(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

When You Carry Your Father's Wounds
Jun 21, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray




Some of us grow up — or end up — soaking up the wounds of those we love.   We may have found the inner strength in those moments to carry ourselves through.  But, there will come a time to remember.  There will come a time to heal.

I was standing in the toy store aisle.

Frozen.

I didn't know what to do.

It was going to be our last visit together, after my parent's divorce. But, I didn't know it at the time.  I was a little girl.

My father wanted to buy me a toy. But, my mother didn't want me to return home with one. I wasn't supposed to take anything from him.

So, I told him I didn't want anything.  I was okay.

But, I wasn't.

Frozen
It's funny how the most terrible memories of the past can smooth out over the years to simply become a story you tell yourself. It's a familiar scene that unrolls every now and then.  What he said.  What I said.  How the floor of the store shimmered under the gloss of florescent lights.  How happy my little sister was, picking toys off the shelf, like she won the lottery.

But, I never realized all the emotions I felt at that moment could be frozen inside me.  I am learning that some of the stories that I've merely viewed as childhood memories are still live events — behind the steel trap door of my heart.

No, I haven't buried them.

No, I haven't forgotten about them.

I've simply moved past them.

By being strong.

By surviving.

By growing up.

By depending on God — in the sincerity of my heart — to move myself further away from the little girl in me.  Who was afraid.  Who didn't know what to do.

But deep inside, that little girl is still there.  Deep where I've never had any need for fear, confusion or neediness, there is a part of me who very much alive:  the girl in me who carries my father's wounds.

You can't see that part of me looking on the outside.

I certainly didn't.

Until recently.

The Right Thing
I started remembering — the look in my father's eyes.

"Daddy can't be with you anymore..." His voice stumbles.  His head drops.  I notice how straight his hair is parted to the side, as he crouches low.

I start to feel very nervous.  It doesn't feel right somehow.  Him.  So low.  So close.  Too low.  Too close.

"Daddy just... wants... to..."  He starts to choke back tears.  Swallows hard.  Looks straight into my eyes.  I see pain.

He struggles to finish his sentence.  Tries again.  "Daddy... just... wants to... buy you a toy."

I can't tell you exactly what was running through my mind.

But, I know how I feel right then and there.  Thickness fills my little body from the top of my head down, dropping down through the beating heart in my chest, to the bottom of my feet.

I feel trapped.

I don't know what is the right thing to do anymore.

I am afraid.

What should I do?  What will happen if I did one thing — or the other?

Who will happen to him?  What will happen to her?

What will happen to me?

Wounds
As I stood there at the checkout register, with my father pulling out paper bills from the wad of cash he kept in his pocket, I felt frozen again.  Fearful for what would happen after my ride home in his olive green Nova with the peeling roof.

I didn't want him to pay for our new toys with his hard-earned cash.

But, as he placed the plastic bag of toys into my hands and tried to reassure me, "It's gonna be okay... It's gonna be okay...", I knew it wasn't going to be that way at all.

I am learning that day I took that plastic bag was also the day I began to carry my father's wounds in my heart.  These weren't wounds he inflicted on me.  They were ones I saw opening up in him.

These were wounds I tried to avoid by taking that toy back home with me.

These were wounds I wanted to soak up in me by my doing the right thing.

Things didn't turn out okay that day.

Even though I tried to do the right thing.

Stay Here
As I walked through this memory, with Jesus in the picture now as a grown up, I discovered a heart-altering realization.

I know, Bonnie.  Jesus whispers.

I know this wound, Bonnie. 

What do you want me to do?  I ask Jesus.

You don't have to do anything.

But, what do you want me to do? I ask again.

Stay.  Here. With me.

Please.  Do s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g about this.  I'm begging. I'm desperate to do something.

Tell me to do something about this feeling of restless helplessness.  I want it to go away.

Let me.  Stay here.  With you.

"Why can't I just let old wounds die?"  I cry out.

Because they don't.

Wounds don't die. 

But, wounds can healed — if we make the choice — to face them with Jesus.

Our tender Jesus is never closer than that very moment our wounds become alive.

His love for our private feelings of helplessness and shame never surge deeper — as He holds us with deep compassion, heart aching and hating every moment of our pain.

Jesus hasn't forgotten our wounding.

Jesus hasn't stopped loving us since.

Running Into Her
I don't know if this story I'm sharing reads like a foreign tale from a land you've never visited.  There's a part of me that feels that I'm the only one.  But, if perchance you find yourself like me — running into that little girl in you who is feeling –

helpless,

restless,

trapped,

disoriented,

between the right thing to do — and the reality of an overwhelming difficulty, painful relationship or heartbreaking loss –

I want you to know that I am right alongside you — treading this water of perplexing circumstances that have placed you in front of your wounded self.

I am reaching out to you today, with a smile and many tears.  To say Jesus is next to you.  He is next to me.

And I want to encourage you.

I once believed the evidence of faith was having hope when the burden of carrying pain crushes our souls.

But, I'm discovering faith is equally flowing — maybe even more so — when we can fall into the arms of Jesus when we do feel hopeless – in order to know that the little girl in us can be safe and will be rescued.

For sure, this is path of faith and healing is hard and long. Especially for someone like me who has been so good at being adequate or at least, having plans in place to avoid otherwise.

Free to Remember
Is this such a time for you as well?  Maybe like me, you find yourself  unable to forget.

Maybe like me, Jesus doesn't want you to forget.

Jesus wants us to be free to remember –

the wounds we have carried,

the wounds we have survived,

the wounds we have kept hidden.

We can be free to remember, so that we can be comforted.  And to comfort each other.

He wants to say to you and me –

I know what you've carried.

I've loved you completely.

Even back then.

I haven't forgotten.

You can be with me. 

This way.

Now.

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?


Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."
~ God, Isaiah 49:1, 6, 15

~~~~~

Where are you with God on the journey of healing?

Let's whisper prayers for each other as those who can, share below.


Share a bit of your story? Click here to comment.   I'm truly grateful for your voice here.

(Psst... Friends, I want to say a heartfelt thank you to each of you for sharing your tender stories of faith through pain on my (in)courage post last month as you posted comments. You're all so courageous.  You have encouraged me so much on my journey of faith. )

~~~~~

By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.



