Its Raining Today....

     You know, the kind that is steady and quiet. No thunder or lightening or winds. You might even miss it if you didn't slow down to look close enough. But it is there...gray, cold and falling softly. I paused to watch it-head resting on the window for a while this afternoon. I wondered if it were symbolic of the mourning going on all around me today. This time last week hundreds of people kissed their loved ones goodnight for the last time. Husbands held their wives, last meals were cooked in kitchens, friends laughed with friends,  and children were tucked in their beds by their mommas~for the last time. No one really knew this time last week that in 24 hours their world would be drastically different. We certainly didn't. The rain fell today and tears fell too. The tornadoes are becoming old news to the media, there's always a new day new story. But the pain of all those touched by the storms is there and I don't want to miss it.

I've said I felt like my heart was torn--ripped up by the brokenness surrounding just what little I have seen with my eyes. They say that, as an athlete's muscle acquires tears when it heals-it grows back larger and stronger. My prayer is just that. May my Father heal my torn heart and make it larger with compassion and love. Stronger with faith and full of His grace....bring on the rain.

Honored to Call Him My Son

   I didn't wake up this morning thinking today would be one that I would hide in my heart forever. I looked forward to church like I usually do, maybe more so after Cord's wreck last week. I longed to be in the presence of my Father and to quiet my heart. I didn't expect the worship to be blurred with tears and my mouth unable to sing. I didn't know that we would have women sharing cardboard testimonies with us. As David Crowder's song "How He Loves" was played, one by one these brave women walked across the stage bearing a cardboard sign. On one side, it read of their crime, addiction, or poverty. On the other side, words of their redemption and freedom. These women were from the Lovelady center which is a place that offers life, love and a new start for women who've lost it all or who are fresh out of prison. Our church partners with the center and what a blessing it has been to us. I watched and wept as I saw the ransom was paid ~written there for all to see on a cardboard sign. Bob preached on how the Lord is our Good Shepherd following that powerful display of God's grace and I knew that I had been on Holy Ground. After church, our family had the opportunity to crash the luncheon for visitors and help welcome them to Oak Mountain. I was thrilled and intimidated all at once to see the room filled not only with visitors, but also with the women who'd just shared their stories earlier. Jeremiah wanted to come along so he and I ended up at a table full of these broken and healing lives. The lady next to me was experiencing her 3rd day of freedom as she'd just gotten out of jail Friday. One was an addict who'd been clean for 2 weeks and longed to have her kids back. Another was a former prostitute whose cardboard testimony profoundly read "Prostitute" on one side and "Princess" on the other. I sat silently begging the Lord to grant me words of hope and life to give them....something that would make them feel loved, valued and welcomed here. On the outside, it appeared that I had nothing in common with them. That couldn't have been further from the truth. My cardboard sign could read a number of those things and worse. I'm an addict. Maybe not to drugs, but to any number of things that help me escape and numb the pain. No, I haven't done time for murder, yet in my heart I have been a serial killer. And I could have sat where the prostitute sat and filled her shoes well. After all, have I not sold myself time after time to thousands of other loves forsaking the one True Lover of my Soul? How in the world could I make them see that we are really not that different. How could I love them well in that short hour given? I wondered, and my son acted. I heard Jeremiah's soft spoken voice say "Excuse me Mam, but I can take your trash." There was my son putting arms and legs to the Gospel, loving and serving what society discards, offering to take the trash of prostitutes and convicts. I wish I could have frozen their faces in my mind...the smiles and pride the women showed going on and on about what a little gentlemen he was.

    Ann Voskamp often speaks of motherhood as being a sacred privilege yet one we are tempted to see as mundane.... Today, I was overwhelmed with thankfulness at the sacred privilege I have and I was honored to call him my son.

WHAT STINKS IN HERE????

