Celebrating My Birthday with a little bit of MOXIE :)

Moxie-
It's a street-smart spirit that's as old as 
recorded history and as new as the rising sun.
David had it; Goliath didn't. It's that intangible
tangible. You don't learn it in school and
you can't get it from a book. It can jump
oceans and move mountains. It says,
"Make your life what it can be. Take your
life wherever it can go."
                                                                      -Kobe Yamada


Years ago I remember my Nana exclaiming about a friend of hers who had
"MOXIE." I was little at the time and while I wasn't sure exactly what "moxie"
meant, I could tell by the way my Grandma said the word that it was full of "vim and vigor," also her words. 

It was her friend's birthday and Nana had paid her a supreme compliment by telling her 
she had MOXIE. What was "MOXIE"?

Spirit! Perseverance! An over-the-top  love of life! 
Energy! Full of fun! Optimistic!  Courage! An"I Won't give up!"attitude! Being an Overcomer!

Her friend, I remember, had just turned sixty seven. I couldn't possibly
imagine how old that must be, yet if my Grandma's friend could have MOXIE at that age...
I felt there there was hope for all of us.

Tomorrow, February 5th, amazingly, I turn 67 and today, in a de-ja-vu moment, one of my dear friends at the college where I teach laughingly told me I had "MOXIE!" Colleen looked just like my Nana when she said the word; ear-splitting grin, fun spilling out of her with joyous laughter. She then shared with me a Kobe Yamada saying that "reminded her of me":

"At times it is necessary to go 
over the top
How else can we get to the
other side."
                      -Kobe Yamada

She thanked me for "spilling over in spirit", not being afraid to be over the top, and sharing that spirit with her.

How could I not?

I have always loved life. That's how God made me. I was blessed to be loved and cherished and it is a blessing for me to give back to those who matter so much to me. I feel like every day I have been given is such a gift and every hard-fought lesson a chance to grow. I feel like we are all God's one-of-a kind creation and He made us to shine.

One of my very, very favorite songs growing up was "I'm Going To Let My Little Light Shine!" What a perfect song to set the tone for my 67th year!

This little light of mine, 
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel basket. No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket, No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket? No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine!

So today, I find I am so grateful as I reach 67...



I am so, so grateful for my "role models" for having "Moxie." Just a few of these include: Dolores McColm, my Mom, Amy Farrell and Jessi Thompson, my daughters, my husband, Bert, my friends Linny Clark, Sharon Hartnett, Vicky Westra, Peggy Sue, Eileen Thompson, Roberta Greene, and Sarah. My grand daughters Sihin, Emma and Jenna, my grandsons Jacob and Owen. Each of these angels has been an overcomer, a light-shiner, a gratitude-seeker, a courage-maker, an optimism-seeker and they have let their "little light shine" into my life. They have battled everything from the suicide of a parent, very difficult childhoods full of trauma, prejudice, horrible car accidents, people who are alcoholics, and stage four breast cancer to stuttering, having a hard time finding words, having friends betray them, leaving Ethiopia and coming to Spokane, and brain injury. When I see them, I am overcome with their courage, stamina, and perseverance against great odds.

And I am so, so grateful to God that He made me with "moxie" too. I am so grateful to be 
surrounded by those who love me. I am so grateful for my beloved husband and my precious children and grandchildren. I cannot imagine my life without them. They bring absolute JOY into every day! I am so grateful for dear friends who love me, just as I am. I am so grateful for every mistake I have made and every hard season that has challenged my soul. They have taught be to be courageous, lean on Jesus, and not to give up. I am so grateful that I was born with one large hand and one small hand. I have learned empathy for those who are different. I am so grateful for all of my wonderful and courageous students and consulting clients. Working with them nourishes my soul. I am so grateful for my Church and all who worship there. I am so grateful for every song we sing on Sundays that reminds me that Jesus is my Savior. I am so grateful that I cry easily and that people know my true heart. I am so grateful that I have a spirit that loves to celebrate EVERYTHING...holidays and people's victories, even the smallest ones. I am so grateful that I had parents who taught me that if I worked hard and never gave up, I could achieve my dreams. I am so grateful for every day I have spent in a classroom doing the thing God gave me a gift to do, be a teacher. I believe it is a sacred profession, and I have loved everyday of the last 47 years of going to work. I am so grateful that I love bright colors, flowers, and balloons and have the nickname of being "the balloon queen."  
I am so grateful to be 67 and to know I am God's child and that I am dearly loved and adored!

I am so grateful for this blog and having the opportunity to record my life-lessons.
Perhaps one day one of my children or grandchildren, or even the folks who read this from time-to time, will find something here that enriches their lives or know they mattered to me. I am so grateful for every comment that is left here as it feels like a connection to another human being.