I am on a journey.

That's what I've been telling myself, as I struggle through a new season of parenting. I have teenage boys. This is a challenge.

I am on a journey, and I'm getting closer to where I'm supposed to be.

The where is actually who — who God created me to be. It's interesting to me that the challenge of being a mother, of helping our children be the people God created them to be, well it actually affords us the same opportunity.

I have five sons (and one little girl at the tail end!). These children of mine (but I won't lie, these days it's mostly the boys) can really give me a run for my money. They are growing and maturing and having those hormone surges that send us all on a wild ride.

"This," I will somedays tell the Lord, "is not what I thought motherhood would look like."

Who I thought I would be as a mother involved a lot more twirling and dancing.

The reality of motherhood often looks nothing like that.

Motherhood is certainly magical and beautiful. It's filled with growth and joy and every good thing. But it's also a lot of hard work, usually brought on by circumstances we never saw coming.

For me, I never imagined I would have five boys in a row. Motherhood for me involves dealing with a pack of boys, all the time. I didn't really plan on that.

On the most challenging of days, I will question the Lord's wisdom. I never doubt his love for me, but I sometimes doubt his attention to detail. Didn't God notice that I am a  weakling, that I am not strong enough to get this job done.

"Didn't you realize," I will cry out, "that I don't have what it takes."

In these dark moments — maybe they're moments, maybe they're longer — I am so focused on the task before me that I lose sight of the big picture. I get so frustrated with this boy and this attitude that I forget it's all just a step on the journey.

But that's what I need to remember.

I am on a journey.

I'm training these children, my husband and I are guiding them because while they are exactly who God made them to be, they are not the finished product yet.  I get frustrated by the challenges because I see them as my own failures. But they are challenges, and reminders that my work here is not done.

In the end, I have to go back to the Love of God, to his tremendous love for these children of mine. He loves my boys more than I ever could.

And he loves me more than I could ever love myself. He loves me so much that he knew exactly what he was doing when he sent all these boys my way.

He knows that I can rise to this challenge. All I have to do is remember to ask him for help. Because I, too, am not yet finished. Part of the journey I'm on, as I move towards becoming who God wants me to be, is loving my sons in the midst of all these challenges.

God uses circumstances to help us be the person we can be, the person he wants us to be. He loves us just as we are, of course, but he also uses the details of our life to grow in strength and wisdom and holiness.

We are on a journey.

We are on a journey.



Visit Rachel's journey of blissful insanity at Testosterhome.

[Judy Harder]

I Want to Be Best Friends With My Daughter
Jun 23, 2012 01:00 am | Sarah Mae




"Mommy, pleeeease let me stay in bed with you?"

It was past 10pm and she needed to get into her own bed, it was already so late. But those eyes and that smile and these moments, I want to live in them because I know they'll go before I know it.

Besides, she was wide awake.

"Okay, come on, get in."

We snuggle and giggle; she's a ham and she makes me laugh out loud. We talk and pray, and I hold her soft, little hand. She tells me the best parts of her day, and the worst parts. I listen. She asks me questions about life and God. She's a thinker, and I love it. I love discussing faith with her, and I love how she challenges me (I'm pretty sure children ask harder questions than atheists). I'm so glad I let her stay with me.

I love watching my six year old daughter become.

As she is growing into a young lady, I realize how much I like her and want to really know her and be friends with her. I used to think that parents weren't supposed to be friends with their children.

"You are not your child's friend, you are their parent."

I reject that sentiment now, fully and completely. I am my child's parent, and I'm also trying to be her friend. I'm trying to cultivate our relationship now by accepting her, showing her grace, teaching her, loving her well, listening to her, taking her seriously, being honest with her, and respecting her. My "job" as a parent is to help her to live well in this world, to love God and to love others. And isn't it the same as a friend? To share and laugh and learn from each other as we figure out life together? As we go through the ups and downs of everyday, together? As we learn to love and forgive and lean into the Creator, together?

I think my daughter is fascinating, and even though parts of my heart hurt seeing her grow up so fast, it's also a joy coming into a real friendship with her.

And you know what? I'm not just aiming for friend, I'm aiming for best friend. That might seem crazy, and maybe it is, but I don't care. I'm going for it.

"Don't you see that children are God's best gift? the fruit of the womb his generous legacy? Like a warrior's fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth. Oh, how blessed are you parents, with your quivers full of children!" Psalm 127:3,4 (The Message)

By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com

[Judy Harder]

A Sunday Scripture: Wonderfully Made

Jun 24, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth

Exactly one week ago today, we moved into our new home in yet another state. My husband and I don't have jobs that allow us to take much time off of work ... and we have two kids ... and we work from home ... and those kids are out of school for the summer. Yep. We have not unpacked yet. Not even close.

But the room I am most excited about decorating is my daughter's. I plan to surprise her by hanging the canvas pictured above in her new room.

Yes, it's a pretty picture, but I am hanging it because I want her to learn the truth that is plastered on that bright canvas.

I want the last words she sees at night and the first that she sees in the morning to affirm that she is God's girl. That she is wonderfully made.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made

Psalm 139: 13-14.

And that truth? It applies to grown up girls too, you know.

[Judy Harder]

Learning to Tell Your Summertime Stories
Jun 25, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


Dad is putting up a fence in the backyard. It's summertime and I'm seven. He leaves a space at the tree so we can still cut through to Missy and Shelly's. They have a tire swing and a basement. They get the channel with Fraggle Rock and their mom buys pop in cans, packs of six. I secretly think they might be rich.



I sit at the table at Grandma's house. It's summertime and I'm nine. She has a poodle named Frolics and she paints his toenails red. Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers sing Islands in the Stream from the record player in the living room. I will love that song forever. I have every reason to believe that Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers are married. My Grandma talks about Kenny Rogers as if she wants to marry him. Grandpa walks in from the yard and pulls out a roll of cash money, hands me a dollar and pats my head.

We eat sweet rolls and candy cigarettes.

