High Heels & Duct Tape

Do I Have What it Takes?

I didn't mean to be a mom.

Initially, I mean. It was the weekend I turned 21 years old; I'd been married less than 2 years. We returned from a trip to LA for a friend's wedding, and I took a pregnancy test. Surely not. But...?

I took the test, set it down, and began the longest 30-second wait of my life. Just then, the door buzzed. The UPS guy was delivering a package to our apartment. By the time Eric retreived the package, two very distinct lines showed on the stick thingy.

Holy, moly. I was pregnant. 

I've NEVER been one of those women who said, "I want a baby! I want kids!"

I hated babysitting.

I was going to have a kid of my own. Braden was born in April, and he was the coolest kid ever. So easy to deal with. So much fun. So smart. Everybody liked him. He (being his mother's son) was famous for correcting the pronunciation of dinosaur names as people read him his Dino books.

A few years later, we had Holland. I had been coaching competitive cheerleading, so when I found out she was a girl, I was like, "Noooooo!" I'd already had enough girl drama. But Holland was adorable. She had Shirley Temple ringlets.

20 months later, along came Aidan, followed swiftly by a vasectomy. (TMI, I know.) Aidan's name means fiery one. Silly us. As you know, he's our rockstar. 

When Aidan was born, we were living in Zimmerman, and Eric was living out his workaholism at our church in Brooklyn Park. I was very happy but kinda on my own. Two weeks into being a mother of three, I realized I did NOT have what it took to do this mom thing without losing my mind.

Do you feel like you don't have what it takes to live out the calling on your life right now? Whether it's motherhood or a career change or a relational struggle or caring for an elderly parent, this question might be in your mind.

This Mother's Day weekend at The Crossing, I'm going to tell you you have what it takes. And I'm going to share with you from scripture just how I know that's true.

If you're not in the area, we livestream at 11:35 this Sunday.

Have a beautiful day!

Don't Take My Food!

It was 7:50 a.m., and we had just dropped Braden off at school. Staff meeting doesn't start till 9, so we had more than an hour available to us. We decided to go to Panera for coffee. We generally don't eat breakfast (or not until 10), but, faced with Panera's dazzling array of yummies, we chose a sausage & gouda souffle to snack on. Low carb, since we're making an effort to slim down a bit.

We filled our coffee cups and sat at a booth (being kinda particular about coffee, I'm surprised theirs is so good). With only one fork, we casually took turns picking away at the souffle.

For years, I've struggled with sharing food with my husband. Here are the reasons: He doesn't pay alot of attention to his food, and eats quickly. This means that he gets more than me, and he will mindlessly finish whatever we're sharing, leaving me with (what I perceive) is not enough.

A few times we've had this conversation, and I may have even blogged about him finishing the cake (thus, hurting my feelings). I have learned to strategically divide the food and get my own plate so I can eat slowly instead of competing with him and failing to enjoy my food.

I've even told him that the sign of true love is handing the last bite of something you really like, to the person you love. (Meaning, he should give it to me. Rarely does it go the other way. Huh.)

Back to the souffle. With about a 2-inch piece left, he pushed the plate away, making a dismissive gesture, leading me to believe he was finished. I didn't think much about it (since I'm not really hungry), but subconsciously assumed the rest was for me to finish. I let it sit there, a little slice of God's goodness availabe to me when I'm ready to reach for it. 

And a minute later, he (TOTALLY UNAWARE) grabs it and pops all but a tiny crust in his mouth. He catches my look and hands me the half-inch crust, smiling because he thinks he's being nice by giving me the last bite. But ... but ... it wasn't the good bite I was looking forward to! It was a crumb! And he'd done it again: managed to offend me by eating "my" food.

And of course, I had to say something about it. WHY must I always talk? I shoulda smiled and said thank-you. But I (only slightly offended) said, "Hey! I thought that was mine!" "Huh?" He had no idea. "Yeah. You pushed it away. I was saving it!" Well, he felt badly and gave me the sad lower lip, and I immediately regretted saying anything. He's a sweetheart, and he didn't mean to be insensitive. I apologized for making him feel bad, and the moment passed, but it reminded me of something I've been reading/thinking about lately.

