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I went there

May 24, 2012 by Kelli

“Mom, when will I get a cell phone? When I turn nine?”

I fought the urge to laugh and covered my hysteria with a short cough. “Um…no,” I replied as I steered my (smokin’ hot) minivan onto the highway.

“Oh. Well, when I’m ten? Eleven? Twelve? THIRTEEN?”

With each age his eyes grew wider and more horrified. It was like he saw a future of torture before him. And me? I grew more amused. Why the obsession with a cell phone? The child has no one to call…

“Honey, I don’t really know when we will get you your first cell phone, but it won’t be for a long time. Maybe when you turn sixteen and start driving, but before then you just don’t need one.”

“What?! No! But, Mom, all my friends have cell phones and it’s embarassing that I don’t. It’s cool to have a cell phone.”

*sigh* I had no idea that this argument would crop up so early. I thought I had a few more years before I had to answer the all-my-friends-have-something-so-why-can’t-I battle. So I took a deep breath and glanced in the rear view mirror at the child who is just being a child. A normal child who sees and wants and desires and has to reconcile those desires with a wisdom that hasn’t yet developed.

“Well, babe, a cell phone just isn’t necessary at your age. If you need to call anyone, you can use my phone.”

“But what about an iPhone?” he asked. “Can I get one of those?”

“Honey, I don’t even have an iPhone,” I replied with a laugh.

“Well…” the wheels turn, “how about I get an iPod touch? That way I can play games but it’s not really a phone, but I could pretend it was a phone when I’m around my friends.”

Ah, consumerism. You are a wily beast.

“Well, that’s probably not going to happen for awhile, either, babe. I’m sorry.”

His face fell and he looked down at his hands resting in his lap. “Why?” he asked. “I just don’t understand why?”

So I went there. I went back to Africa, to the sights and the sounds and the smells and I decided to take all three kids with me.

“Do you know that most of the children I met in Africa don’t have a television? They don’t have iPads, or iPods, or cell phones or Nintendo Ds’s or even computers. They don’t have LEGO’S or a room full of toys to play with or shelves full of books to read.”

Sloan looked up at me with curious eyes. He has always been so sensitive to the plight of the those who are less fortunate. Currently, he has a piggy bank full of money that he hasn’t yet spent because he wants to give it to the poor. Like all of us who are conscious and aware, he wars with the longing to have more stuff, yet simultaneously knows there are people who don’t have enough.

He’s trying to reconcile at eight what most of us never come to grips with as adults.

“The money that we would spend on a cell phone could be used to feed an entire family in Africa for a long time,” I said and he nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said with a resigned sigh.

I smiled and looked at him again. “I understand how you feel, buddy. There are things I want that I won’t get for a long time either.”

He grinned back at me. “It’s okay,” he said. “I would rather help poor people anyway.”

And that was the end of the cell phone conversation. For now, anyway. I expect it will crop up again sometime and there will be other wants that pop in here and there, but my prayer for him (for all three kids) and for myself is that we’ll always remember.

I don’t want my children to live under a banner of guilt every time they get a new toy or gadget. I myself don’t want to live under that banner. Coming home, I wondered if I’d be frustrated or annoyed with all the “stuff” around me, but really? I’m not. We live differently here. We live in houses and we drive cars and we watch TV and we eat out.

There’s nothing bad about those things. In fact, they are quite good and enjoyable.

But I don’t want to be consumed by them and by God if I’m not going to work hard to make sure my kids aren’t consumed by them either. Rejoice in privileges, don’t take advantage of them. And yeah…it’s okay to remember from time to time the lessons learned in Africa…

How do you protect your children from the monster that is consumerism?

Filed Under: faith, Family, funny stuff that happens, Grace, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Sloan Tagged With: Africa, desires, faith, Kids

The Ugly Beaver

May 14, 2012 by Kelli

Photo by Keely Scott

Yesterday I stood inside a beautiful building with a thousand other believers. Lights flashing, hands raised, sounds blaring, we joined together in praise of the One who created us all. The one who still works miracles. The One who has not forgotten, has not let go, has not surrendered His creation.

But worship was different for me. As we entered the sanctuary with it’s four solid walls, high, vaulted ceiling and cushioned, comfortable seats, I told Lee that I feel different. Not different in a “I want to sell all we have and live in a hut eating bananas and tangerines” sort of different, though. It’s more of a, “I’ve seen God’s power and ability to move in and through His people and I don’t ever want to lose this feeling of awe and gratitude for who He is” sort of feeling.

Then the music started and instead of singing along, I cried. Not a cute, trembly chin, single tear rolling down the cheek cry, either. It was the kind of cry where you bite your lower lip hard, shoulders trembling, BOOHOOHOO ugly cry.

Kind of like a beaver. I was ugly beaver crying in church. Thankfully the music was loud so no one could hear my blubbering. But I kind of felt sorry for the people sitting beside me. I think I shot out projectile tears that showered them completely.

