Save Image As...

Dear Image,

So, it is almost your birthday my crazy Image girl! You will be eleven on January 11, 2015...your Golden Birthday (11 on the 11th). We have had quite a few Golden birthdays in the last 6 months--both of my children and now you, my fur-baby.

Most know your story: "The Two Year old (almost 3) Show Dog that I 'saved'". I have owned many dogs and loved them all. With most of them it was easy: purebred, mutts, whatchamacallits, lap dogs...Loving dogs has come easy for me. You, however, my girl have been a challenge. Finally in your 3rd and your forever home, I have loved you more than the others who owned you and have loved you longest. I also know you love me more than anything in the world, though how you convey it is most unique. You're not even able to bear being in a separate room from me without your loud (quite annoying, I might add) crying. We've been together for 8 1/2 years. I've been committed to you and cared for you with all I am, though it has been an act of will and choice and not an easy act of my heart some days as it is with my other dogs. Your intelligent nature requires that I frequently prove that I am the alpha. You make me earn your respect in a way that is often irritating, though, I do choose to love you. I recall the quote from Lady Guinevere to King Arthur in "The First Knight" when she says "Love has many faces. I may look on you differently, but not with less love." She goes on to say that King Arthur is loved by an act of her will which is stronger than her heart. Being a person who feels things deeply--a heart person--but also a strong-willed person, I loved and hated this quote all at once. I understand it better now in having loved you, Image, for almost a decade.

Loving Windsor, Tiffany, Meechie, Jamie, Butch, Cookie, Princess, Sugar, Tiger, Star, etc., etc., was simple. They stole my heart again and again. They wanted to please me. They quickly obeyed, but then again they were not Show Dogs and maybe not quite as acute as you. You , my girl, are willful and constantly make me to you prove that you will do what I say. Yet, there are moments that I do so enjoy you--like when you snuggle next to me or prance around like a deer in such a jovial manner. These moment do capture my heart. I love how you will lay in a big orange and white roan ball at the foot of the tub until I am done or in the floor by my bed when I nap. I love how you press your forehead against my shoulder when you want a hug, and I love how you bare your teeth when I ask you to smile.

When your previous owners bought you because they thought they could make you, mold you into a show dog--a prize--- little did they know the job that was cut out for them. Oh yes, even now I gaze upon your many ribbons and certificates where you won show after show, but it came at a higher price than some of their other dogs required. This I do know, because I know you...and I know them! 

Traveling all the way from Kalamazoo, Michigan to Dallas, North Carolina, I will never forget the first time I saw you. I first met a member of your pack--a Blue Roan English Cocker Spaniel. I saw him in Lowe's Hardware and thought he was majestic enough to inquire about him from his trainer. One thing after another and I met you...the Orange and White Roan. I wanted the blue, but then I saw your sweet, sad face. I didn't feel they loved you or were as proud of you as they should be...so I bought you (Yes! BOUGHT you...at a hefty price, too), and I brought you home to love you. And yes! You have made me prove it over and over again; but Image, I am most proud of my love for you. I am most proud that we stuck it out, and that I didn't quit on you like the others. I know you have been most happy in my home.

Your life expectancy is 11-12 years, though I think you could make it to fifteen. I never thought I would lose my precious Windsor before you, my tough ol' girl. Yet, here you are as willlful as ever. As I was about to save a picture of you for this blog, I received the message "Save Image as..." I laughed. Oh, how sometimes I would like to save you as something else! But then, I would have missed the life lessons I have learned from you...for you are often like me. You are willful when you should listen. You think you know more than me, but you don't. You want your way, when mine is best for you. I think I"ll "save" Image again and again if need be...and I'll think I'll save her as the Image she is! I do love you Image Ol' Girl!

Happy Almost Birthday My Orange Roan Lassie!

There's Been a Change of Plans

There's Been a Change of Plans...This was the title of yesterday's message. Every word and every moment spoke to my heart on so many levels. Pastor Furtick said, "And there's someone out there who has buried a dream. You've stopped believing "it" is possible, but I'm here to tell you, ALL things are possible through Him!" Something just exploded in the deepest part of who I am. That was me!

For someone who is a conclusive planner, this has been a bit challenging. Just the words, "There's been a change of plans" makes my stomache hurt. Yet, plans do change. Pastor Furtick said, that God always has plan, but He frequently doesn't share His plan with us because we would mess it up or worse yet trust the "plan" more than the God who made it.

The past four years have been a roller coaster of changed plans. James and I had planned to adopt a third child. Plans changed. My daughter became my niece. My heart still doesn't understand, but plans change. Sometimes it takes awhile for your heart to catch up with this. Mine still hasn't, even though my mind has long since made the leap. She is a beautiful five year old who often comments on how much her Uncle Jamie loves her. Her indeed was the first to rescue her.

We planned for Tyler to go away to college. This was his dream too. Yet weeks from graduation we began dealing with horrifying seizures. All is well now, and his doctors are amazed at how strong he is (He really is...It's doggone amazing! And what I attribute to a merciful God). Then before we could come up for air, we found out he was to be a father. I discovered this on a Saturday night. I was the last to know. Tyler loves his mama so much and was afraid of breaking my heart. It didn't break my heart, but it did fracture my will a bit. The next day, I couldn't even get out of bed. My family left for church. I went for a ride across a beautiful bridge in High Shoals. What I saw, much to my astonishment, was a white dove perched on the ledge of the bridge. I took a picture of it, and heard God say, "Lisa, peace be still. I will take care of this. You can't control one part of it. You're going to have to trust me."

Trusting Him has been my life's constant, and He has NEVER failed me. Plans change. As I sit on the floor beside my bed at this 3:00 a.m. hour wrapped in my favorite blue bathrobe and listening to Carter breathe in the bed above me, I am so thankful for changed plans. Hearing him call, "Nina, Nina" in the middle of the night as he wraps his tiny arms around my neck is the sweetest feeling in the world. At that moment I am shocked at love that spills from my heart. There is so much love that my heart can't contain it! It often flows from my cheeks! Plans change.

I had not planned for my Daddy to not be here this Christmas. I had not planned for it to hurt so much. It angers me that I my heart won't catch up with my brain on this one. It infuriates me that I can't seem to control the hurt that seems to sneak up on me at unexpected moments. I miss the sound of his voice. I miss his numerous calls throughout the day just to say he loves me. I miss his strong hands holding mine. I miss him letting me cry into his shoulder even as a forty-something year old woman and how he could always fix his little girl. I miss hearing him sing. I miss how infectious his laughter was...and how corny his jokes were. I miss how he was never pressed or stressed and how that caused me to relax. Plans change. Life moves forward.