So...at 67...I will let my little light shine!

May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His Almighty hand!
Love, Linda

Friday's Favorite Quote!

First it begins inside your heart.
Something moves.
Then opens.
Then frees itself.
And now you feel
 a rhythm
breaking its long silence.
This is going to be good.

Someone once said that optimism is like seeing the donut instead of the hole.
That makes perfect sense to me. It's a choice to look at gratitude and be optimistic.
There's great freedom and relief, both physical and emotional, when I move toward gratitude.
It almost feels like there is a shift in my heart and body. Something moves when I
look, with new eyes, at all I have to be grateful for. 

Back in the day, when we had records and vinyl, at times the needle would get stuck and not get into the proper groove of the record. The needle skipped over and on top of the grooves. It was not where it belonged.

You could hear the dissonance as the needle skipped again and again, and again...scratching, until someone walked over, picked up the arm of the record player and set the needle straight into the right groove of the record. 

Ah....that's better. 
The relief was almost immediate.

I feel like that's what God does for me when things are scratchy and in the wrong groove in my life.

He picks up the arm of the record player, and gently sets the needle where it needs to be on the recording.

Then something moves in my heart. 
Something frees itself.
I can feel a new rhythm that has been waiting to be born.
I can say with confidence...
This is going to be good!

God is doing a new work in me and it is beginning inside my heart.

Because of His grace, because of His love...
Today I am filled with gratitude.

May you have a blessed weekend!
And as almost everyone in Washington state says...

Go Seahawks!

God Bless!
Love,
Linda 

A PRAYER...

"May your prayer and your living be so closely connected
that you cannot separate your day plan from your Amen. 
May you not despise your weakness, your anxiety, or
your exhaustion, rather may you bring these into the
presence of Jesus. Your smallness is a gift and an offering.
May He be your kind companion today."

It has not been an easy weekend for me. That's just the honest truth.
I am trying to focus on gratitude and that my tears are a gift to Jesus.
My weaknesses are a gift to Jesus. My smallness is a gift to Jesus.

While it is hard to cry off all of your makeup in church, perhaps
that kind of gut-wrenching honesty is exactly what the Lord would want.
Bearing my true heart to Him. He knows it anyway.

I am a mix of great JOY and also sadness and pain. While I've
had several weeks of feeling so happy and relaxed and free, that's
only a small part of what real life offers. I want to be open to it
ALL, learn from it ALL, and give ALL of it to Him. I want my life
to reflect His love, His grace, His will for me.

I want to love Jesus and live for Jesus wholeheartedly!

I know I am growing, Sometimes it just isn't easy.
I would ask for your prayers that I may turn ALL of my life over to Jesus,
every single day! And to that I say...Amen! :)

God Bless!
Much love,
Linda   

Memories, light the corners of my mind....

Memories...
light the corners of my mind.
Misty watercolor memories,
Of the way we were.
                                            - The Way We Were, Barbra Streisand

Nostalgia...

I am currently going through old, tattered, mostly black and white
photographs stored carefully in an old leather suitcase with well-loved straps and slightly tarnished buckles. Picture after picture brings a wash of memories. Just as the suitcase was buckled tightly so nothing would fall out, the memories and stories were safely secured in that valise so they wouldn't be forgotten.

It's a new year, yet the past is not far behind. When you gaze around our home almost everything in it carries a story. 
Yet these often grainy, thank heavens not HD quality photographs, capture a time when things seemed more simple. 

Nostalgia, it seems, is a part of our daily conversation these days. So often something jogs our story. It all starts with... 
"Remember when?..."

Stories of dear ones here and dear ones gone. Stories of those not- so-dear. Yet even with time the memories of the not-so-dear ones fade into how sad we are that they lost their way. How we wish they had been loved as a child and not neglected. How things might have been different if they had felt wanted.

Hurt often recreates itself when people don't feel seen, valued or wanted. You can see the pain etched in faces of those old school photos.

Yet most of the memories bring a smile, a warmth, a soft remembering. A hand held. A glance. Deep gratitude for all they meant to us.

Almost always, when we sit in "our" chairs in the family room
sipping on freshly brewed coffee, my beloved Bert starts the 
travelogue of life. One memory begets another.

Last night we had a precious granddaughter staying overnight and she had access to Face book. Sihin, her finger twirling and circling each message, was suddenly animated. She exclaimed with glee, "Look Nana, it's Owen!"

