Challenge 7... neighbors...

There are neighbors and then there are neighbors.

Most of the people who live near you are neighbors. (OK, this is the South, so if you're anywhere else this might not be your experience, but this is how it is where I live, so, yeah.) Neighbors will smile and wave when your pass them. They'll pick up your mail when you're out of town. They'll walk across the way and bring you mis-delivered mail/packages. They'll do all the traditional neighborly stuff.


Neighbors, on the other hand, knock on your front door, holding two glasses of fresh-brewed tea and say, "You got time to sit on the porch and visit?"

Neighbors take your almost-but-not-quite potty-trained 2.9-year-old into their house for less than a minute, and when he emerges with a ziploc bag of fun-sized gummy Lifesavers packs and tells you, "I get one when I go pee pee in the potty and a whole pack when I poop in the potty," he hands you the bag and is fully potty trained forever and ever. (I STILL to this day to not know how she did that. She's the potty-training whisperer.)

Neighbors put signs in various places all over your house, counting down the last week before your 40th birthday. And the on your actual birthday, neighbors flock your yard with flamingos while you're out to dinner with your family.

And ten years later, neighbors come to your oldest son's graduation party and secretly hand off to your daughter a birthday sign and bag of 50 art foam candles with specific instructions for placement two days later.

Neighbors bring joy. Or in this case, neighbors are Joy. 

My friend Joy inspires me. Leprechauns work mischief around her house on St. Patrick's Day. Her kids' tooth fairies dipped their wings in a glass of water next to her kids' pillows, leaving behind their own special glittery color. I'm blessed to know her. She takes time to do the little things that make the world a little more magical.

We moved from the house next door to Joy over six years ago, and Joy has never stopped being our neighbor. For that I am overwhelmingly grateful. This world could use a lot more Joy.

What a day...

Today was a big, big day. We watched some new and dear friends get baptized. We were commissioned as covenant members at our new church, we had lunch and then dinner (broken up by an afternoon of car repairs) with our small group. We celebrated salvation and resurrection and community. It was awesome!

Moving to a new church was a huge deal for us. It came after approximately five years of prayer that started with "There's got to be something more," wandered through "Wait," and ended up with "Now's the time to go." We absolutely love the people at our old church, and we are thankful that the body of Christ is one. Otherwise, we never could have gone.

So why did we leave? Vision. Our new church has a decidedly "missional" view of ministry. The gospel is central. Jesus is THE most important thing of all. The Great Commission defines our role in the world in theory and practice. It's pretty simple.

We are part of a small group that meets on Sundays around 11:30. We have lunch together, kids play all over the place, the adults and sometime some of the teens sit around the table after lunch, eating dessert and sharing thoughts on the sermon. Then we pray for each other. It's discipleship in the most real, relational form I've ever experienced. It's full of love. It's family.

Then during the rest of the week we walk in the world where the Lord has planted us, we go to Bible study together, we text, we talk on the phone, we have coffee, we go to dinner, and we serve in community missions together.  We pray for lost friends and family, and when they visit our group, we love on them huge. Our two newest small group members visited the second week we were in the group. Within a month, both prayed to receive Christ. They were the ones baptized today. Amazing.

So at the end of this day, I sit here, simply grateful. God is so good.

SBS 2011...

My beloved friends, let us continue to love each other since love comes from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and experiences a relationship with God. The person who refuses to love doesn't know the first thing about God, because God is love—so you can't know him if you don't love. This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only Son into the world so we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they've done to our relationship with God.

My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other. No one has seen God, ever. But if we love one another, God dwells deeply within us, and his love becomes complete in us—perfect love!

This is how we know we're living steadily and deeply in him, and he in us: He's given us life from his life, from his very own Spirit. Also, we've seen for ourselves and continue to state openly that the Father sent his Son as Savior of the world. Everyone who confesses that Jesus is God's Son participates continuously in an intimate relationship with God. We know it so well, we've embraced it heart and soul, this love that comes from God.
God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.

We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first.