"Dreams can still be had. Dreams can still come to fruition." I heard Pastor say this yesterday. Plans change, but if they didn't we would miss out on some wonderful things. Yes. When plans change things can be inconvenient, messy and painful, but they often give birth to such wonderful things as the baby Jesus. Plans changed for Mary. She wasn't finished completing her wedding registry when the angel appeared and said, "Surprise! Change of plans! You'll also need a baby registry!" Bless! How frightening! How inconvenient! How out of control! Yet how wonderful the eternal effects!

I love Jeremiah 29:11! God knows the plans He has for us...even when they change. He knows THE PLAN. We know THE PROMISE and it is SO good! It is for a future and a hope...it is for realized dreams! With that said, I think I can actually and tangibly dream now. So with that I will head back to bed beside my sweet little boy and say Good Nite!

Jeremiah 29:11The Message (MSG) 10-11 This is God’s Word on the subject: “As soon as Babylon’s seventy years are up and not a day before, I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.

Hi Handsome!! Oh you have stolen my heart, my sweet prince!

I absolutely without reservation fell head over heels in love at this moment! I love this picture for this reason! I wiped tears and tried to clear my face before this pic was taken...my heart was glowing!

My sweet daddy! His poor bruised hands! Love those hands!

Tyler's graduation...who knew...Buckle up! Life, here we come!

I could eat him!!! OOOUUU!! Yummy!

My happy, happy boy!!

Another sweet change of plans! He has Angelman's Syndrome. I LOVE him! Hugs Jim!

My beautiful niece only days after we brought her home!

Saigon, Salons, Salsa and Sincere Smiles

I stepped out of my car and said, "Lord, I don't want to talk to anyone or be talked to by anyone. I just want to get my nails done as quickly as possible and leave, and please let Anna be in a quiet, mood today. Actually, Lord, it would be great if no one even looked at me." Anna is a beautiful, sanguine, perky, petite, sixty-something nail technician from Saigon. She loves to talk, and I usually accommodate even though I would prefer to sit quietly as she performs her magic on my nails.  I was expecting a sympathetic reply from my Father of "Okay Lisa. It's been tough on you, lately. We'll handle this." No such luck. Instead, He reminded me, "Lisa, this is not your show. You enlisted in a different army a long time ago, and I'm going to need you at your post." Great! Just great! God is kind of like that. He never lets us give less than our best.

As I entered the salon, I quickly realized I was the only customer. Again...just great! Anna's husband stepped inside from the back door. He was wearing a brown corduroy jacket--slightly too big for him. His slightly too long salt and pepper colored hair extended from his black toboggan and his tender eyes peered over his glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. He is a quiet soul, but his sweet face says much. He nodded to me and shuffled toward Anna to hand her the items she would need to help me.

Anna began chattering immediately. I often don't understand much of what she says, so it is with great effort that I have to try and listen. This is quite a task for an ADHD girl who also noticed that they were playing a movie starring Tom Selleck on their very visible T.V. Yes, this would be an extra challenge tonight. 

Anna began questioning why she hadn't seen me in so long. She began fussing over my very cropped nails. She began inquiring about my holiday plans. Ugghhh! I didn't have the stamina for small talk, so I just told her the truth. I said this would be the first year without my dad, and I missed him a lot. At that, my chatty, motherly friend stopped. She was sitting at my feet. She said, "Lisa, I know. I share with you. I understand." She began to tell me how she had lost her son when he was only thirty years old. She explained that he died in Saigon, but that she couldn't afford to go home and pay her last respects. She explained that her mother had been furious with her for this lack of respect and honor toward the son. She also explained that her mother had died only a few weeks following her son. As she talked I saw her cute, tiny nose turn pink and her beautiful almond shaped eyes fill with tears. As she talked she stroked my feet and gently rubbed my legs. A tear or two rolled down my face as I felt her pain. I had never known that Anna had experienced such grief. She is such a happy soul. She smiles with all she is, and this makes her so beautiful to me. This makes her seem so young to me.

I understood in that moment that the gift of my time to Anna was also God's gift of healing to me. As the time passed, Anna true to form chatted away and enjoyed being able to converse with an "active listener" (even if the listener sometimes had to fake it). Anna always shares some "American" favorite recipe with me each time I am there. I don't know why, and she never shares Asia ones--when I am there. I often wish she would share authentic Asian recipes. Maybe she thinks I would like the others better. Today, she wanted to tell me how to make a simple salsa. "Lisa, this easy...you try....you work hard...you clean house...you care for family...this recipe easy...You family like". I smiled. My heart swelled with love for this little woman. As I opened up and allowed her to share, I discovered that she also speaks French! Who knew?! She learned it in school as a little girl. She spoke French to me as she worked. It was beautiful. Her accent was amazing! I understood more of her French than her English. She educated me on the difference between Spanish spoken in Spain (where I have had the pleasure to visit) and Spanish spoken in Mexico (where I have also been blessed to visit). All the while she commented on my feet. "Lisa, you wear heels again for winter! I see! Look here! You must be careful. See how much better I make it. Lisa, where you get this mark. Something bite you? Look you bruise. How? You sure you like this (nail) color? You sure? I change for you."

When it was finally time to leave, I paid; but then I said, "Anna, will you wax my eyebrows?" I usually do my own, but I could tell this would be a treat for her. She said, "Yes. I be happy to. Sit. You sit." She applied hot wax, pulled, tweezed, plucked; and at last, we were done! I said goodbye and stood to leave. As I stepped away, Anna said, "No. Lisa. You wait." She hurried to the back of the salon. I thought, "Great! She is going to get a hand-held mirror so I can inspect her work. Honestly, it's okay, Anna. I trust you." When she returned, I was wrong again. Anna held out a little box of candles. She said, "Happy birthday, Lisa, and Merry Christmas!" I was stunned. I quickly grabbed her tiny little shoulders in my arms and hugged her. Wow! Just when we think we have given so much, God reminds us that we can never out give Him! Thank you my sweet, little, beautiful Anna in your tiny, black sock feet, tonight! What a precious gift you were to me! I love my purple candles, but not nearly as much as I love you!

Sit Wiff Me, Pease!