What's the mindset that causes me to be frustrated when he takes "my" bite?

A poverty mindset. A pauper mindset.

I'll never get a taste of this ever again. There's not enough for both of us. I have to hold on to my "treat". In a few minutes (or days), I'm gonna need to feed myself or treat myself, and--God forbid--I won't have what I need.  

My. Word. The souffle is $3.99. I can go buy another one. I can go buy six.

Why am I concerning myself with the crumbs like some kind of peasant girl, when I'm backed by the Royal Treasury? Not just in Panera today, but in life. 

It's a food issue. It's a money issue. It's a time issue. It's a whatever-I-think-I-have-or-might-need issue. It's not new. I've preached and blogged about it before. It's even in my book that I will one day publish. But it's a THING that affects SO MANY of us.

We're royalty. Sons and daughters of the KING, who assures us we're loved - He already gave up His most prized possession [JESUS] in order to pay for our adoption into His family! How much more will He make sure we have the simple things like food, clothes, car, home, joy, peace, chocolate...

Why do we insist on holding onto what we think will make us feel good? Why do we refuse to share? Why do we freak out when somoene else "eats" what we think should be ours? Why do we eat and eat and eat or hoard or hide out of fear that we'll never get good things EVER again? 

If we have our daily bread today (He says He'll provide it), why not assume He'll provide it again tomorrow?

A pauper mentality. I've had it my whole life. God has broken it in me over recent years, but every now and then it rears its ugly head, and I have to renew my thinking once again.

Rockstar in a Robe

This week I had the blessed privilege of making a friend with whom I intend to do ministry for a very long time. Her name's Hannah. On Thursday night, I spent a couple minutes "interviewing" her at an event at The Crossing (she preached the night before).

As we talked, she (being extremely REAL), told The Crossing people (including lots of people in recovery) about a time in the not-so-distant past when she was struggling with faith. She said she was on Skype with a mutual friend of ours who happens to be a rock star (legit), and he was talking her off the ledge, "Hannah, you can't quit! You're trapped! [In Jesus!]"

This was cool, but the funny part was she said he was wearing a robe. "Are you wearing a ROBE?" "Uh, yeah..." Now, I don't know why he was wearing a robe. As we talked about this, we joked about his age, cuz, y'know, when you get to be "our" age (not Hannah's...she's just a baby compared to us old folks), you get cold easily. 

But anyway, my point. At the end of the segment, I prayed over our people. I prayed for those who were thinking of quitting. Quitting faith, sobriety, marriage, whatever. I specifically prayed for those who were angry about what God might be asking them to release to Him. And I told them that's why we have sponsors. So that when we need to be talked off the ledge, there's someone ready, willing, indeed, called to do this for us! "You can't quit! You're trapped in the grace of Jesus!" It might not be a rockstar in a robe, but now that I think of it, sponsors really are rockstars, sometimes in robes, when they take that 2 a.m. call after the bar is closed and the sobriety wagon has rolled off into the night hours ago.

Today, you might need to call your sponsor. Your friend who you know will speak truth over your life when you're tempted to believe the lies. Who will tell you to hold on to Jesus for just 24 more hours. Or 24 more seconds. 

If you're thinking to yourself, well, that's great, Kelly, but I don't have a rockstar in a robe.

Actually, you do. His name's Jesus. (Check the pictures. He wore a robe.) And He came to this world LIKE A BOSS (thx, Hannah), and kicked Death in the face. Not just Death, but all his cousins: addiction, anger, bitterness, regret, guilt, pain, low self-worth, fear, and the list goes on. 

No, He can't Skype with you. He can do better. When you call on Jesus, His Spirit, (called the Comforter) will reach into your heart and touch the places no human can reach. He knows every tiny thing about you (see Psalm 139) and knows exactly what you need. He solves your fundamental problem: separation from God, your Creator and the designer of your destiny, lover of your soul. Jesus footed the bill for your forgiveness and freedom. Just receive it and say thank you. And lie back and relax in the comfort of His love. You don't have to do anything to achieve it. He WILL take care of you.

