Setting my Feet on the Life Path.

Don’t know about the rest of you, but I took great pleasure in kicking 2009 to the curb a few weeks ago!  It was a hard year no matter how you slice it, and 2010 has been a welcome relief on many levels.  For starters, The Ladies at the church are back from their Christmas hiatus, and that fact alone makes everything right in my world again because those ladies can pray like nobody’s business!  And I’m here to testify that if you should find yourself in the cross hares of their mountain-moving prayer chain, you might want to get yourself saved, and be quick about it.

These, God-expectant, God-ready women are just like you and me, except for their halos.  You know them too because there’s at least one on every street.  And like the kindly ones in your neighborhood, these saints decided some years ago to do away with the man-made shackles of religiosity and approach the Throne of Grace with transparency and tenacity.  And, while they were at it, why not do it together; discovering somewhere along the way that God-hungry lives are everywhere just waiting to be invited in.  And, lo and behold, what splendid friends those searching souls become!

I’m not the only Mama who relaxes the moment I arrive, and even on the days when life is throwing up every road block to keep me away, I’m never sorry I knocked and entered in to huddle under the umbrella of warmth these truth-seeking women throw open to the weak and weary, the numb and angry, the hopeful and the hopeless.  Others come with babies in tow and dark circles under their eyes, barely able to stifle a yawn during the hymn and announcements.   But, true to their reputation, everyone leaves just a little more whole than when we walked in - a little prayer and Word-study, a song or two, lots of laughter and general whooping-it-up with the grannies.  Well, not all The Ladies are grannies, but enough of them are to make me want to sit up straight and not use cuss words when I request prayer for my sub-par mothering skills or my terrible fear of all things medical.  Not that they would care, but they make me want to grow up to be a steadfast mentor instead of a whiner and a grouch.

When those ladies prayed my Sister-in-Law through her cancer ordeal, all I could think to say was, “Hot damn, she’s cancer free!”  I mean, “Hot diggity!”   See?  I just want to be like them!  Help me to be like them Lord, all strong and suffused with grace.  I bet they never yelled hysterically at their kids while driving a car and scowling into the rearview mirror…or maybe they did...

And maybe, if I hang around The Ladies long enough, their hard-earned tenderness will rub off on me, too.  Because, let’s face it, none of us are getting off this life path without some difficulty and suffering, and it will absolutely change us all.  We’ll either become bitter or better.

So, I’ll never stop running, like a woman with her hair on fire, to be with The Ladies at the church!  In hopes that I, too, can one day be available to a living heart that simply longs to be touched by the better angels of our nature.  And if that young Mother shares her deepest, most humiliating parenting faux pas, I’ll just smile and let her think that I, too, probably never ever acted like a complete idiot in all my mothering days either.  And then, I’ll casually adjust my crooked halo when she’s not looking.

I been everywhere, Man.

When the alarm goes off I'm hoping to see dawn breaking, but the calendar works against me yet again.  January mornings still require a headlamp for running and chores in the barn.  But every morning I see the sun coming up just a tad sooner than the morning before.  A promise and reminder that winter doesn't last forever.

Since Christmas, it seems like I've been everywhere but here.  In the car, at the kitchen sink, over the stove, manning the ovens, trying to learn guitar with the kids.  Same kids who yearn to be shuttled hither and yon - to volleyball, youth group, orthodontist, shopping trip to use gift card RIGHT NOW.  Swishing the toilets, vacuuming the stairs, sorting the laundry, hoping for a moment to sit and knit or read or write.  But those escapes don't come as often as I'd like.

I tolerated a birthday in there somewhere too.  Another year gone by at the exhilarating speed-of-kid light.

Then a computer crash and efforts to rebuild my digital existence.  Or maybe not?  Just chuck the whole thing and join the ranks who have no e-mail and no desire to do so.  Then remembering how attached I am to the 3,000 pictures sitting on that external hard drive (thank God).  So I choose to boot up again, this time with a kinder, gentler operating system that anticipates my every need.  I'm calling him Big Mac, because he's fast and delicious and bad for me if I spend too much time with him.

Slowly, I greet the new year.  Hoping for better, sweeter and wiser days to come.  As surely they will because I'm older now.  Older and wiser and faster.

Heaven's music will sing O'er all the weary world.

My friend has lost a loved one.  Another is having a difficult time making ends meet and still another was diagnosed with an illness.  There's a hurting one over there and another just there.  And she, who likes to fix and make better, feels lost sometimes.  As if I have nothing to offer; being weary myself from the chaos of life.

It's so easy to get caught up in the constant fight that seems to rage around me.  It captures my attention more now than in years past, when youth allowed me to succumb to sweet oblivion.  Today, however, I notice.  I hear the murmurs and rumors and feel the disappointment of each one as if it were my own.

