As a sales rep for Gospel Light’s VBS programs and having worked as either a VBS director or VBS classroom leader for 7 years running, I am well aware of the enormous amount of energy preparing for church camp requires.  Not only that, but the actual camp week itself will render even those of us with Energizer Bunny stamina pooped out by the time Friday rolls around.

The reason I point this out is because I was blown away this week by the commitment of the small church that cared for not only mine – but nearly 50 kids this week.  Why was it amazing?  Because every single one of the volunteers at this camp was near retirement age or older.  As us “young” moms dropped off our kids last Monday morning, I couldn’t help but notice that each kindly woman and man reminded me of my grandparents.  And they were decked out in sequined hats and colorful bandanas.  They hugged, clapped, sang, told stories, played games, led crafts and taught Biblical truth to the little ones who came.  Here is a picture of Cooper’s group acting out the story of Peter’s miraculous rescue from prison:

They are living out their belief that sharing the good news of Jesus’ love is a call on our entire lives.  There is no retirement from discipleship.  I learned today that they have a mere 6 children who attend their little church.  Just 6.  And yet…  for the third year in a row, this church of mature believers spent a chunk of their summer loving anyone who came.

They even took it one step further…  they not only offered a week long camp; they closed off camp week with a celebration tonight.  A swimming party and barbeque at a local retreat center, complete with games and even a pinata!

The lesson I have learned is that you are never too old to speak into the life of another.  I pray that when I am double the age I am right now, I will take my example from Ruby, Beth, Fred and the other great people I met this week and will remember this lesson well.  Thank you Westbank Redeemer Lutheran Church!

Peace.

“Am I even human?”  My four year old asked yesterday, with one hand on her hip and the other out in front of her, palm up, as if she really expected an answer.

“If you weren’t human, what would you be?”

She thought for a moment and then answered, “A bunny rabbit.  Or maybe a blanket.”  And she stomped off.   I wonder sometimes if children have a heightened awareness that we really weren’t created to be permanent fixtures in this world.  However, there are some really funny things that we humans do and think.  My friend Clint posted a list titled, “Truths For All Humans”  Many of these made me laugh out loud ~ so I am sharing an edited version of the top 21 that made me laugh. Thanks Clint!

1. I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing stinks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5.  Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

6. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

7. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.

8. Bad decisions make good stories.

9. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren’t going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

10. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don’t want to have to restart my collection…again.

11. I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

12. “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this – ever.

13. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dang it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?

14. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

15. I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

16. Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.

17. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear or understand a word they said?

20. Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

21. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey- but I’d bet my savings that everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

Peace!

A few posts back I introduced my new favorite term:  Muchness.  I want to take a moment to introduce you to two friends who have embraced the muchness inside of themselves and have turned something they love to do into a way to bless others through photography.

Greg Gaspari ~ Greg is a businessman here in Kelowna who recently took his hobby of photography and put his pictures out there for the world to see.  He has an eclectic mix of images – from motorcycles, to gorgeous nature scenes, to interesting people, to guitars, to every day stuff.  You can purchase his images and he will frame them for your home.  What I love about it is that Greg is a dad, a musician, a business owner, a sports dude, a hunter, etc, etc.  He has a lot going on!  Yet he still finds time to nurture the creative side that can only be expressed through the lens of his camera.  Check out his site: http://www.ggasparifoto.com

Amy Hobbs ~ My friend Amy lives in Texas.  I have known Amy for 28 years.   Ever since we were little, she has loved watching and photographing people.  I remember one day we took my mom’s camera and used a whole roll of film taking pictures of ourselves strategically placed around the neighborhood.  (Film was more expensive in the 80’s and we got into big trouble!)  She can’t stop herself from capturing the individuality of people through her camera.  I love it that she is developing this passion into a business with beautiful results.  Her portraits have incredible personality.  Find Amy at: http://www.amyhobbsphotography.com

I have a baseball cap embroidered with the words, “Do What You Love – Love What You Do.”  In truth, we aren’t going to always love some of the things we have to do.  But we can be intentional about doing things that bring us joy because they come from a place inside of us that is in touch with our Creator.  God gives us dreams and passions.  It is up to us to use them to bring Him glory.  Amy and Greg each use the creative eye that God has given them to bless others.  Love your work, guys!

Peace.

(Motorcycle image by Greg Gaspari and Girl on Horse by Amy Hobbs.  All rights reserved and copyright owned by photographers)

Lips are moving, eyes are directed at me, but I can’t hear a word being said.   The bubble of fog surrounding my head makes me feel a bit like I am wearing Buzz Lightyear’s space helmet. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”  I ask Jenny (who is scraping my feet with a cheese grater-like tool).

“That is a nice color,” she repeats, indicating the small bottle that I am holding.