We entered her room which was a little too warm for comfort: blinds slightly open, no television or radio to break up the deafening silence, only the hustle and bustle of hurried footsteps outside her door. Her back was to us as we entered her room, and we beheld her as she looked through the slits in her blinds. Her little, frail hands were gently folded atop a shawl as it covered her slight legs that perched on the footrests of her wheelchair. She was the picture of elegance and calm, though undeniably lonely. I had not met her yet, but I already loved her. For sake of anionimity, let's call her Ellen. She is a resident of the nursing home where my son works, and where he invests a bit of his soul each day. To say that I am proud of my son is an understatement. To see him in his element as he cares for these geriatric dear ones is one of my greatest joys.

My grandson, my niece, my mother and I had come to the nursing home to visit Tyler, my handsome boy, so that Tyler's son, Carter, could have lunch with his dad. Dressed in his pre-Halloween fireman suit Carter was excited to see his dad as always and share some fast food and Daddy-Son talk. I was excited to see the affection and tenderness exchanged between two of the loves of my life. Before the lunch date ended, Tyler decided we should meet his favorite resident, Ellen. We were eager to see this lady that he was beaming about as he talked of her.

Ellen was everything you would want in a grandmother. She declared to us that she WAS Tyler's grandma. She was not confused or experiencing dementia, she was merely letting us know she had adopted him as her own. I was grateful. I was proud. I was touched deeply. I reached to shake her hand and thank her for loving my boy. Her hands were pale, small and soft as velvet. I resisted the urge to bring them to my cheeks and experience their warm, softness on my face. She reminded me so much of my grandmother, and I immediately knew why Tyler loved her. My motley crew quickly brought an end to the silence and solitude of her room, but I could tell it was a welcomed change. My niece, Mari, sat on her bed and chattered away. My grandson, at first shy, soon warmed to her patient demeanor and gentle discourse. He looked at a senior magazine with her as if it were the best Mickey Mouse book around. My son was proud of how his son welcomed Ellen into his heart. I was honored to be an onlooker at this moment. Leaving Ellen was hard. She wanted us to stay longer, but the duties and responsibilities of life have a way of keeping us moving forward. Hugs, expressions of gratitude and a trek to the car later we were on our way home.

What a day! After taking my niece home for the evening and allowing the cousins to say tearful good-byes (not because they never see each other, but because they wanted more fun, more games, more play...sounds pretty good to me!) We had visited Lewis Farms, ridden a wagon, fed some pigs and other farm animals, zoomed down some pretty amazing slides, met old acquaintances, made new friends and were finally now ready to settle into the evening and prepare for church tomorrow. I gave Carter some milk and apple slices and put on his favorite movie, "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs". My plan was to mop (babies always equal mopping and sticky spills, I think...but it's actually kind of nice...when you have babies, you must have dogs...It's a free vacuuming service! Of course, I digress). I also had the neverending laundry pile, some cooking and various other chores and my own homework responsibilities. So, it was going to be multitasking mode for me. As the movie began, I walked away to begin my work and I heard the sweetest wee voice that can cause me to move mountains. It said, "Nina, da movie starting. Sit wiff me, Nina!" Nina, Nana Lisa, paused for a moment. I was about protest, but I remembered Ellen. I remembered her sitting in the nursing home at peace, but alone. She would love for someone to sit "wiff" her or for her to sit "wiff" someone. She would gladly forego any of life's mundane, incessant chores for a moment of fellowship. My mind went back eleven years ago, and I remembered being in the same house where Carter's father had sat in that very same spot that he sat now. Tyler was ten years old then and didn't really ask me to sit with him anymore except when we did family devotions at night. I remembered how tired I was in those days after doing homework with my children, packing lunches, preparing dinner, cleaning  up, making sure everyone was bathed and ready for the next day. I remembered relishing my alone time, which seemed to be very rare (how life has changed...and how life is still the same is humorous). Standing there looking at Carter's beautiful brown eyes I reflected on how I would love to turn back time and sit "wiff" my son and my daughter again. Both of my children are driving now and quickly preparing to leave my nest. My how time does fly! How the days quickly pass without us noticing. Only six months ago my dad was here, and now life is different. Things do change, as they say. Surely this life is but a vapor. It is here today and gone tomorrow, and at the end all that really matters is how well we have loved. 

 "Hey...Nina...Sit wiff me, pease! Wook! Da movie starting!" He pleaded again as he patted the spot beside him. He was right! This was the "Best Yes!" as I have been learning. I have said yes to a lot of the less important things lately, but tonight, I think I'll sit wiff my Carter for awhile as we save the world vicariously through animated scientists, some imaginary paint-on shoes and some Italian main dishes!! He nestled in a ball underneath my arm. I buried my nose in his blonde hair and kissed his Johnson and Johnson Baby Shampoo scented locks. The kisses were too many to count. He permitted it. He enjoyed it. My heart grew another inch, I am sure, as I relished this moment with an unexpected little gift that I was allowed to hold in my arms for this delicate moment. It was then I realized anew that we are constantly bombarded with gifts. It's up to us to notice them, to embrace them, to experience them, to choose the best "yes" of the day! 

"Learning how to be still-to really be still-and let life happen, that stillness becomes a radiance!" 

Morgan Freeman

Captain Obvious

Sitting here, tonight I am totally "chill" as the youth might say. I love the twilight. I love the sound of my fan buzzing. I love the bullfrogs singing their love songs in my back yard. I love the sound of my family shuffling around in the kitchen and the living room lamp that glows through the bedroom door like a flame. I love how my fur babies feel as they and my multiple pillows surround me while I write. This stolen moment gives me some reprieve to reflect and enjoy my passion--writing! I don't really have the time to write. I have the never ending laundry pile, dogs to bathe, emails to answer, Sunday lunch to prepare, etc., etc. Actually though, to tell the truth, I have been writing all day long in between working and life's necessities. I've read or written something for my two classes to ad nauseam, but that's not the same. When life is overwhelming, when I can't come up for air, when there is too much to do and too little resources to do it...that's when you have to write! That's when you have to push back and go on the offensive! There's no more perfect time, no better way to stake your claim, no better way to remember who you are, in my "book" (pun intended) than to let all those emotions and thoughts spill out onto an empty page---a page waiting to capture who you are.

It was early this morning that I knew I would be writing tonight. Have you ever just needed a Captain Obvious in your life? Yes, we make fun of these people sometimes at our meetings and gatherings when they state something that is self evident, something that is obvious to even the most dimly lit in the room. Yet, how many times do we miss the obvious? How many times do we miss the forest for the trees, or better yet; how many times do we miss the beauty of one individual and uniquely beautiful Dogwood for all the leaves and brush? That has been me, even though I strive hard to "see" what might be missed everyday. I sometimes fall short. I sometimes miss the obvious. Jesus reminds us of this in Mark 8:18 New International Version (NIV) "Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don’t you remember?" Sometimes, we have to cause ourselves to see, to hear and remember. 