Tonight I want to skip to the end of the story and read about the beautiful ending.  My heart beats with thanksgiving that I can do that anytime I want; read about how it all ends.  I may not be able to speed up time, but I can close my eyes and imagine the promised celebration that is to come.  Knowing that we won't always wait here beneath life's crushing load, you and I.  Because there was a midnight clear two thousand years ago that changed EVERYTHING.  Your story and my story became one with His Story when He wrapped himself in our tender and fragile skin and said "I know. And I will be here with you through it all."

The strange and glorious story will never change.  And all the toil we feel along the climbing way is just a part of it, but not the final chapter.

Bethlehem was the beginning of the end for darkness.  The days will indeed  hasten on and the time foretold will come.  Heaven and earth will hold (and be held by) the Prince of Peace, of that we can be sure.

And the whole world will send back the song, which now the angels sing.

Merry Christmas weary world.  Keep on singing and giving thanks with me!

#17 for frost-covered trees

#18 for teacher-husband who can captivate an audience and give them hope

#19 for many rooms to clean

#20 for many mouths to feed

#21 for God so loving the world

#22 for external hard drives when computer crashes

#23 for son's computer to borrow

#24 for Christmas blossoms

#25 for Christmas birthdays

The local shops are killing me with kindness!

It’s embarrassing to admit that, although my husband has shopped there for years, I’ve just recently discovered the local Men’s Wear store. I KNOW unforgiveable, right? To make matters worse, I brought the kids-who-can’t-stop-talking and they went on and on about how “Mom usually shops at the BIG store for our ranch-wear but hates the prices and hard-to-find sales associates!” The part they left out was that there’s just something about trying to shop with rambunctious kids that screams WAL-MART!

After we’d browsed every corner of our new favorite local store, we drove home talking about how nice it was to shop there. The kids are still amazed at how calm Mommy is when her fingers aren’t pressed against her temples. That, my dear children, is what you call “customer service!” And when you find it, hold on for dear life because it’s a dying art.

Speaking of dying; I made a vow then and there to try and keep my Christmas shopping local, even if it kills me! One could argue that the big-box stores are just so doggone tempting; what with their moist towelettes at the entrance and aisle upon aisle of lead-laden off-shore trinkets. But these blue light specials just don’t compare to the free gift wrapping I’ve found at the local haunts and when the Men’s Wear store offered to have my boy’s jeans hemmed overnight (at no charge), I almost keeled over on the spot from the kindness of it all.

Which reminds me - some of the kindest people on the planet live right in my own backyard at Lark Gardens. I’m running low on their world-famous Peking Blend Vinegar and Lord knows Christmas won’t be complete without some of this:

Peking Ice Cream Sundaes
3 ripe pears
2 tsp. fresh ginger
2 oz butter
2 oz Peking Blend Vinegar
Vanilla Ice Cream

Brown the sliced pears in a skillet with the butter, ginger and vinegar then serve over the ice cream and you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven! Just ask my kids who are quiet as angels when they eat this stuff.

Speaking of heaven, the local Christian Book Store has a warm cup of cider waiting for you. And if they don’t have the book you’re looking for, it’ll be ordered before you finish your drink.

My mail carrier is getting a gift certificate for a smoothie at Friends Espresso (but don’t tell her, it’s a surprise). Do people still do that? Tip the mail carrier and the garbage hauler? After all, one would hate for the two to get confused about their job descriptions, lest you find junk in your mailbox and Aunt Ethel’s fruit cake and aspic ends up in the landfill! Wait. What!? Sorry Aunt Ethel, I’ll find out who’s been skimping on the tips!

Sure, it might seem like I’m doing a lot of driving from store to store. But let’s be honest here people, most of the towns in our county aren’t all that much bigger than the Costco parking lot anyhow. Just in case I pull a hamstring though, I will absolutely be dropping by Nature’s Bounty for some of T’s Tonics Sore Muscle Soother. That stuff is the BEST! Then it’s on to Checkers for some biscotti to stuff in the stockings and probably a visit to a feed store or two because who says you can’t find treasures at a feed store?!

On the off chance that I don’t survive all my crazy patronizing, please tell my kids that I really was planning to make it to The Dollar Tree to replace that amazing peppermint bark. And tell my husband that when Giddy-Up (Clothing Boutique) appears on the credit card statement, I had to buy hay...for the horses.

Ready. Set. RUN for elective office!

He pulled out of the driveway today. Taking a small piece of my heart with him as he moved one step closer to his destiny. The one I've known about since the day I met him. The one I've asked him about and nudged him toward since the day I married him. The one that others recognize too, whether they are lifelong friends or recent acquaintances.

I know I can't go with him to every meet-and-greet or fundraiser, because some of the Committee to Elect staff members live under my roof and need things like clean socks and rides to volleyball practice. But, My Man can go confidently out into the world and fight for that which is worth fighting for. Knowing he has been sent with our blessing and prayer covering. And then he can come home again to the loving arms of his biggest fans and most loyal constituents.

Our state, like so many others, is hurting and in desperate need of leaders who know the difference between a long-term savings account and a maxed-out credit card. Leaders who understand that winning a war against evil terrorists can't be given an expiration date like a cup of Yoplait yogurt and whose troops are far more worthy of fiscal support than corporate executives who need another bonus. And leaders who understand the valuable role that the Faith of our Founding Fathers plays in keeping our country strong and prosperous and free.

