Is your name in the book

A few Sundays ago it was just the kids and I so I decided it was high time they started going to big church. "Big" church refers to the adult service. We've always called it that. They will be going into kindergarten next year. They should be able to sit still for a while. Should.
Luckily our church knows how hard it is for kids to sit still and provides a bag full of puzzles and crayons fore each child that one can pick up on the way int service. My 10 year old found a sewing toy that was way below her grade level. However it entertained her for quite some time. Alex colored the pictures and traced through the mazes. William....wanted nothing to do with the bag of goodies. Instead he picked up the Bible from the rack in front of us. He "read" it upside down at first. Then I gently turned it the right way.
I turned my attention back to the service only to be interrupted by a loud whisper.
"Mom!" it was Will.
I looked over and mouthed for him to shush.
He continued... "Mom! It's my name!"
Sure enough... He had found his name in the Bible.
"They will.... He will... God will..."
His name was all over the place throughout the entire book. He was so excited!
It made me ponder about another book... The Book of Life.  How many of us will be looking for our name there and be overcome with excitement to see it? How many will never appear?

Easter 2019

Alex draws mommy

I need to immortalize this picture. I want to embarrass my son with it when he gets older and I need to make record of it because it was absolutely hilarious to receive. This is a picture that Alex drew in school. When I picked him up he was so excited to show it to me. He said, Mommy I drew you and your boobs! I asked him why?! His answer was, because you're so pretty. Note that my boobs are right under my eyes and that my smile is underneath them. Clearly he doesn't have the anatomy correct so I'm not too worried at this point. And I promise I don't walk around nude. It really did make me laugh out loud for a really long time. I'm not even going to ask with the scribble at the bottom of the circle is. I'm just going to stick with the fact that he thinks I'm pretty!

 

A different set of circumstances

This past week I went to a funeral at the church I where I grew up. I haven't been there in decades, however everything was exactly the same as the day I left. Everything. Even the man standing in the pulpit. My dear friend Dwayne was officiating over the funeral of a long time friend of his. He was the youth minister there when I attended in college. I don't think many people consider the trials that a pastor faces. In fact I'm pretty sure that many think they are overpaid for the amount of  "work" they do. I haven't met one yet that actually gets paid for ALL the work they actually do. There are only a handful of Joel Osteens out there. Most of your pastors work a real job and pastor a church. They are on call 24 hrs a day. Some live on the church property where every move they make is watched. They are ridiculed and scrutinized for every word they say and every move they make. If you're Baptist, you'd better not ever be seen with alcohol in your hand even if the church members get drunk on Friday nights. There's a different set of rules. To find someone to be your partner, your mate...is a grand feat that is usually only accomplished if the woman is naive enough to marry you young. Because young people still have enough optimism to think they can change the world. If you happen to make it through those early years without finding a mate the chances of marriage without extreme compromise become slim.
Think about it. Who does the man who has to bear the problems of his congregation go to when he has a problem? They are not super humans. They are not immune to wants and desires. They are not free from struggles or pain. But they are an island. They are expected to survive all on their own with all of our expectations and none of our grace.
So this week I watched my friend hold in the tears. I watched him compartmentalize and put his own grief aside so that he could be the pastor for the family... For the church. He performed a heartfelt service for which she would have been proud. He had to endure the wailing of her children and see picture of the two of them on the slide show, all the while keeping it all together for the good of everyone else. Sacrificing his own emotions for theirs.

In an article by Chris Griggs entitled "A week in the life of an Ordinary Pastor", he gives examples of what he faces daily.

On Tuesday afternoon, the pastor is pulling into the church parking lot after a long lunch meeting with a member when his phone rings. “Hello pastor. As you know, my wife is still recovering from surgery. It’s been a really hard couple of weeks, and I just wanted you to know that nobody has cared for us. Well, a little, but not like we expected. I appreciate you coming to the hospital to pray with us, but we won’t be coming back to your church.” The pastor offers an apology and hangs up the phone—discouraged.
An hour later, he makes a call to check on a sick member. “Pastor, thank you so much for the call. We’ve been so overwhelmed and blessed by the way the church has loved and cared for us during this crisis. Thank you for everything.” After praying with them, he hangs up the phone—grateful.

As he prepares to leave the office for the day, a deacon drops by unannounced. “Hey pastor, do you have a minute? Listen, some folks are really struggling with what happened in that last business meeting. They don’t feel they had much of a voice in the decision, and they’re pretty upset. Just thought you should know.” The pastor leans back in his chair—fearful.
That evening, at a local restaurant, another deacon stops by his table on the way out. “Good to see you, pastor. Listen, I want you to know that we are thankful for your leadership. We support you and the other leaders. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.” He finishes his meal—encouraged.

Wednesday

The next morning, he takes a break from preparing for Wednesday Bible study and checks his email. “Good morning, pastor. I was hoping to meet up, but everyone’s busy. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we’re going to start visiting other churches. Just looking for something different.” He hangs his head and lets out a deep sigh.
Later in the day, he opens a card that came in the mail. “Pastor, thank you for preaching the Word each week. My family has grown so much in the Lord, and we appreciate your hard work to carefully teach us the Bible.” He tucks the card in his Bible so that he can read it often.
That evening, his phone rings at 10:20 p.m., which is unusual. “Hey pastor, Mom isn’t doing well. The hospice nurse says it won’t be too much longer.”
“Okay, I’ll be right over.” He gets out of bed and gets dressed.

Thursday

After returning home in the middle of the night, a notification on his phone wakes him at 8:45 a.m. It was a long night, but he grabs his phone and plays the voicemail. “Pastor, I came by to see you at the office . . . again. Where are you? I need to talk to someone and nobody is ever around. Call me.” He hangs up the phone—exhausted.

