Victim of Grace

Every so often, a book comes along that just grabs you and doesn't let go.  Victim of Grace by Robin Jones Gunn is that kind of book.  As I read, I would periodically stop to text a friend and say, "You have to read this!"  Other times I stopped to type out a quote to share on Facebook or Instagram.

Victim of Grace shares personal stories from Robin Jones Gunn's life, linking each back to a woman in the Bible whose story she related to during that time.  She shares both the dark times and the good times in her life, but through it all, she shows how God's goodness prevails.  She discusses how we lost our "covering of grace" in the fall and how we need to be honest with God, receiving the provisions He has for us. 

She also shares a lot of her experiences with writing.  She talks about where many of her book ideas came from, as well as her writing habits and how she made time for writing in the middle of raising children and caring for her father as his health declined. 

I would highly recommend this book to anyone.  It's one of those books you'll find yourself sitting down periodically so you can soak in what you're reading.  You won't regret it!

Boogie Boards and Big Dreams

Last week, I did something crazy.  I chaperoned a pre-teen trip to a local water park.  (That wasn't the crazy part.)  I wore a swimsuit, which was pretty crazy.  And scary.  Even if I did wear shorts with it.  A thirty something momma of two squeezing into a stretchy swimsuit...ugh.  But I digress.  No, as challenging as that may have been, that wasn't my crazy adventure.

I learned to boogie board.

Seriously.  

I told my husband once that if we ever went to Hawaii or California or someplace with actual waves (which we don't have on the Texas coast) I want to learn to surf.  His response?  Hysterical laughter.  It was justified.  Let's just say that I'm not known for my gracefulness.  I'm known more for tripping on flat surfaces.  So I'm not a natural candidate for surfing skills.

Still, I've always wanted to try.  Last week, when we walked into that water park, what was the first thing I saw?  Surfing.  Ok, boogie boarding, actually, but close enough.  I knew I has to try it before we left.  But I couldn't talk any of the kids into it.  We warmed up on a few water slides - with me screaming the whole time.  Then we floated the river surrounding the park, where I flipped over in the rapids and hurt my knee.  (I told you I'm not very graceful.). The day wore on, until finally I knew it was now or never.

Image credit: Schlitterbahn Galveston

I made my way to the boogie board line.  At first, I stood aside, just watching, before working up the nerve to get in line.  It didn't take long to realize that I was the oldest person there, by quite a few years.  I guess that's why one kid looked at me so funny when he asked, "Are you going to try it?"  

My nerves almost got the better of me as I watched college guys and small children attempt it.  I was supposed to hold this board, dive down a hill into a rushing current of two-inch-deep water, then get on my knees on said board?  It had disaster written all over it.  When it was my turn, I stood telling the guy overseeing it, "Look, I have no idea what I'm doing."  He explained, then demonstrated, then turned me loose.  I held my board, took a deep breath, and dove.  

And it worked.  I caught the current just right, and stayed on the board, on my stomach, for quite a while.  I felt so confident that I got back in line for a second try.  This time, when my turn rolled around, I asked the guy what the secret was to getting on your knees on the board.  He explained, and again, I did it.  It was amazing.  By the time I finished the second round, I was exhausted, my knee was killing me from my earlier wipeout, and our group was packing up, so I headed out - but I've got to say, I felt great.  I rocked.

Okay, you're probably wondering what my boogie boarding adventure has to do with anything.  I've talked a lot about my dreams this year - my huge, crazy, God-sized dreams.  If I'm going to dream big, I have to overcome some of the same hurdles I overcame to boogie board.

1. Don't be afraid to look crazy.

I would have spent weeks kicking myself if I hadn't tried it that day.  I would rather look like the crazy middle aged woman on a boogie board than to regret missing the opportunity.

2. Take a deep breath and just dive in.

All I knew about boogie boarding, I learned from a thirty second conversation with a teenager.  I just had to take what little I knew and dive in.  We can only learn so much by standing on the sidelines - sometimes we just have to experience it for ourselves.

3. Celebrate taking the leap.

Okay, so maybe throwing my hands in the air and telling my oldest, "I surfed - and I rocked!" wasn't the appropriate way to celebrate.  But just taking leap is something to celebrate, even of things don't turn out like you planned.

Have you ever done something wild and crazy, not caring how you looked?  Tell me about it.  Please.  So I won't think I'm crazy.  

