Flooded.

I started this ambitious journey of tap water about 13 days ago. I had no idea how broken it would leave me mentally or how challenged I would feel physically. Yesterday was a breaking point. The girls and I loaded up and headed to CBS in the morning and we were only about ten minutes late. This was the latest we’ve been so far, and it was mostly due to my lack of sleep. Thankfully, it was Pajama Day. No, the girls didn’t go in the jammies they’d slept in the night before. They all wore clean, matching princess jammies, of course.

I brought my glass of iced water and my Kashi bar and hoped that would get me through the morning. It did, but once I hit 12:30, I was totally exhausted. My body has needed caffeine for days and yesterday I hit the breaking point. I couldn’t think straight, my mind was racing, and I felt trapped in confusion. It was painful. I wanted to cry. I DID cry. Not only do I use caffeine to wake my tired body in the morning, but I use it as a medication. I was diagnosed with ADD when I was 25 and have been on several medications since. I remember the first day I took Concerta and felt for the first time that I wasn’t limping around on half a brain. I washed my car that day, from start to finish. Then I put everything away. The vacuum, the sponges, the soap, the hose. Then I sat and cried. Multi-step tasks were never easy for me. I finally felt capable. It was wonderful.

But then I started having babies, and stimulants and pregnancy don’t go well together. I got off the meds and started drinking coffee. It wasn’t the same, but it was almost better. I could drink coffee and not worry about major side affects. It warmed by belly and my soul and helped to put the puzzle pieces together as well. I could have a cup (or 3) in the morning, and dose again in the afternoon and avoid the mental fatigue I’d suffered my whole life.

Then I heard about the blood:water mission via Anne Jackson. I heard about the 40 day challenge. Forty days of nothing to drink but water. I loved the idea from the beginning, though I was a little apprehensive of giving up my beloved fountain Dr. Pepper and my beautiful morning mug of happiness. But a fast is good for everyone, at any time and I knew that. I jumped in, registered and drank my last DP for breakfast the day before.

But then my house flooded. And my belongings were strewn about my house like a rogue wave of my lake came through. And I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed to the point of tears, setting my timer, but never able to figure out where to start. My disorganized approaches left me exhausted and without a single sign of order. To be honest with you, I’m still sitting in a mess here. But there is hope.

I’ve been praying for help. I’ve been praying that God would help me get this place together, that I would stay focused for 15 minutes at a time and be able get this stuff back where it all belongs. I know one cup of coffee would be my jumping off point. I know one cup would allow me to focus, make a dent in the work and feel better. But I don’t wanna give up on my commitment to blood:water. And you know me, the legalist I am, I WON’T give up. So yesterday my sweet husband (who has given up soda as well) sent me in to the gas station to pick up his King Size Peanut M&m’s and I see this.



Oh, Sweetest Jesus. Seriously? Caffeinated GUM? I thought for a minute I was at the Pharmacy, picking up my prescription. Did I gobble up a piece? No. I waited. I waited until this morning, when I knew that I would need it for a shopping trip to BJ’s with four little girls. And it worked. I parked the car, got all four girls out, hooked my keys on my purse, grabbed my phone and put it in my purse, closed and locked the van, headed into BJ’s and started getting the things on my list that I did NOT leave in the car, did NOT get overwhelmed when looking for breakfast bars, did NOT freak out when one of the wheels on the shopping cart mysteriously stopped rolling, found my BJ’s card without a hitch, did NOT lose the receipt from the cash register to the receipt checker guy, got back to the locked (!) van, unloaded and drove away. Thank you, Lord, for sending AMP’d gum.

Now this fast will be what it was intended to be for me, enduring and sacrificing for the sake of others, reminding me what luxury I have in clean water, and praying for His strength and proximity as I struggle with cravings and weakness… NOT the home destroying, depression inducing, mind boggling fast that was once killing me one morning at a time.

Will you consider joining me in a forty day fast? Check here for more details and follow #40days on twitter.

Wrapping my mind around Matt Chandler’s Brain Tumor.

