Free to Fall

Have you ever fallen?  I mean really fallen.  Not tripped or stumbled, but flat out fallen down?  I have a few times actually.  Perhaps I am a little clumsy.  Most of my falls have been down stairs and usually as a result of being in too much of a hurry.  I fell this past week actually.  I slipped on a wet bathroom floor and went down. 

Have you ever fallen....on purpose?  This one is a little more tricky to answer.  Well, I have done that too.  Twice a year, I subject myself to the trust fall.  My husband and I are part of a ministry that does weekend retreats for parents and teens and husbands and wives.  One small but significant activity of the weekend is a trust fall.  If you have never done one, it can be a little intimidating.  At least for me. 

Every time I approach the trust fall tower, I am terrified.  Interestingly enough, it isn't the lack of trust in the people catching me, it is the falling that I struggle with.  I have an issue in my life that God keeps bringing me back to.  Do you have one of those?  Something in your life that you keep giving to God and then find yourself picking right back up?  This issue always comes to the light during the trust fall for me. 

A couple weeks ago, I found myself approaching the platform  Heart beating fast as I climbed the steps.  I was staring my issue in the face trying desperately to let go of it.  This thing I hold onto so tightly has become my identity and without it, I am not sure who I am.  This trust fall experience was different for me in a very significant way.  The person leading the activity was a close friend of ours.  He prayed with me and helped me line up for the fall.  Unlike any other time I have fallen, he kept his hand on my back until I was ready. 

I realized that God is doing the same thing with me.  He is with me as I stand on the precipice looking my fears in the face.  He is in my prayers.  He hears my heart beating fast.  He knows my fear.  He has His hand on my back.  He prepares me for the fall.  He catches me when I finally let go.  And every time I climb up the steps he is waiting for me at the top.  Ready and willing to do it all again.  As many times as I need to.  Not because He has to, but because He loves me and I need Him there.  Free to fall.  Free to live.  Free to be free. 

Broken Hearts and Banana Cream Pie

Recently in our family, someone experienced a sadness that pulled at my heart in a significant way.  As we searched for words of wisdom to help ease the pain of a broken heart, we asked what would make it better.  The answer was simple and surprising to me.  Nana's banana cream pie. 

For years, my kids have been spending time at their grandparent's house.  My mother in law always cooks with and for the boys.  She is very intentional about this time with her grandsons.  One of their favorites is homemade banana cream pie.  Who knew that such a seemingly insignificant act would have such an impact on my children. 

Nana's banana cream pie is nothing special in terms of its basic recipe.  Graham crackers, pudding, bananas and whip cream.  But the love that it is made with, the celebration with which it is served and the thoughtfulness of the tradition is what really makes it special.  The pie is happiness and love.  It represents comfort and the feeling that everything is "okay". 

Sometimes, it is the little things that make the biggest difference.  When I am finding myself caught up in delivering the wow factor for my kids or in keeping up with the expectations of the world, I will try to remember Nana's banana cream pie.  I will try to build into the lives of my children and family in the small everyday tasks and plans.  It is these things that make a life and create a sense of togetherness that big vacations and lots of toys can't do. 

With grocery list in hand, I will head to the store to make sure that I have plenty of ingredients for a pie that will do its part in mending the hurts of life knowing that it is so much more than just a pie.

The Ultimate Monday

New Year's is the ultimate Monday.  I am a Monday starter.  In my world, everything starts on Monday.  Diets, laundry, organizing goals, to-do lists.  Unfortunately, if I mess up on Tuesday...well, there is always another Monday just six short days away.  Why can't I just get back on track on Wednesday?  The answer is obvious, isn't it?  Wednesday is not Monday.  Don't worry, I am well aware of the flaws in this philosophy, but I just can't seem to change it.

So to me, New Years presents itself as the ultimate Monday.  New calendars, resolutions, goal setting and the never ending dream of fitting into all the smaller clothes in my closet.  It is intimidating and scary to this Monday starter.  What if I screw it all up in February?  January is a long way off for starting over. 

I think instead of making resolutions or long to-do lists this year, I will just try very hard to commit to making the next best decision.  To starting over right at the point of failure.  To look at my short comings and disappointments as an opportunity to know what not to do the next time. 

