Joy is Trust

My sister ran across some old writing of mine as she cleaned out her desk tonight. Thought I would share it with y'all.

Joy does not always laugh.

Sometimes Joy cries.
Sometimes you weep, and sometimes you feel insecure.
Unsure of the future; unsure of how your past will effect that future.
But Joy presses on.
Joy has hope.

Sometimes you are so desperate, your life is in ruins
and you look at the fragments of what once was your all
and you mourn.
But Joy remembers.

Joy remembers that God promised never to abandon.
In the midst of anguish you will fall broken into his arms
And He will heal.
It will hurt. You will cry. You will struggle
But in the end, Joy smiles and Joy will laugh.

Just because you didn't always laugh
doesn't mean you didn't have Joy.

Joy is Trust.

What Have You Been Doing this Summer?

 "So what have you been doing all summer?"

That is the question I was asked yesterday at lunch that I never really answered. I started to answer by leaning back in my chair (or forward, I don't remember, I just know I moved around in my seat) and saying something like "Oh man, a lot has happened this summer. My life is so different now than what is used to be." I paused awkwardly for a second trying to figure out how to proceed but then my phone rang and I was saved from answering immediately. After the phone call I kind of avoided going back to the question and our conversation continued on swimmingly thanks to the "amiableness" of my companion.

Still I kind of feel bad for never answering. It's not that I didn't want to, I was just unprepared to answer such a simple question because I feel like I have a complicated answer. It's not that a lot has happened this summer, but a lot has come into fruition this summer. I mention often, in somewhat veiled language, the difficult life I had before and to be sitting here now in my current situation is something that is nothing short of miraculous to me.

Breaking the Silence

Sometimes the silence is unbearable. Don't be afraid to make some noise.

This is the thought that slipped into my head a few weeks ago and it still hasn't come out. There is a book coming out called Tear Down this Wall of Silence by Dale Ingraham and Rebecca Davis. It's about sexual abuse in the church and how we should handle it. I haven't read it, but I believe my mom has and if you're friends with her on Facebook; then I am sure you have seen her post about it a few times. Even though I've never been sexually abused, this title still resonates deeply with me.

When I was young Mom gave me a small paperback book called Dorie: The Girl Nobody Loved. It was dark blue and had a simple line drawing of a little girl looking up at a particular constellation in the sky. I remember laying in the bed of our small pickup truck at my brother's football practice. It was night and the lights were so bright on the field, that it was almost day. The story was about this little girl and how she grew up being sexually abused and how she dealt with it becoming an adult. Gazing up at the ink black sky, searching for that constellation, I learned compassion. I am thankful that Mom gave me that book to read. It is one of the key points that God used to open my eyes to see others suffering.

Being an Older Adoptive Sibling

Hello friends, it has been a while since I've posted on here.

Today I have something important to talk about. Although I can't share everything here online I must make you aware of the fact that we are no longer adopting the boys. Many things have contributed to this decision on my parents part and it is not my place to explain everything. Even so, everything I said before about loving being a big sister, about how I could see God leading us to these boys, all of that still applies. The time we had with them was hard but still a blessing. Maybe more for them than us, but I don't regret that time at all.

Having read different blogs and forums, I've noticed that people are always saying that nobody really talks about adoption that much. I wouldn't have known since all of these places were talking about it, but maybe I just stumbled upon the few rare gems. Since there is a need for more discussion on the subject I would like to share with y'all my story as an older sister in a local American adoption. I hope some of you other adoptive older siblings will find this story and get some encouragement out of it.

Easter 2015
We're just missing our older brother Zachary!

