struggling neighbors. It’s scary how quickly I became uncomfortable around the type of people I used to live with, the type of people Jesus loved so madly. Anyway, I went and sorted clothes at the second-hand store they're starting up. And it was fun! I’m going to go again next week.

I’m glad I’m realizing before it happens that fat and happy doesn’t last forever. If I’m not giving as much of this joy away as I can, I’ll end up fat and miserable.

Tiny Little Babies

2009-01-06T22:52:00.001-05:00

My friend Brian Lovell—whose wife Amy is in the hospital on bed rest as their twins grow within her—wrote a touching entry in his journal on the CaringBridge site. She is 23-weeks along, and one of the babies is struggling.

Here's what he wrote:

"We believe that God knows all and is holding us in His hands. As [4-year-old] Kaleb said to me in the car the other day while listening to the song (He's got the Whole World in His Hands): 'Daddy, Jesus has our tiny little babies in His hands, right?' And as I held back my tears, I knew God was speaking to me through the innocent eyes of my child."

Please pray for Brian, Amy, Kaleb, and the twins.

It's Not Just a Game

2009-01-04T07:43:00.001-05:00

If only Dungy had challenged the call in the first quarter. Or if Manning had called tails. Or if the Chargers' punter wasn't so good.

I woke up with these thoughts swimming in my sadness, and I'm a relatively new fan of the Colts, having just discovered football three years ago. Imagine how Dungy and his team must be second-guessing themselves.

Or maybe they're not. They played with passion and skill against another playoff-achieving team, and could be beat only through chance and overtime. They fought hard throughout the season, stunning us with their athleticism over and over again. Maybe they're not looking back. Maybe they're looking forward to what they can achieve next year.

Perhaps we love football so much because it represents so much more than a game. We can share communally the great emotion of wins and losses. When we see our beloved players training themselves so ruthlessly and achieving great success, we are inspired to pursue excellence ourselves, realizing that hard work pays off. When our team loses a critical game and we plunge into misery, we eventually remember that there is always next year—for the trials in our own lives as well.

Yesterday's match may have been just a game, but football certainly isn't.

Things I Don't Do Anymore

2008-12-31T14:08:00.001-05:00

pt. 1: Stick my finger in the cigarette lighter to see if it's hot.

pt 2: Wish to be older. Or younger.

pt. 3: Call the radio host by the wrong name throughout the entire interview.

pt. 4: Say, "That's water over the bridge," when I mean "under."

pt. 5: Put two spaces between sentences.

pt. 6: Pronounce Rush Limbaugh's name wrong.

pt. 7: Get a mullett haircut.

pt. 8: Get stressed about waiting.

pt. 9: Think the lyrics for "Lead on, oh King Eternal" are "Lead on, oh kinky turtle."

pt 10: Try to get my way. (I'm usually wrong anyway.)

You Jane, Me Annie

2008-12-27T09:15:00.002-05:00

People, it was an empty threat.

When I said I wanted to cut my Facebook friend list down to 20, it was like me saying I'd be perfectly happy as a self-sufficient single woman ... only to marry Larry five months later.

As much as I want to be one of those quiet, private, self-composed people with a tight circle of friends, I just can't help finding everyone I meet (or don't meet, thanks to Twitter and Facebook) to be a fascinating new potential bff. Sigh.

I want to be Jane Bennett, beautiful and calm, but I'm little Orphan Annie singing my heart out for the world to see. I want to be the trusty golden retriever who quietly loves and serves her people, but I'm the silly otter who splashes and plays.

I once had a friend who oh-so carefully peeled and chopped her toddler's grapes ... as I encouraged my own toddler to catch with his mouth the grapes that I tossed him. I wanted to be careful and proper (and safe!) like her, but those delightful squeals from Chad as he danced around catching juicy balls in his mouth was irresistible.

I'm not cutting friends. I'm out looking for more. I am an ENFP (http://www.personalitypage.com/ENFP.html), whether I like it or not. I might as well use my personality for good.

How about you? What is your personality, and have you ever wasted your energy trying to be something you're not?

Summer Bible Reading

2008-04-29T09:51:00.001-04:00

As you can see, I've just about abandoned this blog. What can I say? I've discovered facebook. :)

Anyway, I'm so excited about my husband Larry's new summer Bible reading plan that I just have to share it here. Please go to Larry's Bible Blog to get the details. Post a note there to let him know you've caught the vision!

Grandma Heather

2007-09-23T21:06:00.001-04:00

I don't even care that "Grandma" makes me sound old. In fact, I'm thrilled to have that title of honor.

Little Zane Deshawn joined the family this morning at 8.8 pounds and 21 inches.

I couldn't be more proud.

Marine in the Family

2007-09-12T13:04:00.001-04:00

When my step-son Uriah was still in high school last year and preparing for boot camp by doing some physical training with some other recruits, I thought that was bad enough. I would pick him up from PT and hear his stories about how he worked through his pain, often puking several times during the workouts. "But there's nothing more exciting than being able to do what you thought was impossible," he'd say—as I nearly passed out just by listening to the description.

Well, that kid is now a man, only 13 weeks later. Larry went to the graduation from basic training in South Carolina (I had to stay home with the other kids), and I got all choked up just looking at the pictures. The sacrifices he's already made make him a national hero already.

Today Uriah is coming home and I feel like a celebrity is coming to our house.

Step Two

2007-06-24T06:38:00.001-04:00

Okay, I admit it. I was bawling before he even kissed the bride. I was watching my gorgeous son who was so grown up standing there waiting for the love of his life, and the anticipation on his face was almost tangible. He was right where he wanted to be. My tears were only partly for myself, for my loss—they were mostly tears of joy for Antoine and for Lauren, who are so beautiful together. The old cliche is true: I haven't lost a son, I've gained a daughter.

The day started off pretty rough, though. Besides waking up to rain (which we hadn't had for weeks) and the stress of anticipating how the evening would go, I got a phone call from Antoine about four hours before the wedding telling me he had just gotten in an accident. I was there in three minutes and found Antoine crying at the side of the road with his new car totaled. Praise God that he walked away without a scratch.

Antoine is blessed with lots of mothers in his life ... and we were all there together at his wedding. There was me, his birth mom, his step-mom, his foster mom, and his mother-in-law all fussing over him. But the most important mother in his life is the soon-to-be mother of his children: Lauren. I couldn't be more pleased to hand him over to someone as precious as she.