There is a pair of earrings that I have which are unique and dear to me (those of you who have been in my closet and seen my accessories would laugh...because I have many such earrings---yet trust me, they all have their own "special" home--LOL!).  On yesterday, I wanted to wear them. I thought they would match a necklace I was wearing that day. I have a gold tone pair and two similar silver tone pairs. I went to their location to get them, but the lights were dim, and I didn't think I saw them. I thought they were the gold tone's silver twin. So, I said, "Goodness! That's the silver ones! I wanted the gold ones!" Something prompted me to look closer, but I was in a hurry, and I didn't. Instead I looked in other locations where the gold ones might have landed. I looked for a minute or two. Finally, I gave up and grabbed another pair. All the while something was prompting me to look again. I didn't look again. I refused to see! I was busy with life and no time to focus.
Today, it was the same story. I needed those earrings. I went back to look at the ones I had seen the day before. "Doggone! Where are my gold ones?" Again, God prompted, "Lisa, take those earrings out of their place, and look at them. Go ahead...look at them." I did, and you know the story. It was my gold earrings. "What? How in the world did I miss that?" I was embarrassed and shocked that I didn't see something so obvious. I missed out on wearing them yesterday, because I refused to see. It was right under my nose all along!
Isn't that the truth, though. How many times is the answer we are searching for right under our nose? How many times is it right in our face? The answer has a name. The obvious "thing" that we are missing can be called in a moment's notice. His name is Jesus. Yes, He is the obvious answer to all our frustrations, cares and concerns. He is all we need. He is our more than enough. Whenever life becomes crammed to overflowing, mostly by our own choices, and however tough the trail, we have an obvious and ready friend. He will wipe our tears. He will hold us tightly in his arms. He will restore our broken places. He will redeem our losses and give us grace for the journey. I don't want to miss Him. I want to see Him in the everyday and the mundane, as well as in the glorious. I don't want to miss the ones He places in my path to love. I don't want to hold back the love He has placed in my heart, because I am preoccupied with the cares of this life. I am so thankful for Captain Obvious who never lets me jump ship even when I think I might! He holds me fast and directs our sails forward. "Oh Captain, My Captain...I adore You!"

He Hideth My Soul

Today, while sitting alone in Holbrook Middle School's auditorium for a brief, but welcomed moment, I thought about that song "All By Myself...Don't want to be all by Myself...anymore". Actually, the opposite was true for me. It was lunch and the day was going at Presto Tempo! I felt as if I could hardly keep up. I was working with students, trying to stay afloat from the influx of insurmountable emails and troubleshooting as I could. I literally looked at my watch and thought the battery broke when it displayed 11:00 a.m. I honestly thought it was more like 9:30 a.m. The day was flying! I became sick to my stomach at one point during this three hour stampede and wasn't sure if I could finish the day.

I often forget that there is a Rock that is Higher than I. Psalm 6: 1-5 God, listen to me shout, bend an ear to my prayer. When I’m far from anywhere, down to my last gasp, I call out, “Guide me up High Rock Mountain!” You’ve always given me breathing room, a place to get away from it all. A lifetime pass to your safe-house, an open invitation as your guest.You’ve always taken me seriously, God, made me welcome among those who know and love you. I often forget that their are arms big enough to hold the universe. Arms that lovingly rush to scoop me up when I allow it. Arms that can stop the winds and the waves in a moments notice or guide me safely through the storms when I stop resisting long enough to permit him to do so. Today, I needed a pause. I didn't see it within reach, but God carved it out in the day especially for the one He loves!

It was during the mad-rush and working with students that we were totally unsuccessful at acquiring Internet access from the bandroom where we were working with a class set of Chromebooks. Fortunately, the teacher was flexible and the auditorium was free. So, we moved our Chromebooks, our lesson and our students to this facility. I was irked. This was not my plan, and it felt like things were getting worse. It wasn't until lunch time that I realized I had misjudged this blessing as a problem. Actually God was giving me quiet time in an amazing location.

The auditorium is a secluded building, separate and overlooked. As the students and the teacher departed, I realized I was alone in this massive place. I had a few moments to catch my breath in a place that held so many memories for me--a place that represented the seasons and milestones of my life. I first entered seventh grade here. It was a junior high, then. All the quirkiness, insecurity and many of the rites of passage that an adolescent experiences happened here. I hated seventh grade. I remembered the many trips to this auditorium afraid to make a sound as went entered on pain of death...or the paddle. Everything was so strict and uptight. I hated this school in those days. I remember standing on that stage and having my drama teacher berate me because my voice was too soft, so I learned to project it. This has proved to be a very helpful tool in my career. My sitting there in this auditorium all these decades later was proof that my mama was right. I not only survived junior high, but I gained from the experience. How interesting hind sight can be! Fast forwarding a bit, I remember very happy times in this auditorium. I was in All County Choral Ensemble, and we frequently performed and practiced in this auditorium with its outstanding acoustics. I loved singing and watching Mr. Tripp McGill direct us. He will always have a special place in my heart as he cultivated and nurtured my love of music! A little further down the road, I am a mom whose daughter is performing on this same stage in her cherished All County Choral Ensemble experience. She was radiant and has an even more distinct and natural musical talent that her father and I do. If I could plunge into the future to this time next year, my precious niece (who reminds me so much of my baby sister) would be here, and no doubt grace this same auditorium where she will build her own memories!

So, there I sat in Holbrook's Auditorium with this gift from a loving Father: time to reflect, recall, relive and revive! I savored the moment by turning on a song from my iPhone and singing. Ahhh! How awesome and forgiving the acoustics still are in the auditorium! His gift to me was time, the one gift you can't get back, exchange or reproduce. His gift to me was music. Outside of people there is little I love more. My gift to Him was a song of praise and a very grateful heart for this unexpected and totally welcomed moment that He graciously prepared ahead of time just for me.  Accident? No way! He is the ultimate Lover of Our Souls...and the extreme romantic! He wins this heart of mine that He created every single day!
"He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock"....or the the aisle of an abandoned auditorium---whatever you need at that moment!


P.S. I love the story behind Fannie Crosby's song "He Hideth My Soul"!

My Heart Smote Me

I am not one to vent about a company's lack of customer service. I don't get bent out of shape if they bring me mashed potatoes vs. the baked one I ordered or if my steak isn't cooked exactly right, or even if they skim a few minutes off a massage appointment. I don't post negative reviews on Facebook or other forms of social media, because it goes against my beliefs. While I do believe that we should get what we pay for and don't want to see anyone taken advantage of, I think this issue come down to your faith . I tend to believe that if I don't receive what I am supposed to from whom I should receive it, my Father will make up the difference. He always does.