Floral Shorts and Muscadines Remind Me of His Mercy

A while back my mom took my sister and I shopping at a Spring sale Old Navy was having. Styles are cycling back around and what was once popular when my Mom was a girl is once again becoming the latest trend. Many of the prints and colors were familiar to me. Mostly I remember the shoes from Mom's closet but I guess when we were younger we also had some old hand me downs, mostly dresses. I got a pair of navy blue shorts with pink and blue flowers plastered onto it. I like them a lot but whenever I look at them I cant help but remember the hideous dresses Mom used to make me wear when I was little. They had flower print just like my shorts and one had big puffed sleeves and soft gathers at the hem so my dress looked like that one sleepy cartoon dog - Droopy is it? - Anyways, I don't know why but I had so many floral print dresses and I hated them all. I swore I would never ever wear dark colored with medium sized contrasting flowers on top clothes... especially dresses. Now here I am wearing a pair of shorts that if they were a dress I would immediately throw into the donate pile. Go figure.

The other day my brother was listening to country music and one of the lines in the song is "sweeter than muscadine wine" How many of y'all know what a muscadine is? Well you won't have to wonder long because I'll tell you. They're summer. They are komorebi (the soft light that turns leaves into glowing fireflies). They're the gentle breeze that sneaks under the thick vines and cools a little girls legs but not her sweaty brow. She is almost completely out of sight under the thick growth, her waist and legs rest in the moist dirt as the rest of her strains reaching up and up, to the very center of the friendly vines where she plucks the very last fruit. She collapses and rests on her elbows that are digging into the soft earth and plops the muscadine into her mouth. She sucks on it and then pulls it out and carefully begins peeling off the skin to reveal the green inside. It matches the glowing leaves. Finally she eats it. Muscadines are the perfect day.

Sunday School: Job

Yesterday during Sunday School there was a lot to think about.

We are going through the book of Job so I knew there were going to be a lot of things that would hit me personally... but today I was just blown away on how seamlessly all of this fits into my own story.

The one thing that I remember the most, (I wish I took notes!) is the fact that even though Job did not reject God he was still not able to see God. Job desperately wanted to see his Lord but he just could not. If you have a background similar to mine you will right away understand the significance of this statement.

The Devil Cannot Steal you From God; Go Help Those Over Whom the Devil Actually has a Grip.

It has been a while since I have posted anything with me just talking and sharing my heart with y'all. A lot has been going on lately and I feel like there are some things I need to say.

First of all I must confess that my prayer life is anything but stellar and I feel distant from God at the moment. Formerly I would have interpreted this lost kind of feeling as me being altogether separated from God; Apart from His Grace and unworthy of His Forgiveness. It is a blessing for me to KNOW without a doubt that will never happen. When God brings you into His family there is no way you can ever fall away. There may be times when I feel alone or sometimes when I actually put up a barrier between myself and my Father but just because I have thrown up a short little wall doesn't mean that God can’t see down in and isn't watching over me and protecting me. I need His love more than anything.

Despite my weariness there has been some things my Father has been teaching me lately and I'd like to share that with you. Actually I think it is because of my weariness that I have been able to hear what He has to say. It's about forgiveness and grace.

We need a whole lot of it.

We need to give others even more of it.

Caroling at the Abortion Clinic

          This morning I woke much earlier than I usually do and went with Dad to sing carols and pray at the abortion clinic. I had never been there before today and the experience was not as I expected it to be. The innocent looking building sits behind the Hobby Lobby surrounded by equally non-descript vehicles, holding average looking people. The moon still glowed in the dark sky when we arrived at 6 am and a light wind made little chills scurry up my arms and around my shoulders. The same wind had more force further above and the wispy clouds furled around the moon.

            As I walked down the road towards the group of people who were there for the same reason as I, I was affronted by many signs with the faces of children, signs with pleas for woman to choose life, signs offering help and hope. Pastor Brito's voice swelled as he read the Word and Dad and I quietly slipped into the group.

            I didn't have time to think anything at first, in fact I tried not to, but soon the thoughts would press through.

Camellia Festival: What I Thought

Today we met my Grandma at the Baldwin Heritage Museum in Elberta. There was a Camellia Festival and there were lots of interesting things to look at. They had a sugar cane mill and we got to see how it worked and crush some ourselves. The juice that came out was sweet and tasted really good! :)

One of the many exhibits in the museum. This is for making seed potatoes.