The words mean something different now. I hear “How Great is Our God” with the image of a family living in squalor running through my mind. I hear lyrics like, “You take our suffering,” and “I have freedom now through You,” and they are filtered through a different context.

I don’t know what suffering is.

In the grand scheme of things, I really don’t. My perspective has shifted mightily. As we celebrated Mother’s Day, I couldn’t help thinking of the mothers around the world. The ones who love their children just as much as I do, who want great things for their babies, just like me.

Photo by Keely Scott

We aren’t that different. And yet, we are so different.

I don’t know how this trip will impact our family long term. I don’t know how it will change us as a unit or what direction it will lead us in the future. What I do know is this: The emotions of last week will fade away. With time, I will become less moved.

I won’t look like a beaver in church forever.

But the conviction behind those emotions? Oh how I long for it to remain. That’s the thing I don’t want to change – I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want it to fade with the passing of time and the continued pressure of commitments and desires.

Right now, I look a little like this:

A deer (with bloodshot eyes) caught in headlights. I woke up yesterday morning (after sleeping for eleven hours) and my first thought was, Did that really happen or was it a dream?! I feel like it went by so quickly. In the blink of an eye, eight days passed and I was a changed person filled with distant memories of sitting in a Maasai hut, helping a Tanzanian family prepare dinner and slamming Cokes with tiny Tanzanian girls.

Whaaaaat?!

I stumbled to my kitchen and had my first cup of real coffee in over a week and then my senses kicked in. It was real. I was there and for the first time in a long time, I came face to face with my Savior. He was dusty and dirty, sleeves rolled up serving and loving the least of these.

He was a mother leaving her children while it was still dark so that she could give them the food they needed to grow.

Photo by Keely Scott

He was a pastor with a calm, gentle spirit laying out his vision and hope for a future that allowed the church to fully support and love their own community.

Photo by Keely Scott

He was a young man with an infectious grin and a heart so big for those in need that he spent his days singing and dancing with them.

Photo by Keely Scott

He was an older man, walking the dirt paths greeting everyone he passed with a grateful Praise God or Hallelujah!

Photo by Keely Scott

I went to Tanzania with the idea that I had something to offer, as though somehow I had words powerful enough to make a difference in this world. Upon returning home, however, I received an email from someone who handed me my bag out of the overhead bin on the airplane. He saw the Compassion tag and looked it up online and eventually found my blog.

He’s now interested in sponsoring a child.

See, God didn’t need to use me at all. I’m grateful and honored that He did, but He really didn’t need me. He’s got this all under control. The widows, the children, the hungry and sick. He hasn’t lost control. He was in Tanzania long before I got there.

*cue ugly beaver tears*

Click the above photo to sponsor a child from Tanzania, or click this link here. You can also check in with the other bloggers here. I promise I won’t talk about my experience in Tanzania forever, but as I slowly begin to process a few emotions, I may mention it a bit more. Thanks for reading along and taking this journey with me…

Filed Under: Compassion International, Ministry Tagged With: Compassion Bloggers, compassion international, faith, Tanzania

Miracles So Great

May 9, 2012 by Kelli

We walked around the corner, feet covered in red dirt. The squared off section of houses surrounded an open courtyard where two tiny little girls greeted us with wide grins. They held dry rolls in their hands and they squealed with delight at a black duck waddling around their bare, dusty feet.

They looked up at us in wonder, our white faces a stark contrast to everything they’re used to seeing. Laundry hung in long, damp lines and we waited for the girl’s mother to leave her station selling fish so she could join us.

Ducking into her home, it took a second for my eyes to adjust and my heart beat to slow. We stepped into a room that was roughly 7×7. A bed, crudely built out of long wooden planks and filled with rags, sat beneath a strip of cloth hung hammock style across the room. A bed for four.

And that was it. That was the house. Meals are cooked in a pot outside over a fire. A small pot of potatoes sat on a stoop outside the door. Fabric hung in place of window panes. This is a life I have never seen before.

It has wrecked me.

I’m struggling a bit to find the right words tonight. I saw absolute poverty today. A mother with three small children and no family nearby to help. She gets up before the sun every day and leaves her babies alone. It’s a necessity if she wants to feed them.

I didn’t know or understand how to take in everything I saw and heard. We left and walked the short distance to the local market where this mother works long, hard hours every day buying and selling fish. Enough to pay the rent and hopefully buy food for the waiting mouths.

Janet, who could not have been more than three years old, clung to my hand and lead me down the rocky path with such confidence that I found myself amused. But also sad. She’s a toddler with a wide, mischevious grin. How does she know this well worn path so well?

Sweet Janet and the Jolly White Giant

This sounds like a hopeless story, doesn’t it? I assure you it is not. Because there’s more. The home we visited belonged to Mwajuma, a spunky ten year old who has had a loving and faithful sponsor for five years. As soon as we all sat down, Mwajuma proudly pulled out a smooth white envelope and reached inside, pulling out the precious letters and photos.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” we asked Mwajuma.

