If you caught my last post, you’ll know I was a mash-up of competing football loyalties this weekend. Let’s just say 3 out of 4 wins ain’t bad, and one contest pitted two of my favs against each other for an upset that has the whole SEC wondering what’s next.
All I’ve got to say about the hunt for a champ is “Roll Dawg Eagle” and may the best team win.
As for what I’m thanking God for this week? Years ago I would have labeled them life lessons and tried to be eloquently vague about them. Really, though, the best description is “Tough stuff that made me cry or rage at the time but changed me for the better.” I’m grateful for those changes because the woman being made through them is hands-down my favorite me. Continue reading “the tough stuff that made me”
This week I’m thanking God for the places that made me. I am a Southern girl through and through, but I admit that the Deep South is a complicated place to be from. For all our churches, hospitality, and genteel manners, we can’t deny a legacy of racism, classicism, illiteracy, and poverty. Turns out, though, we’re not the only place on the globe where humans hurt each other or just plain hurt. So I’ll keep being thankful that I’m a Southern girl, and I’ll keep pushing to change the things that need changing where I’m from and beyond.
So where exactly AM I from? I’m thankful to call four Southern states home–or perhaps I should say Southeastern Conference states. When I say I’m from the South, I mean all over it. And yes, I did just make reference to that hallowed football conference, the one that churns out the best games of the season every year.
Continue reading “the places that made me”
I’ve been bouncing back and forth between two faith-giants who spoke of obstacles on the path to fulfilling their purposes. The first is David. Pulled from the sheep field, anointed by God as king, and then forced to run for his life for years until he ascended the throne, David poured out his ups and downs through the Psalms. I’ve found strength and comfort in these songs of the faith and continue to work them into my prayer life just as the women and men of the Bible did. One passage that’s been particularly galvanizing for me as I’ve faced things like chronic anxiety, depression, or fibromyalgia pain is Psalm 142, especially verse 7:
Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.
Continue reading “One secret when the path is uncertain”
If you were asked to fill in the blank, “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not ___________ enough,” what would you say?
What would your 15-year-old say?
A few weeks ago, I asked 50 or so high school women just that. Here’s some of what they told me:
Sometimes, I feel like I’m not
They also talked of how they struggle to have enough time, energy, confidence, and friends to make it through their days.
Continue reading “3 truths teens need to hear “
Welcome back! This month we’re zeroing in on passages from Philippians and praising God for the “dream teams” He puts together. Spurred by Paul’s words, I thank my God every time I remember you, we’ve reflected on the fellow faith-warriors, encouragers, I’ve-got-your-back kind of people who, when monsters loom large, remind us God has a larger dream and bolder plan at work.
This week as I’ve jotted more notes, I have a silly confession: I actually do not know how to spell “Philippians.” I habitually use two L’s and one P or spell it like the Philippine islands. Even if I manage to spell it correctly, I doubt myself every time. My recourse is to rely on Spellcheck or simply abbreviate “Phil” and let the chips fall where they may. I chuckle that it irks me so much (yes, that recovering perfectionist in me still rears her head on occasion), but really, it should stick by now.
That’s because Phillipians-Philippines-Phil has been my favorite New Testament book since I was a 12-year-old at Maranook summer camp hearing it preached with fervor and learning to study the Bible for herself. You’d think I’d simply know.
One thing I do know, however, is the memory verse I learned that week at camp:
For I am confident of this very thing that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. Phil 1:6 NASB
Except I can do more than say it: I can still sing the camp song version complete with handclaps and thrilling shouts of ¡Arriba! (I’ll give you a taste of my impressive rendition at the end of this post.) Continue reading “how my “life verse” got fresh legs: dream team, part ii”
Hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, and now, mass violence. Shocked and reeling, we cry and pray, but truthfully, we also doubt and rage. Once again, we’re united with all others in the suffering that goes on throughout the world and has been since the first murder of an innocent person (Abel) by his enraged brother (Cain).
A few weeks ago, in the midst of Houston’s great flood I commented on the soul-level impact of tragedy even when we are on the outskirts. I think it bears repeating:
I discovered I was almost afraid to take significant time out to read my Bible and write in my journal. Maybe I was hiding from my conflicted feelings, not ready to bring my doubts and fears before God. I’m not exactly sure. Probably I was just completely overwhelmed like everyone else. Whatever the reason, that fear of taking time out to read, reflect, pray, and worship was something that needed to be addressed. That was the need of the day. I found Christ still there waiting for me and more than willing to restore my soul.
Psalm 116:7 would call this returning to the soul’s resting place. We draw close to Jesus and let His presence become bigger than our need to have all the answers. As we do so, we also find ourselves able to lift our heads and look for others. Yes, for those we can help in tangible, practical ways, but also for those who comprise our dream teams.
Continue reading “in good times or bad, who’s your dream team? “
I’m a muddy mix of post-Harvey feelings. I bet you are, too.
I’m grateful my neighborhood was spared the worst so we can be out there helping our city. I’m heartbroken over other’s losses. I’m also worried about my friends facing down Hurricane Irma, but I’m not sure how to help them. I want to know how long it’s going to take for us to recover, to feel normal again.
Longer than I’d like, I’m sure.
It’s not just the physical recovery either. I had two recent experiences that showed me the emotional toll of a disaster, even for people who didn’t lose their homes. Sunday night I awoke from a disturbing nightmare about flooding. I won’t recount the details. Too many people around me lived the real thing while our family stayed high and dry. Then, 2AM Wednesday, a short-lived thunderstorm rolled into Houston. I bolted up, crying out, “What’s happening?!” I’ve heard from other friends who reacted similarly, some taking shelter in closets in case of more tornadoes, and all of us worrying about other people.
And we are the ones who lost nothing in the physical sense. I can’t fathom the trauma of people who lost homes, cars, jobs, or family. What is abundantly clear, however, is that all of us need grace and time to heal.
Continue reading “why you’re headed toward harvey helper burnout (and what to do about it)”