At the festival there were mainly older people, about my grandma's age maybe a little older maybe a little younger. There were only six people who were not in my family that were sixteen or younger.
There were so many interesting things to look at! I wondered around and around the little museum looking at the same things over and over again. As I absorbed all of this history I overheard several conversations. Mainly folks were saying how they remembered these things or "I used to have one of those!" all were reminiscing about the "good old days" One man was looking at a wood stove with his pal. He said, "My mom used to have one of those up until I was about five or six when my dad finally broke down and bought her an electric one." Every time someone started talking I would quickly step over there and (okay I guess I never "overheard" anything) eagerly listen to what they had to say. They all knew I was listening and sometimes they would turn to me as they spoke. Most of the time all they had to say was wonderful but more than twice they would talk about how my generation doesn't appreciate any of this anymore.

Two Years

Two years ago today, my baby brother was only one week and three days old. It had only been one week and three days since our house burned down and only one week and three days since I had seen the ugly side of the police force. The side that only criminals are supposed to see. On this day two years ago we were still living with our friends and my parents were still in the hospital struggling to keep our baby brother safe. Struggling to keep their son in their arms. It was a dark time. An uncertain and frightful time. Almost equal to the year when we first moved to Missouri. That year our family went through what seemed like Hell on earth. The questions, the doubts, the accusations I flung at God. "What are you doing?!" Anger and confusion was my first reaction. Then about a week after it happened something clicked. God spoke to me and then I knew that my life had been changed irrevocably for the good.

“In Essentials, Unity; in Non-Essentials, Liberty; in all things Charity.”

There’s no such thing as a factory-made Christian. No assembly lines or quality checks.

Christians come in all shapes and sizes and wrappers. A Christian may wear makeup and another may not. Some Christians listen to country music, or even *gasp* "Christian" Rap. Other Christians listen to blue grass, classical, or hymns only. Some of our brothers and sisters, don't "do" the Facebook thing, and even have a hard time with text messaging. Some wear only skirts and others wear slacks or even (horror of horrors!) jeans to church. Some have tattoos and some don't. Christians go to college, and others may not. Some Christians celebrate Christmas and others don't. Some Christians drive cars, and some have beards, solemn clothing, and ride horses around. Christians may have worship bands in their church, or choirs, but some have neither one.

We are a diverse group. There is no formula in the Bible that tells us exactly how to dress, how to talk, how to act, what holidays to celebrate, what music to listen to, what kind of education to pursue, or whether or not to drive cars. There are hints and precepts but there is no checklist, no neon flashing signs.

We do have many things in common, we are Christians. We are God's people, His children, His chosen ones, His Bride. We all strive to honor God and do what we understand to be His will for us.

Certainly there are things that I believe, and hold to be right, and His will, but let's not quibble over little things; like if it is wrong to wear bright colored clothing, or if it is better to dance and clap your hands while you worship than it is to stand straight.

The Bigness of Life

[I don't remember when I wrote this, obviously during the summer, but it has sat around in my drafts for quite a while. I find my thoughts then still ring true with my thoughts now so I will post it, even if it is belated.]


Over the past two months, I have started to realise just how big life is. Well, I suppose I started to have an inkling of it when my dad had his heart attack, when the house burned down, and when my baby brother was born - but it is now in the quiet lull of business yet to come and business past that I have thought about it much.

Yes there is much to life. Rain, sun, plants, bugs, animals, crop failures and successful crops. There are silly games to be played, times for serious thinking. There are the chores to do, and then of course friends to hang out with and have fun with. There are the big things in life, and then the small.
And what about the future? What is going to happen? Who will I marry, how many children will I have? Will I be a good mother, a good wife? Am I going to marry? Will I write a book someday? Where am I going to live - what about my dream home up in the mountains with a little herd of goats and a garden? I am afraid one of my weaknesses is wondering about the future.