If anyone boasts, "I love God," and goes right on hating his brother or sister, thinking nothing of it, he is a liar. If he won't love the person he can see, how can he love the God he can't see? The command we have from Christ is blunt: Loving God includes loving people. You've got to love both.

I John 4:7-21 (The Message)

SBS?

Any SBS chiquitas out there interested in having SBS this summer? Bible study? Book club? Craft club? Yogurt Mountain fan club?  Something that encompasses all of the above?

Inbox me on FB or DM me on Twitter if you are. I'm fixin' to make some summertime plans...

Love y'all!

Readers and writers and books...

I took a break from stalking watching owls online long enough to have dinner with two of my teacher peeps and attend a book-signing Friday night. Our basketball team was playing for the conference championship at the same time as the reading. Ninth-grade English teacher SC had one of her students ask if she was going to the game, and she said no, she was going to a poetry reading. She said he laughed off and on for the rest of class.  After all, who goes to those things?!

Well, we do. The author is the dad of one of Zane's buds. It is his first book. It is about the underlying theme of lynching in Langston Hughes' poetry. My area of concentration in lit for my MA was African American literature.  Wrote my thesis on Toni Morrison. LKF, there. 

It was awesome. We were blessed to get an outdoor table at a little Italian restaurant. I kept looking for Billy Joel to show up. We chatted about anything and everything. Food was delightful. Tenth-grade English teacher BV could possibly be the funniest, most insightful person I've ever met. I think anyone who knows her would agree.

The book-signing attracted a fairly large and diverse group of people. Dr. Miller had a delightful reading, but knocked it out of the park with his Q & A. BV cracked up the entire crowd with her assertion that modern poetry makes no sense; Langston Hughes is brilliantly accessible to all. Universality. We had a lovely discussion following the reading about how literature is universal, and if the majority of people don't "get it," then it probs isn't literature at all. 

It made me realize how much I have starved my intellect over the past 16ish years since I gave birth. I see more reading and readings in the future. And definitely more lunches and dinners with friends.

Oh! The picture above. If you've ever been to Quail Ridge Books, you'll recognize the wall.  It's in the bathroom.  Actually, every wall in the bathroom is lined with autographed photos of authors who have done book-signings there. I could get only one shot because there was a pretty long line and the reading was about to start. I was trying to use my best Southern manners and get in and out as quickly as possible. Next time, I'll try to get the rest. 

I am off to read a little. I did buy a copy of Dr. Miller's book, but I didn't get him to sign it; the line was long. I figure that since track starts next week, I'll just ask him to sign it at one of the meets, since our kids run together. That's not odd, is it? I'll get to his book soon, but first... I treated myself to another Clyde Edgerton novel. He's my favorite local author. I always end up laughing until my sides hurt when I read his work; he is spot-on in capturing especially older Southern women. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he'd stalked watched my family online while researching his books. 

And then today...

... was another day. No situation changed from yesterday, but it was a different day. I knew it would be different because I woke up praying instead of thinking. Ever done that? It's pretty cool.

Thank you to everyone who prayed yesterday for all the situations and for my heart to find rest in Jesus. It did. I am grateful for your words of encouragement and wisdom too.

What a beautiful thing it is to be part of the body of Christ.

Bad day...

Some days are just... bad. Today was one of those. It started out bad and got worse.

At the end of our opening devotional/talk from the superintendent, he announced that the daughter of two teachers at our school (married to each other) died unexpectedly last night. Everyone was devastated. Anyone who has ever talked to her mom or dad for more than a couple of minutes knows that they absolutely adore their children.

She was 26 and the mother of two little girls, ages 1 and 3. No one knows for sure what happened. There was lots of speculation, but nothing was certain as late as 4:30pm.

Then in a casual conversation I found out that some of our dearest friends are leaving our school to go to public school. Not that I have any objection to public school. (FTR... I believe that God calls different families to different forms of schooling at different times. I have no doubt that they will be where they should be.) I'm going to miss them like crazy. Our school is like family. It's not going to be the same without them.