The girl from next door and I ride fast through the quiet neighborhood, feet on pedals, hearts on sleeves. It's summertime and I'm eleven. We've only lived here in Iowa a short time but I've made fast friends. This town has bike paths. Miles of them. I have found a freedom I didn't know existed as we ride those paths beside the creek, beneath the bridges, fast around corners. I think this must be what it feels like to drive a car.

Henry Griffin grew eight inches last spring and now is the cutest boy in tenth grade. It's summertime and I'm sixteen. We're at a pool party, standing in a circle. He looks down at my bare feet and asks if there's something wrong with my toes. There isn't. But now there is something wrong with me, forever. I've never liked my feet and now the worst kind of someone has agreed with me. I avoid bare feet for the rest of the summer as much as is humanly possible.

This is my 35th summer (36th if you want to get technical). The summer snapshots are endless. The memories shape us, for better or worse. The stories are told and re-told — if not in words, then in our choices, our insecurites, our loves and our aversions.

It's why I sometimes still hesitate when I put on flip-flops, why Dolly Parton sounds like home, why it feels extravagant to drink Coke from a can.

It's important for me to write down the memories. Even if it seems insignificant or small, usually those are the ones that lead to a sentence in the story that perhaps didn't make sense before. Remembering our stories helps us to value our life, to practice kindness towards ourselves, to respect our own stories and the stories of those around us.

What is a summer memory that has shaped you?



Tips for Planning a Fabulous {4th of July} Party
Jun 25, 2012 01:15 am | Mary Carver




I've always thought that the Fourth of July is perfectly timed. Halfway between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the patriotic day comes just in time to keep us from going too crazy in the long, hot days of summer.

I know, I know, we celebrate on the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and it just happens to fall in the exact middle of summer. But, really, who isn't ready for a break when July rolls around every year? You're telling me it's a coincidence that our forefathers decided to wrap things up and get on with founding our country?

All joking aside, Independence Day is a great time to take a break from your routine and enjoy time with friends and family. In other words, it's party time!

A party celebrating the 4th of July doesn't have to be a huge blowout [no fireworks pun intended]. But whether you're planning a small gathering with a few friends or a big bash for everyone you've ever met, a few simple tips can help you plan a fabulous party without losing your mind.

This week, I'm going to help you get ready for the best Fourth of July party ever. I'll share a few tips I've learned in my years planning events both professionally and personally, and leave you with lots of things to consider to make your party great. Much of what I'm sharing here can be found in my ebook, Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind}.



Pick a Comfortable Venue
Choosing where to hold your Fourth of July party may seem like the easiest step of your planning, but don't assume that your backyard is the only answer.

First of all, consider whether you are personally comfortable hosting a party at your home. If not, don't force it! Ask a friend, neighbor or family member to help you throw the party at their house. Hold it at a local park or the community room of your apartment building. Or plan a tailgate party at your community's fireworks show.

Of course hosting a party at home has its advantages, including easy access to your own kitchen and the ability to set-up and clean-up as slowly as you want. And having the party at your house often frees up your budget for more food, decorations or other fun party supplies.

Another few things to keep in mind when picking the place for your party are size (how many people are likely to show up and how much room do they need to enjoy themselves?), location (is it easy for people to get to your party, and if not, can you give them excellent directions?), and weather (if you plan for an outside party, what will you do if it rains?).



Feed Your Guests Well
I've heard rumors that you can plan a party without food – or, at least, without a focus on food. If that works for you and your guests, more power to you. But in my world, food plays an important part of every gathering.

When you're planning the food for any party, you'll need to answer three questions:

1. How much food will you serve?
2. What kind of food will you serve?
3. How will you serve the food?

How much food you need depends partly on how many guests will attend, but it also depends on if they're bringing food of their own. A lot of Fourth of July parties are some form of a potluck dinner, which is a great way to save time and money and get your guests involved in the party. Don't just assume the meal with come together, though. If you're providing meat and drink and asking your guests to bring sides and desserts, you might consider asking guests to sign up for specific dishes.

One more thing to keep in mind about party food is how long people will be at the party. Because many parties on the 4th start in the afternoon and go on past dark, you might need more food than you would for a simple dinner party or weekend barbecue.



Kick Your Theme Up a Notch
Integrating a theme is my favorite part of planning a party, and it's so easy to do with a party like this one. You don't have to come up with a theme for a Fourth of July party; it's already there in the holiday itself. Even if you don't love planning parties and want to keep it simple, showing your patriotism with a few bursts of red, white and blue can pull your party together visually and turn a little shindig in the backyard to a fabulous party.

A few ideas:

Serve festive foods like fruit flag kebabs or red, white and blue M&Ms
Play patriotic music in the background
Decorate the tables with Mason jars filled with red and white carnations and a small American flag, decorated with a blue ribbon
Whether you go all out with a vintage Americana theme for every aspect of your event or simply pick up some red, white and blue paper plates and balloons, taking advantage of your party's intrinsic theme at any level can be fun for you and your guests.

Now that you've figured out where to hold your party, what food to prepare and how to delight your guests with a strong theme, it's time to take a party planning break. Come back tomorrow for more tips on planning a fabulous Fourth of July party!

[Judy Harder]

Getting Home
Jun 26, 2012 01:20 am | Angie



Two nights ago, I was in a hotel room in North Carolina. I was there as a speaker with Women of Faith, and the day had gone pretty well. I say pretty well because I never think I really do as good of a job speaking as I would like to. I'm not fishing for compliments here, friends. Just being honest. I don't walk off the platform and pat myself on the back. I think about the four things that I meant to say but didn't and then I decide that all the women in the auditorium can't move past the fact that I didn't say the four things. Clearly, they don't know what those things were, but whatever. It all adds up in my head.

So anyway.

I had some work things to take care of when I got done, and it was late when I finally sat still, but when I did, something snapped in me. I sat on crisp white sheets and imagined what my kids might be doing. I pulled my phone out and mapquested how far I was from my house. 8 hours and 3 minutes. Too far to try and figure out a rental car and start a drive at 9 at night.