My oldest daughter, Jessi, had posted a video of Owen, her amazing 2 1/2 year old son. He was snow skiing down a gentle ski slope,  no poles and with perfect balance. You could see the shadows of his family cheering him on. We watched the clip again and again and exclaimed at how amazing and athletic O truly is. We could imagine the wind on his face and the crunch of the snow underneath him as he courageously sailed toward his Daddy, ready to swoop him up if necessary. That here-and-now moment had us all grinning with pure JOY.

And then the stories of skiing days-of-old began, and we reminisced about when Chris and Eric, at about that same age, flew by Bert on a ski hill near Seattle. Memories of Bert skiing in Switzerland.

The memories seemed linked like the paper chains we made in grade school. One carefully-cut circle glued so as to fit inside the other. And before long, one circle fits within one circle and another and another. 

Then my own snow skiing memories gently blew in like snow falling from trees after a slight breeze. Skiing when I was seven. Lessons with the Buzz Fiorini Ski School. A left ski pole carefully designed so I could plant my pole with the best of them. Hot chocolate on the ski bus. The misty watercolor memories cascaded like a waterfall.

O's story brought Bert's story, brought my story. And Sihin watched in awe and listened intently as nostalgia lovingly hijacked our conversation. She loves the old pictures and stories since, having been adopted from Ethiopia only two years ago, this is all new and fresh to her. And truth be told, we love having a willing and eager audience as the stories wander across our minds.

The old stories bring comfort. They bring a sense of knowing and belonging. They are small patches in the quilt of our lives.
I hope to record some of them in this new year so they will live on.
One day Owen and Sihin might be sitting at a fireplace and reminisce about Nana and Boppa. It will all start again with...

"Remember when?..."

May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His Almighty hand.

Love you to the moon and back!
Linda

In 2014...Wholeheartedly Kicking Shame and Blame to the Curb!

"Treat everyone as if they have a broken heart
because they probably do."

I remember the exact moment when I knew I wasn't enough, a moment when I felt apologetic for my very being. It certainly wasn't a moment most folks would have picked out or understood. After all, I was just a seven year old girl in a grocery store, standing with my mommy next to our cart.  Suddenly, the urge to meet everyone in our line just overtook me. Now granted, I had been an extrovert from the time I took my first breath, and I knew instinctively that my talkative and "glad to know ya!" nature was just too much for my Mom. But at that moment, in that grocery store, I threw caution to the wind and my extroverted nature, won out over my fear of upsetting my Mom.

My dear Momma, God Bless her, was brilliant, detail and perfection oriented...and a serious introvert. She loathed being the center of attention or having the focus be on her. Although Dolores loved me completely, and was a great Mom in so many ways, my very nature made her skin crawl. That day in the grocery store I remember going from cart-to-cart and conversing with the adults about what they bought and why they bought it. "Oh," I'd say. "Your apples are so beautiful. Are you going to make a yummy pie with them?" "Wow!", I'd exclaim. "That chocolate chip ice cream is my very favorite!"

Slowly, but surely, after the last lively and animated conversation, I inched my way back to our cart and with a skip, a hop and an ear-splitting grin...I looked up at my Mom.

And then I knew...just as if someone took a pin and popped a gorgeous, red birthday balloon.

I had caused her displeasure. She was mad at me for being...me.

My personality and extroverted way of life had disappointed her. As much as she loved me, and believe me she loved me more than anyone in the world,
she couldn't appreciate who I really was, who God made me to be.

And politely she whispered, loud enough so everyone in the grocery line could hear, "Linda Marie, would you please modulate yourself!" And then she looked away. And I felt shame and blame in every part of my body.

When the people who are supposed to love us unconditionally, just as we are, turn their eyes and love away from us, that silent retreat of disapproval and contempt stays with us our whole lives. That shame and blame coats our souls.

Almost 60 years later, I can still feel the shame, criticism and contempt of that moment. 

That moment is life-changing. We know we have displeased them, that we don't measure up, that we are a disappointment. That condemning look, or silent look away, sends a strong message, "You are less than. You should know better. I would never, ever make the stupid mistakes you are making." Or the contempt and criticism leveled at us can take another back road around to our heart.

That same person can give us  "advice" or "feedback" that has such a sting to it that we feel like a failure. "Modulate yourself, Linda" All would be better if you just turned yourself down and were more quiet, and more like I am.

Oh, they were just sharing their "truth", but their "truth" can cut us to the bone.
Truthfully, even though it may have had a positive intention initially, the feedback is laced with blame and shame and is perceived as more of a vent of arrogance and frustration.

Words are powerful. Words can hurt. Words can be etched into our hearts forever.