Then I found out in a Facebook message that my sweet, sweet friend who struggles with a chronic health condition got less-than-comforting/happy news about said condition. I wish so much I could make it go away.

And then I learned that instead of being full-time, I am back to being half-time at school. I was supposed to cover for the school nurse during her lunch and teaching time to help get me to full-time hours, but after an encounter with an upset parent at Open House last night, I realized that I am not in any way equipped to serve as a substitute school nurse. I'd hoped that something else might pop up in its place to make me full-time, but it didn't. So, without the big tuition break, we have to write a BIG check tomorrow. Sigh...

I'm calling it a day.

Missing the village...

When I grew up we went to church on Sunday morning and Sunday night. After worship on Sunday morning, we always went out to eat with a big ol' bunch of people from church. After the service on Sunday night, we'd have a big ol' bunch of people from church over for dessert.

On Wednesday nights, we'd have supper at church (they were Wednesday night suppers, not Wednesday night dinners... love the South!) followed by Bible study for the kiddies and youth and prayer meeting for the grown ups. On Saturday nights the youth group would head to New Life Camp for their Saturday Night Specials.

Periodically we'd have a lock-in. OK, rarely. I think we exhausted the youth leaders. The youth would go on a weekend retreat here and there. We had hayrides and movie nights and skating. And we were at Bible study AT LEAST once a week every week.

There was a sign up list for altar flowers and nursery duty got assigned to everyone in the church who could hold a baby or chase a toddler. The same men had been ushers since Methuselah's day, I suppose. I never remember anyone else ushering.

A large brick wall separated the front churchyard from the street. We'd walk across the top of the wall, but if anyone dared jump from the wall to a tree branch, their momma'd hear about it in less than a minute and there'd be a humdinger of a talkin-to on the way home in the car. Not only did everyone know each other and each other's kids and each other's mommas and daddys, but also each other's grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins who visited from out of town periodically.

If we weren't at church on Sunday, people knew we were sick or visiting relatives. We always took Sunday clothes to the beach and felt like we'd sinned if we didn't go to some sort of service on Sunday morning.

Church and our church family were central to our lives.

Not now. And that makes me sad.

Church is huge and well-run. As our pastor said on Sunday, we have flow-charts and ministry models to rival major corporations. What we don't have, though, and what I miss most is the feeling of family.

We do, however, have one particular family we've gotten to know over the past couple of years through, of all things, school sports. Known them for years at church, but not like we know each other now. Our younger children play together while our older children compete together. One day our little guys disappeared and we caught a glimpse of them trying to scale a chain link fence. The dad of that family started walking (briskly) to investigate. As he walked he said, "They better not be ... or they'll be in trouble." I yelled, "Hey, be my village. Whatever you tell your boys, let mine know he's in for the same." It was a vague reference to the saying, "It takes a village to raise a child." A little funny because that is also the title of a former first lady's book. Even more funny since we're not particularly fans of hers. And yet it is oh-so-true.

Their family and ours, we joke about it now. Anytime one of us is watching the other's kids, we say, "Be my village." Sometimes that means one of us will call down a little one for misbehaving. Sometimes it means we will cheer our lungs out at the finish line for each other's kids. Always it means we will come together and care about people even though they don't live under our roof.

I'm grateful for our small "village," and I wish it were bigger. I wish our church now could be a family like our church was when I was growing up. Of all the things I miss from childhood, I think I miss the "village" most.

With love...

I love my job so much. My prayer is to love my colleagues and the students and their families in Christ. No paycheck or benefit package will ever be enough compensation for the manic lifestyle of a teacher. But love... that makes it all worthwhile.

I love the fact that encouragement runs rampant on the staff of our school. The other day I was very upset about something at church. I shared it with a friend/colleague. She listened and said, "Can I pray for you?" And right there, in the middle of the day--in the middle of the workroom, she lifted my burden before the Lord.

I love the fact that every single thing we teach is founded and grounded in God's Word.

I love the family of friends we have met through football and the encouragement they have given us to "love-on" our family and friends.