John 6:29 says, "Jesus told them, “This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one he has sent.” Our hope is not the 12 steps, our friends, our works or good behavior. It's solely found in our Rockstar Jesus who will lay face-melting grace on us in the moments when we think we least deserve it. Your job? Believe that's the truth. You are deeply loved. Highly favored. Greatly blessed. TOTALLY RIGHTEOUS. Destined to reign [over your struggles & challenges!]. Because of Jesus.

You got this. This pastor chick in a hoodie wants you to know you can't quit. You're trapped in the grace of Jesus! Let Him pull you off the ledge and into His arms today.

 

 

The Morning After

Sitting in the hotel lobby, waiting for Mom & Dad Dykstra to show up. We're headed for Cracker Barrel. Super excited because I'll get to eat fried okra. You Minnesotans are very unfortunate people, having not had access to fried okra while growing up, as I did. You can find it at Dickie's BBQ and Cracker Barrel. Also Toby Keith's I Love this Bar & Grill. Please let me know if you find it anywhere else.

My thought for pastors/ church staff/ ministry leaders today: We are left exhausted after Easter. We are vulnerable, after opening our hearts and pouring out everything we had in ministry this past weekend. Today: Beware the attacks that the Enemy will inevitably throw at you after a hard-fought battle in which he lost. When we are spent, we sometimes drop our shield. PUT UP YOUR SHIELD OF FAITH TODAY. Quench the (predictable) post-Easter attack.

Pastors & PW's. today you'll see tweets and blogs and posts about how fabulous everyone's Easter was. How many gazillions of people came to their churches, and how many were saved or baptized. Trust me, SOMEONE had more "success" than you this weekend. Do not measure your success against theirs. Even though you know the truth, that you are called & commissioned for YOUR ministry, it's so easy to get blindsided by enemy lies the day after Easter.

Put up your shield of faith. FAITH. Trust that God did everything this weekend that He wanted to, through you, and don't try to qualify, quantify, validate, or invalidate anything He did or didn't do.

Rest today. Enjoy your family. Say thank you. Pray for your teams. Have a Sabbath.

Next weekend starts tomorrow.

It's Absolutely Everywhere.

Evidence of Aidan.

His hat (aka "Hattie" - yes, he named his hat-), Kindle, backpack, and Stories necklace are on the kitchen counter. (Out of the 50 outlets in our house, he has to plug his Kindle in on the kitchen counter?)

His machine gun and pajama shirt are in the living room.

Two of his school books are on the floor in the back porch where I'm sitting. His snow boots are in here too.

Two days' worth of clothes and his sleeping bag, pillows, blankets, etc., are on the floor in my bedroom where we let him sleep for the last two nights.

A bowl full of Lego pieces are on the table, put there by me as I find them around the house. 

Out the kitchen window, I see a yellow bucket he left in the neighbor's yard.

Every time I turn around, I see evidence of Aidan. He doesn't do it on purpose, and if I refrain from being annoyed, I can be glad, because one day he won't be here.

***

Every time I turn around, I see evidence of Jesus. Unlike Aidan, He does it on purpose, and If I take time to notice, I can be grateful, because He'll always be here.

The thunder that woke me up early this morning says Spring is finally coming, and the rain washed the snow off my deck.

The sunshine that's flashing in my eyes as I type this says He brings light and warmth.

The chocolate cake Martin's mom made and sent along when he came to spend the night...evidence of Jesus' love for me. :)

The river opening up has brought the geese and swans back. We refilled the bird feeders, and the singing has begun again. We saw an owl yesterday, and the eagles are hunting. We saw a baby duck paddling along yesterday (clearly he didn't know the eagles were hunting...wince...) 

900 people have been to Easter services at The Crossing so far, and 19 of them were baptized in the last two nights. I had the privilege of personally knowing four who were baptized last night, and I couldn't have been happier.

Jesus is working in people's lives all around us, and we're lucky (blessed) enough to get to see it. 

This is Jen, surrounded by Crossing staff girls, who have been praying for her for a long time. We are so proud of Jen! [Also check out Kelsey's hair. Yes, she did it with Kool-Aid.]