Unfortunately, I was not myself yesterday. I was tired and having experienced a throbbing pain in my leg all day I was also a bit grumpy. I needed a "service" performed in a timely matter, but I may not have been your ideal customer. That being said, I went to a nail salon to have my gel nails removed. I had only had them on for a short while, but I just felt like having cutting them short and going natural. I explained to the male manicurist (who was young enough to be my son) what I wanted. He disagreed with me and in his distinctly Vietnamese accent said, "No...No..Your hand so petite and so pretty. You need keep your nail. You have beautiful hand." I continued to disagree, but I was given a seat while he finished working with another customer.

To make a long story short, in the course of the events in this experience, I was moved to three different chairs, made to wait an unusually long time to be served--even having a very young, very rude girl be allowed to go ahead of me because "she had to get to work". I was becoming quickly agitated and contemplating leaving. To add to the frustration, I was having to convince my manicurist to provide the very service for which I had come. My manicurist guy could tell I was aggravated. He was becoming nervous trying to quickly finish with the girl who was allowed to go ahead of me and would frequently say, "How you doing over there? You okay? You need anything? Water? Coffee? Just one more minute." I would affirm with the right words, but my body and my face were all the more loudly saying the opposite. He was hearing quite loudly that I was displeased, and frankly (though sadly to admit) I was happy he knew how annoyed I was.

It was in this less than flattering moment that my very patient but quite relentless Father said, "Lisa, look at him!" So, I replied, "God, I have looked at him...for a long time now...too long." (God lets me be me while He is perfecting me) God said, "Lisa, look at him. Look at his face. Do you see his little furrowed brow? Do you see the sweat on his temples? Do you see how frantically  he is working doing repetitive and laborious motions? How old do you think he is, Lisa? How many hours has he worked, today? Has he had lunch? Will have dinner anytime soon? Where is family? Where is his mom? Look at HIM the person not the manicurist, Lisa!"

As I looked at him I realized that he looked younger than my Tyler. I often feel so sorry for my son and how hard works. I realized this was someones son, too. I noticed that though he was a fine looking fellow he had a rather large mole in a prominent and awkward place on his face. I wondered if his peers gave him grief about that...or worse yet if girls did. My heart broke at the thought of him dealing with any negativity from that. He continued to sheepishly look up at me trying to get me to dim the intensity on my glares. It was at one of his nervous glances my way that my heart smote me. I felt a lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes. I saw him! God allowed me to love this boy for this moment with some of the love that He had for him.

When it was finally my turn, I began conversing with the young gentleman. He was not able to go to college, because he worked in the nail salon eleven hours a day, six days a week. He told me how awful it was to smell the intense fumes from the nail solutions everyday. I had never thought about smelling that strong smell for 66 hours a week. As it was approaching closing time, more customers continued to enter. I would watch him glance up at them, blink his eyes and quietly say, "Oh no." I finally asked what was wrong. He apologized, but like any young boy he wanted to go home after a long day and do something fun. He realized he would be working more than an eleven hour day, today, because all of these customers would have to be served before he could leave. I asked if he had eaten. He explained that he was hungry but would grab either chicken nuggets or a double cheeseburger on the way home...if he was ever able to leave. I saw him! I even loved him in a way that only God can cause to happen between two strangers. I prayed for him under my breath.

When I left the salon, I grabbed a double cheeseburger and brought it back to him, and said, "As a mother of a son about your age, I would be furious that he had worked that many hours without taking a break to eat." He said, "Oh my God! Thank you!! Thank you!" (Little did he know how correct he was in his proclamation. It was "My God" that did this for him...and just so ya know! I did my nails his way...and I love them!!

“Your greatness is measured by your kindness; your education and intellect by your modesty; your ignorance is betrayed by your suspicions and prejudices, and your real caliber is measured by the consideration and tolerance you have for others.”

—William J.H. Boetcker

You Have Naming Rights

This past Sunday, Pastor Steve ended his sermon series "Death to Selfie". It was bitter-sweet to have such an awesome series end, but I am equally excited about the upcoming one. The final message was "You Have Naming Rights". As an Assembly of God's preacher's kid, I am familiar with this concept, and I believe it to my core; however, sometimes we all need reminding.

In ancient Israel, Fathers had the right to name their children. They could even supercede a name given by the mother as we see when Rachel named Benjamin (son of my strength or son of my right hand of blessing) as Ben-oni (son of my sorrow)--Genesis 35:18. We do not know how much time past between Rachel's naming her son such a sad name and Jacob's overriding that name with that of a glorious one, yet we know it happened. Rachel, who died during childbirth to her beloved much wanted son, Benjamin, was naming her situation as it was. God gives us naming rights. We can call a situation as we see it with our natural eyes or we can call it as we would like it to be. Romans 4:17 we can call dead things, dormat things, non-existant things into being "As it is written, "I have made you the father of many nations." Abraham acted in faith when he stood in the presence of God, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence things that don't yet exist." We are often tempted to define our moments by our sorrow. Life loves to label itself by something we've lost, but Benjamin knew out of sorrow is birthed strength!

Show me man who is strong, and I will show you the same man who was weak. Show me a man who loves deeply, and I will show you that same man who was unloved. Show me a broken place, and I will show you a rebirth in that same place! Oh yes, we have naming rights! And yes! Jacob knew that that boy which cost him the love of his life (for Rachel is the only one we ever hear him declaring his love for), was going to be his greatest blessing! We understand fully that at any given moment in our life something is being birthed while something else is dying. Change is inevitable. We cannot determine all the circumstances that touch our lives, but we do have full authority to call them what we will! We can call them a blessing and watch that blessing unfold or we can call them as we see them! The world would say the latter is more noble. No pretense, no frills...and actually no investment...just call it as you see it. Unfortunately, our scope is limited! So, I'll call it as God sees it every time! I will choose to speak life instead of death! For God has a way of selecting and transforming what the world rejects! He assures us that that which we cannot see is more real than that which is in our face everyday! 2 Corinthians 4:18 "So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

When Jacob buried Rachel and refused to allow life to define that moment as a moment of loss, he entered the situation as one weak fallible man, but he exited it the Father of nations...my father! Genesis 35: 20 Over her tomb JACOB set up a pillar, and to this day that pillar marks Rachel's tomb. 21 ISRAEL MOVED ON AGAIN and pitched his tent beyond Migdal Eder. He entered as Jacob the trickster, the one who wasn't enough in his own right! He exited as Israel (the one who prevails with God)! Yes, we have naming rights! Hallelujah!