I am going to attempt to not start on Monday.  I will let you know how I am doing.  I must, however, make the confession that today is Wednesday and I started this blog entry on Monday and didn't like the way it was sounding.  Score one for me.  I didn't wait a week to finish it. 

Good luck on all your resolutions and goals for 2013.  Since I am not making any, I should be guaranteed some sort of success. 

Someone to Lean On

Several times a week, I drive by a little farm.  This sweet little farm is home to sheep and goats.  It has a creek running through it with a little waterfall in the middle.  On the top of a slight hill sits a red barn that is shelter to the handful of animals that call this farm their own. 

When my kids were younger and we would drive by, they would always try to pick out the same goats they had previously seen.  They even named one Rocky because he was always standing on top of this big rock in the field.  They would laugh to see the goats sitting in their feed troughs and would wonder about the process of sheering the sheep. 

One sunny but chilly morning, I was driving by the farm and the freshly shorn sheep were out enjoying the day. Two sheep were leaning against the side of the red barn.  What I noticed about these sheep was the way they were standing.  The bigger one was leaning up against the siding and the smaller one was resting his head on the hip of his friend.  They both appeared to be asleep.  They were completely still soaking up the heat of the sun. 

It struck me that there was a trust there.  The second sheep needed to trust that his friend wasn't going to go running off allowing him to fall.  There was a sweet intimacy in the picture created by these creatures. 

It got me thinking about the people in my life.  The people I lean on and the people I allow to lean on me.  Do my relationships reflect a sweet intimacy of trust?  Do I allow space for comfort and support to the people in my life?  Do I allow others to hold me up when I need them? 

If I am honest about these questions, I find I fall short in a couple of areas.  I am not always a consistent support to those around me.  I am prone to isolation and good intentions.  I want to act on those subtle nudges I feel to really be there for people.  Whether it is to send a note, make a meal or plan a coffee date.  I also need to allow the people in my life to support me when I need it.  This is a hard one for most people. Asking for help, accepting their responses to the nudges they feel in regard to me. 

I want to love well.  I want to be the example of support and encouragement to those I am in relationship with.  I know with some practiced intention, I can be both the supporter and the supported and I can do it with confidence, grace and love. 

Our Story is His Story

I saw a t-shirt today that said "write your own story".  At first glance, I thought to myself that it was a pretty cool t-shirt.  But the more I thought about it, the more I didn't like it. 

I am a strong believer in the power of story.  We all have them.  We all have the classic story elements in our lives.  Every person we meet, every place we visit and every decision we make becomes a part of our story. 

Sometimes, whether through a fault of our own or the fault of someone else, we have elements of our story that we would like to edit out.  Parts of our story that are hard to deal with.  Parts that break our hearts and bring us to our knees. 

But it is during those times that I am thankful that each and every chapter in our lives is part of a much greater piece of work, with a much greater purpose than we could ever imagine. 

Today, I am grateful beyond words for the God who knows the ending of my story.  Who has it covered.  Who can redeem it and mold it and rewrite the parts that need to be revised.  Not for any other reason than that He loves me. 

Horses, Paint and Comort Zones

Comfort zones.  We all have them.  We all love to be in them.  For most of us, it is difficult to move out of our comfortable places.  Often times, we don't even realize how long we have been comfortable until someone or something challenges us to make a change. 

This summer, I spent some time doing two things that pushed me out of my comfort zone.  The first activity involves horses and the second involves painting. 

My dear friend Jeannie has started a horse ministry called Freedom Path.  She gracioiusly invited me to attend.  I agreed mostly out of my deep affection for Jeannie.  Not because I love horses.  Until the first meeting, I had very little exposure to these amazing (and big) animals.  I literally cried with fear at the thought of getting on a horse.  I had no clue what I was doing.  With help from Jeannie, I was able to ride around in the ring without falling off.  The next week, I was a little more confident, until I saw the horse was getting on.  Thunder was 17 hands tall!  In horse speak, that means huge!  I was nervous to say the least.  However, by the grace of God and help from my friend, I rode around the ring and didn't fall off.  By the third week, we were settled at a barn and I was given the honor of riding Jeannie's horse, Candy.  Now, at the end of the summer I love horses.  I am able to do all the tack for Candy by myself.  I am only unsure when it comes to tightening the saddle and getting the bit in her mouth.  I not only learned a ton about horses, I also learned a lot about myself.  I like things to be well thought out and planned.  I am not a risk taker.  Although I did do pretty good running up hills with Candy.  The story of my growing love for horses is way too long to share here, but I will say this ministry opportunity has been one of the best things I have done in my life thus far.