These are Eddie and Aaron, being baptized by their parents, John & Peg. One of the almost-original families of The Crossing, it was SO COOL to get to be a part of what this family experienced last night.

And this is Adam, being baptized by his friends David & Britney, who brought him to The Crossing where he found the unconditional love of Jesus, and we got a great keyboardist out of the deal. :)

On Thursday night, a person who came to The Crossing for the first time, invited by someone they did not know, accepted Jesus and was baptized!

Last night I met a friend of a Crossing staffer, right before the service. She was there for the first time. I watched at the end of the service, as she walked to the front with the others who had chosen to accept Jesus.

The Holy Spirit of God is working in people's hearts. Seeds have been planted across the years, here and there, like Aidan's Legos around the house. And then through a simple conversation or coincidence, there's a turning point, and the life blooms; the harvest is brought with rejoicing. 

For a year and a half, I've been praying Psalm 126 over The Crossing. I believe now is our time. I'm watching. The evidence is all around. God is doing it. We are not. We're not putting on a big show this Easter, we're not bribing people to come (this time); we're opening the doors and telling people about God's love and grace. He's returning His children to the family, one life at a time.

Who's next? Tonight or tomorrow, it might be your friend. It might even be you.

The Awesomest Non-Christian You Know

I'm still sick. I got "it" last Friday, and I still feel rotten today. (Maybe worse. It's stupid. Especially since I keep telling it to go away in the name of Jesus. Hmph.) Anyway, Eric took me home from work early this afternoon (I think the Crossing staff was tired of me sighing, sniffing, and mouth-breathing). When I got home, I decided to go downstairs and play Skip-Bo with Braden and catch up on the last few episodes of Ellen.

Ellen is a really. nice. person. She seems totally bent on making the world a better place. Love, peace, positive energy, tolerance, helping people. The whole deal...that's what Ellen does. Plus, she's hilarious, but that doesn't have anything to do with my point. A couple months ago, when we (finally) got DVR capabilities, that's the show I started recording. She gives me ideas for Twirl. And she's hilarious. But I already said that.

But today when I was watching, I was struck by just how lovely her "correspondent" Jeannie is. I mean, that girl is delightful. She's got a fabulous job (traveling around doing nice things for people), so who wouldn't be cheery...but still, you can just tell she's an awesome person, genuinely. Always smiling but not annoying. Like if you sneezed all over her, she'd apologize. Know what I mean?

As my sick-addled brain-train kept barreling down this track, I thought the thought that I think many Christians think: "Too bad she's not a Christian." Then I thought, that's dumb. Maybe she is. Then I realized, that's not really the station I wanted to stop at. I kept going. Next stop, I think to myself: God created her soooo naturally awesome, I can only imagine the crazy amazing things He'd have for her to do if she walked into His plan for her life! Clearly He designed her to draw people to herself...and himself...wow...I really hope she doesn't miss it.

Same direction, different track: God created Ellen so very funny and with such a big heart to help people, what if she let Him add His "super" to her "natural"... World. Changing.

Then I thought of you. Who is the awesomest non-Christian you know?

Close your eyes and imagine for a minute... what if that person's natural, God-designed awesomeness was enhanced and empowered by His Spirit, direction, and blessing? What kind of incredible life might they live? What influence, joy, favor, and world-bettering might mark that life?

What if YOU were the one who cast that vision to them and invited them to the higher-level life they were created for?

Try it. Tell 'em you think God made them "above-average"! Tell 'em to imagine a life with His favor and blessing. Tell 'em you know how they can walk into that. 

It might be like that one time when Ellen found Jeannie and lifted her up into a life she'd only dreamed of. Check it out:

  

And then invite your friends to come HERE for Easter.

Don't Freak Out.

Last week (around Tuesday or Wednesday) I got some news that was stressful. I gave it to God and decided I wouldn't worry about it or start working on the solution until Monday. I knew it was something I'd need to deal with, but I also knew it was something God would handle for me, so I decided to wait until Monday to even have conversations about it; with myself (in my head), with God, or with the parties involved.

I refused to worry about it. Until Monday.

Every time it popped in my head, I thanked God that He'd already taken care of it, and pushed it right back out of my mind.

