It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

That's a good title for this blog, but not my most favorite of Christmas songs. That would probably be "Mary Did You Know". It's most likely because I'm a mother that I relate to that song so well. Remembering my girls when they were infants and imagining myself in Mary's shoes that night is just overwhelming. Along with all the joy that comes with a new baby there must have been such awe and wonder at the specialness of *this* baby. "When you kiss your little baby, you've kissed the face of God." Wow!

I also like a song called "Strange Way to Save the World" for much the same reason. Here's Joseph, his fiance gets pregnant and it's NOT his, and he chooses to stand by her. All the townspeople whisper and point whenever he walks by. How does it feel to be Joseph? He knows what this baby means to the world and to him personally. What a responsibility - to raise the son of God; to train Him up in the way He should go.

And then there's "We Are the Reason" that talks about gifts and how the greatest gift of all was born on Christmas. As much as the world seems to want to cut God out of everything else, at Christmas time they seem to come back to Him in some small way. For all the complaining I hear about Santa and Xmas taking over, I just don't see it overshadowing the birth of Christ. Am I blind? Or maybe I'm just focusing on the good things. Either way, I think I'll just keep my rose-colored glasses on for now.

And I forgot to light the Advent candle last night.

Advent, Part 1

For years I have attempted to incorporate the celebration of Advent into our family's Christmas. Last year I even went so far as to buy the candles (3 purple, 1 rose and 1 white) and set them up on the dining room table. We just never lit them. I remember thinking about it on Sunday nights and kicking myself for forgetting. When I was a kid, Christmas meant visiting Santa to issue my list of "wants," dinner at my Grandma's on Christmas Eve and an flurry of present opening on Christmas morning. I intend for it to mean so much more to my own children, even though I'm sure that right now they would say that their favorite part of Christmas is the presents. I still haven't followed through on my yearly resolution to buy them less presents but that doesn't keep me from vowing it again this year.

So this year I finally got my Advent act together. Yesterday was the first Sunday of Advent, so I set up the candles, found a guide for the devotional readings and called the whole herd together. It took some doing to get them all collected in the dining room but I wasn't taking "No" for an answer! I even assigned Bible readings to the two 7 year olds. The big kids all wanted to be the one to light the candle (sorry, that's a grown-up job) and the little ones just wanted to pull them off the table. We talked about Hope (the first candle is for Hope or Prophecy, and I thought Prophecy might be a little too advanced a concept for them). We read in John about how Jesus is the light of the world, and we turned out the lights before we lit the candle as sort of a simple illustration. The whole thing lasted maybe 5 minutes. I don't know if it meant anything to anyone else, but I enjoyed it. I love the whole idea of preparing your heart and mind for Christmas by lighting the candles and reading about Christ's coming. I'm sure that as my kids grow older I can involve them more and more. Maybe next week we'll even sing a Christmas carol that goes along with the week's theme.

I'm also thinking about doing a Jesse tree this year, but I'm going to have to decide quickly since today is the first of December. A Jesse tree is a plain little twig tree that you use to hang ornaments that illustrate certain Bible truths that pertain to Christ and Christmas. I'm searching for some printables that the kids can just color in and cut out. That seems like a good way to combine crafts with spiritual training, doesn't it? I'm always looking for ways to multi-task. :-)

Mouthing the Words

It's that time of year again. I love music and Christmas music is especially touching to me. Once I became a mother, I was even more entranced by the idea of Christ coming to Earth as a helpless, innocent baby and the music of the season really tugs at my heartstrings. To look at my own babies and imagine the Lord of all creation humbling himself to become one of us, and not just anyone, but a newborn baby - well, it's just wondrous to me.

And so I find myself listening to Christmas music on the radio, and in the stores, and on my Zune... and I start to wonder about these so-called secular artists singing about Christ's birth. Just today I heard Josh Groban sing "O Holy Night" and when he sang about "our dear Savior's birth" I caught myself wondering, *Is* He really Josh Groban's Savior? While some secular artists might be true Believers, surely not every one of them who records Christmas songs is. I'd like to think I would be able to tell by the whether or not they seem to put enough passion into it, but so far that's an imperfect strategy. I wonder what goes through their minds as they sing about holiness and our Savior. When they sing "Christ is the Lord, oh praise His name forever," do the words mean anything at all to them? Does the Holy Spirit prick their hearts, or do they feel like a fraud? Do their hearts beat just a little faster? The Praise Team has a running joke about how, if you happen to forget the words to a song, you can mouth the word "watermelon" and make it look like you know what you're doing. Is that what it's like for some people when they sing songs about Christ's birth? Could they be singing "watermelon" and it have just as much meaning to them? And how does God view their singing about Him? Does it sound like Charlie Brown's teacher: wah, wah, waaaah, wah, waah?

SIDE NOTE: That does not mean that there is no such thing as a born again secular musician. I'm sure there are some out there, in the same way that I'm sure there are Contemporary Christian singers who are NOT born again.

My question doesn't only apply to secular artists, of course. How many people sit in churches every December and sing about their Savior and the wonder of His birth, and they might as well be singing "watermelon" over and over? I'm not just talking about the Easter and Christmas Christians either. I think sometimes we sing about Christ and we don't even think about the words coming out of our mouths, much less whether or not we truly mean them. Maybe over time we get hardened to the meaning behind the songs and they don't affect us anymore. I know I have had periods of time when it seems like the world has me distracted and I might as well be singing "watermelon" instead of "How Great Is Our God" but thankfully that hasn't happened lately. Or maybe we're in some misguided self-protection mode, not wanting to think too hard about the words because if we do, we're afraid we will be overcome by emotion and embarrass ourselves. When I first accepted Christ, I was in high school and I was a crier. Maybe a more accurate word would be "blubberer" because I couldn't get through a service without bawling. Whenever we had the Lord's Supper I was an absolute sobbing mess! After one particularly wet Sunday morning service, the Youth Pastor stopped me and told me this: "Don't ever be ashamed of your tears. That's a sign that you are being sensitive to the Spirit." That has stayed with me all these years. Nowadays I WANT to cry. I never want to get to the place where I am no longer affected by songs about my Lord.

So this Christmas, when you hear a Christmas carol, take some time to really think about the words. When you sing, "Hark the herald angels sing glory to the newborn King! Peace on Earth and mercy mild; God and sinners reconciled" turn that over in your mind for a while. God and sinners reconciled - that means you and me, folks. We're the sinners God came to be reconciled with. Bad sentence structure, but right idea. He came to us, in the most humble of ways, to save us. The baby Jesus was born to die for our sins. That's something worth singing about.

Worship, Take 3: Praise

I'm reading an excellent book by Bob Sorge called Exploring Worship. It has been over 30 years since the first time I voluntarily stood up in church and sang for God (I was about 10 years old and my cousin and I sang "I'll Fly Away") and I feel like I am just now beginning to get a glimpse of what praise and worship are designed to be.

Praise means, among other definitions, "to extol in words or in song; to magnify; to glorify." We can either praise God directly (like we do in the worship service) or indirectly, by praising Him to others. It starts with our minds set on God, who He is and what He has done, but it's not praise until it's put into action or given a voice. I grew up hearing people talk about how you can praise God in your own way and now I am learning that God Himself tells us in His word how He wants to be praised. Did you know that raising your hands in praise isn't just a personal preference? I sure didn't. God tells us in the Bible to raise our hands, just the way He tells us to sing to Him.

I'm probably not alone in thinking this, but I used to think that all praise was supposed to come out of a spontaneous wave of emotion, what some might call feeling the Spirit move. Now I'm learning that we are called to praise even when (and especially when) we don't feel like it. That's considered a sacrifice of praise. It costs something. It's easy to praise God and raise your hands in the middle of an emotional and Spirit-filled service. It's harder to do that when you're worried about how you're going to pay your bills this month. When I think about consciously raising my hands when I'm singing on the Praise Team, I admit to sometimes wondering if I'm being fake. But I have to ask myself whose purpose would it serve best for me to refrain from offering sacrificial (i.e., even when you don't feel like it) praise? The enemy, of course. So I raise my hands in honor of all God is and all He's done and all He's yet to do. If I'm raising my hands in praise even though I'm not necessarily overcome with emotion, there's still nothing fake about it. I don't know that any of us are qualified to judge each other's level of spirituality or worship anyway. That's for God to do. And it's easy to confine yourself to spontaneous worship, when the music and atmosphere are just right and you get those God-bumps up and down your spine. Bob Sorge talks about how some people are like lazy dogs - they sit in the worship service and wait for someone to come along and scratch their worship spot so they will start praising and worshipping spontaneously. Now, I don't personally know anyone like that but I'm sure they exist. I think a little discipline and self-control might be useful in this instance. Can you imagine what would happen in LifeSong Church if one morning every single person in the worship service stood up (another form of praise) and raised their hands in praise during the worship music? I think the roof might just fly off the building!

Along the lines of praising intentionally even if you don't feel like it, we still have to be honest about the condition of our hearts. It's hard to offer true praise when you've got something you need to confess to the Father and repent from. Larry tells the Praise Team and Band that we have to stay "close and clean," meaning stay close to God and keep our hearts clean. How can you offer yourself fully to God in praise when you're trying to hide something from Him? You can't. And how much easier it is to praise God when you are reminded of just how much He has forgiven you!

Grudge Match

For some reason, I am having a terrible time with my anger today. It doesn't help to know that in this situation, I'm pretty sure I'm on the right end of the argument.