She grinned shyly. “A doctor,” she answered, almost in a whisper. “I love science and math.” Looking through the letters, I noticed one line written by her sponsor. “I’m so glad to hear you like Science,” the letter read. One simple phrase, written by faith.

Hope for a future.

We left the small city of Mwanza today to fly across the country to Arusha. As I sat on the plane, my head pressed against the cool glass, I watched in awe as we flew past Mt. Kilimanjaro, and the hot tears fell.

Our God is a God of miracles. The very God who fashioned that snow capped mountain in all its glory, lovingly fashioned Mwajuma. He knew her frame and the way that her lips would press together when she smiled. The God of miracles hasn’t forgotten Mwajuma. He does miracles so great.

When we landed, I wiped my cheeks and followed the group to the van where I continued to watch in awe as we drove past the African countryside. We came to the Country Office, where a staff of 66 people are dedicated to serving well the 65,419 children being served by Compassion in Tanzania. Before we began, they led us in a few songs of worship. One of the choruses went like this:

For you are great

You do miracles so great

There is no one else like You

There is no one else like You

Before leaving Mwajuma’s house, we asked her mother how we could be praying for her and the children. “Please just pray that Mwajuma will continue to learn so that she can one day follow God and become a doctor.”

Miracle.

We prayed and asked God to specifically pave the path for Mwajuma to become a doctor. When I lifted my head, I looked into the eyes of her mother who sat still on the bed, her hands folded beneath her chin. Her eyes were bright and wet and do you know what I saw in them? Just…take a guess.

Hope.

Mwajuma has hope. I know I’ve talked about hope a lot this week, but it’s alive. It is alive! I didn’t leave Mwajuma’s house feeling hopeless. I was shocked and I was sad, but I was not without hope.

Mwajuma's baby sister, Jackie. Eat. Her. With. A. Spoon.

I left the head Compassion Office even more buoyed by this idea of hope. The staff exudes the emotion. Praise spilled forth from their lips, not hopelessness. The hands and feet of Christ Himself in Tanzania, the staff are under the leadership and direction of Joseph Maila and they are living hope every single day.

Absolute poverty amidst absolute hope.

I confess, I’m still trying to reconcile those things. I want to do so much more now. For thirty-three years I’ve lived with the awareness of extreme poverty and I’ve prayed about it. I’ve given here and there. We’ve sponsored a child. But I didn’t know. I didn’t understand.

And now? Now I do. I’m without excuse anymore. The gap between awareness and action has to close. What does that mean? I’m not really sure. It feels a little cliche to sit here and write these things. Of course I’m going to feel a greater call to action while I’m right here in the midst of it all. I mean, I’ve been to church youth camps. I’ve seen how these things work…

But what happens when I return home to my comfortable bed, my large house, my grocery store and the steady paycheck that allows me to get whatever I want whenever I want?

What then?

Honestly, that is my challenge. Hope is slow. Even for me…

But I can tell you with confidence that I know where I’ll start. I will start by writing our sponsored child more often. I will encourage him and build him up and love him like he’s one of my own. It’s a start and though it feels so small, I promise…it’s not.

Because we have a God of miracles and He is still moving and working. There are an estimated 22,000,000 children under the age of 18 and the percentage of those children still living in extreme poverty is high. 65,419 children are already registered in the Compassion program here. Do you know what that means?!

It means God has a LOT of room to work miracles. Miracles so great.

So what about you? What is your call to action? Won’t you be a part of the miracle?

Photos by Keely Scott

Follow along with the other bloggers here. Seriously. You want to read their stories…

Filed Under: Compassion International, Ministry Tagged With: Compassion Bloggers, compassion international, faith, God of Miracles, Tanzania

Dare to take a second chance

April 23, 2012 by Kelli

Cheater.

Dirty tricks.

Evil Hatchet Man.

Low.

Every one of these words was once used to describe the character of Chuck Colson, a Nixon Presidential aide who became one of the first to go to prison after the Watergate scandal broke and President Nixon was forced out of office. Back when the political game was won using cheap shots and dirty plays (I know, I’m talking about it as if it’s in the past…), Chuck Colson led the pack in the use of shrewd tactics.

But then, something happened.

Yes, he got caught and for many years people dismissed the change in him as nothing more than one more trick. But it wasn’t true. Nearly four decades of relentless and tireless work for prisoners revealed that Chuck Colson had truly been changed from the inside out.

Chuck Colson knew prisoners because he had lived with them. He had been one. What does a man who experiences literal chains do when he is released back to freedom?

“I could never, ever have left prison and accomplished what has been accomplished but for God doing it through me,” Chuck once said. In 1993 he is quoted as saying, “I shudder to think of what I’d been if I had not gone to prison. Lying on the rotten floor of a cell, you know it’s not prosperity or pleasure that’s important, but the maturing of the soul.”

Thank God for second chances. And third. And fourth.