The second out of my comfort zone activity I did involved painting.  My mom and I took a class at  Paint By the Glass in West Chester.  You pick a painting and everyone in the class works on the same one with direction from the instructor.  Part of my personality is that I don't like to do things that I am not fairly certain I will be good at.  I already know I am not artistic.  My brother got all those gifts.  I sat in front of the blank canvas and felt very nervous.  It took me several minutes after the initial instruction to put my paintbrush on the canvas.  I did not want to mess up.  At the end of class, I stepped back and tried very hard not to compare my painting to every other painting in the room.  I decided that I liked what I produced and am proud to have it hang in my house. 

Now, I didn't fall in love with painting the way I fell in love with horses.  However, I did enjoy trying two new things that were definitely out of my comfort zone.  You know what?  It felt good.  It felt good to challenge myself.  To not be good at something and develop a skill that is very hard for me...humbly asking for help.   

So try something new.  Do something that stretches you and maybe even scares you a little bit.  Find some supportive friends to help you through it and give stepping out of your comfort zone a try. 

Taking Flight

I have an old beat up watering can sitting on my back deck.  Most years, I plant a small flowering plant in it.  This year, however, a wren decided it looked like a safe and cozy place to build her nest.  We discovered her nest on Easter Sunday.  Everyone in our family was really excited to watch what would happen with our little friend.  We quickly discovered that our 3-year old lab noticed the newcomer also, so we blocked the nest off with one of our patio chairs.  Every few days, we would sneak up on the nest and check on our wren and her progress.  I will admit to screaming my head off at least twice when I didn't see momma bird in there and she flew right out at my face.  Yikes!  One day, we happened upon an empty nest and counted 5 eggs!  Waiting and watching, we eventually spied baby birds!  Not wanting to disturb the nest, we ignored it for about a week. 

This past Sunday morning, we got to witness one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in nature.  All the baby wrens were leaving the nest and learning to fly for the first time.  We quickly and quietly gathered around our back windows to watch the scene unfold.  Momma wren was flitting all over the back yard, encouraging her babies to take flight.  One hopped up on the railing and immediately took off, making the long flight to the trees in the woods behind our house. A second baby followed suit but only made it to our playset.  It sat there resting a bit before it took off for the trees.  A third bird divebombed right into the grass, walking around in a daze before trying again.  Then, we noticed one baby sitting on the leg of the over turned chair.  Nervous and waitng.  Finally, he made it up onto the railing.  Anxiously, we all held our breath waiting for him to gather up his courage to take off for the trees.  His little brother and sister birds were successfully flitting all over the back yard, trying out their new wings with courage.  After what seemed like an agonizing amount of time, our little late bloomer finally took off.  He made it all the way to the trees without falling from the sky.  We cheered and clapped, so proud of him. 

I cannot help but identify with this Momma wren.  We have four sons and we have been since the minute they were born, teaching them to take flight.  Their first steps, riding a two-wheeler, getting on the bus, taking the big test, dealing with peers and most recently our journey into the teenage years. Sometimes, they jump right off the railing and have miraculous success.  Other times, they crash and burn.  Then there are those times where we hold our breath waiting for them to gather the courage to fly.  We are anxiously hoping they make it to the trees safely.  We help them up when they fall and we cheer them on when they make it.  We encourage, we instruct, we watch, we wait, we pray.  The goal is flight.  The goal is four young men who will have integrity and honor and faith.  We give them a safe, cozy place to try out their new wings before they go off into the world.  It is both a privilege and a challenge, every single day. 

Incidently, birds don't return to their nests after the babies leave.  It is this Momma bird's prayer that her babies don't take after our wrens.