So I checked airlines to see if I could get home sooner. Then I called Delta and talked to them about it. It's a long story but the bottom line is they don't really care if you miss your kids. I figured out a solution and called Todd to ask if it was okay for me to book it. It was about $150 but would get me home at 10 am instead of 4 pm, and that six hours was worth it. He agreed and I called them back. In that time period, the price went up to $486. I asked her why. I told her I had just called within 15 minutes. She was very sweet but she didn't really have any solutions that didn't involve a debit card. We decided the best bet would be for me to wake up at 4 am and call to try and do a same-day change for $50.

It's a long story and I can already sense that this is rambly and would be the point in our coffee date where your phone rings and you make an excuse to run away from me. Don't run away from me. I'm trying to get to the point but it's just that it's all tangled in my head and (in)courage is my cheap counselor, so I'm just asking for some sisters here.

I wanted to go home.

I could imagine running in the door and them all clamoring over each other, abandoning their neighborhood friends and weeping at the mere sight of me. It had been almost 40 hours since they had last seen me, so these are all viable options.

Long story short, I got on the 7:15 am flight after forking over my fifty bucks. I pulled in my driveway and raced to the back door. Charlotte screamed, "MA-MAA!!!!" and ran to me. My sweet nanny was there and she was so excited because she knew I was desperate to get home. I asked where all the girls were and went to each one individually, awaiting my "6 hours early" party. The response was mediocre, I'll just say that. They did squeeze me and tell me they loved me, but I saw no evidence of long-term planning, such as posters, streamers, or other dollar spot paraphernalia. Nonetheless, I was so happy to be home and settled in quickly (translation: started laundry and told Charlotte to stop eating crayons).

I had a great day with them and soaked them in fully, but that night as I climbed into my own wrinkly bed instead of the crisp white hotel one, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world God was doing with me. How many lives can one person live well? Here's the bottom line.

We are ambassadors of God.

And what that means is that we will sleep on different sheets. We will cry because of the cost. And while we know it is a privilege, we will still ache for home.

The truth of the matter is, my children didn't throw me a party when I got home because they were at peace with my being gone. I know because I have asked them time and time again. It isn't that they didn't miss me, but rather because they have an intuitive sense that I'm showing Jesus to them in my obedience. They know I prefer the wrinkly sheets and the messy kisses to the stage and the plane.

They are steady in my love and gracious with my calling.

But they know. They know it wounds me.

Todd stopped by the bookstore on his way home from the airport (he flew in from Michigan a few hours after I got in) and bought all of his girls a little gift. Mine is a book of quotations by Mother Teresa, and just this morning I came across this beautiful quote:

"We have to love until it hurts. It is not enough to say, 'I love.' We must put that love into a living action. And how do we do that? By giving until it hurts."

Jesus Christ has asked no less of every single one of us. It will look different in your life than it does in mine, but the heart of the matter is the same. We must put our love into living action, and we should not expect anything else than a little hurt to come alongside. It is the least we can do to offer of ourselves, and a beautiful reminder that we should be grateful we can give it at all.

I won't expect streamers when I finally get home. I don't mind if there aren't any parades or fireworks.

I hardly think He will worry about those details.

When I wake in the middle of the night, may I remember that my time here is short and soon I will be home. And I pray He whispers those words to me. The words that remind me it is all for Him and the wounds are minor in the battle for eternity.

Well done, love.

Well done.

Wherever you are today, you have a choice. My prayer is that you put your love into living action, ever mindful of the God who calls you heavenward...


By: Angie Smith



Hi Gorgeous
Jun 26, 2012 01:10 am | Paula Whidden




In my twenties, I owned a bird, a Senegal Parrot. I named him L.G., short for Little Geek.  In retrospect, it was not a nice name.

Maybe I felt guilty, but over time a habit developed between the two of us.  Each morning when I emerged from my bedroom into the small apartment living room, I said the same two words to him.

"Hi Cutie."

The store salesman which sold me L.G. explaine he wouldn't be a speaking bird, so I never tried to teach him to speak.  And yet, one day it happened.

As I rose to make breakfast, I walked into the living room. Across the brown carpet, echoing from a black rot iron cage, I heard my small green and orange feathered friend say the same words to me.

"Hi Cutie."

At first, it startled me. He repeated it more and more until it became a daily ritual. Eventually, I welcomed it.  These words brightened my day.  No one had ever called me "cutie."

Years later, long after L.G. had departed this world, I met a wonderful man who claimed his love for me and promised to honor me throughout our lives.  Following our marriage, he began a new habit.

He greeted me the same way, every day, all the time. He said, "Hi Gorgeous."

He had upped the ante. At first, I resisted the strength of these words.  "I'm not gorgeous." I told myself. But he seemed to believe the words, so I humored him.  That's all it was for the first few years, me choosing to let him think what he wanted.

Then, something happened.

I started believing the words, not in a huge-head sort of way. I believed God made me to be gorgeous, because God made all of us to be gorgeous. 

This realization ignited a simple mission within my heart.  I wanted to tell every woman, everywhere, the truth of this revelation.

You are gorgeous.

You are made in the image of God. He designed the intricacies of you. 

Those things we compare with others, those things we overly self-examine.  Large, small, short, tall, blond, red-head or purple streaked, you are gorgeous.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time." Ecclesiates 3:11a

As a mom of two daughters, God reaffirms this truth over and over within my life.  While watching small munchkins practice gymnastics or synchronized swimming, I see the various shapes and shades of color represented.

Some excel easily and some struggle, but all those girls are gorgeous.  With their brilliant smiles and contagious giggles, they each shine in their own unique way.

We women aren't different, just bigger.  We also shine in our own unique ways.

If you meet me face to face one day, you'll probably hear me say it to you.  Please know it's not an off-the-cuff euphemism.  I'm not humoring you or forgetting your name.

I mean it every time I say it, because it's true.  So, let me say it now.

"Hi Gorgeous."

If you believe these words are true, spread the love.  Start a new habit to help other women believe the truth of God in their lives.

Who are some of the gorgeous people you know?