On November 26 of this year, Matt Chandler fell ill at his home. He had a seizure. They took him to the doctor. They did some diagnostics. They found a tumor. They did surgery. They waited for the test results. They got the results. Malignant. Non encapsulated. Horrific.

When the Village Church said they were waiting to post results of Matt’s tests, I had a sick feeling at the pit of my stomach. But I reminded myself that no news is good news. That’s what we always hear. But that wasn’t the case this time. This time was no news was the worst news.

Flashback…September 2001: Beltway Park Baptist Church. Our pastor, David McQueen was out of the country on a trip to Israel. Matt was the college pastor at Beltway and spoke the Sunday after the 911 massacre in New York City. Alex had always been a huge fan of Matt, even after he (Alex) decided that church just wasn’t for him. But he came back, the Sunday after 9-11 and heard the message that thousands of preachers were preaching on that Sunday. But this was not just a message from Matt. None ever were. He was funny, emotional, loud, quiet, loud again and just utterly amazing, convincing, and loving. I sat next to my unsaved, rebellious husband and watched him tremble as Matt gave the ‘invitation.’ I didn’t know until over twenty four hours later that Alex had accepted the invitation.

Jesus changed us in Abilene. We found hope, safety, acceptance, gratitude, wisdom in that place. Matt Chandler was a huge part of that. I wore out my sermon tapes (remember those?) listening to stuff that boggled me and encouraged me and challenged me and even pissed me off sometimes. We were new. But the voice of truth spoke loudly to us there and we were forever changed.

We left Abilene with incredibly heavy hearts as we trekked across the US to Mississippi, but through the internet, we were able to download sermons and listen to our favorite church and pastors with full hearts and tears in our eyes. We followed Matt to the Village, and watched the explosion of the hearts in E. Texas. We listened to Matt’s messages often and that piece of our hearts that will always be in Texas would join us again in the voices of Matt and David.

Our transitions always brought us spiritual and emotional challenges, and once again we found ourselves back in Florida and listening to Pod Casts. Then we find out that Matt Chandler isn’t just Matt Chandler from Grace Bible Study in Abilene. We find out that his fans and followers are worldwide and share the same love for him we do.

And now we face this next step in Matt’s life. Three small children. A beautiful and brilliant wife. Love for Jesus all over this family like crazy. And trusting in God’s sovereignty and grace and healing. Me too. I’m praying like crazy for this family I’ve never met, that would never know me, that has never known that I’ve cried tears of relief at hearing that the surgery was finally over and I could sleep. They don’t know that Alex and I have held hands and hearts and lifted them up because it’s all we can do. But I know it’s the best we can do for them. The best.

And I wonder for Lauren. I wonder where she is, what she is feeling, how she must be struggling and surviving. I think about my house, with my three children, their incomparable and whole hearted love for their Daddy. I think about the silence that comes on the nights that he isn’t here. I think about how she has endured that, without the beautiful sound of a text message alert in the middle of the night saying ‘here’. I think about how I’ve already googled Matt’s diagnosis with tears streaming and how I would crumble into a million pieces thinking of a future without my husband. I think about the twenty eight thousand pictures I have of my precious man and his girls and how that may be the only way our children experience him. It is almost too much to bear. And in these moments, I just want to scream….and He whispers back.

He whispers back…for my Glory. It is for my Glory, Julie. Nothing can steal that from me, little one. But all of this can reveal it. In ways that you could not ever dream, I will reveal it. In ways that you may never see, I will reveal it. In ways that you will rejoice over, I will reveal it. In ways that you will relax in it, I will reveal it. But until then, little one, trust me. Drink in the sweet sedation that is me and wait.

And that is what I pray that He is screaming to Lauren in her moments of madness or sorrow and in her moments of celebration and gratitude.

And I thank you, Jesus, that Matt knows you like I don’t. I thank you that he is gifted with your presence…that he is able to communicate in ways that allow us to see you as we’ve never seen before. Thank you that he doesn’t fool around, that he shares the way he loves you and that the personal, precious walk he’s taken with you has become some of the sweetest moments of my life.