Our past does not have to define who we are today. Redemption is sweet and offered to all. For 36 years, Chuck Colson faithfully carried out the simple command of loving “the least of these.” His ministry, Prison Fellowship Ministry, fought relentlessly for prisoners who, just like himself, needed someone to give them a second chance. He developed work-release programs, marriage seminars, training for prisoners to help mainstream them back into society when they got out.

Chuck Colson was a champion for the outcast of society and in so doing, he changed the course of how prisons are run and prisoners are treated, not just here in America, but around the world as well.

Why do we complicate the message of Christ? Why do we water it down, twist and contort it into to something that is in no way recognizable or appealing to others?

Love.

That’s all it is. Love people and love them well. Love them not because you have to, but because you want to. Love them when they are unlovable. Loving people doesn’t have to be so scary, but sometimes it will be hard. Love anyway. The poor, the oppressed, the downtrodden and, yes, the ones who have brought harm – they need love.

Sometimes love has to be a choice – not a feeling. As our pastor said yesterday, “Sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if it’s the hard thing.” Sometimes love is hard. But to give yourself over to loving the unlovable?

That’s character.

My husband spent a year under Chuck Colson’s leadership as part of his Centurian’s Program. Colson changed my husband. He helped shape him into the man and thinker that he is today. I am indebted to Chuck Colson for the way that he developed my husband into a leader who is quick to listen and slow to speak.

Chuck Colson was a man with a second chance and he didn’t waste a minute in using that second chance to change lives. What will you do with your second chance?

“We grieve that our brother, our founder, our inspiration is no longer with us. But we rejoice that Chuck is with Jesus, we rejoice as we reflect on his life and legacy and that we could be a part of that, and we rejoice when we think of all the redeemed in heaven who will greet him and thank him for the role he played in their salvation.” Jim Liske, Chief Executive Prison Fellowship Ministries

Faithful.

Courage.

Integrity.

Respected.

Set Free.

These are just a few of the words used to describe Chuck Colson in the days following his passing . Second Chances…

Here is a great article on Chuck Colson.

Image Credit

Filed Under: faith, Lee, Life, Ministry Tagged With: Chuck Colson, faith, Love, Prison Fellowship Ministry

People Who Sing Jesus

April 4, 2012 by Kelli

I will preface this book review by telling you that I am unashamedly biased toward the author. Sean is my cousin and I’ve always thought he was the Bee’s Knees. When we were younger, I was fairly certain that Sean hung the moon in the sky. He was quiet and kind and you should have seen him play Frogger on the Atari.

It was nothing short of awe inspiring.

So yes, I’m biased, but here’s the deal. If I didn’t genuinely find this book to be amazing and fascinating and thought provoking, I wouldn’t review it. So while I have an obvious bias to Sean himself, I certainly didn’t have any thoughts on the book until I read it.

And then I had to read it again and, honestly, I think I need to read it a third time.

This is coming from a girl who doesn’t like to read non-fiction.

People Who Sing Jesus has given me pause for thought these last few weeks. It’s no secret that this move has been a difficult one for our family. In nearly twelve years of marriage, Lee and I have rarely struggled, but this move has made us work harder in a lot of areas.

We’ve had to work harder as husband and wife.

We’ve had to work harder at parenting.

We’ve had to work harder at seeking Jesus.

I started praying the scary prayer not long after we came down here. “Lord, don’t let me know you for who I think you are. Help me know you for who you really are.” Each time I pray that prayer I try not to grimace and I force myself not to put several hundred caveat’s on the request.

Lord let me know you for who you truly are, but…

Don’t take away the people or things I love,

Don’t make the refining fire too hot,

Don’t let my vision shift be too painful.

I’ve had to learn again to sing Jesus and to understand WHY I sing His Name. And in the process I’ve been so deeply humbled that I’ve had a bit of vertigo.

This week, as the kids and I prepare for the sacred remembrance of Good Friday, we’ve been reading the story of Jesus’ walk to Calvary and it’s given me so much pause as I soak in His sacrifice wholly and fully. Why do I sing Jesus? Why do I stand in awe of Him?

Sean opens the first chapter with this paragraph: “You may find this hard to believe, but your life is significantly attached to the original score of music. The most ancient expression of creativity began not in notes and scales but in the formation of life. As the Creator set the cosmos in motion, the framework for melodies originated, and those early formations are linked to your story. God’s creative work binds together your life with your purpose to sing new songs that connect to the Creator’s original score. Your life continues adding notes to the original melody.”

The first time I read these words I went over them twice, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. To know that the Creator of the Universe, the One I so desire to know for who He truly is, created me with a purpose that links to His original score of Creation sets my heart trembling. And the resulting action toward which I feel compelled is to sing.

Creation already sings His praises. The thunder is His bass and the oceans provide the rhythm. The mountains are the strings that echo the harmonious chorus of the animals that grace their paths. The wind blows and whispers his name while the lightening provides the clanging symbol of His glory.

And inside that melodious track, we have been given the gift of words to put His Name to music, singing along with all of Creation. We, you and I, are all a part of the song and, as Sean explains, we have been since the very beginning of time when He set the melody in place. Knowing and understanding this not only gives cause for more praise, but also turns us more toward the One who released the first chord. The Conductor.