I love that I work with men and women who are deeply burdened for the lives of the students and their families. And that my colleagues invest countless hours in prayer for the kids by name. And countless more hours beyond that exhorting and encouraging the kids as they navigate wisely the tricky waters of the teen years. And I love that I share that burden and the privilege of prayer, exhortation and encouragement.

I love watching the students grow in their faith and their academic achievements. I love hearing them pray for each other and our nation and the tragedy in Haiti.

I love that after years of trying to find a ministry that fits the gifts and calling the Lord has placed on my life, I finally feel like I am doing what I should be doing.

I love that the whole family has a ministry there, too. The kids go to school, I teach at school, and Jimmy coaches. I love that our shared ministry has brought us closer together as a family.

I love that the administration practices love and care for our families. I love the birthday and anniversary cards. I love the quick encouraging words about our kids that come unsolicited from other teachers and principals. And, of course, I love the chocolate that arrives in perfect timing from Mary Z.

I've been praying that the Lord would put His love in my heart. I love that He is doing that!

Stuff that's happened in July...

July has blown by. We did get our algae under control in the pool, so we all returned to the water.


Zane has taken over a huge part of the mowing duties around the house. He's learning the trade this year and working for money next year.


OK... we had a most unfortunate series of decisions occur on the part of our boys, leaving them unable to get along with each other. After figuring out they had too much time on their hands with nothing constructive to do, we put them to work TOGETHER washing the picket fence. And we're thinking that Zack is Tom and Zane is Huck. At least that's how is seemed to play out on this day!

Summer Bible Study is always a highlight of my summer. These are most of the chickies in the study I got to be in this year. We had just finished our wrap up dinner. We missed our friends who couldn't make it, but we had a really sweet time wrapping up our study of Mary Kassian's Conversation Peace.

Six weeks after Kelsey got her wisdom teeth pulled, Zack had a turn in the extraction chair. Two uncooperative baby teeth landed him a visit with Dr. Don. With a quivering lip and an "It hurt," he hobbled home to recover. Later that day he announced, "I didn't think any of it was funny." "What?" "That laughing gas. It didn't work because I didn't think any of getting my teeth pulled was funny." So noted.

And wrapping up the middle part of July, Kelsey spent a week at volleyball camp. I looked for a picture of her actually playing volleyball, but all I could find were photos of her and her teammates climbing on furniture and dancing.

Holly-days...

You would totally love my friend, Holly. She is the school nurse at the Christian school where I teach journalism and my babies are students.

I didn't know Holly well the day we went to see our pediatrician because Zack had an allergic reaction to eating shrimp. But that day the doctor, who went to middle school with Jimmy, and I were discussing a note the allergist gave us for the school nurse. After he realized what school we went to, Dr. G said, "Oh, I know that school nurse. She's awesome! You don't need to worry one bit. She is the perfect school nurse. " Seems Dr. G takes a turn at being camp physician at the same Down East YMCA summer camp where Holly has spent her summers being camp nurse. So he knew her very well.

He was right. Holly IS the perfect school nurse. She is the optimal blend of sweet, caring, walk-you-down-to-the-office-and-wait-with-you-until-your-mom-gets-there-when-you-really-are-sick and "So when did your stomach start hurting? As the teacher was handing out the test? Did it hurt last night? this morning when you woke up? earlier in the day? What did you eat for breakfast/lunch? Now that you're in here, how to you feel?" She is shrewd and has an uncanny ability to distinguish between anxiety and a norovirus. And she never tells anyone they can't go home, but somehow, the ones who really aren't sick usually end up feeling better after they see her and they go back to class and, remarkably, make it through the test and the rest of the day. I am in awe of Holly.

She has four kids, three boys and one girl. The oldest is in seventh grade. The youngest, second. She loves being a mom and adores taking care of her husband, her children and her home. She even loves to cook.

Holly and I were talking in the Teachers' Workroom this morning about how she handles all her family duties balanced against a full time job. When we were talking about working all day and then coming home to cook dinner and do homework in the evenings, Holly shared an idea that I told her I was gonna have to blog about.