Yesterday was Monday. I was still feeling horrible from this cold/flu thing I have, and I thought, "I'm still not going to mess with this today." Then I got some secondary news that the initial news was probably slightly incorrect. As in, it's not looking as bad as it did last week. Sorry I'm being vague, but the details truly don't matter that much. :)

I am SO GLAD I didn't freak out last week and try to fix the problem, or make phone calls, or sit down and try to figure it all out. I just waited, and God started shifting the situation for me.

Psalm 27:14 says, "Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord."

It takes courage to swallow your instinct to freak out, and just wait a bit for God to make the answers a little clearer, or to start shifting the situation. Especially when the bill says, "Due immediately." Or the relational rift looks final. Or you think that person's answer is the end. It LOOKS so final. But maybe it's not.

Sometimes, when you're faced with a problem/struggle/bill/diagnosis/stressful news, it's a good idea to put a time frame on your "no worries" period. 24 hours. 3 days. (God raised Jesus from the dead in 3 days. What if you asked Him to fix your problem within 3 days? And if He doesn't, well, tell Him you'll take whatever action He says at that point.) Kinda like staying sober 24 hours at a time. You might be surprised to find that what you believe to be so bad...isn't.

Yesterday morning Eric received some news that was really discouraging. I watched his face, praying, as I could see the battle in his heart. To freak out, or not to freak out? Instinctively, I wanted to tell him all the reasons he shouldn't freak out. But this was his test; not mine. I asked him what I've learned is really the only non-nagging approach: "What's the truth?"

"You mean besides the literal truth? The news I just got?"

"No, what's the overarching truth over your life?" [Crossing people will know that I was hoping he'd say something brilliant like, "I am deeply loved, highly favored..."] :) But he didn't. He just looked back down at his Bible and didn't say anything else. He chose not to freak out. From what I can tell, he didn't let it affect his day. And trust me, I'm really good at knowing if stuff is affecting him.

Late last evening, I received an email that said (essentially) that the news he'd received yesterday morning was blatantly incorrect. Like not even close to right. We actually had good news instead of bad.

He had passed the test.  He waited. And God completely reversed the verdict.

I wonder if, had we had freaked out, God would've let the negative stand. Since we didn't trust Him anyway, He'd let us work our way through it. Not that He's spiteful, but that if we choose to deal with stuff on our own, He will respect our wishes and let us.

Instead, I believe He rewarded our un-freak-out-ness and blessed us instead.

Don't freak out! Wait God out! He's got something good for you today. 

 

P.S. Grab a friend & come to church on Easter. www.crossing-church.com.

8 Hours in Haiti

I spent today making Haitian food in my very own kitchen. Y'know, my kitchen with the electric stove, running water, sharp knives, and groceries to spare. As opposed to the Haitian food I had on Monday that was prepared in bowls on the ground, cooked over propane burners or between layers of charcoal. With no running water and not a proper paring knife to be found. Made by a few women with nimble fingers and huge hearts, who worked all morning long on a feast to share with strangers. 

It was a day I will not forget.

The day I spent 8 hours in Haiti. 

Yep, just 8 hours.

Eric and I left straight from church on Sunday and headed for Lindbergh terminal, where, instead of our typical Sunday afternoon nap, we dined on airport food (it was yummy) and awaited our flight to Miami, via Chicago. Finally climbing out of the shuttle and checking into our hotel at midnight, we turned out the lights only to be awakened exactly 4 hours later to leave for Haiti.

We landed at 9:30 and cruised through customs. Stepping into the dusty courtyard with a hundred people milling around, we tried to look confident as we searched for a man holding a sign that said The Crossing. We were met by a handsome gentleman wearing a bright white polo shirt and shades, looking very much like Usher. We liked him immediately. Mostly because he was rescuing us, but also because he's really cool. And he's a doctor. Didie is his name, and he works for Hunger Relief International, the organization that oversees the orphanage we sponsor.