To be a part of our state's citizen-legislature means you can't quit your day-job but you most certainly will be absent from it a lot. So you better be sure you've got some job security and can weather the temporary pay cut that serving in this capacity will require.

My Man is willing, able and ready for that.

WE are ready for that.

And anyway...'Tis the season!

Determined to be Thankful

I watch her cross the finish line a full two hours after most runners have gone home; her body working hard for every step because her brain scrambles instructions to her uncooperative limbs. She used to run 26.2 miles in as much time as it is now taking her to walk three! With one leg straight as a board and one hand curled uselessly near her shoulder, she walks three miles, holding tight to her granddaughter; the same three miles that barely warm-up the able-bodied volunteers working the time clock and refreshments at the finish line. The same three miles that required four years of intense therapy for this Broken One after her mobility-robbing stroke.

Runners take off and come back, some burning up five miles or more like it was nothing. They pass The Broken One as they leave and again as they return, giving her a thumbs-up or an encouraging word; completely unaware that, months earlier, she ripped that advertisement for the Lord’s Acre Run from the newspaper and made her children find Powell Butte on a map. The finishers ask about her once they’ve cooled off, had a snack and are ready to head for home. They scan the horizon for her silhouette, marveling again as her story unfolds through whispers and raised eyebrows. Are they wondering like me if, faced with the cross she bears, they would have the same determination, the same strength and courage?

Do some of them feel on the inside the way she looks on the outside, I wonder? Broken, twisted, barely able to function? Do some wish they could pull the covers back over their head each morning for a myriad of despairing reasons? Are there others whose paychecks come in discouraging fits and starts or whose livelihood has been interrupted all-together?

As I serve cool water to another thirsty runner, I look up and my eyes follow another friend by the name of Rachel as she jogs by; savoring the cool morning air with her kids. Her body: waging an invisible war against some chump-of-a-breast-tumor and reeling from the chemo cocktail being dumped into her veins. But you’d never know it by the thankful radiance all over her face.

And then I remember that, in my own life, thankfulness often requires a healthy dose of determination. It’s hard to count blessings when my mind is pressed and under the impression that it’s all about ME. I need to look up and take notice of those nearby who are rising from the ashes of frustration and battle so I can follow their footprints toward hope! And once I do that, the fog clears and the determined fighters I long to emulate come into focus; high school volleyball players who defy the odds of youthful inexperience to win another state title, football players who hang up their battered helmets and head for the mat or center court with renewed vigor, the military families whose only medals are worn inside their chest, and whose very survival here at home demonstrates to the rest of the world what an invisible monument looks like when its made of strength and quiet perseverance; all these things go unseen unless I make the effort to look through a different lens.

I wish my word-lens could show you in living color what the finish line of that Lord’s Acre Run looked and felt like when The Broken One finally crossed it. Hundreds of people turned their attention from the infamous Lord’s Acre feast that was coming out of the BBQ pits; their buzz of conversation at once went eerily quiet. And when the stop watch stopped counting and our arms shot up in the air, signaling that she had crossed over, the crowd went wild; hearts exploding with joy and voices celebrating her victorious demonstration that whether broken in body or broken in spirit, we can always choose to lean into thankfulness.

#7 for good 'ol fashioned rodeos.

#8 for parents who have been married 45 years! I love you Mom and Dad.

#9 for shelter from the physical and spiritual storms of life.

#10 for a wood burning stove.

#11 for wood to put in wood burning stove.

#12 for teenagers who hang on to playfulness.

#13 for the first snow flakes of the season.

#14 for vacuum cleaners.

#15 for work.

#16 for play.

An acre for the Lord.

Sixty Three years ago they came. Farmers from all over our fine County, each bringing an acre's worth of their harvest or livestock. They gave to the church so that others would be helped. Some gave out of their abundance and others gave out of their lack. But their giving started something beautiful. The kind of charity that stands the test of time.

And grows.

This weekend marked another occurrence of our annual church celebration that has grown year by year.

Sixty three times.

The farmers still come and bring their gifts, but so do the quilters, and painters, the pie bakers and taffy pullers. And the outlying communities can't help but follow the smell of the hams and the vegetables as they simmer all night in coals underground; tended by the bleary-eyed pit-crew that watches over until dawn breaks.

Once upon a time they came on foot or horse and now they come by the carload, to partake in what the land and the Believers have to offer.

One day. One acre. One church. One Body who believes in giving and loving because they were first loved and they want the whole world to know about it.

By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. John 13:35

Celebrate with me and the gratitude community at large by remembering the gifts in your life, one by one.

#1 Lord's Acre Day

#2 Chilly Friday night football games.

#3 Saturday night football games and laughter in the home of friends.

#4 Little hands with dimples and small fingernails that are hard to paint.

#5 Husband who is also a Statesman.

#6 Fresh eggs and friendly goats.