Paula Whidden, Faithful Choices


10 More Tips for a Fabulous 4th of July Party
Jun 26, 2012 01:05 am | Mary Carver




Yesterday we covered a few basics for planning a fabulous party. A comfortable venue, well-fed guests and a top-notch party theme are three ways to ensure your event is one people enjoy and talk about [in the good way!] for a long time.

Today I'll share 10 more tips for planning your 4th of July party.


"Life is so constructed, that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation."
- Charlotte Bronte
After 10 years in public relations – a twisty career path that has included coordinating press conferences, committee meetings, formal dinners and rowdy auctions – I've acquired a long list of to-dos and not-to-dos when it comes to planning successful events. But the fact is, your heart is way more important than any party prep to-do list. As a recovering perfectionist (and veteran "I'll plan the shower!" volunteer), I know that the best-laid plans and most meticulous event timeline won't mean squat if you walk into your event holding a bucket full of outrageous expectations and unprepared for real life.

These expectations – both yours and those of your guests – will determine the success of your party more than any other detail. You can serve the tastiest food and display the craftiest decorations, but if unreasonable or opposing expectations get in the way, your party could be a disappointment anyway. Recognizing the expectations surrounding your party is half the battle.

Now that we've got that out of the way, though, the other half of the party-planning battle IS in the details!

A few more things to keep in mind for your {fabulous} party:

Who's coming? People are terrible about RSVP-ing. So don't rely on replies to your invitation. Follow up with people you haven't heard from, and always plan for a few extras who decide to come at the last minute.
Food and more food. If your party is going to span several hours (as many 4th of July parties do), plan for more than one round of food. Don't put everything out at once. Hold some back for the later hours. If people are still going strong and showing no sign of heading home early, pulling out another tray of veggies or nachos will make them feel even more welcome and  honored as your guests. They'll also appreciate a fresh bowl of potato salad that hasn't been sitting in the sun for four hours.
My name is... Inviting people who don't know each other? Consider having a table with name tags at the door. They could be festive stars and stripes labels or just plain "Hello, my name is _______" stickers. Either way, people will appreciate not having to memorize 15 new names and faces.
Game time! Another must for long parties (especially ones including guests who don't know each other well and/or children): entertainment. Stick a croquet set out in the yard or a dart board on the deck. Place trivia cards in all the seating areas. Set up a station with your iTunes so people can pick songs. (It's like a jukebox but so much cooler! Unless you think retro is cool. Then just get yourself an actual jukebox!)
Quench their thirst! Provide gallons and gallons of cold water. July is hot and your guests will be thirsty. Whatever you do, don't run out of water.
Getting out of the heat. Set up fans if possible, and try to have an indoor option for guests as well.
Prevention is key. Buy a few bottles of bug spray and sunscreen to have on hand. Maybe set them by the name tags at the door, so everyone knows they can help themselves!
Don't send them away empty-handed. Party favors are always nice, whether that means plastic takeout containers with leftovers, super crafty gifts you learn to make from Pinterest, or something in between. But sending people home with full hands is always a nice gesture.

Who's going to help you clean up? This is just about the least fun part of any event, so don't leave it to chance. Ask a friend or two to help or go ahead and plan to spend the next day picking up. Whatever your plan is, figure it out now so you can end your party the way you want – relaxed and stress-free!

These tips and dozens more can be found in my ebook, Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind}. It will help you plan your 4th of July party, as well as birthday parties, high school reunions, family holidays, baby showers and more. Even if the thought of planning or hosting a party normally makes you want to hide under the snack table!


.

[Judy Harder]

Our Hiding Place
Jun 27, 2012 01:20 am | Especially Heather




We all have had hard "things" in our lives. My "thing" is no greater or less than your "thing". My hurts are no greater or less than your hurts. Yet, what we do with those "things" and those "hurts" can define us here on earth.

When Mark and I were told about Emma before she was born, our decisions determined the path her life would take. When Mark and I found out that I had brain cancer, our decisions determined the path our families lives would take. When our family was told that Emma would not come home, our decision determined the path her body would take.

Yet the Lord's will never changed. He was not alarmed nor was He shaken by the paths that He already had planned for our little lives down here.

I had a really hard time with this after the decision was made to turn off the machines. I doubted myself. I doubted my love for Emma. But then a friend asked me one simple question: "Heather, when you turned them off, did she live?" It wasn't up to me whether she lived or died, God had numbered her days even before she was born. If it wasn't her time, she would have still been breathing after the machines stopped. It took me a long time to come to that realization and accept the fact that I did the best thing for my daughter.

God never lost control. He never lost his breath. He never shook his head and said "what now".

"We have been called according to His purpose." -Romans 8:28

Not our purpose. Not our wants or desires. Not our selfish plans.

His.

We are never outside of His plan for our lives. So when those hard questions come, and trust me they will come, remember that we are never given over to "random chance" by our Creator. He is conforming and molding us into His likeness. He is refining our hearts, and with refining there comes pain and suffering.

We see the back of the tapestry with all of the knots and strings... He is in the front making His masterpiece out of our lives. In Romans, Peter says "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us". God is going to reveal glory in His children. He is going to turn our mourning into gladness. He will wipe every tear from our eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.

When the storms come, and questions run rampant in your hearts, where will you hide? Will you hide in fear and hopelessness, doubting that that the one who holds the entire universe in the palm of his hand does not care about you; or will you take refuge in His sovereign plan for your life, hiding in His loving arms until the storm passes and you are able to stand up again.

You will have questions, you will have doubt, you will be angry.

It is what you do with those things that will determine your future stability and well being.

Where will you hide?


By: Heather, Especially Heather



Frumps to Pumps – Who You Are
Jun 27, 2012 01:05 am | Sarah Mae


"For by a single offering He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified."
Hebrews 10:14 (ESV)

"The value of identity of course is that so often with it comes purpose."

Richard R. Grant



Before we even get started on this whole business of getting dressed, we need to step back and have a little chat about the importance of understanding who we are and who we are not. We need to understand our identity – that part of us that compels us to do and be in the every day. It's the thing that tells us who we really are and what makes us special or not-so-special. Knowing who you are, your identity, is crucial to living an authentic life that lends itself to the freedom to enjoy who you are.