I don't believe in taking sides in the case of friends' marital problems, but I'm having trouble dealing with a particular ex-husband and I'm not sure I understand why. Let's call him T. No one can really know what goes on in a marriage except the two people involved and that's also true of the events leading up to a divorce. I also believe that there's not usually one person who is absolutely blameless in a divorce while the other person is completely at fault. For instance, in my own divorce while I was not the one who walked away and asked for a divorce, I can admit that I was not the easiest person in the world to be married to. I was not and am not perfect. Hopefully I've learned from that experience but you'd have to ask Jon. :-) Anyway, from all accounts T was leading something of a double life. This was not the first time T had been caught by his wife in the same type of behavior but in the past they had worked it out, or so she thought. Once they were separated and the evidence started coming out, the church leadership attempted to practice Biblical church discipline. First, a friend confronted him with his behavior and gave him an opportunity to turn away from it. T denied everything. Then his small group attempted to talk to him about it. No dice. Leaders of the church spoke with him and finally the church was forced to "put him out" because he refused to acknowledge the error of his ways, denying everything until the end. Even now, he has never once accepted responsibility for what he's done and I'm angry. I'm angry on behalf of his children whose home got torn apart. I'm angry because I thought we were friends and he's not who I thought he was at all. I just want him to feel some shame and show some remorse. Instead he just be-bops around like everything is just happy-happy and it drives me crazy! Oh sure, your daughter cries for you sometimes at night but you don't have to think about it because you don't live with her. Yeah, you visit and get to be the fun parent and when you go home, Mommy has to pick up the pieces, sometimes for days after the visit is over.

But why? Am I feeling all this on behalf of his family? Actually, I think some of it is misplaced anger from my own childhood and my failed first marriage. My Dad did eventually tell me one time that he was sorry for what he did to my mother, and you wouldn't believe how affected I was by that apology. My first husband has never apologized to me. Maybe it's the difference between a mother and a father, but I don't know how he could have chosen to leave his own child. OK, so I wasn't the easiest person to live with but I never cheated on him. I can't think of any man I would leave my child behind for. A great deal of my grief over my divorce was because of Dana and the realization that no one else would ever understand the impact it would have on her the way that I could. I'd like to think that she came out of the divorce unscathed but in my heart I know she didn't. No child of divorce is EVER totally unscarred by it. My parents divorced when I was 4 and although I can say with certainty that I had a better life with my mother and stepfather than I would have had if my parents had stayed married, that doesn't mean that I don't carry some wounds. Dana's pretty well adjusted and loves Jon dearly but I know that she carries wounds too. What's startling is that I'll be going on with life and having a pretty smooth ride when all of a sudden I hit a brick wall of anger and slam into it headlong. Just when I think I have it all together I get reminded that I'm not in control.

In the end, I'll have to hold my tongue and let the parties involved work it out the best way they know how. As for my own wounds, I'll have to give them over to God and trust Him to heal me in His time, and stop ripping the scabs off to see if they're healed yet.

Change is A-Coming

I'm trying not to be bitter, really I am. I confess that John McCain didn't really strike me as the best possible candidate for President, but he was certainly better than Obama in my eyes. And while I didn't think "my" side had much of a chance of winning I still got out there and voted. So now what? My first instinct is to be afraid but God tells me very directly in His word "Do not fear." I know that Obama only won because God allowed it and I know that God has everything in His control. Now if I can only convince my heart to be still and know.

Life at my house is mass chaos right now. Our friend Tracy has temporarily moved in with us, along with her three children (ages 7, almost 2 and almost 2 - yep, twins). We've been friends for 5 years now and when things got tough out there in Vegas she finally agreed to come here, after we nagged her repeatedly for a many months. We're happy to have her and the kids close by but I'd be lying if I said it was easy to go from a family of five to a group of nine. God has been faithful and so far we've not wanted for anything. Tomorrow she has two interviews and I would be shocked if she does not get an offer for at least one of those positions. She's a smart girl with excellent experience in the insurance industry and won't go unemployed for long. One of the best parts has been seeing Karis and Harper enjoy being together. Those two have been friends since the age of two, as I wrote in an earlier post. I think Christmas this year is going to be a blast! And when the time comes for Tracy and the kids to move into their own place, it's going to seem so quiet around here. Dana is planning to move into a dorm at USC-Upstate in January and when Tracy goes we will be reduced from 9 to 4.

The only constant in life is change and change would have come no matter which candidate won the office of President. I'm not sure I can sincerely pray for Obama just yet but God's working on me to get me there. Just another change coming my way...

Me and Jesus

I just love the song by Stellar Kart called "Me and Jesus", because it talks about community and friendship as I think maybe God intended it to be. "Someone loves you, even when you don't think so; don't you know you've got me and Jesus?" What a blessing to know that you have friends around who will not judge you, who will instead love you with the love of Christ! Judging is easy; loving people in spite of who they are is hard, but if it was easy we wouldn't need God's help to do it, I guess.

I don't know why I'm getting all soppy and sentimental today. I just want my friends to know that no matter what goes on in their lives, they'll always have me and Jesus. Yes, I do reserve the right to tell you when I think you're heading in the wrong direction. I will try to be open-minded when you tell ME that I'm heading the wrong way. None of us is any better than anyone else - we are all sinners. It says so right there in Romans. Likewise we are all children of God. Christ died for ALL of us, the murderer and the saint. We are all equal under the cross.

I'm really burdened today for the Mortality Room - Choices? production at LifeSong. Anytime you try to do something good for the Lord the enemy is going to try to mess it up so maybe we should consider it a good sign that he's working really hard to try to sabotage this thing. Spiritual warfare is going on all over the place and we all need to be praying against it. That sounds like theological-speak but what I take it to mean is that we need to just pray. Pray for the cast, for the church, for the people who will come to see it, for Larry (has he slept in the past week?), for the lighting and tech crew, for anyone remotely connected to the production, and pray for their protection. God isn't sitting there waiting for you to get all the words right - He just wants to hear your heart.

More Music

I can never get enough music! Unless it's rap or hip-hop, that is. I like (or at least tolerate) most other styles of music quite well. I put on my Playlist to the left a selection of songs that represent different parts and stages of my life. Today I'm going to talk about The Old Ship of Zion.

My stepfather came into my life when I was six years old. He was a mystery to me when he married my mother because I had only met him a couple of times. He wasn't new to fatherhood because he had a daughter three years older than me and that may have made the transition a little easier for both of us. I loved to pull out the "You're not my real father so you can't tell me what to do" card but it never seemed to work. Kenny loved country, oldies and country gospel music. Over the years he formed several gospel quartets that would travel and sing at different churches around the area. At one point we even had our own bus! He bought an old school bus and painted it red, white and blue, and we were set to go. The group would practice in an old building behind our house that we called "The Shop" because it used to be his father's workshop. I remember that the four singers' microphones had the foam covers on the top and each one had their own color. Hmmmm... Sound like anyone you know? The Old Ship of Zion was a song that they used to sing, and I could name dozens more of them - most of which I could still sing for you if you asked me to. :-) We visited all kinds of churches, from the quiet, staid traditional Baptist churches with nice padded pews to loud and rowdy Churches of God with mismatched folding chairs. Or the even more rowdy Assemblies of God. OK, I probably shouldn't stereotype denominations that way. Not all those Baptist churches were quiet. Some churches we played several times and the pastors came to be friends of the family. We got invited to church homecomings and I learned to love those "singings" and the feast we were invited to share. I could always count on some macaroni and cheese, deviled eggs, fried chicken and banana pudding at a homecoming "dinner on the ground." I remember the first time I got hold of some banana pudding that some misinformed soul had put pineapple in - yuck! Or the deviled eggs that had pickle relish added. I was an extremely picky eater as a kid, although you wouldn't have believed it if you had seen me then.

Although I didn't make my own decision to follow Christ until my late teens, the music of those years touched my childish soul. There were certain songs that would make me cry every single time, whether because of the words or the melody or the harmony, or some combination of all three. So many of those songs are engraved on my heart that even now I can hear just a snippet of a melody and recognize it as an old "quartet" song.

My partner in crime was my friend Vicky, whose dad sang baritone while my stepdad sang lead. We were only a year apart in age so we kept each other company during practices and trips around East Tennessee. Occasionally one of the other singers or musicians that joined the group would have a son who was "crushworthy" and we would practice our flirting at every available opportunity. Sadly, I was too shy to do much flirting and they always ended up liking Vicky and not me. That is a subject for another post though.

One of the singers that came and went and came back was named Ronnie, and he sang tenor. When I say tenor, I don't mean a high male voice - I mean a pure, clear falsetto. He was amazing! He hit notes that I can't even hit today. And then there was Bob, who sang bass. Bob looked like he would run away if someone said "Boo!" to him, which wasn't far from the truth. And I thought I was shy. He did, however, have a very cute son near my age that gave me plenty of material for my diary. There I was, fourteen years old and desperate for someone to notice me and Dale just couldn't seem to get the hint. Come to think of it, I probably wasn't hinting strongly enough to get noticed. He did once comment on how pretty I was but it never went past that.