“Thanks.” I wonder: Why did I say “thanks”?  I didn’t make the color.  I didn’t even bring the color with me from home.  I simply took it off of her nail polish shelf and am waiting to hand it to her.

I slip back into my happy place.

The nail salon always has this affect on me.  From the second I arrive until I leave, I exist in a haze. I can’t hear, think straight or answer questions properly.  It is possibly brought on from the incense burning before the Sacred Heart Jesus picture.  Or perhaps weird fruit fumes emanate from the giant bowl of kiwi offered up to an unknown deity on the shelf below Jesus.  Most likely it is from the methyl methacrylate particles that saturate the counters, chairs and the technicians.  Whatever the reason, my body refuses to be able to participate in the idle chatter that seems to come so easy for other patrons in the salon.

The teacher from Saskatoon, the lady preparing for a trip to Vancouver, the gal who works at the bank… all yukking it up with their technicians.  I wonder if Jenny feels left out because I have nothing to chat about?

There is an older man getting a pedicure right across from me.  “Do you cook Vietnamese food every day?” He asks the woman working on his feet.

“Yeah, yeah.” she replies quickly.

“Wow!  You must have to plan that out at the beginning of the week!” he says with shock in his voice.

Really? I wonder again:  Did he really just say that?  She IS Vietnamese.  Why is it shocking? He kept talking, “The Vietnamese have taken over the manicure-pedicure business big time, haven’t they?”

She giggled and said, “Yeah, yeah.” again.

“Quite the assembly line you’ve got here.” he observes.  After that I mentally checked out.  I had to stop listening because his comments made me uncomfortable and I wasn’t sure what to do with that.  I retreated to my bubble and enjoyed the remainder of my pedicure in my own head.  I look at Jesus, staring solemnly from the shelf and wonder if His eyes are as glazed over as mine.

I am thankful for the cheese grater, the lotion, the warm towels and the massage chair.  I am thankful for Jenny and that she didn’t try and engage me in small talk, and I pray that the woman working on the brazen, inappropriate man doesn’t really understand what he is saying.  I am thankful for Strawberry Margarita pink polish and for the coffee awaiting me after I leave.  And as I step out into the sun and the warmth of summer brings the sounds and colors of the world to life around me again, I am thankful that I can express all of these thoughts to help clear my foggy head.

Peace.

Whenever we have more than just our family of 5 riding in the minivan, I get stuck in the very back, seated between Cooper and Ben.  Yesterday, on our way to Canada Day festivities, my boys thought it would be funny to repeat everything I said.  It started when I asked my husband to turn down the radio.  They chirped, “Colin, please turn down the radio.”

He asked me when the activities began and I said, “I think the parade starts at 10.”  And the boys said, “I think the parade starts at 10.”   On it went.

I thought I’d get cute with it and I said, “We have the best Mommy in the world.” So my boys repeated, “We have the best Mommy in the world.”   Then I said, “We will do whatever she asks us to do.”  So they said, “We will do whatever she asks us to do.”  And I said, “We will clean our room when we get home.”  They said, “We will clean our room when we get home.”

The silliness ended when we got to the parade and our focus diverted elsewhere.  The boys had no intention of cleaning their room and as far as the accolades to my fabulous parenting – well, in those moments, their words didn’t mean anything.  They were mere empty phrases.

Last night, I woke Ben from his peaceful slumber at 9:45 pm.  Even though he was the sleepiest boy on the planet, I dressed him, strapped him in the car, and took him down to the lake to watch the fireworks.  He was a grumpy but willing companion.  I even stopped and bought him hot cocoa along the way.  We sat huddled together under a blanket.  When the awesome display of colors, twinkling lights, and fire comets streamed across the sky he perked up considerably.  He had never seen fireworks before.  He was awestruck.  About 10 minutes into the show he hugged me tight and said, “You are the best Mom in the world.  Thank you for bringing me here.”

THAT was genuine.  THAT was his heart speaking.

Many parenting fads are geared towards evoking appropriate behavioral responses from children.  Using bribery, time outs, with-holding privileges, etc. we hope to change kids’ minds about their behavior.  But do these build a heart response?  Or are they simply teaching kids how to provide empty actions?  It is in the moments that we display our genuine love and affection for our children that their heart response strengthens.

I don’t want copy cat children.  I want the heart response.  It is a more narrow path because it is infinitely more work.  However, one genuine hug is worth it.

~ Peace.

I smelled something.

My name is Pumpkin.  We had been riding in the car for days and each time we stopped, my entire head throbbed with exciting new smells.  From the intoxicating odor that rose up from the roads to the most wonderful chow that master called “fast food” to the rough carpets of the hotel room floors – I was in heaven.  But now – I smelled something I hadn’t smelled before and I didn’t like it.  It was a sour, rotting smell – and it burned my nose.  It made me want to run away… yet my legs wouldn’t move.  I could feel my chest pound and I had the urge to urinate.  I looked to my master to see what he did.  He always knows what to do and I trusted that he would show me.