Three months ago, I could not have guessed that I would have lost my father and my hero, my best bud colleague, my kitchen and my gallbladder, as well as, having to venture through some other hurtful personal situations; but God knew! I could name these situations as they make me feel, but I am choosing to call them a blessing. I am enjoying watching God make this Jacob into an Israel! I am relishing the stirring in my spirit about what is most important. I am seeing things die, but I am seeing things born anew! Sometimes the call to follow Christ is great. The cost to be used comes in our payment of being broken. The cost to love deeply is to risk being hurt. To allow a needy world to smell His sweet fragrance, the petals of the flower must be bruised and torn. The payoff, though, is well worth it!

Yes! We have naming rights! Call this situation in your life as God calls it and see what might things he does!

How Much Land Does a Man Need?

Ironically as I stood in the graveyard looking for my father's grave tonight, I recalled Leo Tolstoy's short story "How Much Land Does a Man Need?" I had often explored this story with my high schoolers and enjoyed their discoveries and discussions. The conclusion of the story is that all a man really needs is enough land in which to be buried. By the end of the story, we often felt so superior to Pahom and his greedy attempts to acquire more land. Although, tonight rather than feeling smug about a grave plot, I was desperately searching and needing to find this special piece of land that housed something so precious to me.

It seems like such a simple thing. You pick out a grave marker. You pay for it. It is made. Then it is "installed". Yet it has been almost two months and twenty one days since my dad's funeral...and still no marker. My mom has called several times. We are expecting it any day, and apparently this is normal. Being a novice at losing someone close to me, I have no idea what is normal. Yet there I stood searching for a patch of land that meant more to me than any other patch of land in the world at that moment, and not being able to find the exact spot.

Leaving work late, today, but still finding it light outside at a little before 8:00 p.m., I had such a need to be near my dad. I know that he is not actually in the grave where his body resides, but I just had a need to be close to where his hands, face, hair, arms and all the physical things I remembered about him were. I needed to tell him that I still miss him everyday and that I am ready for this to be easier. I needed to tell him that I was having a simple outpatient surgical procedure in two days and I so longed to hear him pray for me before, during and after this. I wanted to hear him say, "Lisa, you're gonna be okay! Daddy loves you!" The next best thing was to be near where we had last left him...at least where we had left the house that contained this beautiful man.

As I entered the cemetery, I parked my car where I had parked it before. I parked it where my mom and I had parked just the day after dad died when we gave the cemetery approval to dig the grave on his lot. The same place the limousine had parked when we walked to Dad's graveside. Yet it was such blur. The green funeral home tent is long gone now. The grave is not so fresh, so there I stood wandering, searching, walking from grave marker, to grave marker. I was seeing the names of so many strangers that were someone's loved one, and I was never finding the name Ronnie Harstin that I searched frantically to find. Surely, his marker was ready by now.

It's bizarre how your mind can play tricks on you in moments like this. Was it real? Was I really in this graveyard several months ago burying my dad. Good Lord, there are many days when this feels like a dream. Maybe it really was? But no...I vividly remember holding my mom's hand at this graveside, wiping my daughter's tears, listening as the ministers tried to give us a word of hope and thinking how befitting the casket was as it was called "Knight". He was my first knight in shining armor and was so brave and dear!

After a few moments of panic and desperation, I found his spot. Ironically, the marker below his is someone named Gladys. His mother was named Gladys, and she adored her boy, the baby boy of ten children. This seemed fitting to me also that Gladys would be buried near him! I did what I needed to do at this little plot of land, tonight. I found some relief and some solace after allowing my heart to break for a moment.

My dad didn't really need the grave plot, I guess; but I needed it. I needed it tonight. I needed it for him. I needed it for me. So how much land does a man need Mr. Tolstoy? He needs how much ever it takes to help someone else. He needs how much ever it takes to help another person be okay. Tonight, it was a 6 foot rectangle, but tomorrow it may be a plot of land for a school or a hospital or a playground. Nope! Mr. Tolstoy, I love you and I get your point; but this question isn't as simple for me, tonight, as you make it.

Promises, Parking Lots and Patriarchs

You’ve been there if you walked with the Lord any amount of time! What I am alluding to is that still small voice that prompts you often in ways that aren’t obvious at first, but always leads to something amazing. This was the case for me again this week. I have so enjoyed the sermon series at our church, “Death to Selfie”. Watching the failures, victories and humanness of Jacob as God transformed him into something remarkable has been refreshing.

The message this past Sunday which continued this topic was “When God Shows up in the Middle of Nowhere: Jacob’s Bethel experience”. Bethel was originally called Luz. Luz whose meaning is “Almond Tree”, according to Strong’s Concordance, was in the middle of no where. Yet, this is exactly where God chose to reveal Himself to Jacob. As the story in Genesis 28 goes, God was present in Luz but Jacob didn’t realize this until his amazing “dream encounter”. Jacob had spent his life wheeling and dealing. He bargained, tricked, supplanted and was a heel grabber (as his name implies) by trying to grab and grasp at all he could as a means to get ahead. You even see him making a deal with God in this instance in Gen. 28:20-22

Jacob vowed a vow: “If God stands by me and protects me on this

journey on which I’m setting out, keeps me in food and clothing, and brings

me back in one piece to my father’s house, this God will be my God. This stone

that I have set up as a memorial pillar will mark this as a place where God lives.

And everything you give me, I’ll return a tenth to you.”

The short of the story is that God did take Jacob up on this deal and proved to be more than faithful to him throughout his life. This God encounter caused Jacob to rename the City of Luz to the City of Bethel (House of God--a place of Remembrance). Many years later, when life was crazy for Jacob and after he had experienced great success and some substantial heartache, he returned to Bethel. When life becomes so complicated and our progress so obstructed that we can’t remember why we are where we are or what we should do next, a trip to Bethel is in order! Sometimes we have to go back to go forward. The Patriarch Jacob (who was renamed Israel...but that’s another story) knew this truth!! On his return to Bethel now a blessed but aged multimillionaire who walked with a limp as the result of another God encounter, Jacob/Israel was a new man. He had learned to rely on God rather than upon his own devices and his knack for tricking his way up the chain. He no longer strutted into the room, but rather walked with an obvious limp. This time, as he prayed at Bethel, there was no wheeling and dealing with the God of the Universe. There was no negotiating a deal. Jacob/Israel had learned that God was more than faithful. He had learned that God was more than enough all by Himself. This time, Jacob/Israel merely worshipped God. He had discovered that when God shows up in the middle of your nowhere that God was actually “now here” all along! (NowHere)!