I believe the shaming messages we get from our parents, other family members, 
and those nearest and dearest to us, go straight into our DNA. Later in our own lives some of us then turn around and become like the very perfectionist condemners and heart-breakers who hurt us so much. Sadly, I am not exempt from this. I have given my fair share of disapproving looks, pointed feedback that hurt and even if unspoken, felt condemnation in my heart toward someone else. I have wanted to take certain people and put them in a mold that was more comfortable for me. I'm not sure why I have been so arrogant as to assume that people should live their lives to my specification and then their lives would go better. Judgemental, critical, condemning...cuts to the quick and breaks the spirits and hearts of others, even when that's not our intention.

I recently heard someone I dearly love, who has been shamed and shamed again, say, "I know I have always been a disappointment." She looked defeated as she shared what shame had done to her spirit. I left that conversation asking myself an important question, 

"Who have I shamed that might feel I disapprove of them so greatly that I have hurt their spirit?"

As my dear friend, Sharon, a retired teacher says, "Keep your eyes on your own paper." In other words, we all need to work on ourselves and what we need to change about ourselves, instead of focusing on the work others need to do in their lives.

What I know for sure... is that the good Lord made each of us absolutely UNIQUE! Some of us were designed to do it "just so" with great perfection and precision. Others of us are creative rebels who make mistakes and live life on the edge. Yet ALL of us, and I do mean ALL of us, need God's grace and the grace and unconditional love of those closest to us.

While it took some time, and lots of soul-searching and soul-work, with God's help I came back to being that extroverted, "glad to know ya!" gal.  I completely forgave my Mom, and I am trying to learn from the mistake she made. I make those same mistakes too.

In 2014, I am prayerfully asking God to remove all condemnation, criticism,
shame and blame from my own heart  so I can wholeheartedly love others, just as they are. I want to follow the lead of Dr. Seus in celebrating everyone's individuality.

Dr. Seus says:

Today you are you!
that is truer than true!
There is no one alive
who is youer than you!

May all of us celebrate who God made us to be and even when it's a challenge, love the differences in others wholeheartedly! Let's kick shame and blame to the curb!

May God bless you and keep you in the palm of His mighty hand!
Love always! 
Linda

HAPPY NEW YEAR! My "Word" for 2014

Happy New Year, dear ones!

We have just returned from an AMAZING time of fun and retreat in Maui.
The smell of plumeria, the sand beneath my toes, inhaling spears of sumptuous, sweet
pineapple, drawing, reading, sharing, holding, warm weather (usually at least 80) , and time to breathe and reflect.  Walks along the beach, fingers intertwined with my beloved husband Bert, and time all alone. It.was.perfect. Just what I needed. My soul has been restored.

A perfect launching pad for 2014... with conversations about who I really am in every aspect of my life.
A percolating of what my "word" for 2014 will be.

In case you have never heard of "having a word for the year", it's an opportunity to tune out the world and listen to God's quiet voice whispering His path for your life. When I select a word for the year, it's a benchmark for my goals and longings at the deepest level. It's a chance to work at replacing the things the world would have me pursue and embark on the vision God has planned for me.

It's a chance to do less and be more.

I had a word in 2013 and have every year for the past five years. Last year my word was perfect for all 2013 had to offer. That word sustained me through an amazing 2013, filled with life-giving blessings and changes that challenged my soul.

Last year, He gave me EMBRACE.

Embrace it all, Linda. Put your arms around whatever comes, Linda. And in the best moments of 2013 I remembered to "embrace" and in the gut-wrenching moments, He reminded me to "embrace" Him, to embrace my faith, to embrace the people He has put in my life. Remembering to embrace sustained me and reminded me that I am His. I belong. All is well.

And on the beaches in Maui in late December, when tears and prayers were flowing, I thanked Jesus for reminding me to embrace and then asked Him to gift me a new word for 2014.

As I walked, prayed, breathed and took in His glory through a brilliant sun and waves crashing to shore, He gave me...

Wholehearted

Wholehearted is being "all in"
Wholehearted is not holding back
Wholehearted is feeling the fear and doing it anyway
Wholehearted is living with no "I wish I had"
Wholehearted is letting go of the world's vision for me and discovering anew
 who God wants me to be.

I want to live each moment with all of my heart...no regrets, just be ALL He means for me to be. 

Love... wholeheartedly 
Teach... wholeheartedly 
Give my heart and time to my family... wholeheartedly 
Reach out... wholeheartedly
Worship God...wholeheartedly
Be a friend...wholeheartedly
Celebrate all of life...wholeheartedly
Serve others...wholeheartedly

One of my favorite go-to books for 2013 was Brene' Brown's 
Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way
We Live, Love, Parent and Lead.  