Didie took us to a small pickup truck where we spent the next 45 minutes alternating between awe of our surroundings and hysterical laughter at how insane the traffic is. I couldn't help cracking up as we played chicken with oncoming vehicles and narrowly avoided collision at least 30 times. I wasn't scared, because, well, it wasn't my car! And most of the time we weren't going fast enough to be severely injured if we crashed. It. Was. Awesome. I marvelled at how many vehicles in Port Au Prince retain their side mirrors. It should not be possible.

We arrived at the orphanage, and it's surrounded by cinder block walls, just like everything else in Port Au Prince. Presumably to keep theives out, but the gate doesn't really lock. Some of the walls are crumbly because of the earthquake and because, well, it's Haiti. When I asked, Didie told me, "Haiti was bad before the earthquake. The earthquake just made it worse."

Christy and Grayson were the only ones from our team who knew Eric and I are going to show up in the middle of their trip. They met us at the gate so they could film our surprise entrance. On the way, we said hello to the women who were in the courtyard busy cooking the aforementioned feast. 

See, usually, the kiddos eat 2 meals a day (provided by HRI). Noodles for breafast, and rice & beans for dinner. There may be other things, but I got the impression that's about it. So having a big meal in the middle of the day was definitely a treat. Our team had given money to the ladies, who went and bought chicken(!) and other yummy stuff.

There are 30 kiddoss, and they are truly delightful. I never saw them argue or fight even once! I realized that they literally have nothing to fight over. NOTHING. We stepped through the building, and when I say through, that's what I mean. You kinda walk indoors/outdoors all the time. There are few real doors. A couple rooms do have locked doors (food storage, supply storage) because everything not locked may be stolen. From what I understand, the laid-back nature of the Haitians leads to not much violent crime, but the poverty leads to theft.

Back to the story. We stepped through and found our (surprised) Crossing team hanging out with the children, mostly holding them. The youngest orphan is 6, so imagine children ages 6+ just wanting to be held. More than anything else, affection speaks to the soul of a child.

This works well for me, because, well, I'm just not fabulous at playing with children. As soon as they were old enough, I taught my kids to play Uno and SkipBo so I could "play" with them in a way that didn't make me crazy. I'm weird. Don't judge. So...my (shhh) fears about playing with children for a few hours were allayed when I realized they just wanted to be held and talked to. I bonded most with Francine. She fell asleep on my shoulder. I fell in love with her. 

I learned to say Mesi (mah-SEE), which is thank-you, and tre bel (tray-bell), which is very pretty. And that's about it. The oldest girl is 17, and she and I looked through the pictures on my phone so I could show her my kiddos. She did point out Braden, and ask, "he your son?" Yep, my kid's a looker, even to a Haitian girl. She was tre bel too. 

Everyone had to try on my sunglasses and pose for pictures in them. By the time I left, they were SOBAR (stretched out beyond all recognition). And my hair had so many little hands in it...I truly believe that was the true test of my day. Enduring all the hair-touching. I have a thing about my hair and face being touched. I avoid getting my hair cut because my scalp's so tender (and it's very boring to sit that long, but that's a story for another day.)

Here's how my text convo with Holland went when we got back to cell service:

Me: "...the kids are really happy though. They LOVED putting their hands all in my hair."

Holland: "I bet you LOVED that."

Me: "Haha you know your mom very well."

Eric and I toured the building with Davidson, the man who lives there and runs it.  We saw the school room (where we danced to Rhianna. Well, I danced. The kids danced. Eric did not.), the office, the roof, where the non-working (because it's electric & there's no electricity) water tank sits (we bought them a generator!), the toilets (three; they flush using 5-gal buckets), the shower (where you dump a bucket of water on yourself), and the sleeping rooms. Here's the girls' room, where we stopped to talk with Christy, Davidson, and Didie about their needs. Grayson was filming.

Davidson's son is Terrence. He's like the mascot of the place. Every time we turned around, he was taking a whizz wherever he happened to be standing outside. It was the funniest thing.

We had our feast at 1 pm. Eric and I helped our team fill plates and serve the food. They had brought the school benches down from the rooftop room and put them in the front patio. A woman showed us how much food to put on each plate. It was a TON. My kids could never eat that much, but I'm told they eat every bit of their food at every meal. I guess that's what not-snacking will do for you. 