Do not be terrified.

Do not be discouraged.

For the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

Joshua 1:9b

If you feel led, please don't hesitate to send Matt and Lauren and encouragement at 2101 Justin Road, Flower Mound, TX 75028.

You can also get updates at the Village website: http://fm.thevillagechurch.net/blog/pastors/?p=453

Praying Again.

Would you please pray for Stellan. He is very sick again....they are on their way to Boston.

Word Search

Man, I'm tired. I'm just plum wore out.

And I really wish there was something to show for it. But there isn't, really. Mentally and physically exhausted, I've worked through this day with my jaw locked and my brow furrowed. I've spoken thousands and thousands of words, but feel like they fell straight to the floor and landed in a big puddle around my feet.

Every once in a while a little person would come pick one up...usually 'lunch' or 'cookie'. They liked those. But the others went out of my mouth and straight to the floor.

I picture some of them making it a few feet away, landing and bouncing around a corner, but the words sometimes just don't get heard. It helps to make eye contact. It helps to be touching a shoulder or a hand while I'm speaking. The words pour out a lot more gracefully that way, too.

Not so much when I am angry. They come out way too fast to be caught. They have razor sharp edges and stick like little chinese stars. Ouch.

Sometimes they come out happy and bounce around like little walmart happy faces. And then they bounce back. That's always cool.

My favorite ones are pointed heavenly. They bounce around in my head for quite a while before I let them go...carrying my heart with them. Carrying my cares...my will...and making their way around, up, over, until I am quiet again.

Thank you Jesus, for hearing every word. For forgiving the ones that don't please you. For loving the ones that do. For sending your own to comfort, guide, and soothe.

Nails

 

I think this is the most amazing picture of my husband. My heart be still.

Perfect Pancakes

Perfect Pancakes have always evaded me. I’ve blamed the stove, the pan, the spatula, the mix, and mostly the pancake maker. For some reason, I’ve always thought that making pancakes was always another indicator of good motherhood. I have friends that make a daily stack of flapjacks for their kids and I always thought my Eggos in the toaster took a sad second to their mixing, pouring, and flipping. I’ve avoided pancake mixes in the grocery store, just knowing that I wasn’t going to put myself through another failure faced as I scraped the charred remains of cake from the hot griddle. None were the same size, they were all differing shades of dark brown and tasted like a silicon frisby.

Until one day. One day I came across the show Good Eats on the Food Network. The topic for the show that day: Pancakes. I watched Alton Brown explain simply and succinctly how pancakes are really made….how simple it is to find the perfect temperature, how to only stir the mix for ten seconds regardless of what lumps are left behind and how you absolutely don’t need ANY butter in the pan if you’re using non-stick. Say WHAT? Every step I took in preparing pancakes was wrong. I was uneducated. I was overpreparing every step and creating problems for myself.

I just stumbed upon this show. I didn’t google “Perfect Pancakes” like I usually would for EVERYTHING. I didn’t call a friend. I didn’t consult any cook book. I just let the pancakes beat me. I lived with the fact that I could not make pancakes and took with that the fact that I was less of a Mom. It took a revelation to teach me that I could very well make pancakes. I could blend, pour, flip and serve with the best of them. I even got fancy with some chocolate chips.

Am I a better Mom than I was the day before Good Eats? Are my children better nurtured? Will they get better SAT scores? Will this keep them out of jail? Most importantly, does having a perfect pancake in the morning bring them any closer to the face of God? No….no it doesn’t. So once again, my notions on what makes a good Mom are shattered, and I am healed in another place by an amazing, gracious God that continues to rewrite my own personal dictionary.

Thank you Jesus, for your revelation, for your response, for the reminder of the truth and for the reward that is You. I love you more than perfect pancakes.

Freudian Slip

Daddy was packing his bag this morning. When Edie saw the webcam in his bag she said, "Whaz that, Dad".

His reply:

"That's the camera I use to talk to you when I'm on vacation."

As soon as he said it, he immediately corrected. "I mean at work."

I had to smile. I'll be using this one for a long time.