to be welcomed is to be loved...

Last week I drove my niece & nephew to camp for two days... and the camp just happened to be at our old church, across town. On the second day, I knew I needed to take the time to scoot and and say hi to Miss Julie, our favorite pre-school teacher, who taught both of my kids, as well as Tina's.

On the way in, the organist saw me and wrapped me up in his arms, so happy to see me. {Eric & I took his son to the youth gathering in 2001!} He invited me to come see his music camp musical during the Sunday service, or at least the dress rehearsal happening in 2 hours.

I finally made it to Julie... her smile was as bright as mine, and she welcomed me with open arms. We chatted, caught up on our kids, and made a promise to make a lunch date soon.

This church will always have a element of "home" for us... it was where our kids met Jesus, where I thought they would be married... the church of their childhood. In 2005 we moved to our current church, closer to home and a chance to be part of a new mission. It is hard to believe we have now been here longer than we were there...

I called Eric, and he had time to come over to see the dress rehearsal with me... and it was fantastic. There were more hugs all around, a little unexpected police business, and then we drove away. How beautiful it was to be so welcomed... and the love they shared, the love of Christ, shone all around our day.

capturing december

It seems elusive... rushing along while you are trying to savor every moment.  Even as you are counting down the days, you sneak in a wish for one more hour, one more week.  But when the to-do's are finally done, and you think you might be ready to rest, the days are short and this month of hope has all but passed.   I have lost October, and most all of November... but I am hoping to capture December.  I want to celebrate the small, drink in the joy, and worship the King.

For once in my life, I planned ahead. Friday night, before our trek north, I laid out my plan.  To come home to it yesterday was a breath of relief, a promise not to just let this pass.  I've actually been planning since September... celebrating Advent with our youth group through October and November.  Because sometimes even church just becomes to busy to take time to wander through the wonder of Advent. And now, I feel ready... open to receive Him.  Truth be told, the story has already drawn me in, captured my heart, perhaps in a whole new way.
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If you want to peek in on something so special... click over to the Skit Guys and their First Christmas series. I'm not a video kind of girl, but this series of six short monologues drew me close and brought me to tears. Joseph standing in awe of Mary.  Elizabeth filled with wonder and joy.  Mary, just a girl from Nazareth.  An unlikely hero in the Innkeeper.  The chosen Shepherd, and the Wise Men, listening... seeking the signs, a star.  You can click over and watch each story {only Mary's is longer than 3 minutes!}... and I promise, you will be blessed.

the first of december

We had walked in once before... before she was settled, before she had made it her home away from home. We were timid and searching, but the arches that reached to the heavens took us in, reminded us of our first family church home.   On this morning, the first of December, the arches were graced with evergreen, banners and candles sang out of this waiting season, and the altar was covered in hope. Advent.  It filled me in a way I have not felt in months.  Filled me to overflowing.

Maybe it was the way the liturgies wrapped around my soul, a long lost memory that reached the surface and felt like home.  It could have been recognizing her voice among the others in the choir... that sweet high voice that I know by heart.  If I close my eyes I can still hear her small vibrato in the notes... and it almost does me in.  It is still a balancing act, having her there and here, and knowing she belongs in both places.

There are many that have helped her carve out her place... offering rides and lunches, knitting lessons and friendships... all the while just loving like Jesus.  It is no small thing to wrap someone's child into your heart, as if she were you own... and it was so special to reach out and thank them today.  It made the trip worth every mile.  

scenes from a {beautiful} weekend

a fiesta...

and Christmas celebration.

more than just walls

It has been many weeks since our little groups of teens sat and discussed the Creation story, but the dicussion is still fresh in my mind.  Each of us in turn shared something that struck them about the verses.  Most mentioned the fact that God created it all... but Cam took it a step further and what spoke to his heart the most was that once God created it all, He thought it was good.  It was one of those moments when a parent's heart feels full and deep down think they get it. 

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This Sunday we blessed our new church building. 

Giant key, ribbon cutting, special guests... the whole big deal.  And it was good. 

