Apparently, the saying "there is more than one way to catch a fish" is totally true. A recent trip to Bass Pro Shop for some fishing supplies resulted in a 30 minute education by a sweet older gentleman named Denny. That 30 minute hook, line and sinker demo was just for catching bass! There are other supplies required for catching catfish, bluegill or my sons' favorite fish a crappie (they giggle every time).
Poles packed and expectations high, we headed up to Indian Lake, Ohio for a mini vacation. Hooks were in the water within minutes of our arrival. Then, the waiting game began. The waiting game then lead to the impatient, frustrated and disappointed game.
Tensions were high as bait got lost, hooks caught on logs and no fish were biting. Oh, except for the youngest Vollette who sings to the fish and moves around a lot. The son who has the most desire and knowledge comes up empty every time.
We did our best to encourage the frustrated fishermen to keep trying. We asked ourselves, what might God be trying to teach us in this moment? The lessons we came away with were worth every bit of disappointment. We learned that even when you make really good plans and are really prepared things don't always go your way. We learned that there will be people around you not following the plan or the rules and they might end up getting the very thing you are wanting. You need to keep on the path you know in your heart is right and not compromise your core values. We learned that if you really want something, you need to persevere and not give up when it gets hard. We learned that sometimes in life it just isn't your turn and you need to accept what is, make adjustments and move on.
In the end, our fish story was a success. The Vollette most wanting to catch a fish was finally victorious. He snagged a fish he had never seen before and loved every minute of it. It made all the waiting and frustration worth it. We learned some great life lessons while sitting out on the dock in the early morning mist and the beautiful evening sunset colors. We packed up our poles and headed home. Happy, slightly sunburned and a little wiser.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Stick Families, Vacation Tags and Keeping Up with Everyone's 26.2
Growing up, my friend's family had a huge 2x4 they used as a measuring stick. It was filled with the markings of their children's growth. This family had a large house that was always filled with people who didn't live there. If you were there enough, eventually, your name and measurement were added to the stick.
When we got married and had our first child, we were gifted with our very own 2x4 measuring stick. We have since added several years of growth. We have recently started adding our friends and other family members to the stick. It is a cool guest book of the people who we do life with.
In this time of instant and often too much information, I find that we are all using a number of measuring sticks in our lives. Some of them are obvious. Did your child get straight A+ grades and make the honor roll this year? According to Facebook, lots of kids did. Did you potty train your 18 month old in less than a week? That friend from high school did. Are you at the zoo, at a sporting event where your child is the MVP, or going out to eat again? Seems like everyone else is. Other measuring sticks we use are a little less noticeable but are still there. Are you a runner girl, a super swimmer or a mom with 5 happy stick figure kids? Did you go on several vacations to the town with the palm tree and the moon or visit the always fantastic island of flip flop fun? Seems like lots of cars have traveled that road. Then we have the measuring sticks we stand up against in our own minds. Are we good enough, thin enough, smart enough, nice enough, spiritual enough? The list goes on.
I am not saying Facebook, sticker families or vacation tags are bad in and of themselves. If I could run a marathon, I would probably be first in line to buy my sticker. It is the unrealistic expectations we place on ourselves when we fail to use the only measuring stick that matters. What is that measuring stick that matters? It is most likely different for all of us. The one that matters to me is the one God is holding up. The awesome thing about His measuring stick is that it is full of grace and love and mercy. It is being held by the lover of my soul who has a love for me deeper than I can fathom. When I forget and start measuring my worth from the bumper of a car or a post on my phone, He gently pulls me back and shows me where my focus should be.
Take a moment and look at the measuring sticks in your life. Are they healthy ones that promote growth and change or are they destructive ones that bring guilt and disappointment? Choose wisely and wave at my sticker family when you see me driving by.
When we got married and had our first child, we were gifted with our very own 2x4 measuring stick. We have since added several years of growth. We have recently started adding our friends and other family members to the stick. It is a cool guest book of the people who we do life with.
In this time of instant and often too much information, I find that we are all using a number of measuring sticks in our lives. Some of them are obvious. Did your child get straight A+ grades and make the honor roll this year? According to Facebook, lots of kids did. Did you potty train your 18 month old in less than a week? That friend from high school did. Are you at the zoo, at a sporting event where your child is the MVP, or going out to eat again? Seems like everyone else is. Other measuring sticks we use are a little less noticeable but are still there. Are you a runner girl, a super swimmer or a mom with 5 happy stick figure kids? Did you go on several vacations to the town with the palm tree and the moon or visit the always fantastic island of flip flop fun? Seems like lots of cars have traveled that road. Then we have the measuring sticks we stand up against in our own minds. Are we good enough, thin enough, smart enough, nice enough, spiritual enough? The list goes on.
I am not saying Facebook, sticker families or vacation tags are bad in and of themselves. If I could run a marathon, I would probably be first in line to buy my sticker. It is the unrealistic expectations we place on ourselves when we fail to use the only measuring stick that matters. What is that measuring stick that matters? It is most likely different for all of us. The one that matters to me is the one God is holding up. The awesome thing about His measuring stick is that it is full of grace and love and mercy. It is being held by the lover of my soul who has a love for me deeper than I can fathom. When I forget and start measuring my worth from the bumper of a car or a post on my phone, He gently pulls me back and shows me where my focus should be.
Take a moment and look at the measuring sticks in your life. Are they healthy ones that promote growth and change or are they destructive ones that bring guilt and disappointment? Choose wisely and wave at my sticker family when you see me driving by.
Friday, May 17, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, May 3, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
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.
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.
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