In addition to singing gospel music, my stepdad was a huge fan so we also traveled to hear other groups sing: The Florida Boys, The Inspirations, The Kingsmen, The Happy Goodman Family, The New Gospel Ways - many of those guys actually ended up as family friends. I know that my parents used to go visit Archie Watkins of The Inspirations at his home. In his later years, my stepdad fulfilled a lifelong dream of his and got his own radio program. It was a small AM station in Knoxville and he had to purchase his own airtime, but over the years he developed quite a following. He would go on the air every Sunday evening and play the music that he loved, and people would call in or write in and request certain songs. The station was near where Jon and I lived so I would go in and visit my parents there (because my mother was there to write down what songs they played in what order and just generally help out), and my stepdad was always tickled to see me and would mention on the air that his daughter was there to visit. After his sudden death in 2003 the station held a tribute broadcast in his honor and I have a recording of it, although I haven't had the heart to listen to it yet. I also have a recording of his last broadcast and I haven't listened to that either. I love thinking that Kenny is now enjoying the wonders of the Heaven that he sang about for so many years, and that after singing God's praises here on Earth he can now praise Him face to face.

Where Was I?

So where was I? Oh, yes - One Month to Live. I've been able to make some relatively small changes since starting the book and I find myself weighing my choices a little more carefully. I'm spending more time talking and playing with my kids and less time on the computer or watching TV. Sadly, the amount of time I spend on housework is unaffected, for better or for worse. One day's reading was about how our lives are similar to a roller coaster with all its ups and downs and unpredictability, yet we enjoy the adrenaline rush it gives us. The assignment was to figure out my own metaphor for life, something that suited me personally. I chose a surfer. Although I may get knocked down by the waves, I float back to the surface, and instead of being ruled by the waves I tap into their power and use it to propel myself forward. I thought it was quite fitting.

The new worship team (everyone who tried out except for one) is singing a song tomorrow morning and I can't wait! We actually had a rehearsal on Monday night. I'm not used to actually having a worship team rehearsal other than Sunday morning before the service. Larry gave us name labels to put on our microphones. Odd how such a small piece of plastic can give me such satisfaction but it does. Amy asked him if we could bring in our own colored tape but he said no. :-) There is but one decorated mike, and it belongs to Larry. Anyway, the song we're singing is so powerful I bet it will take the roof right off LifeSong Church. I know I felt the Spirit when we were rehearsing and if the PT can feel it and show it, it's going to be an amazing service.

I'm going to blog about something I did last week, and I've only told one other person (not Jon), so if someone else knows it's going to be because they've read this blog. I was at Hardee's on 29 one morning last week. It might have been Wednesday - whatever day it was raining so hard. I had my breakfast, read my OMTL and journaled, then headed out for WalMart to get an oil change. I had to sit and wait for traffic to get clear so I could turn left and it seemed to take forever. Finally I had an opening and I turned left...... directly into a left turn lane GOING THE OTHER WAY! There was a median between me and the lane I was aiming for. I'm sitting here in my van in the pouring raing thinking, I'm on the wrong side of the highway...I hope nobody comes up over that hill wanting to turn left....I'm gonna die! Honestly, it really brought the whole OMTL thing home to me and a new, fresh, and quite jarring way. Of course it all turned out OK. I noticed the median was sloping and not squared off, so I checked to see if anyone was coming (nope) and just drove over it into the correct side of the road. I felt so stupid! How could I not see there was a median? But God took care of me in my stupidity and showed me the way out. Talk about your adrenaline rush! Who needs a roller coaster? I'm sure there are all sorts of metaphors hidden in that little incident but right now the laundry is calling....

One Month to Live

My wonderful church (LifeSong - you should check it out) has started a challenge called One Month to Live and although I'm only on Day 4, it's been a real eye-opener. The premise is that you examine your life as though you had only a month to live and determine what you would and would not do with those last few weeks. Furthermore, since Christ knew when he would die we should model our reactions after His. Although I can't do some of the things I think I'd do (like give up exercising and eat whatever I wanted), it does make me think about every time-wasting activity I engage in. Surfing around on Facebook - would I do that if I had a limited amount of time to live? No, I think not. In 1st Corinthians 10:23-24 Paul writes "You say, "I am allowed to do anything" - but not everything is good for you. You say, "I am allowed to do anything" - but not everything is beneficial. Don't be concerned for your own good but for the good of others." I'm busy with a lot of things and I generally like it that way. Every once in a while I get overwhelmed by the demands on my time and I start cutting things out. If I had only a month left, I would surely not care about being the PTO Co-President. In fact, the very title of Co-President means that there's another one of them that can take over. Is there anything inherently wrong with being involved in the PTO? No, of course not. I'm serving the school and doing my part to make it the best it can be, for my children and all the others who learn and work there. But is it beneficial? Is it the best use of my time? Well, that's a question I have yet to answer. I can tell you that if an activity needs to be dropped that would probably be the first to go. I had all these big plans (yes, I know - God has a sense of humor) about how it was going to be the most laid-back PTO in history but so far we're still in high gear due to the beginning of the school year and haven't slowed down yet.

One of our first assignments in the One Month book was to write down 5 things that we would change if we knew we only had a month left. One of mine had to do with writing down all the things I would want my children to know. I guess blogging counts for some of that. :-) A second one was to be more free in my worship. That's a biggie. My next chapter in the HOTA book is on Jealousy and Envy. I am so NOT looking forward to reading that one.

And today I got a nice letter in the mail from Larry to say "Welcome to the Worship Team." At least I can stop sweating over that one. No wonder Amanda thought I was so funny when I was at the church yesterday joking about getting it in writing. Here's the interesting part: no sooner had I opened the letter, read it and breathed a sigh of relief than the enemy started in on me with all the lies he uses to make me doubt myself. "He must have felt sorry for you; he didn't have any other choices; your voice isn't anything special" and on and on. Thankfully God has opened my eyes lately to be able to see those lies for what they are. Between Sunday afternoon and today, nearly every possible outcome had played like a movie trailer in my mind and none of the bad ones were God's work either. By the way, I had a dream on Tuesday morning that almost everyone who auditioned made the Worship Team. And of course once I got home on Sunday I thought of at least ten other things I should have said. Worship is ALWAYS meant to point people to God, and when I stand up there on Sunday mornings I want to be a neon arrow pointing straight to heaven. I hope that when people look at me they can see that God is real and He lives, and better yet, that He lives in me. I want to be the usher bringing people into the presence of God, saying, "Come and see!"

A Childhood Set to Music

I loved Amy's post about how certain songs bring back such clear memories. And because I am a shameless copycat I started thinking about the soundtrack to my own life. I have so many musical memories that I could blog about them until this time next year, so I'll start small.

When I was very young (around 7, I think) my father lived with my stepmother and my half-sister one town away from where I lived with my mother and stepfather. I'll wait a minute while you try to sort out the relationships....... OK, moving on. When I stayed with my dad my half-sister Angie (hereinafter referred to as my "sister") and I used to listen to this one little 45 over and over. For those of you who don't know what I mean by a 45, it's not a gun. It's a small record, commonly called a "single". You know, way back when there used to be only albums and 8-track tapes, you could buy one song at a time on 45's which were so called because they played at 45 rpm on the record player and not 33 1/3 rpm like albums. But I digress. Anyway, we had this one little Donny Osmond record that we played over and over. We would jump on the bed singing along to "Puppy Love" and when he got to the "help me, help me please" part, we would collapse backward onto the bed in full-out dramatic fashion, which quickly turned to hysterical laughter. I was crazy for Donny Osmond and didn't care a hoot for David Cassidy, never mind that I was in elementary school and had no clue about teenaged boys. I knew the names of all the Osmond brothers and sister, Donny's favorite color and birthdate. I remember telling my stepfather that the Osmonds were going to be at Caesar's Palace and asking if we could go. I didn't understand why it was so funny.

"Seasons in the Sun" was popular when I was in about the fourth grade. I learned all the words to that song, which was unspeakably sad to my 10 year old mind. As the child of divorced parents I was a sucker for any song that involved a child losing a father. Don't even get me started on "Daddy Don't You Walk So Fast" by Wayne Newton! I had a highly coveted set of Bic colored markers with which I sat down and painstakingly wrote out the verses and choruses of "Seasons" and a couple of others. Then, when I couldn't find tape, I made the ill-fated decision to glue them onto my bedroom wall. My songs looked really cool up there on the wall, with each verse written in a separate color. The trouble was, when I wanted to take them down and save them they ripped into pieces from the glue. My stepfather had rigged up a swing in a tree beside our driveway and I spent many, many hours in that swing singing for my own entertainment. In my childish fantasies I was starring in the movie about my life. And since it was MY fantasy, I was also singing the soundtrack.

If I had to point to one person who was responsible for my early education in popular music it would be my stepsister Nita. She was three years older than me and was the product of my stepfather's first marriage. I'll hold on while you get that straight. Mary was married and had me, then divorced. Ken was married, had Nita and got divorced. Then Mary and Ken married each other. Got it? Anyway, Nita came to our house on Saturday every week and once a month she stayed overnight. We used to listen to Casey Kasem's Top 40 every Saturday and for some odd reason we used to write them all down. We watched American Bandstand and made fun of the clothes and the dance moves we saw. I tended to follow her taste in music, and for the record she was the one who turned me onto Barry Manilow. It's all her fault. In some ways I had the best of all worlds in Nita. She wasn't there to get in my way all the time but she popped in every so often to share the kinds of knowledge that sisters usually share. She took me to the skating rink and taught me what clothes were cool. Once we grew up though, Nita and I didn't seem to have much in common. I last saw her around Thanksgiving when we were at my Mom's house. She's actually a grandmother now. I wonder if she remembers writing down all the songs on the Top 40 countdown.