Brene' introduces the concept of living life authentically, being "all in". She even has Ten Guideposts for Wholehearted Living. When I first read these in Maui I was awe struck, and it felt like her words were penned just for me. I could hear God's whisper..."Listen up, Linda. This is for you, Linda." I'm going to do some fun artwork with these Guideposts and put them in my Bible, planning notebook, and in my classroom. I want to seal these in my heart. Here they are:

Ten Guideposts for Wholehearted Living:

1. Cultivating Authenticity: Letting Go of What People Think

2. Cultivating Self-Comparison: Letting Go of Perfectionism

3. Cultivating a Resilient Spirit: Letting Go of Numbing and Powerlessness

4. Cultivating Gratitude and Joy: Letting Go of Scarcity and Fear of the Dark

5. Cultivating Intuition and Trusting Faith: Letting Go of the Need for Certainty

6. Cultivating Creativity: Letting Go of Comparison

7. Cultivating Play and Rest: Letting Go of Exhaustion as a Status Symbol and
  Productivity as Self-Worth

8. Cultivating Calm and Stillness: Letting Go of  Anxiety as a Lifestyle

9. Cultivating Meaningful Work: Letting Go of Self-Doubt and Supposed To

10. Cultivating Laughter, Song and Dance: Letting Go of Being Cool and Always    
  in Control

And so as I embark on 2014, I am renewed and encouraged  to love and lead and live with authenticity, courage and vulnerability. I anticipate Wholehearted living and will embrace it with great JOY!

May 2014 be a year that blesses you richly. I look forward to sharing it with you!

God Bless!
Love always, to the moon and back!
Linda

Gratitude, Chopping Onions, and the REAL Meaning of Thanksgiving!

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.

It turns what we have into enough and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order,

confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a

feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.

                                              -Melody Beattie

The snow is gently falling on this early Saturday morning in Spokane, flakes drifting here and there illuminated by an outdoor lantern. I made the coffee and added some egg nog to my old over-sized Starbucks mug with the word Italy across the side. Ah!... memories  It has been a full and over-flowing Thanksgiving week and I am finally taking a moment, just a moment, to reflect on it all.

When you are a college professor, or a teacher of any grade, you know the stirring and anxiousness

that resides in the heart of every student as a holiday approaches. Part of each of my sweeties has already left the building while their body is forced to stay in captivity and complete the day. I could feel the anticipation build last Monday. Every heart was playing the "I can't wait to get out of here" blues. Yet there was still work to be done and onions to be chopped. The onions would come on Tuesday.

While I am an early riser, the night before going to Spokane's House of Charity to help put on a Thanksgiving dinner, almost always keeps my eye lids from closing. I am at once excited and a little bit anxious. I needed to get there Tuesday morning by 5 am. I was up at 2:30. 

The House of Charity, run by Catholic Charities in Spokane, is located in a part of Spokane that would  make Grandma squirm, as she would call it, and have her calling out warnings almost uncontrollably. If she knew I was going there she couldn't help but tell me to "look both ways, keep my eyes and ears open, carry yourself like you know what you are doing, and if necessary use your purse as a weapon."

That was always her advice, even when I just went out on a date. My date this time was at a place that takes care of Spokane's dear homeless. Just like for Jesus, there is often no room in the Inn for the homeless. And as the Spokane temperatures drop, and each tree branch is outlined with frost hunkering down for a long cold winter, Spokane's homeless count on the House of Charity to welcome them with open arms. All are welcome.

Each year I go there with some of the students and faculty from our college. We leave our more professional clothing in the closet, dress for the cold with quilted vests and ear muffs, and arrive ready to work. The tasks are huge. Peel a thousand potatoes. Chop six huge bags of onions. De-bone 400  already cooked turkeys. Gone are the days where we cooked the turkeys ourselves, ah...health department regulations, and barely got them in the doors before spilling turkey juice all over ourselves.

We come to give, those of us who are so blessed. And yet every time, and I mean every time, we are the receivers.

This year I was on chopping onion duty. It was a challenge since holding the onion with my

"lucky fin" left hand is a bit precarious. One of the homeless men tried to help me.
"Here sweetheart,"he said gently, "just hold the onion like this". Then he looked down, saw my smaller hand with few real fingers, looked at my face and said with a twinkle in his eyes and a chuckle in his voice, "Well, you can't loose any more fingers so we'll just have to go a little slower than usual."