     It had been "one of those days" for 2 days now. My Prince was gone and frankly, the kids were bored with me and I was tired of them. All in the last two days, the little boys got a hold of the coffee             grounds as I was brewing coffee and emptied the bag all over the counter. Someone left the freezer cracked  and the food defrosted. Jeremiah forgot to take the trash to the trash bin and something fury and alive strung  our nasty trash from one end of the deck and yard to the other. (I'm certain the neighbors were lovin' that!)    I was determined to put a dent in the laundry and ended up washing multiple loads of water. Water!!??!!       I  mean, who does that?  Jud decided to change his own dirty diaper during nap time--Praise God for            Lysol. And, to top it off, I thought I'd be smart and make dinner in advance. As five o'clock approached, I    slid  the  poppy seed chicken in the oven and went on to bath dirty little people. Our house began to fill with  the strange aroma of melting plastic and yummy food. Ooops, looks like I forgot to remove the saran            wrap before baking.                                                                                                                                    
    And that was only yesterday. Today held more excitement. More meltdowns that I could count from the 3 year old (I especially love the ones in Target or Pulix when no "bye bye" buggies are available.) I found         
 multiple messes from the baby-- I caught him in the office pulling files out of the filing cabinet....papers are    everywhere. Next, he unrolled a roll of toilet paper and played in the potty. Nice. By 5, I asked                    everyone what they wanted for dinner and loaded us up to head to multiple drive-thru destinations. To           appease each individual desire,  you may ask?  OH NO. To kill time until bed! ha! (Just a little mom trick).  Supper was consumed, baths were taken, homework completed, kitchen cleaned and we headed up for our nightly ritual of prayers, rocking and singing. The smell hit us at the top of the stairs.  WHAT STINKS IN      HERE??? It didn't take long to find out. To spare the gory details, someone allegedly, undeniably pooped in the tub. The water drained, the poop did not and it was revolting. No one 'fessed up. By process of               elimination, it wasn't hard to figure out who was guilty. What made me sad was that the guilty went to           desperate measures to cover her accident. I begged for her to just tell the truth, she wasn't in trouble....we all have accidents...don't cry. Nothing moved her. The more I talked the louder she denied it and her guilt was   blatant. Only more obvious than her guilt, was her attempt to cover it. Her denial hit a crescendo with            streams of tears. Why in the world would she not entrust the truth of the matter to me? She knew that I         knew.  Shame, guilt, embarrassment, fear, sorrow consumed her. She was a mess. And so was her poop   littering the tub! It hit me like a ton of bricks. In those big eyes pooling with tears and desperation, I saw an    image of my own self clearer than any mirror reflection I'd ever seen. God the Father whispered to me:        
     "The filth in that tub you are about to scrub is far more tame than any sin of yours and doesn't wreak half as bad. Your sin, your pride, your idols are worse that the excrement lying before you. And just as your       mother-heart breaks not for the mess, but for the pain you see as your daughter makes a maddening attempt to deny what is undeniable;  so My heart breaks when I watch you scramble to hide your sin, your shame,     your embarrassment. As you long to comfort and redeem her mess, I long to do the same with you...but      even more so.  In moments, you will humbly kneel down and scrub the foul and repulsive with bleach. But in my great love, I sent My Son to wash you. And in humility, He bowed low and did the unthinkable...with His blood you were scrubbed as white as snow."                                                                                               

Her resistance finally fell and she crumbled in my arms. I held her, comforted her and pinkie promised not to ever tell her secret. Her arms squeezed me tight and I and left her to slumber with my own heart full of much appreciation for the reminder of grace tonight. Paul Miller so eloquently states "...the very thing we avoid [exposing] like the plague-our weakness and our sin- is the door to grace in our lives."                     

Father, remind me of this. Speak your truth into my life afresh each day. Give me the courage not to conceal my junk out fear and shame, but to shine your light of grace in my darkness and grant me the grace to dare to live authentically in You. Thanks for the stink in the tub tonight...                                                                   

Heather

a new year

"And He is before all things and in Him all things hold together....."        ~Colossians 1:17


HE. The one made flesh and who dwelt among us.

HE. The one by whom all things were created, in heaven and on earth.

HE. The one whom was driven by His love to be torn from His Father because He took on my sin-my punishment....

HE IS THE ONE WHO IS BEFORE THIS YEAR AND WHO HOLDS ALL THINGS  IN THIS YEAR.