If you know Jesus, I can tell you a thing or two about your identity.

Here's what I know for sure: I know that if you follow Jesus, then you are perfect, right now, for eternity.

Wild, right? Can you even fathom that? Perfect? That's what Jesus did for you, and it's a crazy mystery, especially seeing as we still sin. But yes, according to Hebrews 10:14, if you are being sanctified (being changed by God in preparation for heaven), you have been perfected for eternity.

This means that you don't have to get there. You are there (in Heaven's eyes). It means that you are not your sin. You are not the bad decision you made yesterday. You are not the stupid thing you said today.

You don't have to be beautiful or smart or funny or good enough; you just have to let God mold you as He sees fit to make you more like Jesus. Accept the molding. Don't strive or try harder; just offer yourself to Him daily. When you do this, when you let your identity be found in Him, you can live your life in freedom. You don't have to pretend or get affirmation from how you look or what kind of clothes you have. You know that you are loved and perfect for eternity, so just live!

And follow the One who made you beautiful. (Frumps or pumps, He loves you the same.)

...

[Judy Harder]

The Best Read This Summer — Guaranteed
Jun 28, 2012 01:25 am | Ann Voskamp


You'd have thought I was reading The Dangerous Book for Boys or the like.

The way he kept grinning at me as I read, looking over his shoulder and arching that eyebrow all mischevious at his brother all smirking.

I think this as I read, that maybe this really is the original dangerous book for boys?

The book boys have been reading for the last millennia or two, the one that grabs a body by the shoulders and shakes the drowsy straight stock awake.

The one that binds the bloodied up and romances the lonely, that woos the rejected and cuts straight through to where the soul joins the bone.

A bona fide Dangerous book for everyone.



It's the same every day.

Everyday Malakai pleads for that book when we sit down for our daily read alouds. "Read the Bible first —- please?!"

He Bible begs.

I didn't do anything to make this happen.

I almost think I don't know how it happened at all. But I do.

I opened up the Living Word and let it wield its glint sharp edge. I opened up straight Scripture, a one year Bible, and let it breathe fire flame. I opened up the Bible for the Boy and he could feel the Danger.

This Word is no safe lion.

"You were reading about Joseph. And the brothers. Remember?" I look for my bookmark and he looks over my shoulder and I can feel the boy hunger for more.

We, the Word-God's poiemas, are our realest real, when eating His Words.



"Yessss... Right here..." I smooth the page out.

He breaks into grin anticipation. Littlest Sister, she curls into me, a tendril; Levi and Hope, they sit on the rockers, the young made wise with knitting needles and the books read aloud.

"When Jacob learned that there was grain in Egypt..."

I begin and I read of ten gaunt brothers caravaning across hot desert and of the knees bending fast before Pharoah's man and the lips kissing the cracked dirt at the ditched brother's feet. And these sons of mine break faces in mile-wide smiles at ancient brothers speaking incognito, at supposed strangers and the claim of spies and it reads like mystery, the best — for it breathes real.

And when famine gouges deeper into guts and the brothers' silhouettes slip again across sands, bow like sheaves before the brother masked Egyptian, Malakai's eyes blaze with story light.

And the child, he's made of words, breathed into being by words, breath of the Word, and when I read to him the Word, I breathe into him what he's made of and words pulse the veins and the child feels.

I reach for the bookmark.



"No — more! More!" The room erupts and they plead for more and I read.

Of the furtive steward with the secret silver chalice, and this is really the story, and Malakai, he writhes.

And I read slow of the stealth crawl of the servant to Benjamin's bag, and Malakai, he wrings hands, and I watch his face contort. I don't know if I should keep reading.

And when the house steward pants after those full stomachs bound home for Israel, accusations ready on the tongue, Malakai rises on knees, anxiety mounting in the west, and he presses his chest up against my shoulder and his eyes cling to me. Levi grins his knowing.

I read the words of the steward authoritative, "Whoever is found with the chalice will be my slave; the rest of you can go free." Malakai digs his fingers deep into my arm. He won't let me go. I can't look at him when the words on the page form, "And the cup was found in Benjamin's sack!"

A storm, he splits open over my shoulder and he rains down blackest grief and I am gully washed away.

He heaves with centuries of the brother pain.

He's crying for Benjamin and brothers and over real boys that have walked off the page and right into his skin.

My son's crying over the Bible.

Isn't this the Best Read ever? Why hadn't I thought of this years sooner, to read the Bible to my children not only during "devotions" but as a the greatest read aloud ever, the Greatest Story ever told, reading several chapters at a time? Till His story was all told in a year?

When had I had last wept over Words?

When had I lost my first Love?



I stroke his cheek with one hand, hold the Word in the other.

His own brother offers pain relief: "Kai— it's going to be okay," murmurs Levi, knitting needles stilled. Kai shudders hard.

"You want me to go on?" I whisper it soft.

His yes mangles in wail.

Yes. It's His story that wounds us and it's His story alone that heals us and sadness always needs more Story. The fullest comfort comes from the fullest story. And the fullest Story is the Father story and I stay in it because it's knowing the end of the Story that wipes away the tears.

I read it urgent, for I need to get to the hope: Judah entreats the younger Joseph for release of the youngest Benjamin. Malakai's still woe-wracked on my shoulder. Littlest Sister pats his hand.

And then there it is, what we've read pages and pages for, and I read it through his tears falling:

"Joseph could stand it no longer. There were many people in the room, and he said to his attendants, "Out, all of you!" So he was alone with his brothers when he told them who he was." Kai sniffles, brushes his cheeks.

I read on and the words barb in my throat and tear me a bit open... and the cement inside gives a way and I am alive. I weep with my son. This family, and these brothers, and this love, and our family and these brothers and our love and we are them long ago and they are us now and I am tears.

"Then he broke down and wept. He wept so loudly the Egyptians could hear him..." The Living Word animates in our living room thousands of years later and the story that undammed Joseph has undone us.

"I am Joseph!" he said to his brothers."

He is Joseph! I feel Kai's feeble smile before I see it, the way clouds break up and rays feel warm. I laugh through the ache! He is Joseph! Kai is Kai! God is God! We are well!