Worship (Again)

The saga of Kim's own personal study of worship continues... I am reading a book called "The Heart of the Artist" by Rory Noland that is a real eye-opener. First of all, I hesitated to buy it because I thought it was a little presumptuous of me to assume that I'm an artist and therefore entitled to read this book. But the subtitle is "A Character-Building Guide for You & Your Ministry Team" and I AM part of the Worship Ministry team so I figured it would be OK. So far no Book Police have come to snatch it out of my hands so I think it's going to be just fine. The chapters are on things like Servanthood vs. Stardom, Excellence vs. Perfection, Jealousy and Envy, Managing Your Emotions, etc. Some of the other books I read were very lightweight in comparison to this one but HOTA (don't want to type the whole title out again, sorry) is very nitty-gritty. I mean, when someone tells you that you have a beautiful voice, how DO you respond? I know that the only reason I can sing a note is because God has given me a gift, so how do I accept a compliment gracefully without being prideful and at the same not denigrating a gift from God? I don't know yet but I'm learning. Meanwhile Amy is reading a different book on worship and we end up calling each other to read aloud on the phone. I'm using a highlighter as a bookmark because I keep needing the darn thing to mark a particular meaningful passage.

I sang a little two-line solo on Sunday morning and people have been so sweet to tell me that they enjoyed it. It was a song that I know and love and I had no problem singing it from my heart. I have to say that while singing I felt a rush like nothing I have ever felt before from the soles of my feet to the (frosted) tips of my hair and it wasn't just adrenaline - it was the Spirit. I don't know why He would choose to pour over me like that but it was SO cool! You know, none of us are worthy to stand before God and lift our voices to Him. We are all flawed and while I know that Praise Team and Band members may look like leaders, we are just sinful humans like everyone else.

I had ample proof of that this week when I had to go to someone and apologize for some things that I've said about that person. It was embarrassing, humbling, and.... completely necessary. It was one of those things when God just planted the idea in my heart and would not let it go. It got to the point where I was almost physically sick with knowing that I had to do this thing, but oh the relief when it was over! Believe me, I would rather have been just about ANYWHERE else! I did it out of obedience and certainly not because I'm a "good" person. If I'd been such a good person there wouldn't have been a need to apologize, would there?

So, back to worship... I was talking on the phone to my friend Marsha this evening and she said a couple of things about worship that I wanted to remember, so I'll post them here. She compared worship to praying to God while the congregation just happens to be listening in, or talking to God in front of everyone else. Or an intimate conversation with God and you are letting others watch. You're connecting with God and everyone else just happens to be there too. I wish I could remember it all. I think Marsha has the gist of what the Praise Team is supposed to be about. I've heard other worship leaders talk about leading the congregation into the presence of God although I haven't heard a good explanation of that one yet.

Sunday afternoon we have auditions for next year's Praise Team. I've changed my song about four times already and still have to edit my testimony. Again. I don't think Larry wants to read 10 pages of my life story. Maybe he'll just ask me to hit the highlights so he doesn't have to read it. Anyway, I originally wanted to sing something really impressive to blow his socks off but I'll settle for a song that I can sing and really feel some emotion. I hope he asks me why I chose my song because I'd love to tell him. I'm still not sure I have a good answer to the question of why I feel God is calling me to serve on the Praise Team but I haven't given up praying about it.

Double Digits!

Today is my birthday. I'm now 44 years old and I can't believe it! How did I get to be this age? Where did the time go? Just yesterday I was in elementary school. When I was little, 44 was ancient to me. By the time my grandmother was this age I was already two years old. By the time my mother was this age I had been married for two years. When my oldest child is 44 I'll be 67 or 68 and when my youngest turns 44 I'll be.... probably gone on to heaven. Then again, based on the longevity of the women on my mother's side of the family, maybe not. My great-great-grandmother died the day after she turned 100 years old (I was grown up and married already by then). My great-grandmother died at the age of 95 and my grandmother is still going strong at 84.

I just recently got the David Crowder Band's newest CD called "Remedy" and haven't even listened to it all the way through, so I wasn't familiar with the song used in the service on Sunday morning even though I recognized my friend Crowder. :-) It's not unusual for me to be touched by music and feel that the writer must have been reading my mind when he/she wrote the song, but "Never Let Go" really hit me hard. I don't normally sit around and meditate on all the hard stuff I've been through in life but the words brought the memories back in a flood and I could see it all play out like a slideshow in my mind. At the time I was going through each experience I knew God was with me, even if sometimes it was head knowledge and not heart knowledge. If I hadn't felt that way I don't know how I would have made it through! How do people get through tough times without God to hold onto? Anyway, the truth of the song just hit me like a hammer - He NEVER lets go, even when we do. In the good times when we forget just Who is blessing us and WE let go of Him, He still never lets go. When we get distracted by life and forget to hold onto God, He is holding onto us.

So I'm still hip-deep in my personal worship exploration. Let's call it WorshipQuest, just because I've always wanted to give an endeavor a cutesy name. I'm reading "My Heart's Desire" by David Jeremiah and it reminds me of "Velvet Elvis" the way I can only read a couple of pages at a time before I have to put it down and digest what I just read. In addition to that, I have a devotional written for worship teams that has been very helpful. One thing David Jeremiah said that I'm still turning over in my mind is this: We worship whom we trust, and we trust whom we know. Hmmm.... So we can't truly worship God unless we trust Him and we won't trust Him unless we know Him, which in my mind means taking time to read His word and talk with Him through prayer, including sitting quietly to listen. That makes sense. In fact, it might explain the epidemic of self-worship going on in the world today, because who do you know best but yourself? And how many people don't trust anyone BUT themselves? You know, the people who think if you want it done right you have to do it yourself (and I'm one of them sometimes). Or people so closed off they are terrified of sharing anything personal and don't even admit to their real feelings. We tend to think of them as shallow. Maybe they've been hurt and believe they are right not to trust others but I don't think God meant us to live that way. The women's Bible study on idols really pointed out to me how often we "serve" things or people other than God. It made me think about my motivation for every little thing I do and try to keep things/people in their proper place.

I read a comment in yesterday's newspaper from a lady who got offended by someone's response when they asked her if she attended church. When she said "No," the person who asked the question said "Shame on you!" The lady went on to write that she believes in God and she's a good, moral person who worships in her own way and basically doesn't need to go to church. She said she has a "better than average" knowledge of the Bible and that the Bible doesn't require believers to go to church. I beg to differ. What about the verse that says we should not forsake the gathering together of believers? How many people are there RIGHT NOW in the world walking around thinking the same thing? Why do people want to avoid church? Is it the fear of condemnation or judgment? Is it shame? Is it the fear that they might just have to confront some sin in their life and change? Is it simple rebellion? What a lie it is to think that just because you are "good enough" you'll go right on to heaven! A few years ago Mariah Carey had a hit song called "One Sweet Day" about someone who had died and she was just sure that they were "shining down on me from heaven" and they would be together again "one sweet day". Um, not necessarily. I changed the station every time that song came on because I was so frustrated by the message it was sending. Argh! How can we fight back against those messages?

OK, on to something sweeter. I get to share my big day with Alfred Hitchcock, Fidel Castro and Danny Bonaduce, along with Andy Griggs (country singer), Quinn Cummings (child actress) and Pat Harrington (the "super" from One Day at a Time), PLUS Amy D.'s father. On a radio show a few years ago I heard about the theory that your life will follow the theme of the song that was #1 on the exact day you were born, so I went to check it out. My song, which was #1 on August 13, 1964: "A Hard Day's Night" by the Beatles. Yeah. Nuff said.

Alive Again in Heaven

Two thirds of my family is off in Knoxville this weekend visiting with Harper one last time before she flies back to Las Vegas. The rest of us are hanging around home and enjoying some togetherness. Last night after Quinn went to bed, Dana and I watched a movie ("Dan in Real Life" - I give it a 6 out of 10, and that's only because I like Steve Carell) and this afternoon she and I went to see "Mamma Mia!" with Misty. What a hoot! I LOVED that movie and although I like musicals as a rule, I'm not *that* easy to please. Now I want to be IN it myself, but I can't decide which part I like best. Meryl Streep's part? Nah, she's the lead and while I like to be noticed I don't want to be that responsible. Maybe her friend Rosie is more my style, since I'm too old now to be the daughter.

As the youngest child, Quinn is often competing for my attention with her sisters and it's been interesting to watch her this weekend dealing with Karis being gone. I think Quinn misses her sister but at the same time, Mommy doesn't have to take care of anybody but her. Hey, she thinks, this may not be so bad! This evening we rode scooters around the block (yes, you read that right: I rode a scooter) and Quinn talked nonstop the whole way. She is quite a funny girl! She had the whole floor to herself and was making good use of it. She seems to have matured so much in the past 3 months, it's amazing. I didn't have to say much myself because she apparently had a lot of things she wanted to say. One particularly sweet conversation (or more accurately, monologue) had to do with my telling her to be careful and not go too fast down the hill. I'm going to try to quote this pretty much verbatim and with very little punctuation because that's the way the child talks. Alan Smith and Marsha Howell, this is for you:

Quinn: Yeah I don't want to go too fast on my scooter cause then I might fall and crack my head open and that would hurt and then I'd die unless the doctor sewed me back up but you don't have to be sad if I die because I'll come alive again in heaven and then you'll see me there and we'll be happy. So don't be sad if I die.

Me: Oh, if you die you'll come alive again in heaven?

Quinn: Yeah, and if you die I won't be sad because I know you'll be alive in heaven and when I die and go to heaven too I'll come back alive again in heaven and we'll all be happy. So you don't have to cry or anything.