So this was my Sunday message, and as we left the service, I had every intention of posting something along these lines on Facebook as I had done after many other services including the one prior to this. However, I decided I would blog about it in my “Blog/Diary” instead and post it that night; but alas that still small voice that prompts you was gently nudging me in another direction! Yes, it was confusing, but I felt the Lord prompting me to hold off. I didn’t know why, and I was inspired to write at that moment. Why wait? I was afraid I would lose my passion as the cares of the upcoming week began to implode upon me. Yet I have walked with Him long enough to understand that it is better to follow His leading. I now know why we had a “slow down” plan. God had every intention of giving me my own Bethel experience, but I would not know this until later on in the week.

It was almost twenty-four years ago that I stood in the parking lot of Gaston Community College with a hope and a promise that if I worked hard and stayed the course, I could realize my dream of becoming a teacher. Just four days earlier, I had walked across the stage of North Gaston High School and all my friends were celebrating at the beach, but not this strong-willed, determined scholar. No! I was getting a head start at Gaston College so that I could transfer those classes to Belmont Abbey where I would be pursuing my dream of teaching. I was the top finalist from Gaston Memorial Hospital for a radiology degree and had a full ride! I turned this down not once but even the second year in a row when they were starting a new cohort and called once more to persuade me to join. I was flattered that they were so impressed, but I was going to be a teacher--so I stayed the course. I was young, but decided to wed a teacher. He was smart, kind and charming! He brought home a meager salary that we learned to stretch to meet our needs. We made many sacrifices in our two bedroom mill home and one automobile family life. I worked part-time, went to school full time, and shortly after marriage, my husband and I became pregnant. It was all a lot of work, but we never gave up! I was going to be a teacher, one day!

The years past quickly and life took shape with many realized dreams. So, there I stood in that Gaston Community College parking lot on August 7, 2014 a Gaston County Instructional Technology Facilitator with a B.A. in elementary education, an MEd. in Special Education for Gifted Students, and having obtained numerous certifications. I was moments away from being one of the final Keynote speakers at The Gaston County Schools Teaching and Learning Conference where I, a teacher, would speak to other teachers. I would be speaking in the auditorium where twenty one years earlier I graduated with an Associates of Arts degree with a promise and the hope to be a teacher one day and with my Belmont Abbey acceptance letter in plain view on my coffee table! This Gaston College graduation was a graduation that included carrying my precious son across the stage with me...inside of me! He was to be born in two months! This spectacle got me a few moments of fame in the local Gaston Gazette!

That Gaston College parking lot houses many memories for me. It was onto the pavement of this parking lot that a nervous North Gaston senior stepped as a member of the North Gaston High School Homecoming Court and walked toward the recording studio to have her homecoming speech recorded so that it could be played at their school assembly. It was in this parking lot that I had my heart shattered by a guy I thought was the love of my life only to realize God had a better plan. It was in this same parking lot that I became violently ill thinking I had the flu, only to discover I was actually carrying one of the greatest loves of my life just underneath my heart. It was in this parking lot that God answered my prayer after class one day. I needed gas money. I only had mere change and wasn’t sure I would make it to my grandmother’s where I needed to go. I prayed asking God to either help my car make it all the way to my sweet grandma's or to help me find change on the parking lot. He chose the latter. I had more change than I had asked for. This was no small miracle to me in those days...and the memory actually still moves my heart in these present days!

So again, here I was on August 7, 2014 at my Bethel experience. The realization of a promise in a parking lot! A promise that was delivered by The Patriarch of Patriarchs! When I arrived this day, I had to park my car in "Egypt" since there were so many people at Gaston College. I began the long haul to the prominent, newly renovated auditorium. I almost made it to the door when I realized I had left some very prized construction paper, red ball replicas in my car. They were important to my presentation. I was frustrated at the thoughts of retracing my steps and making the same haul again, but then I heard that same still small voice, “Lisa, don’t rush this! This is our moment. It’s just as much mine as yours!” I began thanking God for His amazing faithfulness and his lavish gifts, I glanced down at my garnet college graduation ring from Belmont Abbey that I had worn by happenstance. I had intended on wearing the smoky quartz that matched my brown outfit until I saw a 5 garnet set from my grandmother. Feeling nostalgic, I wore her ring that I always pair with the garnet class ring. In that moment the prize that was the proof of a promise fulfilled sat proudly upon my hand. How could I have known all those years ago that one day I would be a teacher who teaches  teachers and gets to speak to them in the auditorium of my old college. Yes! The journey with Christ is amazing! We follow Him because He loves us and because at each Bethel experience we are reminded that this is the most exciting life of all!!

Can’t wait to see what God will pull out of his closet for me next!! Love this video!

Bibby's Closet

Parking Lot 3 Emergency and Outpatient Services

So here I am again! Parking Lot 3 Emergency and Outpatient Services CMC Lincolnton Campus. What irony! The last time my family was here my dad was figting for every breath and each life sustaining heart beat--and what a valiant fight it was! Even then, he was brave, beautiful and kind. We didn't know that in a matter of days my dear daddy would become a permanent resident of Heaven--the place he so longed for ans spoke incessantly of his whole life.

And with that...there I sat in Parking Lot 3. The hospital was there. The parking lot was there. I was there. Everything would have looked the same to an observer. Yet, there was a major difference inside of my heart from the last visit to this one. My dad was not there this time. How strange the feeling that overwhelms you in a moment like this. How rich the grace of God in this moment! The last time I visited this hospital, I had in tow several California Salads from O'Charley's and several lidded beverages. I remember the sun shining down, unlike today, as I relish in the rain that I love. It was hot that day, and I struggled to carry our nourishment, my phone and my car keys as I made my way to my dad's hospital room. I was glad to feed my family a more healthy option than burgers. I laughed with Dad as we sneaked him some salad and a bite of the scrumptious yeast role---breaking the rules, of course. My mama did spoil him so! I have never been so happy about breaking the rules as this moment. He enjoyed every single bite. I loved watching him, and I savored every second as I etched his face into my soul--burning every beautiful curve and every rigid line in my mind forever! What a beautiful man he was in every way!