Teenager n. A young person that shows irrevocable signs of being a jug-head and/or is driven by insatiable selfish desires

Who are we?

There is this thing that has been bothering me lately.

The misconception people have that "teenagers" (any young person 12 through 18 or 19) are practically a different creature than "adults" (any person that is finished with college and may or may not have children). Teenagers either think differently, see differently, dress differently, eat differently, think they're smarter than their parents, listen to horrible noises that they call music, practically LIVE for fashions and celebrities, or have a chronic disease called "irresponsibility". Teenagers get a "mouth off for free" and a "party, have sex, get high and get drunk for free" card. After all they're teenagers and that's what teenagers do. (I don’t mean to say that adults approve of these things, but they sure aren’t doing anything to stop it. Oh, and handing out condoms doesn’t help.)

And then there's "My crazy college days". This is the same thing as the teenage years except for two differences.

Have I Learned To Be Content?

Philippians 4:11 - Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

I was thinking about this today, sometimes I think I have learned to be content and sometimes not.

Some things I worry about: My future, how I look, our country, my brother; who, when, or even if, I am going to be married. Will I be a good wife, a good mother? Does my worrying mean I doubt God? Sometimes I am not content with my family, or myself even. I wish I was better.

But then again, here are some things I do not worry about: My future, how I look, our country, my brother; who, when, or even if, I am going to be married. Will I be a good wife, a good mother? I know that I do not doubt God. I am content with my family and could wish for no different, I am content with myself, and I do the best I can.

One Day, I Was Born

One day, I was born. Soon after I made my first trip to church. Ever since then, like a faithful hen laying its one egg everyday, I've returned nearly every week - only missing a few Sundays because of sickness. In addition to that for many years we came to Wednesday night church as well. Ever since I was baby I was surrounded by a Christian environment. My life was saturated with it. Christian parents, Christian family, Christian friends, Christian music, Christian books, Christian summer camps, Christian movies; reading and understanding the King James Version of the Bible is second nature to me, I have a Christian thought pattern, I see through the eyes of one redeemed by Christ.

Embracing Your Womanhood

Okay some of you might remember that quite a while back; earlier last summer, I was working on a project for Girlscouts called the Ideal World Clinic. My sister had a presentation to do about healthy foods, and mine was on the biblical role of women. I wrote about it here. Well I never did get the video going but in this post I have changed things a little bit and made it more readable from my original speech version to a written version. So that's it for my itroductory comments, enjoy the read. :)

Skirts Vs. Pants

NOTE: Since writing this post back in 2011 many things have changed in my life. I no longer wear only, or even mostly skirts. I still have the same convictions about being a woman, and being proud, and standing out in the world as a Christian but the way in which I live out these convictions have changed.

Taken earlier this summer, my sister and I having fun in our new dresses.

Well It's been decided, I am officially a skirt/dress girl. I've decided to wear (almost) only skirts and dresses. Probably the first thing you may think of is "She thinks it's immodest to wear pants." or something along those lines. Well that's not exactly it. I came about this decision gradually over a course of years.

Working At Love

Besides being an emotion love is also an action.
1 Corinthians 13:1-8

First Paul tells you how important love is.
"1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing."

All For God... Really? All of It?

     Lately I've been thinking about how my life honors God. Am I really giving it all to him? Am I doing all in my power to give a true and real reflection of Him? Well while considering this I ran across two things that I have placed a higher priority on than God. Music and the clothes I wear. Let's talk about this in the order they came to me.

"Yes, Scripture Teaches Me To Obey My Own Husband..."

"As a wife, I communicate my confidence in this commandment and the principles behind it in the way in which I honor and obey my husband. Yes, Scripture teaches me to obey my own husband—not as a child obeys his parents, but as the Church is subject to Christ; as a bride who fears the Lord submits to her God-appointed head. Thankfully, God has not selected a stranger to be my head. Instead, I have my best friend and lover! And he just happens to be commanded to sacrificially love and protect me."

To read this article by Stacy McDonald in it's entirety click HERE