Sunday is her cooking day for the week. On Sunday afternoons, each kid in the family (remember: 3 boys, 1 girl; 2nd grade - 7th grade) cooks a meal that the family will eat during the week. Then they store them until the appropriate night, and all Holly has to do is come home and heat it up.

Holly says it takes about two hours, total, to cook all the meals. They all get in the kitchen as a family. She gets to teach her kids how to cook and at the same time prepare for the week ahead so that when they get home from school/work, the can focus on homework and each other. She says it takes a ton of stress off of her and she's loving the time to teach her own kids. Isn't that SO cool?!

I never ceased to be amazed as the number of godly women I get to meet. How blessed I am to have such awesome friends.

Praying for Charlotte ...

You know how it is... there are people you smile at to be polite. We are southern, after all. It's in our upbringing and possibly our genetic code. We're supposed to smile at everyone. It's the right thing to do.

Then there are those people who make you smile. You see them or hear from them and a smile just breaks out across your face. Not particularly out of politeness, but out of a genuine fondness for those people. The smile starts on the inside and then just busts out onto your face.

My friends make me smile. Jenn is my friend. Jenn makes me smile. Jenn's baby girl, Charlotte, was born with HLHS. She has to have her heart re-plumbed through a series of pretty big surgeries. Charlotte is going to have the second of her really big surgeries on Thursday, March 12th. There's a button to the right that you can click to see the blog that Jenn writes for Charlotte and Charlotte's brother, Sam. It'll have updates on it that you're going to want to check out so that you'll know how to pray.

It'll mean a lot to Jenn and Tim and Sam and Charlotte to know that they are covered in prayer. Thanks for joining us in lifting up this sweet family. I pray that as you get to know them, they'll make you smile too.

Whew...

Celebrate... celebrate... dance to the music...

It was wonderful. But it was exhausting!

I had an absolute blast with the Celebrating Christmas blog. Can't even begin to tell you what a blessing it was to see women I love and respect give sacrificially to build up other women during this holiday season. We have had emails and comments from all over the world. I stand in awe of our Lord!

One of my favorite emails came from a lady who lives in Canada. I have no idea how she found the blog, but she emailed and shared that she lives alone and this year she's doing a major home renovation so she didn't decorate her house at all. She'd never heard of a Jesse tree until she read about it on the blog, so she decided to make one. Even though her Christmas didn't look like it had in the past, she felt focused on Jesus. What a blessing!

We are taking a break and the launching a year-round version of the blog. It's called "Celebrate!" Karen D had the idea that it might just bless even more people if we kept on encouraging each other to put Jesus as the focus in the rest of the holidays and everydays. So far she and I are the authors listed, but we are looking for a few more women who'd be willing to post now and then. If you're interested, email me. The only "requirement" to be on the writing team is that you really need to love Jesus.

Thank you ALL who contributed in one way or another ... photographs, posts, comments, emails, ideas, etc... We did have a few things left over that we hope to use next year. My prayer is that the Lord will bless you in a way you didn't imagine and in a way that you know could be attributed only to Him.

Happy New Year!

Our family tradition for New Year's Eve is to stay at home. We've been doing that for as long as I can remember and to be honest, the last New Year's Eve I can remember actually going somewhere was when I was a little girl and we went to a little Baptist church that decided to have a big New Year's Eve party one year. It was formal. I do not recall dancing. But it was a lot of fun. I wore the dress that I'd worn in my cousin's wedding as a flower girl. That New Year's Eve was probably around 1973 or 74.

Even as a teenager, I remember just staying home to watch the big apple drop on "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve." Definitely after we got married. I think we may have had friend over a year or two, but for the most part, it was just Jimmy and me. So when kids came along there were no major adjustments to our New Year's Eve tradition. No scheduling sitters months in advance. No feeling like we were making sacrifices to be home with the babies. It just went on quietly like it had for many, many years.

This year, at nearly the last minute, I texted my sweet friend, Tina, and asked her if they had plans. We were grilling burgers and had plenty to share. Their traditions were changing and they were still figuring out this year's plans, so they came on over and we had a wonderfully relaxed, sweet time together.