He said it with such kindness, such knowing. He knew about missings, sweet Reggie did. He knew about adapting when you didn't quite have a full deck to play with. And so Reggie and I chopped onions, lots and lots of onions. He instructed me in just how to do this properly. I was the student, completely enamored by his chopping skills. Even more, his open and compassionate heart touched my soul. The time flew, we chatted, we talked about what this dinner meant to his "street buddies", as he called them. He loved, loved, loved seeing college students and their teachers get out of their comfort zones to come help the needy. We said that we were all needy, we were just needy for different things. I asked how he kept such an open heart. He said, pure and simple, that God loved him. He asked me, a little tentatively, did I really know that. Did I know that God loved me? I smiled and said that I did.

He took a deep breath, let the air out slowly, smiled and said "I'm glad that you do."

When it was time for me to leave, and go teach a class albeit smelling like pungent onions, Reggie

gave me a hug and a Thanksgiving greeting that still brings tears to my eyes. He said, "Thank you girlie for coming down to my home. I am so grateful today that I met you. I hope our paths cross again before I go to meet my sweet Jesus."

His sweet Jesus. My sweet Jesus. Gratitude flowing over the onions for all that Jesus gave both of us.

I said and I meant it, "Reggie, if we don't meet again on this side of Heaven, I know I'll see you on the other side." And he smiled. A gorgeous smile. A smile that hasn't seen a dentist in years and years.

A radiant smile that made me want to weep for all he has seen and all he has been through.

You see Reggie radiated gratitude. He radiated the message, "Be grateful in ALL circumstances."

He radiated a sense of being grateful that turned what he had into enough...and more. He radiated such acceptance of me, just as I am. Reggie practiced gratitude, lived gratitude, breathed gratitude. There in that kitchen, with my eyes dripping from cutting onions, God's child reminded me that gratitude can turn chaos into order, a meal into a feast, a stranger like Reggie into a friend. Reggie taught me about the real meaning of Thanksgiving.

Melody Beattie would have loved to meet Reggie. I'm ever so grateful that I did.

May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His

almighty hand.

Love, 

Linda

                                             

Coming Home!

Thanksgiving approaches, with Christmas not far behind. Next week my college students will scatter to the far corners as they anticipate a home-cooked meal, a down comforter on an old and friendly bed,
family gathering, favorite receipes pulled from grandma's old time-worn box of "How to make this" secrets, wrinkled with time, turkey splashes, and well loved corners bending from sticky fingers. Glancing one more time... Now how did she make that world-famous gravy?

My beloved students will put down their books and backpacks, set aside their pressing homework, and come back to a sense of ease about who they really are and what family can really mean.
They will look forward to the smells, sights and sounds that signal...
All is well, all is well.

They may feel a touch of nostalgia, pure and simple. For another day. A simpler time. When we watched, barely breathing, as the Thanksgiving morsels were minutes from being plated. Ah, the sense of wonder and a feeling of...
coming home.

I don't take those words lightly.

I love the song lyrics that say,

"Feels like home to me,  feels like home to me. And I'm all the way back where I belong."

My students are not hankering, as my Grandma used to say, for the latest sale at Kohls or the next new technology device. They are longing for a sense of coming home, a sense of belonging.

Yet for me, the words coming home are not just about a Thanksgiving spread or Christmas around the corner. Those words are not just about yearning for a season of gratitude and authenticity. Those two small words, coming home, resonate with the Savior's whisper in my ear. They vibrate as a still small voice in my heart.

With each passing day I am all the closer to coming home to my precious Lord.

I have never been so acutely aware of how much I need Jesus. The Jesus I know and love and serve
feels like home to me. Feels like all the way back where I belong.

If I am completely truthful, I spent large parts of my childhood not feeling like I belonged. It's not about not being loved (because I was). It's not about not being cared for (because I was cared for)...
It's all about being truly loved, just as I am. Unconditionally. I finally and completely came home
when I met Jesus. face-to-face and gave Him my heart. A God loves you and you are okay kind of coming home. Jesus making the most of me kind of moments.

Coming home to Jesus, and inviting Him to make the most of me, answered all the questions and filled the deepest longings of my heart. To be seen. No matter what. Jesus is there. No matter what. Jesus holds me in the palm of his hand. No matter what. Jesus has got my back. No. matter. what.

I saw this video the other day and it spoke to my heart about truly coming home and Jesus making the most of me. Perhaps it will touch yours as well.

http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=KGWKD7NX

May God bless you and keep you. May this be a season of coming home...for you.
Much love,
Linda

Please Be Gentle With Us...

Recently I listened to one of my students tell me their story. Their world had fallen apart. They had been betrayed and hurt and shunned by people who loved them. I could barely breathe as I was witness to what they had been through. How had they survived? How were they even standing? No wonder their homework, and getting it in on time, wasn't a top priority. Survival was.