The Word has done it. The Word holds up a mirror and the Word peels back the mask and the words are who we are. We weep out of recognition. This story is us. This is the read that is deeply revelational. We see us.

When we pick up Scripture, we do not read, a verb; we become, a realization.

Becoming is the most Dangerous of all.

I slip in the bookmark. Kai's body rests against mine.

Tomorrow we will read more.

~ Written for you by Ann Voskamp

::

::

Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear...

Rev. 1:3

Q4U: What are you reading in Scripture these days? What's stopping you from reading Scripture? What keeps us from being hungrier for Scripture and His Word? Let's be real and encourage each other in the comments...



Giving While Grieving
Jun 28, 2012 01:10 am | Roxann Morgan




Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. – 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

When I received the message I immediately started praying, it said that my friend's father had to be rushed to the hospital because he wasn't breathing.

How could this be?

Was there even a sign of this happening?

Wasn't he fine yesterday?

If I was this nervous and scared, how was she coping?

Then, what I dreaded was what I heard about an hour later, he had passed away. I prayed, but my hands were shaking and my heart was crushed, I felt broken, so I was sure that she found it even more unbearable.

I wept for my friend, and in part, for myself. Having lost my father almost 2 years ago, I relived every feeling of grief and heartache. I sobbed and begged God to comfort her as He comforted me. I'm sure the Holy Spirit was present in her time of sorrow, but He immediately reminded me of 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. The Lord wanted me to be of comfort to my friend. I experienced the loss, and also His healing and comfort in my time of grief, I was now able to pour into someone else.

I cannot deny that I was afraid to visit my friend, I wasn't sure what I had to offer her. She kept asking me to visit because she believed that I was the only one who could relate.

How could I help someone else when I was still grieving?

I felt as if my father had passed away all over again. I didn't want to break down and cause her more grief. But even if I did break down, the scriptures reminds us that even if we go out in our time of weeping to a sow seed of faith, we will return with songs of joy carrying a great reward. I'm paraphrasing Psalm 126:6.

The Holy Spirit is always present to help us to respond in a way that will bring about the Father's glory and His purposes. I prayed and asked the Lord to give me words of comfort, and if He wanted me to be there just to listen, that I would do that also.

I was bursting with joy just listening to my friend share her faith even in her time of sorrow. Just as my father's passing brought me closer to the Lord, and what I thought would have surely destroyed me, brought about a growth in faith and encouragement, I'm now seeing this in my friend. Her words brought me comfort, just as I sought to comfort her. The Lord was present and His faithfulness was once again proven. He wanted to bring healing to my heart while using me to bring healing and hope to someone else.

I'm happy I obeyed the Lord. It was frightening at first, but He has done great things. So, I encourage you today to draw close to the hurting and choose to pour into others the way you have been poured into. The Lord has showed me, yet again, that ministry does not require perfection but a heart willing and ready to share what He has given. This is why He created the body of believers. His grace is available to help us to meet the body the way He wants us to.

He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. – Psalm 126:6

By Roxann, In The Cool Of The Day



Beautiful, Artful, YOU
Jun 28, 2012 01:05 am | Sarah Mae




"For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made..."

Psalm 139:13-14

"Fashions fade, style is eternal."

Yves Saint Laurent

You've got style.

In fact, your style was knitted by the God who weaved the universe. You are distinctly made, and your personality is as intricate and unique as your fingerprint. You are art.

Getting dressed is another way to adorn ourselves with beauty, the way God adorns the sunsets with the magnificent reds and oranges and purples – color amidst the light.

You are color!

You shine His glory and reflect His light that is in you. You are a rainbow.

Express yourself with dignity and honor and beauty. Find the art in your soul and let it shine in how you cover your skin.

Be creative. Have fun. Figure out your style. It doesn't have to cost a lot of money or time. But I want to see the fingerprint of you painted in what you wear, even if it's just in something small. Perhaps it's purple boots. Maybe it's a cute little barrette that you tuck gently in your hair. Maybe it's bunches of necklaces over a simple t-shirt.

Whatever it is, whoever you are, let that flag fly.

All for the glory of God.

"How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone."

Coco Chanel

Want to be inspired to get dressed every day, in more than just clothes, but in who you are? Check out Frumps to Pumps – Your one-month motivotional to getting dressed and staying that way.




Psst...don't forget that you can enter to win a copy of Frumps to Pumps! Enter here!




By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com

[Judy Harder]

What Are You Afraid Of?
Jun 29, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs




My roommate and I woke up this morning to that less-than-familiar sound of extremely tiny paws scurrying through the kitchen.

A mouse.

We never found him [assuming it is a him], but we cleaned up to the last minuscule crumbs that may have looked like a welcome mat. Roomie and I began talking about what we are afraid of, since, you know, this was probably the beginning of an invasion, not a random passer-by. She said, "I'm not really afraid of mice, but spiders and cockroaches are the worst. I can't even handle them."

I stood in the kitchen, sanitizing every.single.surface, thinking that through.

What am I afraid of?

As the oldest daughter in a family of daughters, being afraid of tiny crawly things just was never an option for me, so I'm not scared of bugs, slugs, or thugs. [Well, thugs are kinda scary.] There are other fears in my life, for sure, that don't have four legs. Or a tail.

. . . . .

I wanted to be a missionary to Scotland for 11 years. ELEVEN YEARS. Multiple times in my 20s, the opportunity to move there for a season or two to live kept coming up.

A mission training school.

A youth group internship.

A children's ministry position.

I always said no. Every time.

The timing wasn't every quite right, I never felt like it was God's best plan, but also, in the back of my head....

I was scared.

I was scared that moving to Scotland would mean I would never get married.

So I never did. I let an entire decade go by in hopes that choosing America meant choosing marriage. Now, I'm not saying that staying here was out of God's will- I know He did good things with my life in that decade, I just know that each time one of those opportunities was placed before me, that fear whispered to me.

When I turned 30, I sat with a few friends in rocking chairs on a front porch. I was talking about twirling and how much I expected of this next decade.

And I said, "I'm moving to Scotland."