Then I saw him.  Another dog.  He hid behind his master’s legs and quivered.  It was hard to tell just how big he was because he seemed to be trying to disappear.  The smell came from him.  He was terrified.  His eyes looked toward us, but were not focused.  It was as if he was trying to will himself invisible. (I do that when I am sneaking up on a sandwich)

My master, Richard, lowered himself to the carpet.  He reached for the dog, whom they called “Mel”.  Richard’s face was relaxed and I could see the same affection as he looked at this fear-filled dog that he has when he looks at me.  I knew right away that this little guy was to be a part of our family.  I also knew that I had an important role to play.

Mel stayed firmly put behind the other man’s legs.  I took a cautious step toward him.  I looked hard at his face and told him with my eyes that everything would be ok.  I wagged my tail; but just a little bit, so as not to frighten him further.  The cautious pup peeked at me.  Then took a step.  And another.  Soon our noses were touching and I whispered in his ear, “He won’t hurt you.”  It sounded more like a sniff and blowing of air, but he got the message.  He relaxed a bit and came with us.

That night, the poor little guy decided to stay in the corner of our cabin.  The shaking came and went.  He was the quietest thing I ever saw.  The next night, he came and slept beside me and my masters.  I knew they were going to count on me to help Mel feel safe.  I became his protector.  Now, I am his voice when he needs to go out.  I let our masters know when the sadness returns – and we comfort him.  No one will ever hurt him again.

I sometimes hear my master talk about the things poor Mel went through.  As best as I can explain, Mel used to be what is called a bait dog for a dog fighting ring.  Torturous things like electrocution, beatings, time spent on a rape stand, and other horrors happened to Mel and the other dogs who were found with him.   When the people talk about it, there is a place inside of me that feels that fear that I smelled in Mel.  How can people do those things to dogs?  Do they not know that we just want them to play with us and give us an occasional “good boy”?  If there is an extra steak to go ’round that’s ok too.  If not, we’ll eat our dog chow and be grateful for it.

The man who was responsible for what happened to Mel was a man named Michael Vick.  I used to watch him play football for the Atlanta Falcons.  (On weekends, Richard and I occasionally eat chips and watch sports on TV)  He went to prison for 21 months for what he did to Mel and the others.  But now… he is once again playing professional football on TV.  I don’t think I can ever watch him play again.  How can the people who run the NFL allow him to represent their organization?  Sure, we all make mistakes… (once, when I was a puppy I ate Richard’s favorite pair of shoes) but some things are a privilege, not a right.  I wonder what someone would have to do in order to be deemed ineligible to represent a professional team seeking to be role models for an entire city?  Or is it all about what the people call “money”?  I do not understand money – I only know good and evil.  Mel will have a place of suffering in the pit of his stomach forever.  What happened to him was evil.

I know we can’t take away Mel’s past, but we are trying our best to show him that our love for him will win over the dark places.  It sounds like there are others like Mel out there.  I only hope there are more people like my master and the people at Best Friends Animal Society to rescue them.

** Pumpkin is a 13-year old terrier.  Dallas talk show host Richard Hunter and his wife traveled to Best Friends Animal Society last September with Pumpkin to rescue Mel, one of the 22 dogs who were abused by Michael Vick – then an Atlanta Falcon professional football player.  The NFL has reinstated Michael Vick following his 21 month prison sentence and he is playing professional football for the Philadelphia Eagles.

All three of my children are amazing little people bursting with personality.  Each one has a unique approach to life; style and quirks that belong to him or her alone, and all are curious as the day is long.  (And believe me, some days are longer than others.)

I’ve written previously about my Benjamin and this post is yet again one in which I marvel at the creation that IS Bennie.  I realized today that my Ben is brimming with my new favorite word: muchness.

Every single thing we do has adventure potential.  Every little thing I say must be analyzed and decoded into “Ben language.”  Life is stretched out before us and is ripe with opportunity.  Nothing slides by unnoticed or unprocessed.  He is full of muchness.

He began a journal today that will contain all of the adventures we are going to have this summer.  He drew us playing doubles tennis against my husband and my mom.  He wrote: I am playing tennis tomorrow.  I love that his journal is to be a foreshadow of fun to come – not a look back at what we did.  He plans to draw it and then live it.

Is there a muchness within you that you’ve suppressed for too long?  I don’t mean this to be a “rah-rah you can be anything you want to be” post.  Reality is, we can’t be anything we want to be.  We do have limitations.  However, we all have things inside of us that we know we can do.  We all have things in our lives that we are doing.  You don’t have to climb a mountain to live a life of muchness.  Muchness comes from your belief that in whatever you are doing, you are all in.

This includes your faith.  Jesus spoke of the tragedy of lukewarm faith…a faith without much of anything.  The tragedy was – He said He would spew those lukewarmers from His mouth.