But I digress! Today, was a day of abundant grace for me. It was a day when my Abba Father Who has loved me longer and loves me most made special preparation to protect and care for me. I orginally planned on working a half day, today, in preparation for a doctor's visit that afternoon. However, I felt my body needed some rest. So, I indulged and took the whole day. I never rent movies at a movie store as I am a member of several online movie establishments, but yesterday on the way home from work I stopped and grabbed a "few". :) What I really wanted wasn't there, but there was one last copy of "The Other Woman", so it became mine for a day or two. I am not a good movie companion. I always start a movie in one sitting and finish it in another. My ADHD won't let me sit still that long. I started the movie last night and probably wouldn't have finished it until this evening except that my friend Debby Ray convinced me that I needed to finish it promptly! I wouldn't have been able to finish it if I had only taken that half day. The movie was hysterical and everything you would want in a Chick Flick. There was a scene on the beach with three best friends watching the sunset. As they watched, they stood silently supporting and caring for each other. It included a song by Britt Nicole "The Sun is Rising", and the chorus included my dad's favorite words to me, "You're gonna make it." I could hear him say, "You're gonna make it, Lisa. Daddy loves you" as I replay his voicemail recording to me over again. Long story short, I bought the song and listened to it on repeat all the way from Lincolnton down Union Road toward South Carolina where my doctor's office is. Little did I know how much I would need this song as a reminder in about an hour.

It was during this doctor's visit that I discovered we would be doing further tests at CMC in Lincolnton--my dad's hospital---the one I have only visited when he was there! Really? Why not Charlotte? Or better yet, why not Gastonia since that's where we were? My doctor was perplexed by the stunned look on my face. She thought the timing was the problem, but it was actually the location that was problematic for me. She couldn't possibly have known, and I didn't say. So, there I was. I drove alone to CMC where I had driven two and half months ago and where my life drastically began to change. As an extreme nurturer, "alone" works best for me in these situations. This way, I don't have to be distracted about trying to make sure everyone else isn't stressed and that they are okay. This way, I can just handle me. It's less complicated that way. As I drove, I listened to Britt Nicole  as she repeatedly sang, "You're gonna make it. You're gonna make it. The night can only last so long. Lift up your eyes and see the sun is rising." I felt such peace; and yes...there were more tears thatn I would have liked as I sat in Parking Lot 3 one hour before my appointment. There was also a moment of grieving, but mostly there was peace and such joy! My dad wasn't here, today, because he had made it home! He wasn't struggling to breath. Instead he was with the One who graciously grants us each of those breaths. Moreover, this Heavenly Father knew exactly where I would be at 5:00, today, when I didn't have a clue. He knew how torn I would be, and he knew I would cry. He even counted every one of my shed tears before a single one fell. He guided my steps to rent a stupid movie with a precious song(he takes the foolish things to confound the wise 1 Cor. 1:27). He prompted me to find the song and buy it so that I would have one more cherished reminder of His faithfulness at just he right moment in Parking Lot 3. One more reminder that, "You're Gonna Make It, Lisa! Daddy loves you very much!" And that my friends is not just my earthly daddy, but also my Heavenly Daddy! I have passed that hospital many times the past few weeks, each time refusing to glance at it. Today, was the day for me to return. It was sooner than I thought...more quickly than I would have planned, but Parking Lot 3 met her match, today! I am stronger than I look...stronger than I even think I am...because when my strength is gone; His strength is perfect! (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Beauty and the Beast Without

It was my funny, witty, very beautiful friend Gladys Setzer, who has a way of ushering a contagious sense of joy into every strenuous workout, that challenged me to post pictures of times when I felt beautiful. Now you don't do that to someone with the soul of a writer...even a very novice soul. This person will reflect upon, meditate about and even dissect the entire notion of beauty before it's all said and done. Of course, this is what I did, and now I MUST blog about it as a way to record my reflections.

Beauty? As we are often told, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. How true. Beauty, according to a quick Google search, said it is "a combination of qualities, such as shape, color or form that pleases the aesthetic senses, especially sight." This sounds about right; but what makes up this combination of qualities that prove aesthetically pleasing from one person to the next is often up for debate and always a matter of opinion.

When thinking of "beauty" I am filled with mixed emotions. There are thoughts of gorgeous landscapes such as the remembrance of the vivacious coastal waters, the expanse and formidableness of a mountain view , a tranquil forest that overtakes your being. I recall beautiful moments: the first time I looked upon my childrens' faces, the way a puppy's breath smells as it eagerly licks your cheek, the way a small child's hand feels nestled safely inside of your own or how a parent's hand feels as it strokes your face as you are fighting off a fever. I even recall the look of love upon my mother's face as she stood over my father's grave saying one last goodbye. The love on her face was astounding and so beautiful. These are beautiful to me and make me feel beautiful. These memories alone produce a tangible beauty for me as the remembrance of the exquisiteness of the moment overtakes me. So what makes us beautiful?

Is beauty a number on the scales? (Lord, I hope not!) Is it coordinating the right accessories with the right outfit? Is it a set of bodily measurements? Could it be simply the way one talks or carries oneself across the room? Is beauty the right hair style or the right fashion statement? Is beauty a list of accomplishments by your name or even the impressiveness of ones bank account? It often breaks my

heart to see how America prioritizes the frivolous and the superficial. I am angered by the way our young girls and boys are made to feel inferior because they don't fit Hollywood's image of beautiful (which is actually unrealistic and often far from natural...or even unhealthy in some cases). This crazy notion is a beast that we often must wrestle against as it lies to us about beauty and value.

So, as I reflect upon beauty, tonight, I reflect upon Gladys. She doesn't think she's beautiful when she is sweating and panting from a painful workout, but she is! Her blue eyes twinkle as the sun hits them at just the right Saturday morning angle, creating a kaleidoscope effect that is mesmerizing. The grimace on her face (and ours) as we set our face like a flint to complete one more painful repetition, is so beautiful. There is nothing more appealing than the expression of sheer determination. The words that our coaches use to inspire us to go one more lap and the way each of us fights for one more win...is so beautiful.

At last, tonight, I reflect on beauty. There is something so freeing for a woman in her forties where beauty is concerned. We finally reach a self love and appreciation that is secure and not hinged upon another's estimation. I've heard those middle-aged ladies before me mention this, and now I can attest to its truth. Am I beautiful? You better bet your tail I am! Do I always feel it? No. Not when I look at superficial standards, but in the moments when I listen to the truth...I can see that I am breath-taking and fearfully and wonderfully made, and so are you! So, here you go Gladys! Thank you so much for the challenge. Thanks for making me reflect (my favorite thing to do). Thanks for giving me a reason to write, tonight...and thanks for allowing your own beauty to shine through! You are beautiful inside and out!