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     I often think I am the only one on earth who has anxiety about a new year. As people cheer and say farewell to the old while waiting with excitement for the new, I fret and question and fear what the New Year holds. Will this be the year that __________________ happens. Will this be the year I lose someone dear? Will this be the year that __________________ comes.  The Uncertainties. The Unknown. The Future. And my feeble faith is revealed.

I am exposed.  Did I honestly think He could not see what I'd been so desperately trying to hide? The lack of trust in His goodness, in His character.

Do I really think that if it's not voiced, its not there? He, who is all seeing, all knowing, ever present....He has seen. He has known long before I did.

And He is still here. Still present in the midst of muck. He does not shy away from the filth and darkness in my heart. Instead- as He was birthed into a stinky, dirty place,-so does He enter the stench of my heart. He does not shriek away in disgust. He stays and remains and HE holds me together.

This year I pray that I will cling to Him. That I will still myself to listen to His voice. That I will know what it is to abide in HIM and truly believe that He is able to do exceedingly and abundantly more than I could ask or imagine. This year.

~Heather

For My Littlest~On His 1st Birthday

JOSIAH LACHLAN SACHS~BORN DECEMBER 8,2009.

My sweet baby,
   How hard it is to believe that a year has come and gone! Just the other day,I found the little Christmas cap the nurses placed on your newly birthed head. It was so tiny and so difficult to remember how it once swallowed you so. As the Mother of our Saviour "treasured up all these things in her heart", so also did I treasure all the jewels I could possibly hold in my mind from your first year. If I could bottle the scent of your tiny face fresh from your bath, I would be the wealthiest woman on earth...for it was sweeter than any incense or perfume on the market!
   You were and are a priceless gift to our family. Chosen before the beginning of time, all of your days were numbered before one of them came to be (Psalm 139). Believing this truth led us on a great scavenger hunt to discover your name. The Father had named you long before we did...we only had to learn what He wanted us to call you.It was soon clear that you would be called Josiah Lachlan, meaning "God restores" and "warrior from the land of lakes". You, sweet boy, are named after the young king Josiah. The legacy of his reign and his life is found in 2 Kings. He took the throne at the age your oldest brother was when you were born-eight! The Bible says that "he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord and walked in all the way of David his father, and he did not turn aside to the right or to the left." Perhaps he is best known for the restoration and reformation he brought to the land. Under King Josiah's reign the Book of the Law was discovered after being discarded for hundreds of years. He ordered all the inhabitants of the land to gather and he read to them all of the words of the Book. "And the king stood by the pillar and made a covenant before the Lord, to walk after the Lord and to keep his commandments and his testimonies and his statutes with all his heart and all his soul, to perform the words of this covenant that were written in this book."-2 Kings 23:3  Josiah led his people in repentance, in a purging off all that was unholy and that which defiled the Lord and in restoration. In 2 Kings 23:25 we read that "neither before nor after Josiah was there a king like him, who turned to the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his might...." And that, my son, is our prayer for you. May you be a warrior who rises up and turns to the Lord with all your strength and brings restoration to your people.
   I know not the plans He has for you, but He who named you does. What I am sure of, however, is that I long to point you to Him for all the days that God gives me with you. During this short first year of life, you have brought more joy and more laughter and more delight to us- far more than I could have ever imagined. From the excitement the entire first and second grades had on the morning we would meet you-(our school Principal went to share the good news with your brother and sister's classrooms and I am told they erupted with cheers!!) To the pride your older 3 siblings had as they wore a button with your picture on it to school the next day. Oh what fun we have had with you, Josiah. Even Jud-Bud loves you with a fierce, rough and protective love! He wasn't even 2 when you came home from the hospital, but he loved to shower you with soft kisses. Some of the first words we heard him speak were "baby-hold baby"! Even still, his first act in the morning is to stop and give you a kiss. You are loved so, little one! From your first smile, first coo, first food-(not counting the cool ranch Doritos Jud shoved in your mouth when you were still toothless)-to your first crawl and first steps...we have cheered, laughed, and loved each second with you. I will treasure these moments, my son, savoring and storing each one in my heart. While you may not have many pictures to record your first year...nor do you have a baby book where all of your "firsts" were written down, I can assure you that they are forever carved in your Momma's heart. I am eternally grateful for the gift of you sweet baby. May it one day be said of Josiah Lachlan Sachs, that he is a man who loved the Lord with all his heart, all his soul and all his might.
Happy first birthday!