Me: If you died I would be very sad because I would miss you but it would make me feel better to know that you're alive again in heaven with Jesus. And then I'd know that when I die and go to heaven I'll see you again.

Quinn: Yeah, and we'll play games and ride scooters and stuff ....

I thank God for all the wonderful teachers He has placed in my children's lives over the years. Jon and I teach them at home as well but you know how well kids listen to their parents sometimes. Alan and Marsha (and others): Quinn is listening and absorbing your message. It's getting through. So if you ever get discouraged and think your ministry isn't effective, don't be fooled. The kids are listening.

On a whole other subject, lately I've been feeling drawn to study worship. Singing on the Praise Team has made me think about what worship is and what it looks like. Karis and Quinn took classes in worship dance this summer from a neighbor of mine and she said some things that really pushed me along in that direction. The flag routine that Susan did at our This Night celebration moved me and stirred something in me as well. So I did what I usually do: I got on Amazon.com and started browsing through books on worship, and I ran some Google searches. I came up with some interesting articles and I ordered a couple of books. Right now I'm reading one by David Jeremiah and not that he needs my endorsement, but he's really onto something.

It will come as no surprise to most people that "worship" does not necessarily mean the songs that we sing on Sunday morning. At least it didn't to me. I had heard whisperings and hints that there was more, much more, to worship. Worship is our response to who God is and what He's done. That kind of throws it wide open, doesn't it? So many things can be considered worship, if they're done with the right heart attitude. David Jeremiah's book is about living life in an attitude of childlike wonder and awe. Sure, we've all had our breath taken away by some beautiful sights in nature or the birth of a child. But how many of us see the wonders around us every day, or take the time to reflect on the things God has done for us? Usually we (meaning me) are too busy with our daily details to look around us and see. More to come on this later.

Praise Team auditions for the next year are on August 17. The word "audition" makes me nauseous, and I'm trying to decide on a song to use. I also need to write out my personal salvation story (not a problem) and (here's the biggie) why I feel God is calling me to serve on the Praise Team. Yikes! I've been praying about that one and will continue praying about it, for sure. There is just no easy answer to that question, no simple "yes" or "no". How do I put into words what I feel? I just know when I'm sitting in front of Larry my mind will go blank. But that is fear, and I cannot let fear rule my life, right? Oh boy.

Just Rambling

Karis and Harper are trying to wring every possible bit of fun out of the last few hours of their weekend. It's been so fun to watch them reconnect! Saturday night I was tucking them into their sleeping bags on Karis' floor and when I leaned in to kiss Karis goodnight she wrapped her arms around my neck, smiled sweetly and said, "This has been my best day, hasn't it?" I said, "Yes honey, I guess it has." Last night after we put them in their sleeping bags, Harper came back downstairs with tears in her eyes. She was said because she realized that the next day, she was leaving. We soothed her and her Daddy held her on his lap for a while, then the two Daddies started putting their heads together about a way that the girls could see each other again before Harper goes back to Vegas. I think it's going to work out. And then she'll be back East in December to see her Daddy again so maybe we can have another visit.

Childhood friends are so important, I think. I'm sad that I'm not in touch with anyone I played with as a child or even any of my high school friends. My best friend growing up was Vicki, who was an only child just like me who lived in my neighborhood. Our houses were on streets that ran parallel to each other and they backed up to a grassy "alley" that was like a common area. Our Dads would take turns mowing the alley so Vicki and I could walk to each other's homes without fear of bugs or snakes. Vicki and I met when I was 7 and she was 6, and one of the first things she told me was that she's adopted. Our parents were friends off and on throughout our childhood and our Dads were in a gospel singing group together for years so we traveled to different churches and with no siblings around, we were each other's entertainment. Her parents were much more indulgent with her than mine were with me and she actually had a car, so we drove all over town. There was also Robin, who lived down the street from me and was also an only child (there seems to be a theme here). Of course it was impossible for the three of us to all be friends at once - it never works with odd numbers of girls, you know - so one or the other of us was always feeling left out. Then there was my step-cousin Dede who lived with her grandmother (my step-grandmother) right next to our house. Would you believe she was also an only child? We played together a lot and treated each other like siblings - took each other for granted, mostly. We shared a love for reading, board games and certain television shows. I used to spend the night with my friends several times a week during the summers. We'd go to the public swimming pool and stay for hours, or to the skating rink where we'd mainly flirt with the boys instead of skating.

By the time I was in high school, the four of us had drifted off into different groups of friends and I had a new best friend, Alice, who was from South Carolina. I think Alice deserves a post of her very own, so I'll write about her later. You know how there are different "groups" in high school - jocks/cheerleaders, smart kids, band geeks, potheads, etc. I actually straddled the line between two groups: the smart kids (yeah, hard to believe) and the drama club. There were several of us who wandered between the two. Were we Smart Kids who liked to sing and act? Or were we Singers/Actors who were also smart (or at least had the reputation of being smart)? For me it was the latter. I certainly wasn't a jock and I was never popular. I was actually quite shy in high school and while I wanted to be noticed, I didn't want to be noticed in a "bad" way so I kept my head down. I sang in the choir, acted in plays, did just enough homework to get by, and raised my hand in class to answer questions. Teachers loved me! My fellow students, not so much. I ran into my high school French teacher last year at Thanksgiving and she still remembered me! Go figure.

Friends and gods (not interchangeable)

In the past 24 hours I have had the pleasure of witnessing my child's pure bliss (although I'm not sure that word is strong enough) in having her best friend beside her. I call Harper her best friend even though maybe a better term is "oldest" friend. The girls have known each other since the age of two. Until our family moved in June 2006, they were together at least once or twice a week, not counting church services. Our families vacationed together, we ate together and played together. After the Adams moved to SC we visited and stayed over at each other's homes, which if you've never done it, definitely gives you a new level of intimacy! Anyway, Harper is the kind of friend who has known Karis so long that Karis' quirks don't phase her, and Karis is glowing in the presence of a friend who knows her well and would choose KARIS above all other friends. I can see the confidence and peace in Karis' face and it moves me to tears. For a child who sometimes struggles with social situations and kids her own age, being with Harper is like a breath of fresh air to Karis. She doesn't have to try so hard because Harper knows her well and loves her anyway. When we answered the door yesterday afternoon, the two girls hugged and immediately ran off to play like they had never been apart for nearly a year.

I want to be that way with my friends. When I am with them, I want that joy to show in my face. Who doesn't want to know that their presence is valued and appreciated? When I call a friend on the phone, I want that friend to feel the unabashed joy I have in our friendship. Am I asking too much of myself and other people? Maybe. I'm not always in a good mood but I'm ALWAYS happy to be with my friends, the ones who know me well and love me anyway, and I'm sure it's not easy all the time. The Bible tells us we are to "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you." (Colossians 3:13) It's not that hard to hurt my feelings but I do my best (with God's help) to forgive. I hope my friends feel the same, and I think they do.

Speaking of hurting my feelings, that may not be so easy to do once we get through with this No Other Gods study. Behold, the old man is gone and the new man has come! I don't have to be a slave to what others think of me or say to/about me. Of course, that's easier said than done. I love that whole section of Colossians (verses 1-17) that we read for the last day of this week's study. In fact, I may print that out and put it on my bathroom mirror so I can be reminded of it everyday. The section that we are discussing on Sunday has been very hard for me and yet very freeing. When we first started the study and were introduced to the idea of "functional gods" I had a feeling that there was one lurking in my life that was a person and sure enough, I had that feeling confirmed for me in this week's study. Yikes! It's not fair to people to set them up as gods and give them so much power over you, plus most times they don't even know they have that power AND they definitely don't usually ask for that much control. I wouldn't want to be someone's functional god. I'm human and therefore doomed to fail, and then what? Just something to think about.

So now we are thinking about ways to get our family out to Las Vegas, someway, somehow, in the next few months so another year doesn't go by without Karis and Harper seeing each other. I took this picture of them yesterday. I think their facial expressions say it all.

I Love You People!

Sometimes I am just overwhelmed with emotion for the way that God has so perfectly orchestrated my life to be right where I am right now. He knew long before I was born that I would be here in South Carolina at this phase of my life and that I would be a part of a growing and dynamic body of believers called LifeSong Church. Jon and I came to LifeSong in a very unique way that was quite obviously God's hand. Lots of times in our lives we can look back later and see how God was directing us but this time we could see it unfolding right before our eyes. Some Sunday mornings I want to stand up in front of the church and just shout, "I love you people!" And I do, some easily and some with God's help. :-)

I love Misty and Bobby and their heart for teaching our children to love Jesus. Misty has been my friend since the first day we walked into LifeSong and her sweet spirit inspires me to try and find my inner sweetness, since my first instinct is definitely more tart than sweet. And I love Lisa Fleming, who intimidated me on our first meeting without meaning to, but who has since become a dear friend based on so much more than that first thing we had in common. I love Marsha, who is such a straight shooter than you can always trust her to tell you the truth. I love Amy Hickman who works so tirelessly with the Aroma team to minister to the women at LifeSong, and I know it's not easy when you have a household that includes four children, a husband and two dogs! I love Misty's mom Vickie, which is easy because we are very alike, and Vickie's sister Janet, who is so quiet and NOT like me, and I especially love how they stick together the way sisters should. It gives me hope for my daughters one day and I sure do need it, based on the way they fight tooth and nail. I love Connie, who despite the world's attempts to crush her spirit, just keeps clinging to God with everything she's got. I love Miss Eulala, who always has a smile and an encouraging word for me, and I want to be like her one day. I love my Jenness who cheerfully takes care of my children when they have to come with me for some grown-up thing. I love Amanda, who seems so quiet but is really very funny and she gets my pop culture references. I've written before about my sweet friend Amy D. And of course I love my choir sisters. I could go on and on. And that's just some of the women at LifeSong! I haven't even started on the men. I could go on and on....