People Who Sing Jesus is theology wrapped in grace-filled prose. It’s a book that will cause you to stop and question – Who is God and who are we?

There is so much more I want to tell you, and so many more quotes I want to pull from the book and share. But it would be better if you read the book yourself. Because in 800 words or less, I simply cannot do justice to the power of this beautiful book. All I know is when I finished it, I wanted to sing.

“God’s truth is revealed in every aspect of life: science, technology, health, economics, creation, politics, and all human interactivity. What you see and know is only a fraction of the picture. The Creator has much more in store for you than you can possibly imagine.” Sean Cooper, People Who Sing Jesus

You can purchase People Who Sing Jesus here.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Grace, Product Reviews, writing Tagged With: Book Review, faith, God, People Who Sing Jesus, Sean Cooper

The wind howls and my dog’s possessed

March 5, 2012 by Kelli

In the dark of night we listened to the wind howl above and around us. Our first Florida spring brings forceful winds that zip up and over our house, wrapping us in a cocoon of noise. The bushes rattle against the windows. The front door shifts forward and back with each gust. The high pitched whine of a poorly sealed window frame gives an eery voice to the darkened house.

And inside, as we hear the rain begin to pound sideways, sleep is elusive. Tia comes into our room around 3:00, scared and shaking. “My woom is making sounds,” she cries and she burrows deep beneath the covers next to me, her hot hand flung over my chest.

And then I feel it. The hot stare. Isn’t it amazing how we always know we are being watched? I open my eyes slowly, unsure of what I will see, and I gasp and jump. The dog sits over me, her dark eyes big and wide and inches from my face. Like Pet Cemetary.

Creepy.

I karate chop the air, scare the dog and jostle my finally-nearing-sleep daughter. And that was the clincher for me. Sleep would evade me for the rest of the night Saturday night. The winds did not stop howling and I couldn’t rest. The noise was too much and noise in the dark gives way to fears…most of them irrational.

What if the roof rips off?

What if a tree comes flying through a window?

What if the dog is possessed?

When day finally broke and we dragged our weary bodies from the bed, we looked out the window to find the wind had not stopped. But somehow it seemed less threatening. In fact, it was kind of beautiful the way the air seemed to move in the early morning sunlight.

Strange what a little light can do, huh?

This move has been like a massive wind storm. We are trapped inside gale force winds and sometimes it’s dark and scary. There isn’t the calm predictability of the known to lean back on, but each gust of wind brings a new change and you find yourself prone to huddling in the dark, waiting for it to end.

And you wait for the moment when the light will shine. A conversation with a friend. A bit of encouraging news. Anything to move the dark away and bring forth some sense of stability. Because even if the wind still blows in the light, at least you can see the effects the change are bringing about.

We are still caught up in the doubt and struggles that accompany a move. This past week was a rough week. For the first time I allowed myself to feel sadness. I let myself cry and miss, and it felt like sitting in a wind storm in the dark. Without warning, I found myself lost in doubt and emotion.

Why are we here?

Why can’t we find a church?

Why is home schooling the kids so hard for me?

Why do I doubt everything around me?

Why is the dog staring at me in the dark?

Why?

These are all questions I have not allowed myself to ask since we moved. I simply wouldn’t give myself over to that emotion. I couldn’t because I knew if I did, the flood gates would open. So I held them at bay and pushed everything away.

But this week, I felt a bit attacked. The Enemy was waiting for a brief moment of weakness when I let my guard down and he could sweep in with these winds of doubt and sadness. He waited for me to give in to the dark.

And I kind of think he momentarily possessed my dog because she has never stood over me all creepy-like before. Demon dog. *shudder*

Not only did I get caught up in the swirl of emotion about our move, though, but I also rode the winds in a wave of doubt over…well – just about everything. Parenting, wife-ing (I can verb wife, right?), writing…everything felt too big for me and the wind swirled.

Ugh.

I hate doubt. I hate being attacked. I hate falling to this place where I’m tossed around in the dark.

But I love that every time that happens and I cry out for help, the Lord brings someone along to shine a little light. Friends to speak wisdom and encouragement. A husband to make me feel loved and appreciated. A Bible study group to let me open up and be vulnerable.

All these work together, not to make the winds stop howling, but to at least light up the world around me. Life’s not so scary in the light.

The dog’s not either.

Image Credit

Filed Under: faith, Florida, funny stuff that happens, Grace, Life, Moving Tagged With: faith, Life, moving, Sadness

The Grace to Shut Up

February 3, 2012 by Kelli

Grace.

I have camped out on this very word for the year 2012. It is my theme and the anthem of my heart. When I feel frustrated. Grace. When worried. Grace. When annoyed or angry.

Grace.

It is good that I landed on this word as we head into a contentious political season. Already I have had the opportunity to dwell in Grace. Spending ample amounts of time online can lead to high blood pressure for those of us who tend to veer toward hot headedness. My first inclination is generally not to remain quiet, but instead to add my voice to the fray.