I saw this young man wearing a yellow thing on his head & realized Luke was missing the sleeves off his t-shirt. :) So I added the shades & he struck a pose. Behind him was the "special" table set for our team. I can't begin to explain how it felt to be treated so well by those with so little. What looks like a tablecloth in this picture is actually two towels. The ladies made this dinner as fancy as they could.

Here was the crazy thing: we finished filling 30+ plates and returned to the front patio to say the blessing, and those kiddos were seated politely with their plates in front of them, and no one had taken a single bite. My family can't walk from the kitchen to the table without sneaking a bite. What training; what politeness. I was amazed. 

(That's Francine in the pink.)

Eric and I had to say goodbye before everyone was finished, as we had a stop to make before returning to the airport. Six of us piled into the truck again and headed out to what I would call the "country". (We bounced around like dice in a Yahtzee cup. Grayson and I are now far closer than we ever were before, after that experience. Also I need to go to the chiropractor.)

Some time ago, God gave Davidson's late father some land for a new orphanage. They began building but lost their funding. We asked to be driven there, where we walked around, prayed over Davidson and the land, and got a picture of what life could be like for these children. If they could live there, it would be beyond wonderful. They could have a garden. Goats. Chickens, maybe. And a yard. People, those children do not have a blade of grass where they live. Instead, the could live here:

A fenced-in property with a maybe even a septic and a well and electricity! Imagine!

So we left with a plan: find the support and get these kiddos a new home. And see God build Davidson's faith. That what God began with his dad would be continued through him. And that God hasn't forgotten Compassion For All orphanage. I know I won't. Prior to this week, I cared about the children we were supporting. I thought our monthly support gave them some semblance of a good life. I suppose it does, but I was smacked in the face with the harsh reality that from my ivory tower, I do NOT get a good picture of what people really need. This 8-hour trip opened my eyes and lit in me a passion to do more. 

First thing I wanted to do was head to the store & get those kiddos some new bed sheets. But guess what? We can't ship stuff to Haiti. It will never reach the intended recipients. Plus, their economy desperately needs us to do our purchasing there; not in Elk River. So I'm learning stuff like that, and I'm gonna do more about it.

I've also learned how to make diri kole (rice & beans) (the secret flavor is cloves!), also the chicken "gravy" to pour over it, and pikliz (Google it. I'm too tired to explain. It's delicious.) We ate Haitian food in our home today. It is cheap. If we did that a couple times a week, we could spend more money on Haitians. Interesting.

This is the end of a very long post. Thanks, Mom, for reading it to the end. I'm guessing no one else got this far. ;)

Love you! 

P.S. The next trip is in August/September. Let me know if you want to go.

"Rad", Chicken, Holy Water, and My Mom

So my man's out hobnobbing with a rockstar tonight & I'm home with the two little kiddos. (Don't tell Aidan & Holland I still refer to them as the little kids. But Braden's almost 16, and Holland and Aidan are 20 months apart, so they're the little ones.)

For real, though, Eric & Braden are south of Chicago tonight, hanging with Brian "Head" Welch from Korn. We met when he came to The Crossing last year, and the connection kinda stuck. We pretty much love that guy, and Eric has made it his goal to make Brian a preacher. The anointing of God is on him in a strong way, so we're excited to see what God does. It'll be rad. (Brian says rad alot. I still don't think I can pull off the regular use of rad, but he says I can, and he's the rockstar, so....hmmm...) [Update: They texted me this pic at 1 am.]

If you are looking for spiritual inspiration, come back a different day or go through my archives. Tonight's just about what's up this evening. It's for my friends across the country who find me amusing; or just for my mom.

Speaking of my mom, she and dad live in LA (Lower Alabama), living with & caring for my grandma until she goes on to Heaven. Mom told me this morning that she overheard grandma tell someone the other day, "The food's not too bad here." She gets a little confused & thinks she's in the hospital. She did mention she doesn't care for the eggs. We got a chuckle out of that. Sometimes you have to chuckle so you don't cry. I'm really proud of my mom for caring for her mother-in-law for the past 4+ years.