And then, as I was driving home, I went past a corner under a bridge where homeless men hang out. I had seen them almost daily, felt helpless to do anything for them, and usually tried to smile and catch their eye. Yet this glance was different. This look chilled me to the bone.

One homeless man had a sign around his neck. It read
"Please be gentle with us. You don't know our story."

I couldn't breathe as I saw that sign. It was almost as if Jesus was standing on that corner with the sign around His neck, looking directly at me. The tears started to flow. I went to the nearest McDonalds and got six happy meals. I went back to the corner and gave them the food. I told them I was sorry that I had driven by them day-after-day and done nothing to help.

The homeless man, amazingly enough and not a surprise, was a Veteran who had once been in my class. I just didn't recognize him until he told me his name. I asked if he had ever been to SCC and he had. He looked at my hand and said, "You're Linda, aren't you? I was in your class, but I've fallen on hard times." I knew, for certain, that this was what we call in our family.."A God thing." God reaching down to teach me a lesson about me, and not a very pretty one I might add.

What follows in this post are a few of the life-lessons God is teaching me right now. This isn't easy for me to write about as I am still in the midst of the lessons. So here goes:

I am convinced that we never truly really know another person's story. 
Oh, don't get me wrong. We think we know who someone is, what someone has been through, what someone should be doing with their life, what their story is. We often have agendas about how their life would be better if they just did X, Y, and Z. We may even be a bit mad at them, or a lot mad at them, and withdraw ourselves physically and emotionally because we have judgments about their messy life and how they have made it a mess.

We hold ourselves up and compare ourselves to them and feel somewhat inflated. Look how well things are going for me. It's an opportunity, however disguised, for one-ups-man-ship, for a moment of false pride. We may even whisper, to those who will listen, "There they go again. I just knew they would never learn. Isn't that just like them?" We present them in our own minds and hearts as flawed people we need to avoid. Or if not avoid, be sure to let them know of our not-so-subtle criticism of who they are, the choices they make, all said, or shouted, with contempt disguised as caring.

I am convinced that we have NEVER, EVER really walked in their shoes.
In our not so subtle ignorance, we make them wrong. We feel better about ourselves because we sit as judge and jury. Instead of embracing them for who they are, where they are...we want them to be something different, someone different.

I am convinced that giving grace to others mean seeing them the way that Jesus sees them.
When I say we, in this discussion, I really mean I. I do this. I want certain people to do XY and Z and not do XY and Z. I want them to fit what is comfortable for me. I am disapproving, if only in my heart, of the choices they make. I have subtle criticism in my tone of voice.

Sadly, I am convinced that I do not, do not, do not see them the way that Jesus sees them.
I'm not sure when this disgusting arrogance surfaced in my life, but I remember its re-emergence when I was in my mid-thirties. Yet for some time now it has been bubbling up again, from time to time, and when I see it and own it I am truly ashamed.

How arrogant is it to assume I know what is best for someone else? How arrogant is it to have my focus be on what they should be doing instead of changing my own heart? How arrogant is it to lack empathy for the unfathomable pain they have been through?

I recently apologized to someone I know and love for trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole.
Truthfully, I have probably felt sort of baffled by some of the choices they were making in the aftermath of their life being turned upside down. I loved them completely and with my whole heart, yet I wanted them to be more like me. They have recently been very, very hurt by someone they loved, yet I seemed to have questions about how they coped with this unspeakable pain.

Would it really take them wearing a sign that said,
"Please be gentle with me. You don't really know my story." for me to get it?

I feel so ashamed as I write this. I wonder what hurts I have caused them by my questions and inference, probably not too subtle, that they should do their life differently. I told them I was sorry. In truth, I probably added more pain to what was already heart-breaking. Owning that, and imagining how that may have hurt them even more by not offering completely unconditional love, leaves tears streaming down my face.

I am convinced that God made ALL of us in His image and that we are uniquely created by Him.
God did not intend to make everyone like me. How DARE I have anything but love toward His creations!

I have felt the nudging of Jesus in this area, and the nudging has not been easy. It is not easy to own arrogance and distance and judgments, everything I HATE when they are done to me. And I am not immune to the fact that others I know also heap criticism on them. WE have taken a hard situation and made it worse.

The... if you don't do it the way I think it should be done, or you'll feel my contempt and I'll be angry at you...speaks of a part of my childhood that turned me into a people-pleaser for all the wrong reasons.

I am convinced that when Jesus said "Love is patient, love is kind." that He really meant that! 