But I am learning to dwell in Grace.

Do you know how many Facebook statuses I’ve written and erased this week?

It’s interesting, when you’re learning to embrace Grace, how much more difficult it feels to give it. I find myself so quick to judge. When I see posts that upset me, the nasty little voice in my head scoffs all hoity toity-like, “Don’t they understand Grace?”

And then that smaller voice counters, “Do you understand it?”

It’s at this point that I make my fingers be still so my heart can get quiet. It’s amazing how quiet and stillness can actually snuff out the nasty, isn’t it?

Just because I’m learning Grace doesn’t mean everyone is learning it. Just because I’m trying to practice Grace by being quiet doesn’t mean everyone should be quiet. Indeed, I’ve seen numerous posts and comments that oozed Grace in a way that I’m not always skilled at conveying.

I needed the Grace to shut up so that I could learn Grace by watching others.

It’s hard not to get bothered by ramblings online. There are so many voices in this world wide web. So many opinions to be shared, observations to be made, accusations to be flung and promises to be spoken. And weaving through it all, if you aren’t careful, it’s easy to become lost in the negativity.

“But you’re just being real,” the nasty little voice yells. “You have to let people know who you are and where you stand or you won’t ever be heard.”

Hmmm…I don’t agree little voice. Be gone!

There is something to be said about being Graceful, even above being kind. I’m trying to lean toward Grace instead of kindness. Because even kindness can lend itself to an air of condemnation. If someone doesn’t feel the same way I do about an issue, I can kindly assert our differences, but there’s no guarantee that that person won’t feel hurt or judged by my words.

It’s a balance, this thing called Grace. The balance comes in knowing when to speak up and when to be still. When to speak wisdom and when to simply sit. Thankfully I have seen a LOT of people do this well in the online world and I am trying to learn for them. To learn, though, I need to be quiet for awhile.

Grace doesn’t always shine through me and in the past, I’ve been part of the noise problem. I’ve spoken with brash confidence and haughty self-love. I’ve assumed that my opinions were so worthy and noble that naturally everyone would want to hear them and should indeed agree with all I said.

That’s not to say I don’t think people should have a voice. I do. And I think you should exercise your right to voice your opinion. In fact, in the last month as I’ve learned to just be still and quiet a marvelous thing has happened. I’ve learned to appreciate, if not agree with, differing opinions.

*gasp*

Suddenly, my own opinion isn’t the only one that matters. And I’ve been able to more clearly think through what I feel, think and believe about an issue.

This is nothing short of miraculous, folks!

So I’m learning. I will likely fail here and there and I can’t promise I’ll always keep ~~my mouth shut~~ my fingers still, but if I can continue to sit quietly long enough to calm my heart, I just may learn what it means to dwell in, and live with, Grace.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll someday be able to speak Grace.

Filed Under: faith, Grace Tagged With: faith, Grace, Online Politics, Speaking with Grace

Yes. Pick me. I’ll Go.

January 29, 2012 by Kelli

Comments now closed. The lucky winner is Emily! Emily I sent you and email. Send me your address and I will get the book in the mail ASAP. Thanks everyone for entering. Now go buy the book!

I’m currently nearly finished reading Kisses from Katie and I can barely contain the tears that have been flowing since I opened this book. Have you read it?

Why not?

“I fell in love with Uganda as soon as I arrived. After I woke up the first morning of our stay, I looked around and saw glistening bright white smiles against ebony faces; I heard happy voices, lilting language, and gentle laughter. I saw strength and depth of character in people’s eyes. I found Uganda to be a beautiful land filled with beautiful people.” Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie

Change a few adjectives and this is the exact way I would describe my feeling the first time I stepped off the plane in the former Soviet Union. It was as though a part of my soul – a piece of myself I hadn’t known existed until that moment – came alive and I would never be the same.

I am awed by Katie Davie and her willingness to say “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.” As I’ve read, I’ve found myself thinking more than once that somehow the decision she made was easier. She was young – she didn’t have anything tying her down. Of course she could just pick up and go. Of course she could say yes.

This thought is selfish at best and outright offensive at worst.

Katie was an eighteen year old Homecoming Queen with the world at her fingertips and the resources to grasp it. Instead, she “quit her life,” left everything comfortable and known – all her dreams and plans, her parents’ dreams and hopes and desires – and she moved to Uganda. Forever.

Katie Davis said “Yes.” And it was a hard “Yes.”

I am a wife with three young children. My “yes” may look different, but I have the exact same ability to say “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.” But would I mean it? Can I say it? Because honestly, the responsibilities in front of me are real, and necessary and daunting and when I think of saying “Yes, Lord. I’ll go,” my mind automatically thinks so big and so vast and I feel immediately incapable of succeeding.

I wish my “yes” could be in another country where the harsh but beautiful lilt of the Russian language filled my ears and the laughter of children in need quenched the thirst in my soul.