(Just incase you're wondering, I'm still recovering from the sunburn and the injured knee.  But it was totally worth it.)

When Boys Become Men

I'm losing my babies. Time is slipping away before my eyes, running through my fingers as I try to hang on tighter.  I'm watching my little boys become men, day by day.

My oldest - my firstborn, who I watched and guarded so carefully - is now watching out for me. He checks my tires. He cooks dinner. He encourages me. A few months ago, as I prepared to take a hard test with very high stakes, he left this for me on the refrigerator:

 

He started youth group this summer.  Youth.  Already.  It doesn't seem possible.  Wasn't it just a few days ago when I held that tiny newborn in my arms - a new mom, holding a new life, falling head over heels in love.  Can we just rewind a little?

My youngest is too big for me to pick up anymore. He writes in cursive and reads massive amounts about dinosaurs.  My preemie who fought so hard for every breath those first few days of life will now fight for breath through his laughter as he tells jokes or watches his favorite movie, calling out, "Mom, this is just too funny!"

 

I look around at the shoes lying in the floor - they are now bigger than my own.  Tears fill my eyes. Can we slow this down?  Time is passing by much too fast.  In six years, my oldest will graduate - my baby will follow him just three years later.  I feel this crazy twist of emotions - pride and delight as I see the men they are becoming, as I watch their strengths and talents and passions emerging; sadness that all too quickly, they will be all grown up and our home will become an empty nest.

I got my first taste of what that will be like when they went to camp last week.  It marked the longest time I've ever been away from my boys - four nights.  The house was so empty without them.  There were a little homesick, but they came back with stories of ziplining, canoeing, horseback riding, hiking, amazing chapel services - and the highlight of it all, Top Shot champion Dustin Ellermann teaching them to shoot.  They had adventures of their own, and they loved it.  It was a week that proved they are growing up.

No one told me that motherhood is such a mixed up mess of joy and fear.  My heart fills with pride at the men my boys are becoming - and breaks because it's happening much too quickly.  The hardest part of parenting is the letting go. http://clicktotweet.com/3WR5B  It's a thousand little moments leading up to the ultimate moment of turning them loose in the world and praying that they make the right choices, that what we've done is enough.

I can't rely on myself to prepare them for life.  No matter how much my husband and I teach them, no matter how many church services we take them to or how many family devotions we read, so much about their lives is out of our hands.  I have to let them go and place them in God's hands.

Do you have a verse that you cling to for your children?  This is mine.  What a perfect reminder this week, as I review one of my favorite verses with Hide His Word.  He knows them far better than I do.  He has plans for them - good plans.  They are in His hands, hands that are so much bigger than my own.  Letting go is never easy - but I know they will be safe in their Father's hands.

Transitions

Life is all about changes.  Nothing stays the same for long.  But change is hard - even good change - and there's a part of us that wants to fight it.  No one likes the struggle that comes with transitions.

I'm in a transition period myself.   A few days ago, I mailed in my application packet for my dental hygiene license.  I've graduated.  I've passed both my regional and national tests. It's a done deal, except for a little paperwork and red tape.  In a few weeks, I'll get my license in the mail, and I will officially be an RDH.  For the first time in my life, I will have a career, not just a part-time job.  I can't wait to start this new phase in my life.

But I'm not quite there yet.  Technically, anyway.  I can't touch a patient until I get my license.  I'm still working my office job until my license comes in.  In a few weeks, everything will change - but for now, I'm caught somewhere in between.

I've also reached a transition period with my writing.  I can now spend more time focusing on writing.  I have ideas for magazine articles, blog posts, stories, and more, and I'm working on creating a schedule and trying to sit down daily to write.  I'm trying to move writing from something I do for fun to something I take seriously.  It's my dream, it's what I love, but it, too, requires a transition.

I have to admit, this whole process of change hasn't been as easy as I thought it would be.  I imagined that once I finished school, I would easily slip into a calm, "normal" life where balance came naturally.  How could it not after having such a huge load taken off my plate?  What I found instead were all the things I pushed aside to get through school now clamoring for my attention - fitness, ministry, home projects, and more.  Finding a workable schedule and sticking with it has proved to be a challenge, one that I'm still working on.