One thing I've observed about LifeSong is that it's not the kind of church where you can come in, sit on the back row and leave unscathed. You either love it or can't stand it. We are very intense. Jon and I loved it from day 1 and knew we were at home, and most of the people we've talked to who have joined the church after us felt the same way. It didn't take more than one visit to know if it was the place they wanted to be. We've seen others come for one service and never come back. I can understand that, because not everyone is at the same level of spiritual maturity. There was a time in Jon's life that LifeSong would have scared him to death! I've been in all kinds of churches in my lifetime and there's not much out there that would surprise me at this point. This is where God has put us and it is so exciting to watch the church morph and grow, and I think this is just the beginning. God has big plans for LifeSong Church. I can feel it every time I step into the building. I want to be a part of those plans however God chooses to use me.

Miss You!

When we lived in Knoxville, Jon and I were blessed to become close to the Blair family. Their daughter Harper was the same age as our daughter Karis, and the two girls were tight from the age of 2 until, well, I guess they are still close at heart. We saw each other through job changes, moving, adoption, births and deaths, and finally a life change for the Blairs. I miss our friends, especially my sister in Christ Tracy, who moved to Las Vegas last November. I miss that Harper and Karis won't get to grow up together, although as Tracy likes to remind me, we moved away first when we moved to South Carolina. The Blairs became the kind of "couple friends" that fit into our lives so easily they felt like family. We ate with each other, vacationed with each other, stayed in each other's homes, cared for each other's children and so much more. Although I'm so sad at the way things ended for them, I will always cherish the time we had to be part of each other's lives. We haven't yet found a good set of "couple friends" here in Duncan but we're working on it. Meanwhile, I put together a video of the Blair children and our children and set it to Miley Cyrus singing "Miss You." Karis actually chose the song and I think it's very appropriate. We miss our friends and it makes me sad that they are all the way on the other side of the country but at the same time I understand Tracy wanting to be where she feels God is calling her to be. I just wish God was calling her to South Carolina. Here's the video:

R.I.P.

We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of our dear friend, Personal Responsibility. After years of faithfully walking with us, she was bludgeoned to death by Righteous Entitlement and Delusions of Victimization. We will miss you, P.R. You taught us how to examine our consciences. You made us look at ourselves realistically and taught us that many times something WE did led to what we sometimes tried to think of as "bad luck." What will become of us without your guidance?

What, indeed? I read an article a couple of days ago about a 3 year old girl whose foot got caught in an airport escalator. It turns out she was wearing Crocs, and her shoe got stuck in between steps, trapping her foot and nearly severing a toe. She'll make a full recovery, by the way. I've heard of this sort of thing happening before on escalators with Crocs, and while I love Crocs I know they can be clumsy and unwieldy sometimes. Escalators and children don't mix well anyway, in my opinion, and anytime I am on an escalator with my kids I'm as nervous as a cat. It probably doesn't help that one of my childhood nightmares was getting my shoe or shoestring (yes, back in the day we wore shoes with actual shoestrings that you had to tie, BY YOURSELF) caught in the escalator. My girls like to jump at the end of the escalator ride and that's fine by me. I'm usually holding their hand right up until the moment that they jump so they don't jump too soon. At least if they're jumping their toes/shoes won't get caught. Anyway, the punch line to this story is that the mother of the 3 year old girl is thinking of suing the airport. For what? Because her daughter was wearing Crocs? I don't get it. I'm sorry the little girl got hurt, but sometimes an accident is just an accident and no one is at fault. And sometimes things that happen to you are your own fault.

Years ago a lady (questionable term) made headlines for suing McDonald's. She went through the drive-thru and bought a cup of coffee. The coffee spilled and burned her, so she sued McDonald's. Um..... Why? Because McDonald's told her to put the coffee between her legs and drive? I don't remember what happened with the case but I thought it was ridiculous. Common sense should tell you that the coffee will be hot and you should handle it carefully. If it wasn't hot, she probably would have complained about that, too. Sadly, common sense seems to be in short supply these days. We shouldn't need warning labels on appliances telling us not to use them in the bathtub. I've known since elementary school that water conducts electricity, haven't you?

I'm all about choices. Life is a series of choices that we make, thanks to God's gift of free will. Like right now: I'm choosing to write in my blog rather than do other things, like clean the kitchen, fold laundry, take a shower, etc. When I'm feeling lazy and I stay in bed instead of getting up for quiet time with God, I'm making a choice. (In fact, I'm revealing my priorities with choices like that one - my sleep is more important than my relationship with God, at least at that moment. But my speech on priorities can be saved for another blog post.) Much of the time I choose the easy way out. :-) I'm not a big fan of excuses. That doesn't mean I think people should beat themselves up all the time, but at least be honest with yourself. You'll never do any better if you can't acknowledge what you're doing now. One of my favorite sayings is, "Self-awareness is the first step." If you can't look at yourself objectively and realistically, change (as in becoming more Christ-like) is much harder. It's like trying to follow a map without knowing your starting point. I KNOW my tongue needs to be tamed, so I'm working on that. I KNOW I need more quiet time and I'm working on that, too. I KNOW that I let my anger rule me sometimes and with God's help, that's getting better all the time.

I try to teach my girls to make good choices in life. If your sister hits you, you have a choice: walk away or hit back. Make the right choice, and don't come to me with the excuse that she hit you first. The lesson doesn't always "take" and so, like me, they will need to hear it over and over again - Make good choices.

Letting Go

Something new is happening tomorrow. For the first time in her seven-plus years of life, Karis will be sleeping away from home without me. Dana is taking her to the beach for an overnight trip and it scares me to death! Not because I think Dana is irresponsible, but because I'm just so convinced that Karis needs me.

Karis has always been a little bit sensitive and needy, even as a newborn. She didn't seem to fit into this world exactly right, like a puzzle piece with a corner cut off. It wasn't until she was five years old that we discovered she has Sensory Processing Disorder. Most people have never heard of this problem, but basically it means that the information she takes in through her senses (including hearing, sight, taste, touch and smell, but there are others) doesn't always get understood correctly by her brain. If you've ever been irritated by a tag inside your chirt or the seams on your socks, you might have some idea of what SPD is like. But imagine that the irritation is so bad that you can't concentrate on anything else - it's all you can think about, and it actually HURTS. Sometimes lights are too bright and sounds are too loud, but other times the lights aren't bright enough and the sounds are too low. As a baby she had a hard time eating and sleeping. Even now she eats a very limited number of things. I'm sure people think we baby her or spoil her (or both!) but the fact is that she would literally starve herself before she would eat what we think of as "normal" meals. Certain smells will make her gag and vomit. She also struggles with some kinds of movement and she seems distracted a lot, almost like she's got ADD, which she does not. Sometimes her senses are on high alert and sometimes they seem dulled. It's hard to say what's coming next. SPD is so sneaky that it even affected the way Karis held a pencil, or cut with scissors. It affects the way she looks at words on a page, because she doesn't naturally read left to right and top to bottom. That's called "visual tracking," by the way. And SPD, especially mild SPD, is nearly undetectable unless you know what you're looking for. There are sensory seekers, who want more and more and more stimulation. They are the kids who seem to be risk takers, who want to jump off the couch again and again or can't hug you without knocking you down. There are sensory avoiders, who want you to turn the TV down or cut out all the tags in their clothes. For the most part, kids with SPD swing from one extreme to the other, depending on the day and what else is going on in their lives.

I'm of the belief that there is no one who is 100% normal. What's normal, anyway? But when it comes to our senses I think we all have SPD of one degree or another. The thing is, our differences are minor enough that we can adjust to them without major trauma. Kids like Karis can't make that adjustment and their SPD affects their quality of life. She can't always regulate herself because she can't process the sensory information her body is taking in, and sometimes she resorts to making sounds instead of using her words. There are kids out there with more severe SPD than Karis who literally cannot stop themselves from playing with their food or crashing into the couch. She does have some ability to self-regulate. I suppose I should count my blessings but it's hard on those days when Karis is so overwhelmed with life and all the stimulation out there that she just wants to curl up on my lap for hours and hide her head.

As with most mothers, I *know* that no one understands my children the way that I do, but it's particularly true of Karis. I can relate to her in so many ways and I feel her pain and confusion when the world gives her mixed (in her mind) signals. I want so much to protect her from the world and keep her close to me but I know I can't do that forever. So when Dana said she'd like to take Karis to the beach overnight, I said yes, even though I may not sleep at all tomorrow night. Seven years old and she's never slept the entire night without me at least in the same building. This is a big day.

A Different Kind of Birthday

Today is my Quinn's 4th birthday. It has been an amazing adventure to watch her grow from a 9 month old baby who could not even sit up alone to a fiercely independent 4 year old who can do almost anything (or so she thinks). I watch her getting dressed and marvel at how her body no longer has that toddler shape. Now she has more of a little girl shape, though maybe I should call it a mini-girl because she IS on the small side. It's a big day for all of us, because her Daddy has declared Quinn's mouth a "paci-free zone" and they packed up all the pacifiers this morning to ship to our friends in Las Vegas. Please say a special prayer for us tonight. We'll need it at bedtime.