I went to Costco with Kelsey last week & picked up two whole chickens for like $1 per pound. They've been sitting in my fridge for nearly a week, so tonight when I walked in the door from work, I bit the bullet and pulled 'em out. I successfully avoided gagging while unwrapping, removing all the nasty stuff from inside their body cavities, rinsing, salting them down, and throwing a few onions into them. Stuck 'em each in an open pan, threw them in a 350 degree oven, and forgot about them.

No, really, I forgot about them. For like 2 hours. While watching Wizards of Waverly Place with Holland & Aidan, I suddenly remembered, ran upstairs and pulled them out. Perfect. It's actually very easy to roast a chicken. Or a turkey. You newlyweds or newlytryingtocooks, don't be intimidated by them. Or just give me a call when you're fixing to make it & I'll encourage you.

Speaking of cooks and me being helpful, someone (coughKelseycough) asked me the other day about putting a frozen roast in a crock pot. Answer: Don't. Thaw overnight in the fridge first. Also don't thaw in warm water. That breeds bacteria. [Think of it like a hotel hot tub. ~icky~] If you're in a royal hurry, find something else to cook. Or -sigh- if you must, thaw it in the microwave, but that's just unreliable & doesn't thaw evenly.

She asked me how I know that kind of stuff (clearly overlooking my age and 18-year marriage) and I said, "My Mom." Another reason my mom is awesome. She taught me stuff like that. Or, more accurately, I called her and asked a lot of questions in my first couple years of marriage.

Back to the chickens: A little while later, I spent about 20 minutes de-boning them & now I have this much chicken in my freezer, ready for whatever I need cooked chicken for. [Yes, Tracy, I just ended that sentence with a preposition.]

THEN I took the carcases (I didn't work too hard to pick them clean; that's just not fun) and threw them in a big pot of water, which is boiling on my stove now, making broth for soup. I'll freeze it. Important: When you do this, boil/simmer for a couple hours or whatever, then strain it. Then put it in the fridge (or front porch in MN winter) until the fat separates & forms a layer on the top. Overnight is best because it gets really firm. Scrape all that off & you've got a nice, non-fatty broth.

Later, to make soup, just boil & add stuff like chopped onions, garlic, chicken, carrots, and some egg noodles. Salt & pepper to taste, add Siracha sauce or cayenne pepper in your bowl if you like spice.

You're thinking, "This is NOT a cooking blog." 

Nope. But it's mine, and I'm doing cookish stuff right now.

Speaking of boiling things, how do you make holy water?

Take regular water and boil the hell out of it. 

:)

Just a Normal Day

This past weekend, I spoke at The Crossing. In preparation for preaching, I prayed more than I ever have before. Not that I don't usually pray. But lately God's been doing some really amazing stuff through prayer (including answering "yes" to the most trivial prayers). And He's doing stuff we can't accomplish on our own.

So despite a busy week in the office and less time than usual set apart for writing/studying, I prayed more. Rather than building myself up with more study and writing notes and going over what I planned to say, I went instead with the instruction given in Jude 1:20: "...build yourselves up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit."

I guess I figured if I had some time, I'd be better off asking the power of God to download everything I need instead of trying harder in my own power. So I prayed. A lot.

***

This morning, I was beginning Just a Normal Day.

And I thought, why on earth don't I pray just as intensely on Just a Normal Day?

I mean, really, life is made up of Normal Days. There's only the occasional Big Opportunity like I had this weekend. And if I were to mess up my Big Opportunity, well, it's just one event.

On the other hand, Normal Days have far more capacity for awesome or awful. Decisions I make, words I say, thoughts that develop attitudes and play out in habits... Normal Day-in and Day-out make up the real whole of my life. A whole lot of little errors on Normal Days have the potential to be way more damaging than one big blunder on a Big Opportunity. "Death by a thousand paper cuts," they say. 

Why, oh, why, wouldn't I pray just as fervently--or more--on a Normal Day? Is it because with a Big Opportunity, I could fail in front of hundreds or thousands? Really, if I think about it, my Normal Days add up to affect generations. I really don't want to mess that up.

So I'm upping my prayers for this Year of Faith. I'm asking God to download everything I need for my Normal Days so the whole of my life is infused with His power...not just my Big Opportunities.