We can tell when someone is giving us half their attention, can’t we?  We know when we have given half of our attention to a project, or worse, to a person.  Friend, live with muchness – in your relationships, in your work and especially in your faith.  If you are there – BE there.  If you believe in something strongly enough to claim to have faith in it, then live it.  If you are depended upon, then be dependable.  If you have given your word – keep it.  Do what you do fully.  This challenge is to encourage myself just as much as I hope it touches someone else.

I dare you to draw a picture of yourself full of muchness.  What does that look like?  Now go do it.

~ Peace.

The imagery of God pruning us has been written about often throughout the centuries. He gave us that very picture Himself (John 15, Psalm 119:67-72 for example). Much like a good pruner trims not just that which is dead, but also that which is alive in order to bring about greater fruitfulness – He too will seek to whack from our lives that which is sin and also prune that which seems good; if it will yield greater growth.

Many of these parallels came to my mind as I worked my cedar trees. As my arms were cut, my back became sore, and my whole self dirty – I thought about the hurt I feel when God removes things from my life that appear good to me. I thought about the dirt and grime that accompanies dealing with sin. And then, I noticed something else.

Flying in circles above me were several very angry birds. Their screeching and squawking was undoubtedly directed at me. They swooped low with their cries and then flew away – only to return a few minutes later. My disturbance of their comfortable (albeit overgrown and mostly dead) home displeased them greatly.

Whether you are taking steps to cut out something from your life that is unhealthy or God is at work with His holy shears, you too will have your own squawkers. There are those people who would rather you stay in your muck. There are those that don’t want you to ever change because they are used to the same ol’ same ol’. Your change might mean they have to change. As a result, when you try and break old patterns; when you react differently; when you refuse to engage in a fight and instead forgive – you will have a squawking flock nearby with condemning or mocking words. Knowing it will come won’t make it easier to deal with – especially if the flock contains some of your loved ones. However, the One who can see the end result is the One to listen to when you hear the squawks.

My trees are looking much better. The squawkers appear to have moved on. My cuts are healing and my back is less sore. I’ve even cleared some beds and planted a small garden. And God is always good.

Peace.

Most Christian women have, at some point or other, encountered The Proverbs 31 Woman.  When we meet her we do one of two things: We try a bit harder to add an extra dose of patience, love and graciousness to our lives -or- We roll our eyes and think, “Yeah, right.  No one can live up to those expectations.”  (I won’t tell you which group I am in)

Today, I’d like to challenge you with one of the verses from this Proverb.  Verse 1.  “The words of King Lemuel, the oracle which his mother taught him.”  (emphasis mine)  Did you ever stop to consider that this proverb, about the ideal wife and mother, was taught to the writer by his own mother?  The qualities listed here were for her ideal daughter-in-law!  Now, a woman who is trustworthy, hardworking, patient, generous, business-savvy, forward-thinking, wise, excellent and most importantly, God-fearing would indeed be someone to hang onto, right men?  We women might find ourselves really good at a couple of these characteristics and “in-progress” on the others.  I am not suggesting there is a thing wrong with the description of this woman.  BUT – I’d like you to think about something for a moment…

How would King Lemuel’s Momma have felt if instead of the Proverbs 31 woman, King Lemuel brought home Jezebel?  Instead of bringing home a woman with the values she tried so hard to instill in her son, he brings home a woman who is the very opposite? Would she be disappointed?  Angry?  Hurt?

I’d like to suggest that how we demonstrate our love in those situations which greatly disappoint us give the most accurate snapshot of our heart condition.  It is easy to be a woman of grace when all is going our way.

The next time you meet the Proverbs 31 Woman, don’t compare yourself to her.  That will likely end in disappointment.  Rather, spend some time with the One who can soften your heart.  It is only as your heart becomes more and more like His that the rest will follow.  There will always be a woman who appears to “have it all together” much more so than you do.  There will always be someone with a bigger/better whatever.  Our measure is not against that person.  Our eyes must remain on someone else.  Any guess Who?

Peace to you on this Mother’s Day!

Elvis – playing Dr. John Carpenter – diagnosed a small girl with autism.  I was curious how the screen writers of the late 60’s would script the treatment scene of dear little Amanda.  I expected to see some talk of parental blame -or- “repeat after me” type badgering of the poor girl.  Instead, I was moved to tears that Elvis treated the girl with three words, “I love you.”

So perhaps in the real world the girl may not have begun speaking in single words and making requests after just one session … but I think that LOVE is the perfect starting point.  Kudos to the writers for going there in a period of time where autism was still so unknown as a developmental disorder.  I think no matter what kinds of therapies, medications or treatments that children with autism (or any disorder) must endure – those that include a solid and consistent dose of “I LOVE YOU” are infinitely more effective.

Peace.