So what do you do when you're in-between two realities, moving from old to new?  You stay faithful.  You keep working hard.  I'm still working at my job at an insurance office.  I'm slowly working on my home, catching up on all the things I didn't have time to do during college, planning so that hopefully things will run smoothly once I start my new job.  I'm working my way into a new fitness routine and slowly changing my eating habits.  I'm jotting down ideas and developing them slowly, working from my laptop and my new iPad mini to create blog posts and articles.  I'm emailing my critique group and my writers group for feedback and advice.  I'm keeping an ear out for job openings and professional connections.  I'm trying to weave what seems to be a thousand little pieces of my life into something that works.

Change is natural and normal, but it's not easy.  I'm growing - and I'm having some growing pains to prove it.  My life is morphing into something new and better.  For now, though, I'm hanging on through the transition.

Comfort Food: Cheesy Potato Soup

I'm a Southern girl, and in the South, we love good old fashioned comfort food.  When I'm having a bad day or when I'm not feeling good, a bowl full of warm soup is the perfect pick me up.  Of course, you don't really need an excuse to make a big pot of good soup.

Cheesy potato soup is one of my family's favorite meals.  I got the original recipe years ago, and I worked on it for a few months, tweaking it a little each time I made it.  We had it this weekend, for the first time in months.  (According my oldest, now that I'm done with college, "We're having real food for the first time in a year - or three.")

It's super easy - peeling the potatoes is the hardest part!

·         8 cups potatoes, peeled and diced

·         1 small onion

·         3 stalks celery

·         5 cups water

·         5 teaspoons salt, divided

·         1 stick butter

·         4 cups milk

·         1/4 cup flour

·         1/2 teaspoon pepper

·         1 teaspoon dry mustard

·         1 (14 oz) can tomato sauce

·         1-2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

·         1/2 pound Velveeta

 

1.       Finely chop onion and celery; add potatoes and put in water with half of the salt; boil until tender.

2.       In a separate pan, combine butter, milk, flour, pepper, dry mustard, and the rest of the salt; heat until butter is melted and all ingredients are combined.

3.       Shred or thinly slice Velveeta and add to butter/milk mixture, stirring until melted.

4.       Combine cheese/milk/butter mixture with potatoes.

 

Add tomato sauce and Worcestershire, and heat through.  Serve with thick slices of French bread or homemade bread.

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Coming Soon...

I've been linking up pretty often this year with Holley Gerth's blog, sharing my God-sized dreams.  Well, here is a tiny little piece of a God-sized dream beginning to come true...

A few months ago, I won a small flash fiction contest held by one of my favorite authors, Steven James.  I just hoped I could possibly get a spot in the top ten.  I never expected to win!  I was so excited to receive an autographed copy of his newest book - and publication in Splickety Magazine, a new flash fiction magazine.  Yesterday I got on Facebook and found a message letting me know that my entry will be published in July's issue!

Yes, it's only 130 characters.  Yes, it's small.  But it represents something big - a dream bigger than myself.  A tiny crack into a real world that before now has only lived in my imagination.  I've blogged for years.  I've guest posted on some pretty big blogs.  But I've never had anything published, in print, with my name on it - and I never even dreamed that the first thing I would see my name on would be fiction.  I spent so much time telling myself I could never do this.  Now I'm proving myself wrong.  I'm scared to death, and too excited to think!

Messy Faith

My morning time with God isn't pretty.  I have notebooks and journals spread out all over the couch.  My messenger bag hangs open.  Sharpie pens and colored pencils roll around amid notebook paper and printouts of maps or reading schedules.  My Kindle and iPhone are hidden somewhere under a journal or stack of pages.  And there I sit, in the middle of it all, wrapped up in my big ol' fuzzy blanket.  It's a mess.

But it works beautifully.  I lose losing myself in Bible study, prayer, and journaling during those early morning hours while everyone else sleeps.  I love digging deep and letting God's Word seep into my heart.  I love sitting, quietly listening, until God speaks to me.  I love my early mornings with just me and God...and coffee.  Always coffee.

If you want to know the truth, my faith is like that, too.  It's messy.  I'm all over the place.  I'm up and down, victorious one minute, struggling for air the next.  So often, I'm right in the middle of a big mess, trying to find peace in the midst of chaos.  And every time I look, I find God - right there in the middle of it all, with me, just waiting for me to reach for Him.  He's in the middle of the mess.  Even when life isn't pretty, He takes my tiny bit of faith, and makes it something beautiful.