And so as this journey unfolds, I am so grateful this Sunday morning to be loved by a God who loves me just as I am, but loves me too much to leave me this way. I am grateful for the Veteran on the corner
who gave his all for his country and has fallen on hard times. We have a plan to get him some help.
I am so very grateful for the forgiveness of of those I have hurt by my assumptions that they should
do it my way.

As the gospel song says:
I want to walk like Jesus walks
I want to talk like Jesus talks...

I am praying for an even more compassionate heart and that I might love people the way Jesus does.

I have a loooooong way to go to do this, but I am making progress in inches.
God Bless!
Love,
Linda

Words and Rituals Matter... and They Last a Life Time!

I LOVE rituals, comforting traditions that give life a sense of continuity and well being. 
Every morning I have rituals:

* I am the first one up. 
* I make the coffee. 
* I have Jesus be my first cup and say "Good morning" to God as I spoon in the granules      of  eye-opening, blood-awakening... soon. to. be. liquid. joy. 
* I say "Hi, Reverend Himes!" who has gone on to be with the Lord. His sermon, "Have Jesus be your first cup of coffee!" changed my life.
* I read today's message from Jesus Calling
* I go through my prayer list,  focusing on who is on my heart to pray for.

And then, I read several blogs of folks that matter to me. I always start with the blogs written by my precious daughters, Jessi and Amy, and get a small but meaningful look into their lives. I especially love their photographs, as they speak to my heart.

And then I read Vicky Westra's blog. If you had told me ten years ago that I would have a dear friend that I have never met in person, I would tell you that you were crazy. If you went on to tell me that I met this friend through her blog, I might have even chuckled out loud. Yet what I know for sure is that God brings amazing people into our lives, sometimes in the most unexpected ways. I got to know Vicky since we had a mutual friend in common. Sara, otherwise know as The Gitzen Girl. We both supported Sara in her journey home to be with the Lord.

Long story short, Vicky loves Jesus with all her heart. She is a wife (to Rick) and Mom to Colton and Nolan. Colton and Nolan are young boys, soon to be young men, who love hockey, life and their parents.

And...Vicky has stage four breast cancer. What draws me to Vicky, and why I call her my friend, is the grace and AMAZING courage and faith she shows in this very hard  journey. Vicky is REAL, she is authentic. She doesn't sugar coat how tough this is...all the chemo, drugs, MRI trips, peeling feet. She wants two more weeks plus two more weeks plus.... She
wants a future with her husband and boys. 

Yet in the midst of it all, Vicky is grateful and focusing day-by-day on what brings her JOY! She is choosing JOY, no matter what! Vicky is an amazing writer and more gracious
about the challenges of cancer than most of us would be. Vicky inspires me to love Jesus more and appreciate even more every moment I have with my family. 

Vicky also comments on the comments left by those who care about her. 
It's mutual, this love of Jesus we share. It's mutual, this desire to pray for each other. It's mutual to be authentic and share what really matters.

In a recent blog, Vicky talked about the ritual of how she says good bye to her boys when they head off to school.  She loves the phrase, "I love you to the moon and back!" and wondered out loud what her boys would take into the future. Would the things she said to them matter down the road.? The unspoken question that hung in the air was...

Will they remember that I loved them? Will the words I share as they leave for the day
stay with them after I am gone? 

While I didn't tell Vicky that I  cried when I read her words, so lovingly shared from her heart, the tears did fall. Isn't that what most Mamas wonder? What lessons am I teaching my sweet darling children, the loves of my heart? If I am a role model, what will they remember of what I have said and what I have done? Will they know, can they possibly know, how much I loved them?

I told Vicky, and I believe this in my heart-of-hearts, that words matter... that words last a life-time. When I hear my daughters with their children, I hear snippets of what I told them when they were little. I hear one-liners that were etched into their hearts.
I hear rituals from my Grandma, my Mom and from me...being replayed generations later.

And I told Vicky that just as God has etched words on our hearts, one liners that remind us and comfort us in good times and bad, the whisperings of a parent's heart, the bedtime rituals, the pray-at-the-table rituals, the read to each other rituals, the "love you more!"
rituals....they all matter. They last a life time. They are played back long after parents
have gone home to be with God.

What I also know for sure is that, looking back, I wish I had been even more intentional about using MORE positive words, more positive memories, more positive rituals. I wish I had taken the time to have more fun and planted more positive seeds. I wish I had known, even more, the power of my words. My girls might say, "You did great Mom, no regrets." Yet I hope they learn from me that their words, and the fun and lasting rituals they establish, are powerful and last a life time. 

And if they are reading this... I LOVE YOU both, to the moon and back. I always have and always will! Yup, there's another ritual!

God Bless!
Love Linda