For all my talk about how parenting an adopted child is no different than parenting a child born from my own body, today is the day that reminds me that there are indeed differences. It's a different sort of birthday. With Dana and Karis I can tell them stories about the day they were born. I don't have that with Quinn. I don't know if she was born after a long labor or a short one. Did she cry right away? Was she alert? Did she need any help to start breathing? Was she born early, or on her due date, or late? Every year on this day I think about Quinn's birth mother somewhere in China and I wonder if she thinks about her baby. I know that most Chinese don't have any idea how many children live in orphanages there and that a great number of them are eventually adopted into other countries, most into the US. In an area as remote as the one Quinn came from, I suspect that they don't even know about the orphanages and definitely not about international adoption. I wonder what they think happens to the babies that are left. On this day, I wonder if Quinn's birth mother misses her. I wonder if she ever regrets leaving that month-old baby in the marketplace. I know that the mother intended for someone to find Quinn, otherwise she could have left her somewhere less public. That tells me that she cared enough to keep Quinn alive, and she did take care of Quinn for a month before she left her. According to the orphanage, there was a note left with Quinn telling them her birthdate, so we party on May 20 with a reasonable amount of confidence that it IS the correct day. When we first started pursuing international adoption, I loved the fact that due to China's law about abandonment, we would never know who Quinn's birthparents are, and therefore we would never have to worry about anyone trying to take her back or having to share her with another set of parents. Now I can tell you with certainty that I would give almost anything to be able to tell Quinn something, anything about her birth family. I worry that one day she will feel an emptiness there and I won't be able to do anything to help her.

So today we celebrate my baby Quinn. I rejoice that God sent her to us, even though our joy means that another set of parents on the other side of the world has to live without Quinn. I am thrilled and honored to be able to call myself Quinn's mother but sad for that other mother who doesn't get all the hugs and kisses and "I love you's." Happy Birthday, Quinnster. You get more and more beautiful with every passing day.

What kind of mom am I?

I got an email today from my China adoption email group about a contest the Today show is conducting to find America's Favorite Mom. They have the Moms separated into categories, like Military Moms, Working Moms, etc. They also had a category for Non-Mom Moms, for those who are raising grandchildren, foster children, or stepchildren. Apparently someone involved in the contest made the mistake of lumping adoptive parents in with the Non-Mom Moms and a furor has erupted on the email group, with a call to arms to rally the troops and email/call the sponsors until a change is made. Actually, when I looked at the website earlier it appears that they have changed the category title from Non-Mom Moms to something else, but I'm not sure that's going to be enough. That group likes nothing more than a challenge to their parenthood status that needs to be overcome.

On the one hand, before I was an adoptive parent I'm sure I made faux pas galore in talking about adoption. As I got further into the process I started realizing how flat-footed I may have been in the past. Many people in the USA/world don't know anyone who has been involved in adoption and they are just ignorant about it. I mean "ignorant" in the sense that they just don't know any better, not in a mean way. When I come across people like that I try to correct them gently whenever possible. Most of the time they mean no harm. I never know if they are going to run into some militant adoptive parent who is going to take offense and say something rude to them later on. I'd like to think that whoever set up the contest and website simply made a mistake by putting adoptive mothers into a category called Non-Moms. I mean, who out there thinks that an adoptive mother is any less a mother than a birth mother? Surely, in this day and age, most people are past that. I'd like to think so. But how many people connected with the contest saw the materials before (or even after) they got posted online and said nothing? Marie Osmond is the celebrity "host" and she's an adoptive mother herself! You'd think she might have noticed.

On the other hand, how many people out there really do think that mothers who didn't actually give birth to their children are less of a mother? I will admit, as a mother to both biological and adopted children, that the experience is different for each. On the one hand, I've known Dana and Karis since before they were born. We bonded with each kick, each squirm, each hiccup when they were still passengers in my womb. I saw them on ultrasound and with Karis, I even was able to see the features of her face, so much so that when she was born I felt like I already knew her because she looked just like that 3D ultrasound picture. With Karis and Dana I find myself looking for physical and personality traits like my own or their fathers'. Sadly (or happily, I don't know which) neither of them seems much like me and that doesn't seem fair. I gained the weight and the stretch marks, then I had to recover from childbirth. Would it be too much to ask for one of them to at least resemble me? Anyway, I digress.

With Quinn, there is so much mystery. Does she look like her mother or her father? Anytime she does something particularly smart or funny, I wonder if one of her parents was that way. Did they have long fingers like hers? Did either of them talk with a lisp, like she does? And yet, although we share no biology at all, Quinn is more like me in personality that either of her sisters. I'm so sad that I didn't know her from the very beginning like I did the other two, but I know God had everything in His hand. I wish I had known what she was like as a baby. Did she like to rock? Did she sleep well? Was she excited to start soft foods or did she spit them out? Does missing these experiences make me any less a mother to her? Of course not! Which brings me to a pet peeve of mine - people using the phrase "your own" to differentiate between adopted and bio children, as in "Kim has three daughters, one adopted and two of her own." Most people don't really think about it as an insult but it is. All three of my children are MY OWN. If you want to ask which one is adopted, just ask which one is adopted. Adoption is nothing to be ashamed of.

So I had a dream (nightmare?) last night about Quinn. I think the Non-Mom thing got mixed up in my mind with foster parenting, which is sometimes done in China nowadays. They put the children who will someday be adopted with a foster family to get them accustomed to family life, and then a couple of days before the adoptive parents are due to come, the foster family has to bring the child back to the orphanage for that last couple of days. Can you imagine the turmoil this must cause to all concerned, especially the child? Back to the dream.... I dreamed that we were told that we had to bring Quinn back to Guiyang because there was a family that was going to adopt her. In the dream I was in Guangzhou alone with Quinn, getting ready to catch a train to the airport so we could fly to Guiyang. I was devastated at the thought of giving my baby back! I got on the train and decided that there was no way I could give this child back. What would it do to her ability to trust when the only family she had ever known dropped her off at the orphanage? I took out my cellphone and called Jon to tell him I was coming home. I figured if I could get her back in the USA before the Chinese government realized I wasn't bringing her home she would be safe because she's a US citizen. Anyway, I woke up already upset. Not a good way to start the day. It just brings home to me how much Quinn is MINE. I would no more give her back than I would give up either of her sisters.

Day One

My friend Matthew presented me with a challenge in such a way that I knew I couldn't turn it down and still hold my head up in church. He thinks that my affection for coffee is an addiction and as all of us who were at church for that sermon know, addictions were made to be broken. He was honest enough to admit that he himself is addicted to coke (the soda, not the illegal drug). He threw down an "I'll quit for a week if you will" challenge to me and Amy, which started yesterday.

I have to admit, I felt lousy yesterday. I was lightheaded and sluggish all day long and boy did I need a nap! However, I didn't get much sleep on Sunday night and my allergies are raging right now so it could be a combination of things. I ended up going to bed at 8:30 last night and sleeping all night long, for a total of 10 hours. That's unheard-of for me!

I feel a little better today but still a little woozy headed. I just hate to think that something had that much of a hold on me! I think when our week is up, I'll drink coffee again but maybe not as routinely. More of a special treat.

(Un)Sports(manlike) Conduct

When Dana first played t-ball, the fields she played on in Maryville Little League had a sign in the outfield: "Remember...They're Just Kids." I think that should be mandatory on every playing field used by children for any sport. So many parent-coaches are in it for themselves and not just for their little tyke, and they don't even realize it. Jon is coaching Karis' softball team this spring and he's doing pretty well. I only have to reel him in rarely. He's always been very gentle with the girls, and he's been at this for over 10 years now (coaching little girls). Bless his heart, if he was hoping to coach a go-get-em boys' team that's too bad, because all he got are daughters. Anyway, he's always been very sensitive to the girls' feelings and careful to be encouraging. He calls it "positive coaching." On occasion I will say something to the assistant coaches, one of which is Dana, and she tends to get frustrated with careless errors. The other assistant coach is mainly hard on his own daughter, and I have been known to call him down as well. My mantra is, "They're little girls playing a game." We had some bad calls the other night and Dana kept coming over to me to complain. I was trying very hard to keep myself from getting my emotions involved, so I told her I was in Softball Nirvana and nothing she said could touch me. It's just a game, it's just a game, it's just a game.... The art of Zen Softball.

Wednesday night Karis' team played against the Tigers, who haven't lost a game this season. Their coach has a reputation for being tough on the kids and I have heard him fussing at them before. I remember thinking that I wouldn't allow ANY coach to speak to my child that way. The problem is, it doesn't really escalate to what you could call verbal abuse. It's just slightly this side of abuse. Anyway, I dreaded the game all day. I knew we didn't stand much of a chance of winning - I just didn't want our girls to get discouraged if the Tigers ran the score up, which their coach has been known to do. I mean, this is 8 and under girls' softball! Get a life, coach! So I went through the day with a knot in my stomach, praying for the best and preparing for whatever might come. As it turned out, our girls didn't play a bad game. They did pretty well against a stronger team and if it hadn't been for a couple of grand slam home runs by the Tigers, we might have had a much closer game. The problem came when our girls started hitting well in the third inning. The ball got by the Tigers' shortstop and third baseman, and I heard the coaches telling them something like, "How could you let that ball get by you? You've got to get the ball!" Then the ball got by the shortstop again and once the umpire called "Time!" I saw the head coach and the assistant coach both stomping toward that poor shortstop, yelling, "What are you supposed to do with the ball? What? Then do it!" I stood up from my chair and said, "They're just little girls, guys. Come on!" I couldn't believe I said something, and then I couldn't believe that little girl's mother didn't say anything. As it turns out, her dad is the assistant coach. Anyway, when the Tigers got up to bat and it was the shortstop's turn to warm up, you could see she was near tears. Her dad (the asst. coach) walked over and told her to stop crying. Gee, Dad, that was thoughtful. What must that poor child have had to listen to in the car all the way home? And this is supposed to be fun!