A new opportunity came about [4 times the charm? Apparently.], and I knew this was my chance. The right chance. The right opportunity to say YES to God and NO to the fear.

I said no in my 20s. I let the fear of being alone, the fear of singleness, keep me from things. And I wasn't going to do that in my 30s.

"What if I look back in 10 years," I said to my friend Lyndsay, "and I'm still single AND I've said 'no' for another decade waiting for something that still hadn't come?"

That became my biggest fear: waiting for a marriage that I am not guaranteed, keeping me from doing good things that bring glory to God RIGHT NOW.

So I moved to Scotland for six months of 2011 and you know what? My life is SO much richer because of that experience. Saying YES to that open door, ignoring the fear, has made me a better human and someday, hopefully, a better wife.

. . . . .

I want to be careful here. I do NOT want you to hear me say that you should choose sinful behaviors or throw caution to the wind because you are tired of waiting on a husband. I don't want you to hear me say that if you are single, that you have "caused" that by being a missionary or anything of that nature. I don't know you or your choices.

I am merely making an observation from my own life and wondering if you've ever seen the same in yours.

Just think, just for a few minutes today, where are you letting fear, my singlet friend, make you say 'no' to God-honoring opportunities?

What are you afraid of?


Your choice is in the bag
Jun 28, 2012 10:21 am | Robin Dance




When it comes to shopping, if I have too many choices I have a hard time making a decision.  Comparing brands, variation in the product, ingredients, size and cost, sometimes I'll walk away without a product at all when information threatens to overload.

That's why I like the simplicity of "chocolate, vanilla or strawberry."  Three choices are perfect (but is there really a decision to make in that scenario?  Chocolate–booyah!).

The exception is people; building relationships and developing intimacy is never a one-size-fits-all proposition.  Neither is sharing the gospel, is it?  The gospel never changes but how we share it should be consistent with the relationship we have with the person to whom we're ministering.

That's why wearing your faith can be a wonderful conversation starter and opportunity door for telling others about Christ; if another person questions a piece of clothing or jewelry you have on, your answer will be proportional to your relationship.  You wouldn't answer a a stranger in the grocery store check-out line the same way you'd answer your dentist who's been treating your family for years.

Speaking of lots of choices and having to make a decision, have I got a FUN challenge for you!  Click over to DaySpring and look at the extensive line of totes; not only are there choices in material–oil cloth or jute–but the designs are so varied there are sure to be a few you call favorite.



And we have TEN to give away!

Simply choose the ONE you'd like to win, and ten random commenters will be selected to receive a tote!  It's as simple as that. Winners will be announced on Monday! And also, through this weekend Totes are Buy 2 Get 1 Free. Perfect time to stock up on gifts!

(Giveaway open to US residents only).

By Robin Dance, author of PENSIEVE and appreciator of a few good choices.

[Judy Harder]

Keep the Romance Alive: The Love Basket
Jun 30, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels

When I was newly married, one of my favorite books was called More Hours in My Day by Emilie Barnes. I learned so much about homemaking from that book! As a young wife it was wonderful to have such an encouraging and inspiring resource for setting up my own home and establishing healthy habits for my family.

Emilie shared a sweet idea for showing love to her husband called "The Love Basket." I know, it might seem a little bit sappy, but creativity in marriage is a surefire way to keep the sparks alive, right? We all tend to be a bit more sappy and sweet when we are dating, but can so easily forget that important element of romance later on in our marriages.

My husband and I have been married for 25 years so we know how easy it is to slip into the everyday routines and forget the importance of still being playful and fun!

So what is this Love Basket about?

Emilie shared in her book how she would pull out her picnic basket and fill it with special little things to show she cared. For instance, if her husband had a rough week at work, she'd fill the basket on Friday night with tasty things he would enjoy, like his favorite drink and maybe a special dessert. Then after the kids went to bed for the night, she'd surprise him by inviting him to join him for a little date!

The creative ideas and applications for a Love Basket are endless!

I think the Love Basket is a very fun way to create special dates on a budget. When my kids were very young we didn't have money for dates we'd have creative "at home date" after  the kids went to bed. Start this Love Basket date tradition in the summer and carry it on all year round. You can use your basket for dates inside or outside, depending on the weather and the theme of your basket. I bet it will become a very special tradition in your home!

During the summer your Love Basket could be filled with favorite magazines, books, cold drinks and a blanket to sit on. Then you can invite your man out for a reading date at the park or if you don't have a sitter, take him out to the backyard while the kids play in the sandbox!

Or how about filling your Love Basket with favorite card games and fun coupons for prizes? Instant game night date for two on the living room floor! A movie themed Love Basket date would be fun too. Or if you really want to make your man smile, how about a romantic Love Basket date? {blush} I'll leave the ideas for that one up to your imagination.

The fourth of July isn't the only day of the year for fireworks, you can create a lasting spark in your marriage and build fun memories into your relationship with a Love Basket!

What other date ideas do you have for a Love Basket?

How about using a Love Basket to show you care about your kids and friends too?

This adorable picnic basket (i.e. the perfect Love Basket!) and sweet chalkboard for your love notes is available from the Redeemed Collection at DaySpring! You can see the Picnic Basket here and the Chalkboard here. And today is the last day to enter a giveaway for both items at The Inspired Room!

[Judy Harder]

 

When You Carry Your Father's Wounds
I was standing in the toy store aisle.
Frozen.
I didn't know what to do.
It was going to be our last visit together, after my parent's divorce. But, I didn't know it at the time. I was a little girl.
My father wanted to buy me a toy. But, my mother didn't want me to return home with one. I wasn't supposed to take anything from him.
So, I told him I didn't want anything. I was okay.
But, I wasn't...

Jesus wants us to be free to remember-
the wounds we have carried,
the wounds we have survived,
the wounds we have kept hidden.
We can be free to remember, so that we can be comforted. And to comfort each other.
He wants to say to you and me -
I know what you've carried.
I've loved you completely.
Even back then.
I haven't forgotten.
You can be with me.
This way.
Now.

-Devotional excerpt by Bonnie Gray from (in)courage.Click Here to read Bonnie's story and testimony.