There was food and laughter. Video gaming. Story-telling. Special talks from Mr. Steve for each of our kids. Football. Confetti. A chemistry lesson featuring sodium bicarbonate. A quick birthday celebration for Zane. A football ice cream cake. Sharing of traditions and reminders of what we're planning to do when the grandkids come along.



And there was a motorcycle jump that captivated every one's attention, possibly more for the computer-generated graphics of every way the rider could get maimed if he did one tiny thing wrong than for the actual jump itself. Although the jump was a success in that the rider survived and didn't plummet 10 stories to the ground, getting crushed between the pavement and his motorcycle at the end, there was a lovely injury to his finger that led to the comment, "Ewww! That's not right!" as one of the rider's digits pointed a different direction from the others.



We all got to bed WAAAYYY later than we should have and woke up earlier than we wanted to. But for the most part on New Year's Day we honored all the long-standing Southern Family traditions.

I did not do any laundry at any time on New Year's Day. Granny always said, "If you wash on New Year's, you'll wash someone out of the family." We're not the least bit superstitious, but I never was too certain about whether Granny was or not. She swore that the one year she cheated and washed on New Year's Day, her uncle died. It's not like no one in the family died the years she didn't wash, but it's tradition.

My mom says that whatever you do on New Year's is what you'll do the rest of the year. So we spent the day resting and relaxing, eating well and visiting. We ate collard greens and black eyed peas and a little ham too. There were other things, but beyond collard greens and black-eyed peas, on New Year's Day, what other foods really matter? And of course, there were dimes under our plates for good luck. I read about that tradition in a book of NC folklore when I was in elementary school, so we've done it ever since. There were movies and football. Always football.

I'm not making any resolutions this year. I just want to be faithful to the One who gave Himself for me. I want to fellowship with Him deeply everyday. I want to hear Him clearly when He speaks. I want to know His Word and teach it to my children. I want to respect and love my husband. I want to honor my parents. I want to cherish my friends.

Happy New Year!

Christmas Memories Monday: Li'l Traditions...

1. Does your family do some type of countdown?

Oh goodness, yes. We countdown and countdown and countdown. This year we're opening drawers in the wooden Advent calendar. We're also flipping the number blocks on our snowmen countdown decoration.

2. Where are your stockings hung?

By the chimney with care. But not until Christmas Eve night. After the Love Feast.

3. Do you have any Christmas Eve traditions?

On Christmas Eve night we attend the Love Feast at our church. We go to the 6:00 service and Gramma comes with us. Nothing says Christmas Eve like Scripture, carols, David and Cathy, and sticky buns and cider. Zack's favorite part is getting to stand in the chair and hold the candle up in the air. Since we lost Granny (my mom's mom) a few years ago and Jimmy's mom (Nana) a few years before that, neither of our extended families get together on Christmas Eve. It's just my mom (Gramma) and us and our kids. But being at church and seeing our dear friends on Christmas Eve makes it feel like family again.

After the service, we come home and eat an easy dinner... subs or chili or something like that. We watch A Christmas Story. We have family devotions. We pray. We get nestled all snug in our beds and drift off until there are visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads.

4. Is there a certain drink that you love that you only drink this time of year?

Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte. Skim. No whip.

5. What do you do for Christmas Cards?

That's a good question. Until last year we sent out picture cards that I made and included a Christmas letter. Last year, my dad was in the hospital twice in the month of December and ended up staying with us for about a total of 6 weeks until he was able to go home and be on his own. I didn't get cards out. This year, I intended to go back to the old way of sending out cards, but I just haven't been able to get all the kids ready for the picture at the same time. I THINK I will likely send out a picture and short note, giving everyone the address for this blog and inviting them to visit with us all year next year. On the blog. I mean, they can come see us for a couple of days, but... really... all year is a LONG time!

Those are our little traditions. If you have ones you'd like to share, leave a comment. Or better yet... email them to me and I'll put them up on Celebrating Christmas. Next Monday begins Christmas Traditions Week!