Love, Mommy

Beautiful

   I wish I could remember the last time the "Princesses" dined at my table. Had I realized what a fading privilege it was, I would have cooked something special...drawn out dinner a little longer and lingered over a yummy dessert. I would have memorized what they were wearing and how their crowns always sat a bit crooked upon their heads... How they laughed louder and talked bigger as a "princess". These days, the sightings are few and far between. The dress up clothes don't intrigue them like they used to and the "clip clops" have grown a size or two to small. Much to my surprise, I was thrilled to have caught a rare glimpse of one the other day.

Saddler stood in front of the full length mirror, unaware of my presence. Still as a statue, she gazed at her reflection and smiled her approval. She didn't move much. She just stood there taking in the beauty of the princess staring back at her. What she saw pleased her and her eyes shined proudly.
   "Wow. Don't you look pretty!" I exclaimed.
Without taking her eyes off herself she sweetly replied, "I know. I look beautiful."

Fighting the impulse to correct her for saying "i know" instead of "thank you", I just let her stay lost in the beauty and wonder of herself. Soon enough, those eyes that smile with approval will turn critical of what she sees in the mirror. And her grin will be replaced with a scowl. Her heart will be bombarded with lies and  self criticism will replace  self confidence. I want her to remember what it's like to feel beautiful. To feel content in how her Father has fearfully and wonderfully created her.

Her 1st Slumber Party

     She woke me up at the crack of dawn...dressed, smiling, wanting to know how many hours til the party. She began packing her bags at 7 am. Carefully she carried the hand written party invitation from room to room, retrieving each item on the list for a sleep over. A pillow-check. Toothbrush-check. Blanket-check. Toothpaste-huh? oh well, check. A bathing suit-check. And who could forget the pink polka dot sleeping bag. She was ready to go and the clock had not even struck 8:00. 

     All to early, I kissed my Prince goodbye as he hit the road for a quick business trip. The day loomed before me and I doubted if I would make it to the golden hour of 4 o'clock when the slumber party began. If I heard it once, I heard it 53,549 times-"how many minutes til we leave? Is it time? Why is the day going so slow?" I wondered the same. Finally, the time drew near and I realized that this was a milestone in her life I was about to miss. I had not prepared her. She's never spent the night away from home except with family. (Though she is extremely extroverted and a social butterfly, she's my most clingy child. She's my shadow. I literally step on her multiple times a day.)  What if she gets homesick? Ugh. I remember that dreaded feeling. I remember having a "tummy ache" or headache or any other ailment I could concoct to get back to my house. I started the pep talk making sure to cover all the important bases-be kind, use good manners, honor the Lord with your words, don't talk about others, build others up don't tear them down, serve your friends, obey.... She eagerly responded and I was proud of the little lady she's become. "Oh, and Ellie, if you get homesick and start missing us, I don't think I will be able to come get you. Dad's out of town. If you just think you can't stand it til morning, tell Mrs. K and call me."

Then she said something I hope I never forget. She said, "Don't worry mom. I am sure I will have a great time. And don't worry, if I do get homesick, I will just pray! Besides, I've gone through the whole house and memorized every room in case I miss home. And when I miss you and Daddy, I will just pray and God will be right there with me."

There are no words to describe how my heart felt....I realize this is just a sleep-over. She's literally 6 miles down the road with church/school friends. But to me, its a piece of my heart walking around outside of my body and I'm not used to this feeling yet. Today its her 1st slumber party, tomorrow she'll be leaving for college. And nothing would make me feel better about the whole situation than if she'd handle it like she handled today-"don't worry mom, I'll just pray."

May all my little chicks find comfort in the everlasting arms of their loving Father.