I have seen many, many softball and baseball games over the years. I have seen an umpire get his jaw broken and knocked out cold by the angry coach of an 8-year-old boys' team. That coach was arrested, charged with assault and banned from coaching, and rightly so. But what affect did it have on his son, who saw the whole thing? When Dana was playing competitive fastpitch, the behavior of some of the parents was atrocious, and occasionally I was pretty obnoxious myself. What does it teach our kids when we are constantly questioning the umpire's calls, or saying mean things about the other team? We used to teach our girls to cheer on your OWN team but stay away from cheers that make fun of the other team. That's just not cool. And you compliment good plays by BOTH teams and not just your own. Jon has actually had a couple of opposing coaches come to him after a game to compliment his coaching style and I know that makes him feel like he must be doing something right. But in that game Wednesday night it was like a guppy next to a shark! In the end, I think I'd rather be with the guppy.

There was a news article a couple of days ago about two college softball teams playing for a tournament spot. A girl from one team hit her first home run and hurt her knee when she reached first base. If her teammates helped her, she would be called out. If she didn't run the bases, the run wouldn't count. Two players from the opposing team voluntarily picked her up and carried her around the bases, which eventually cost them the game. THAT is sportsmanship.

In Search of Friends

Amy Hickman wrote an excellent post this week on the Aroma blog about hospitality and all the excuses we give for not doing it. She asked for comments, so I wrote one and included friendship in the list of things that people don't seem to have time for nowadays. This is near and dear to my heart, having moved away from all my friends and family nearly two years ago. I was very lonely for a long time and had to remind myself just HOW you make friends. I observed my children and watched how they make friends to try to remember how it works. You introduce yourself, you talk to them, you find out if you have things in common, you invite them for "playdates" and you evaluate how it goes to see if there might be something there. The problem arises when one person is interested in pursuing a friendship and the other person doesn't have time, or they have all the friends they think they need and no time for more. Make no mistake - it does take time to build a friendship. Shared experiences give you things to talk about and build intimacy. You almost have to have at least a few things in common in order to be friends. For instance, I find it easier to be friends with stay at home moms like myself because we can get together during school hours. It's nice to have friends with children similar in age to your own because hopefully they will get along together and form their own friendships. When it's right, you'll find that conversation flows freely and sometimes a half-hour passes while you're on the phone with your friend and you barely notice it. You seem to always have something to talk about, even if it's just asking the other person's opinion on Barack or Hillary (my opinion? Neither.). If you find yourself having to make a list of things to discuss with your friend, you might want to re-examine that friendship. :-)

Really, it's almost like a romance. You have to test each other out and find out if you can trust each other. "If I tell you this embarrassing thing about me, can I trust you not to tell someone else?" When that trust is betrayed it can be devastating. I'm glad to say that I haven't experienced that in a while. When we found LifeSong it was such a relief to get some friends. Up until then I really didn't have anyone I could invite over or go to the movies with. Some of the people I met when I first moved to SC I am still friendly with, but our friendship just never developed past a certain level. Now I have a nice-sized handful of friends that I feel I can trust with the real me and several others with whom I'm friendly but not at that level just yet. It takes a giant leap to expose yourself (figuratively speaking) to another person who is not legally bound to you (like your spouse) and open yourself up to rejection, which by the way was one of my biggest fears (from the sermon last week). I am terrified of extending the hand of friendship and having someone brush me off like, "I'm not interested" or "You're not important enough for me to waste my time on you". I often say you have to work pretty hard to hurt my feelings but that's not entirely true. That's really a defense mechanism. I figure if I say it enough times it will come true.

I sometimes get frustrated with people who complain about not having any friends around. They're usually sitting there waiting for the phone to ring. News flash: It doesn't work that way. You've got to be making some effort.

Anyway, back to the shared experiences. In the end that is truly what makes or breaks your friendship. You can have "phone" friends or "email" friends and be close but it's just not the same. You invent inside jokes that help you feel closer to each other, things that are funny because of your shared experiences and for reasons that only you know. I love having inside jokes with my friends! Most of them have the same strange sense of humor that I have so we really "get" each other that way. Just this morning, though, it occurred to me how that might make others feel. That's not the first time I thought of it, but the first time I let the thought settle in for a while. I've been on the outside before and it's not a good feeling. I wonder how many times I've made a joke that made someone else feel left out. If you're reading this and I've done it to you, then I apologize. I'm going to make it a point to try to pay attention to the feelings of the people around me who may not "get" it. It's too easy to use an inside joke to hurt someone or to exclude people and I don't want to do that.

Now back to the kids again. Have you ever noticed what happens when kids (like 9 and younger) do when they have a disagreement? They say what they feel - "that hurt!" "you kicked me!" and they get over it. The next day they don't remind each other of what happened the day before and they don't hold it over each other's heads. They don't normally hold grudges, at least not until they get to be teenagers, and that's a whole other animal. I'd like to be like that, with the childlike trust that what's done is done and not worth holding onto like some prized pet to be taken out and played with every so often. I think I sometimes hold myself back when I've been hurt, in an attempt to save myself from being hurt again, but I'd really rather go to the end of my life knowing that I loved people fully and gave grace when needed. How do I get there from here? Well, I don't know for sure. As I always say, "Self-awareness is the first step." Now that I know I do it and I've admitted it, I've got to do something about it.

By the way, that "self-awareness" thing extends to sin, too. Sometimes I don't want to hear what the Holy Spirit is saying to me because I know that if I do, I'll be responsible for what I do with that knowledge. Once you know more, more is required of you. That's how you grow as a Christian. When you're a "baby" Christian, you often do things that you don't realize are not right or are against God's will. As you grow more and learn more, your behavior (ideally) becomes more and more refined to be like Christ's. Maya Angelou said, "You did what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better." She also said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." I think God is working on me somehow. I'm dealing with some turmoil in my heart/soul about how I treat people. It started out being about how *I* felt I was being treated and has been turned around on me so that I'm now examining my own behavior. I have no idea how this lesson will end, but meanwhile I'm going to put myself under a spiritual microscope and look for flaws in my approach to friendship. That doesn't mean that all my friends are now free to help me out though. ;-) I'm sure it's tempting.

What is worship?

I have been working on my own definition of worship for a few weeks now, mostly because of being on the Worship Team, and figuring out what that looks like to me. I've read websites and articles to see what other people think and weighing what I've read to decide if their definition is true for me or not. I don't think there is one and only one definition of worship. The word itself is derived from "worth-ship" which means to give something (or someone) its worth, and since the kind of worship I'm talking about is worshipping God, does that mean we are to give God back His worth? How is that possible? I've heard that worship is surrendering all of who you are to God, which could translate into giving Him back His worth, at least as far as we are capable. I've also heard it described as leading the congregation into the presence of God, or as an expression of our love to Him. I've heard people talk about (figuratively) kneeling or sitting at God's feet in worship. And then you hear the word thrown around in talking about other things and it's hard to separate real worship from the corporate worship experience we've come to associate it with. (Bad blogger, ending a sentence with "with"!) Over and over I read about how worship is a lifestyle and not just that Sunday morning service. Does this mean we're supposed to go around singing worship songs all day long?

Here's what I've got so far: if worship means surrendering all of yourself to God, shouldn't you be doing that daily anyway? I mean, we are supposed to follow His way and let Him be in control. Isn't that surrendering yourself? That certainly fits into the "worship is a lifestyle" pattern. Before I even crawl out of bed in the morning, I need to surrender that day to the Lord. That's worship. When I get up in front of the congregation on Sunday morning, I should have already surrendered anew my life to the Lord that day BUT I should also take the time to pray and surrender my efforts to Him because that's all I've got. I have to do my best and let Him be in charge of the result. So what does that look like? At this point, I think that means that I surrender my life to God's control on a daily basis. I pray all week for the service on Sunday and everyone who takes part in it in any way, but especially the pastoral leadership, that they will hear God's voice and lead us in the right direction. I commit my thoughts and actions to God, put my heart and my best effort into my singing and trust Him to take care of the rest. This may change as I read more about worship.

The pastors have talked about how they (and we, the congregation) need to stay "close and clean". We need to draw close to God and keep ourselves clean, which I think means avoiding sin. Anyone in any kind of leadership position at a church needs to do the same. When you are before the congregation you are to be an example. Now, none of us is perfect and we're not expected to be. But we need to be doing the best we can to stay close to God and stay clean. I know that I need to work on the "close" part and the "clean" will follow. I do a pretty good job of praying in short bursts but I find that when I get a long period of time for personal prayer (like Larry had us do after rehearsal this morning) I don't seem to run out of things to say to God. It makes me think I need to make more time to pray. I definitely need to make more time for Bible study and I'm working on it. Self-awareness is the first step.

As LifeSong grows (and it will continue to grow by leaps and bounds) the warfare will intensify. It will take dedicated prayer on the part of our LifeSong family to withstand the attacks. I used to wish I was one of those people considered to be a "Prayer Warrior." Sadly, according to multiple spiritual gift inventories, that's not my gift. But that doesn't mean I can't pray like crazy anyway.