(Thanks Ivy!)

Psalm 145:4

Last post I wrote a little bit about the weirdness that is having a whole passel of boys staying under our roof for the weekend. But this time I want to say thanks to they guys who were here doing just what the theme verse for the weekend says... commending the works of our great and glorious Lord from one generation to another. And we're not talking those 40 year generations here. We're talking those generations of church youth groups.

So... props to the guys who are modeling what it means to be a man of God to our boys...

Logan...
leading the troops in for ice cream on Saturday night.

OK... so this is what happens when you forget to put out the whipped cream at the beginning of the ice cream snack. Evidently, as long as they get it, they're good.

James... leading with shock and awe.

And maybe a little bit too much whipped cream.

Yep. Definitely too much whipped cream.

And Tyler and Tyler. The one on the right is the college ministry guy who is leading Group A. The one on the left is in Group A and will someday be leading a youth group as a youth pastor. Take my word for it. It's in his genes.

And Brentice... B-ice...

And though Jimmy's not in the shot, he's talking to the guys, thanking them... Logan, Jame, Tyler, and Brentice for leading the 7th grade boys. And the 7th grade boys for leading Zack. They were so kind and encouraging to him. They are his heroes.

Thanks for all the prayers for Meta '08 and our hosting BOTH 7th grade boys' groups in one house. It was absolutely amazing! Not only did we survive, but we can hardly wait for next year.

Thanks guys!
For loving Jesus and serving Him by ministering to our boys!

Finally on the way...

I am totally stealing this idea from Joel...

But props to our man, Steve! He's FINALLY publishing the long-awaited, ApParent Privilege.

Directed at parents, Steve's second book brings the message that his first (reThink) did to Student Pastors... Parents are the ones with the mandate to bring up their children in the Lord.

We parents love a good youth staff, you know we do. Goodness, Steve and Tina are two of our best BFFs. And Blake and Amber... love y'all. And Joel and Gwen... love y'all too... and are praying for you and your new addition. But much as we love all of them, we certainly don't expect them to be on the front lines of teaching our kids to love Jesus. That's our Deuteronomy 6:5-9 job.

That said... we can use all the back-up we can get, though. And surely our boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places to have the privilege of being in this particular local family of faith. Lockin' arms where we're blessed and being equipped by the best.

So... check out Steve's book... it'll be out in the coming weeks. You can pre-order it here, directly from Inquest Ministries.

To hear more from Steve, check out his blog: www.lastingdivergence.com.

Praises and prayers...

Charlotte came through her surgery great. What a praise!!!

But she still has a long road ahead, so we're still praying. Her name is written on a hot pink post-it, which is stuck above the computer at my desk.

That is our prayer-reminder...

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.

~Luke 18:1

Baby Charlotte...

My friend, Jenn, had a baby on Monday. Charlotte Ruth. She's absolutely adorable.

Jenn's one of those women of God who fuels my faith. She has a sparkle. Sparkles mean a lot to me because they come only when you have a passion for Jesus. It's cool.

Baby Charlotte is having a pretty big operaton tomorrow morning. Her heart's plumbing doesn't work the way it should, so she's going into surgery at 7am for some work. I'm praying for Charlotte and her mom and dad and big brother.

God is big. Very, very big. God is good. Very, very good. No matter how He chooses to use Charlotte's life, I know it will be for His glory. But tonight in Bible study, I learned that Jesus taught us to pray with "chutzpa--reckless bravery, audacity." So that's how I'm going to pray.

Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give
him a snake instead? Or it he askes for an egg, will give him a scoprion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to
those who ask him! (Luke 11:11-13)

I find it interesting that Jesus summed up good gifts at the Holy Spirit. Having the Holy Spirit, we have direct access to all the resources of God, the presence of God, and the wisdom of God. The Holy Spirit is the Gift that keeps on giving. He is One through whom all that God has for His children is distributed. (Jennifer Kennedy Dean. Secrets Jesus Shared..., 155-156)