Though it was the second Sunday of worship in the new building, this was the Sunday that filled me.  Last Sunday seemed full of logistics and we-could-do-this-betters and oh-we-still-really-need-to-haves... and it left me cold.  But I chalked it up to it being trial run, a dress rehearsal.  

This Sunday was all that last Sunday was not.  Beautiful, Spirit-filled, joyful... warm.  A celebration.  A celebration of hard work, prayer, family and most of all,  Jesus.  As we sang Better is one day in your courts than thousands elsewhere; Your spirit is water to my soul, I felt the words and the life of the song all the way through my soul.  And that water, the living water?  It leaked right out my eyes and rolled down my face. 

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Cam is already at Boy Scout camp, and so he missed out on the church blessing... but it was him I thought of when two representatives from our church synod stood by the altar, looked out at our church body and said It is good.  Very good. 

be open

Our church building is becoming more magificent by the day... and as I watch it grow, my dreams grow alongside it.  And to walk through the Early Learning Center, that will be our mission, is to feel and know that God has so many more dreams to nourish.  Though the rooms are empty and the walls are blank, I can imagine the children who will laugh there... who will learn there... who will press their hands along the walls and mark it as Jesus has marked my own heart with His hands.  For a flash, I wish my kids were actually little again... but then the warm memories of their own preschool flood over me and I know that the Holy Spirit dwelled in that space, too.  And finding that space?  Oh... it was surely a gift straight from the Maker. 
Laura was signed up for a different pre-school.  All dressed up for the big first day, smile wide with nervous excitement and hands grasping a yellow beanie cat for courage, we arrived... and the doors were locked up, with no one in sight.  I never did find out what happened.  Home again, with plans dashed and one disappointed little girl, we started scouring the phone book... and of course, anywhere that we called was full with a waiting list.  There I sat, on the nubby green carpet with the yellow pages spread out before me... discouraged and as disappointed as she.  And then... this little memory of a little girl at a swim lesson snuck into my head.  She was signed up for preschool... and I seemed to recall her Mom saying there were only four kids in her class.  Four.  Certainly not full.  Fingers flew through the pages urging my brain to recall the name of that church... and finally, there it was.  I called... and was invited to head right over for a look.  I met Miss Sherry, and the rest was history.  Beautiful history, spanning two years each for my children and my nephew, one down and one to go for my niece... and all of the years in between.  A place to grow.And that little girl from swim class?  Charlotte.  Best friend of 14 years. 

Divine? 

I don't doubt it for a moment. 

It seems to be what he does best, if we let Him.

Beauty from ashes, success after many trials, trading joy for sorrow. 

Preschool learning is not just for the littles.  I am living proof.  From renewing my faith and beginning me on a true relationship with my Savior to simply being open to possibilities other than my own plans... the rewards and lessons are endless at an age, at every age. 

Be open. 

He has wonderful plans to carry out and dreams to nourish... some we haven't even thought to dream yet.

a memory and more

I settled into my seat and flipped through the bulletin... seeking a glimpse of what God had in store for me this Sunday morning.  A hymn I love, one I don't, a scripture I had never read... and then the Gospel Lesson.  The beatitudes.  I could feel the sigh slink out, and then the smile that snuck up on my face.  The beatitudes are some of the first verses I ever read... not on thin almost-see-through pages, but on colored glass around the church that was my start. 

A girl of ten doesn't quite give her full attention to the speaker before her, and seeks distraction to fill the time.  Daydreamer that I have always been, my eyes would always flee to the window.  Church was no different... except that I focused on the window itself rather than what was just beyond it.  The colors and the swirling vines delighted me, and the words etched themselves within me.  And even though I didn't quite understand them, I felt like we were kindred spirits, those window-words and me.

Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kindgom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God. 
-found in Matthew 5

Today, I find comfort in those words all over again, and with a lot more life behind me, the words stir my spirit and shed light on what is real, where my heart needs to be.  I know that my spirit must cling to God, because I need my Savior.  When my heart breaks over the world, it is in Him I can find comfort... peace.  And am I meek?  I have always believed so... and pictured my shy self peeking from my hiding place in the dark.  But His Light tells me meekness is humble patience... strength under control.  Strength not for my will, but for His purpose.  Maybe I need to take a step closer to meek.  And I am sure, at ten and twelve and twenty, I did not have an inkling about hungering or thirsting for God... but now, most days I crave Him.  I long to be more like Him, and show my little world less of me.  I yearn for the pureness that is Jesus.  And peace?  I yearn for that, too.  At every turn.

I am years and miles and so many states away from the church where I began... but the steeple that reaches into the sky, the sturdy wooden banister that rounds around the bell rope, the altar where I made promises for my life and the windows that declare me blessed will forever be... a part of me.

the building

It has been ages since the sight of a backhoe or bulldozer could elicit excitement from the passengers in my car.  There was a time when eyes were glued to the scenery just hoping that those earth movers would appear... and once one was spotted, it would be announced with glee...
Crane!
Steam-roller!
Bulldozer!
Mulch maker!
But those days... they have passed.  Or so I thought...
After years worth of months have passed, permits have been pulled, panther studies have been completed... and our church is building.  And just like that... the little boy excitement over tractors and such has come full circle and spilled over all of us.  Land has begun being cleared, outbuildings have been demolished... and with each driving by of the property, we squeal with excitement and wonder at the progress. 
This past Sunday we celebrated the Ground Breaking, and as golden shovels full of dirt were turned, the church sang and prayed and praised God.  The visions of what is to come is overwhelming... and beautiful.
We have built the church... a community of people who have come together over almost six years.
And now... we will build our place of worship.

All who follow Jesus all around the world!
Yes, we're the church together!
The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple
The church is not a resting place, the church is a people!
And when the people gather there's singing and there's praying,
There's laughing and there's crying sometimes, all of it saying:
I am the church! You are the church!
We are the church together!

sunday service

Sunday was our church's family Christmas celebration. Choir singing a cantata. Sunday school children in costume. PowerPoint playing in the background. Birthday party for Jesus.
My plan. Simply sit back and enjoy it, while sitting next to my Mom. I was looking forward to seeing all of the pictures scroll in sync with the full sound of the choir supporting the story. That was my plan.
God's plan. I did sit next to my Mom... with Chelsea on my lap. Perched there, she had a dual view of Laura singing in the choir and the photo show. She also had a long list of things to say... There's Laura! Oh! A present. A horse! A Donkey! Baby Jesus? There's Laura! Where's Baby Jesus? There's Camden! Whatsa manger? Having her sweet goodness in my arms reminded me of my own babies who no longer fit on my lap... And then there was Ian. At almost a year, he is as cute as can be... and I could hardly resist grabbing him up from his own Auntie as he played peek-a-boo with me around her head. His full-of-life smile tugged at my heart and reminded me that uncomplicated joy still exists if we let go of our stuff and just live. The music was elegant and lively all at once... and the solos sung by my daughter and my husband? Oh, they took my breath away. To have such courage to stand before the microphone and lift your voice in praise... stunningly beautiful in more than just the sound. Oh yes... and then there was the PowerPoint. I didn't watch too much of it, just enough to let Chelsea know when Laura or Cam's pictures were coming up. What I did watch? The kids, dressed in their costumes, sitting in the rows before me. Their laughter and surprise at their own photos, and the pointing fingers just reaching out in glee. And I watched the parents I could see... their smiles. Their own joy and love for their children expressed with their eyes and tears. Of course... then there was the story. Oh, the story. How many times have I heard it? or told it? And yet today... it was if my heart was hearing it for the first time. I sat there amazed... tears lingering. But when Pastor came and plucked up Ian and reminded us how the Word was made flesh... I could not contain nor hold back the tears. Joyful tears... joyful that Jesus came to the earth.
I cannot imagine why I am surprised that His plan was so much better than mine. And I cannot imagine why I even thought to have a plan. I did not, for one second, think to hold onto my own... I simply let go and fell into His... thankful for each and every precious breath...