But that’s not where He has me right now. And I sometimes fear that maybe I long ago closed my ears, gave a resounding “No” and relinquished my ability to impact His kingdom.

Then I pull out the Math books and the history book and the Russian books and realize that I already said “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.” Every single day, as I shepherd and mold the small hearts entrusted to me, I say “Yes.” I didn’t want to home school. Honestly, most days I still don’t. But I’m supposed to. I know with all my heart that right now, at this moment, I’m where I’m supposed to be.

“Yes”.

Katie Davis’ “Yes” took her to Uganda. It made her the mother of fourteen children before she could legally drink in America. Her “Yes,” by my standards, is huge. Her “Yes” by any standards, actually, is huge. How many of us were willing to give up everything at eighteen to go serve the poorest of poor on the other wide of the world?

But guess what? We all have the ability and the obligation to say “Yes” to that which is right in front of us. My “Yes” to home schooling is not that big, especially when you take into consideration the reluctance with which I agreed. But still I said, “Yes.” Just thinking about it in these terms has renewed a passion in me for discipling my children this year while I have them home.

Consider Katie’s words: Sometimes, the everyday routine of my life feels so normal to me. At other times the idea of raising all these children seems like quite a daunting task. I realize that since I have chosen an unusual path it is easier for outsiders to look at my life and come to the conclusion that it is something extraordinary. That I am courageous. That I am strong. That I am apecial. But I am just a plain girl from Tennessee. Broken in many ways, sinful, and inadequate. Common and simply with nothing special about me. Nothing special except I chose to say “yes.” “Yes” to the things God asks of me and “yes” to the people He places in front of me. You can too. I am just an ordinary person. An ordinary person serving an extraordinay God.”

We can all say yes. We can say yes to the man on the street corner with a sign for food and a plea for help crying from his desperate eyes. Small? Not to Him and not to God.

The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40

We can take food to a neighbor in need, visit someone in a nursing home, hug a hurting friend or give out of the abundance of our resources to those who have little. “Yes” takes many forms, but we have to be willing to say it, then do it.

In the interest of giving everyone the chance to be inspired and encouraged and challenged and convicted, I have purchased a copy of Kisses from Katie to give away to one reader. Simply leave a comment for your entry. I will choose a winner randomly on Wednesday morning, February 1, at 9:00 am EST.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Homeschool, Ministry, Motherhood, Product Reviews Tagged With: faith, Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie, Motherhood, Saying Yes

Read with Kleenex

December 12, 2011 by Kelli

Today I want to give you a few links to some of the most powerful words I’ve read on the internet these last few months. These writers are real, honest and have an incredible knack for weaving word pictures in such a way that makes you stop cold and think deep.

Refreshing.

The pastor of the church we have been visiting preached a sermon this morning titled Come Before Winter. Apparently it is an annual tradition for him to preach this message and I really wish someone would have warned me ahead of time how emotional this message would be. Although, it’s probably best I didn’t know, because I may have been tempted to skip it altogether.

The theme was centered around Paul’s final letter to Timothy when he urged him to come back to Rome quickly, before winter set in and travel across the Mediteranean would be impossible. Paul knew he had little time left and there were still words he wanted to say to his beloved Timothy.

The message? Life is short and goes by in an instant. What are we doing to seize every opportunity while we are here on this Earth to glorify and honor God with our relationships, our gifts and talents and the tasks set before us? He finished his message by reading something he wrote about his youngest child, who will graduate from high school this spring. This was written days before he would watch his son play his final football game.

Get your Kleenex handy.

He was born on an October weekend 18 autumns ago. I was proud then. I am proud now. He has graced my life and blessed me in immeasurable ways. And now it’s his senior year. It’s the last week, the last game. It was bound to happen. Where did the time go?

Read the entire story here.

Folks, there were grown men throughout the sanctuary blubbering like small children, most of them crowned with silver hair. It was the kind of morning where you walk around with a burning lump lodged in your throat and you laugh inappropriately just to keep from crying.

Or maybe that was just me…

The next two ladies are hands down two of the most amazing bloggers to grace the internet and I’m not just saying that because I happen to know and love each one of them dearly.

Okay maybe I’m a tiny bit biased.

Becke’ not only has an amazing, God-given gift for photography, but she also has a deep and profound love of scripture and understanding of grace. Oh, and she just so happens to be my sister-in-law. If you’re not reading her blog, I really encourage you to do so. You will be blessed. And you might be slightly jealous of her pictures….

God wants light in His house so we could see. The seeing would enable generations to hope for the one Good Olive, the one who would be beaten in that Garden of Gethsamene (garden of oil press), in order to bring true light.

Read the full post here. And then look at the rest of her posts. Just be prepared to go deep because Becke’ takes you to church when she writes. You can also go ooh and aah over her pictures here.

And then there’s Wendy. I’ve mentioned her a time or two…because she’s awesome. And she may write one of the most refreshingly honest blogs on all the interwebs. She’s sincere and real and bold and she writes with a humility that is like a breath of fresh air. Wendy is an actress and a writer and she oozes creativity. But more than that, she is a wife and a mom and she embraces those roles fully and completely.

Joy is not dependent upon our circumstances, the health of those we love, or how physically well-rested we are; JOY comes from abiding in Him, ever thankful that He abides in us.

Read the rest of this post here and then go read some more of her posts. I actually had a difficult time choosing which post to highlight.

Speaking of life moving quickly - this kid is going to be FOUR this week!

There are a lot of places where you could spend your time online. But I hope that by reading the words of these bloggers you find yourself encouraged as you see their genuine authenticity. And I pray that as you head into your week, you find yourself feeling blessed and renewed.

I pray the same for myself. A word to the wise – don’t drink caffinated tea at night. You could just find yourself up and kickin’ at 2:00 am. Not that I would know anything about that…

Blessings, friends.

Filed Under: Blogging, Random, writing Tagged With: Encouragement, faith, Great bloggers, Links, refreshing words

Just me and my thoughts

December 5, 2011 by Kelli

The title of this post alone should scare you all. I am welcoming you into my thoughts?

Frightening.

Because the truth is, I can go from thinking of something super brilliant and kinda deep to thinking up alternate lyrics to popular songs in the same breath. “So, Kelli. What ARE your favorite made up alternate lyrics?” I’m so glad you asked!

Sung to the tune of Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson’s “Rock Your Body”

I’m gonna wash your body

Make it clean

Scrub with me

No lie, I sang this to the kids every time I bathed them and they ALL sing it now when they pick up a bar of soap. It. is. awesome.

So yeah…that’s the kind of stuff that floats through my head.

Okaaaaay, then. Let’s bring this crazy train on in to the station, shall we?

I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmas these last few weeks. I’m wrestling through my desire to teach my kids to really, truly embrace the power of this Christmas season without completely turning away from the magic of gift giving and receiving. There have been a lot of really wonderful blog posts written lately on the topic and I’m awed at how many people have given up gifts altogether on Christmas, choosing instead to focus on the true meaning behind why we celebrate this holiday.

I’ll be honest. I’m not there and I’m okay with that.

Because I really love the moment my children walk around the corner and see the twinkling lights and the gifts and the excitement leading up to that magical moment. And I think we can still enjoy that tradition without losing ourselves to the marketing mayhem that Christmas has become.

Truthfully, the last few years we have pulled back significantly on how much “stuff” we give our kids. Because they don’t need all the stuff. Last year we gave fewer gifts and tried to make them more meaningful and useful. And we are pulling back even more drastically this year.

There are other things we plan to do with the kids this year to keep the focus of Christmas outward and not inward. And I may or may not share what those things are. I am trying to keep some things private as a way to preserve the traditions, memories and even acts themselves as sacred between us, our children and the God we serve. It’s a balance.

I can tell you this, though. As the kids and I discussed the way that Christmas would change a bit this year, I mentioned today that we would be spending less on one another and more on others. I was immediately met with disappointed stares and protests and for a brief second, my heart sank. Perhaps we had gone wrong all these years if my children were going to pitch a small fit over receiving fewer toys. Then Tia spoke.

“But Mom,” she said, her eyes big and round. “I really, really wanted to get you a special present this year!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sloan said. “I had a plan for exactly what I wanted to get you.”

*tears* *hugs*

Then I promised them a pony.

I thanked them for thinking of me and not themselves and told them I would be honored to receive gifts from them, but that I wanted them to spend more time, energy and money on gifts for people who are in need than on me.

Our nativity scene usually includes Santa, Luke Skywalker, Moses, a Construction Worker and on occasion C-3PO likes to make an appearance.

I won’t tell my children they can’t buy me a gift. (I think they’re going to buy me Peppermint Mocha Coffee Creamer – Mercy, I am loved). I will, however, encourage them to think outside the box on how we can give to others. I loved some of the ideas in this post – particularly the suggestion of giving children a sum of money and allowing them to use it however they want, as long as it’s for someone in need.

I am not opposed to giving gifts at Christmas, personally. It’s not something that I feel we need to cut out entirely. I am, however, finding myself more and more drawn to celebrating more simply, with the traditions surrounding the gifts and not the other way around. I don’t have a problem with my kids believing in Santa because we don’t make him the reason for the season. I don’t play the Santa card to encite good behavior (mortifying) and I read the story of the real Saint Nicholas every single year so that they know and understand the historical significance of who he was. Santa gets a bit part in our the Christmas celebrations in our home. And I don’t mind that.

These are things that I, personally, don’t sweat. Because I don’t let them get out of hand. I am, however, pondering and thinking and praying over exactly how Christmas will look for us this year – how we will incorporate gift giving and receiving into our holiday in a way that is meaningful and precious. Rest assured, though, that no matter what, Christmas will still be magical and filled with wonder. How could it not be so?

The Lord is Come.

Magical, indeed.

How do you keep your focus during the holidays? Any plans to help your kids think outside the box this year? I’d love to hear what others are doing!