Saturday

Early Saturday morning he sits at his kitchen table, working on the sermon he tried all week to finish by Thursday. He types out the next sentence feeling disappointed in himself—yet another Saturday where he still has sermon work to do.
Saturday evening, around 10:30 p.m., after a full and fun day with his family, he kisses his wife goodnight and makes his way back to the kitchen table to finish up his sermon. Finally done hours later, he quietly crawls into bed and falls asleep praying.

Sunday

The alarm goes off early on Sunday morning. The pastor prepares for the day. He gathers with the saints to worship Jesus, enjoy the fellowship of believers, and preach about the grace and comfort of Christ.
He walks among the flock, shaking hands, listening to prayer requests, and welcoming new faces. After lunch, he grabs a quick nap in his recliner before it’s time to head back for evening activities. His heart is thankful for the call to be an undershepherd of Christ’s flock.

I have another friend from Black Mountain, NC, Pastor Melton, who has pastored a tiny church there for decades. He worked a full-time job at a factory to support his family and pastored the church on the side. Do you think the members expected less of him because he had another job? No. They still called him no matter the time because their needs superceded his. 

However, because leading a flock is a calling, you won't hear them complain. They won't ignore your call. They will show up at the hospital. They will literally sacrifice their own life.. To help you with yours because the desire to do what God called them to do will always win out over themselves. 

God is the only glue that can sustain a person through the torture and blessings of leading a congregation. Otherwise they would have thrown up their hands and quit a long time ago. 

So if you ever find yourself envying the preacher because he only works on Sundays or if you find yourself feeling animosity because he didn't pay you enough attention, think of this article and know that they really aren't doing it for you in the first place. They've sacrificed their entire life for the Man upstairs. Their time,  money, emotions, their potential for making money and their families are all second to the calling. They are not superhuman. They are regular people called to serve a supernatural purpose. Remember that. 

Inspired

From the date of my last post.. It seems I've had a busy first quarter! But today is Easter. I have two 4 year-olds and a 10 year-old that were dashing in their Easter best. The service at church was really phenomenal from the music to the message. But FB had me primed this year. There was one particular post that had a picture of Mary holding her baby Jesus... And then Mary holding her dying, bleeding Jesus. That image struck home this year because I could feel that one. I could completely imagine the joy of the first picture because I had been there with my own sons. I could also empathize the sorrow and agony of the second picture. This Easter I feel. I feel so much thankfulness to my Lord.. To his mother for going through what they had to go through. Imagine knowing your fate and not running away. Knowing your torture and still staying the course. Knowing the pain that would be inflicted on your own mother but knowing that the fate of the world rested on your shoulders. That the ultimate sacrifice had to be paid for all of mankind and you were the only one who could do it.. Despite the hole it would cause in your own mother's heart.
But Jesus did it because he trusted his Father. He trusted that he would be raised from the dead and save every human ever born if they accepted his sacrifice as their own. This year, that lays heavy on my soul. This year I'm glad to feel and be reminded. This year I hold on tight to my sons not knowing which direction God may call them one day but praying that they will choose the right one.
During bedtime rituals tonight I was trying to recap the joy of our day with church and family and food and egg hunts. After talking about Jesus dying and coming back to life my little Alex welled up with tears. Still too young to understand everything he needs to about heaven and dying and sacrifice, he started to cry. "I don't want to die momma. I don't want to leave you" it broke my heart and I tripped over some reassuring explanations of death happening later in life and heaven being a wonderful place subsequently calming him and getting a smile before he rolled over to sleep. But that phrase rang out to me as the night went on... I don't want to die momma. I wonder if Jesus said that to his own mother. I wonder if his resolve wavered under the pain. I wonder if the blood he shed for me made him too. .not want to die.
I wonder if in his mother's arms he was once again her little boy.
Thank God his Father was there to make it all better and right the wrongs. God restored him to be even better. And who did a Jesus see first thing... To tell her all is well... To ease her suffering and heal her broken heart? His mother. It's a beautiful poetic circle of events that starts and ends with the same two people - a mother and a son.

Unexplained

Today I went to the funeral of my childhood's best friend's father. When I was 2, our families were the best of friends. The night my sister was born, my parents dropped me off at their house and placed me in the bed with my best friend. She was beside herself when she awoke to find me there. Today my mind took a walk down memory lane as I saw her and heard stories about her father. All of a sudden I was back in their den, umbrella up, blanket out and seashells spread as we imagined we were at the beach. Next, I was pushing that Beta tape into the VCR so we could watch Anne of Green Gables for the first the fifth time. Then there was Kindergarten graduation where we both wore matching green dresses to play flowers in Mary, Mary Quite Contrary's garden with our faces poked through the middle of Styrofoam flower-petal cut-outs. So many memories flooded through me. 

Then I listened to the pastor and the speakers talk about this man I only knew as a child. On either side of the chapel were the 2 lives of this man. The life I knew him in as a pastor and my best friend's father. The man of my childhood. The other life happened after his divorce from my best friend's mom; after a brain tumor; after so many things. On one side sat his original wife, kids, his sibling. On the other side, his current wife and her children. Two lives. One person.

It makes me wonder how many lives I will have.

Already there is my original life...birth through high school. There there was my college and single life. Currently I'm in my marriage and children life. Goals are different. Priorities are different. Everything is different. 

My mother is in the midst of her retired life. After nearly 30 years in the school system, she finally is getting to enjoy life and family.

Last Friday, my motherr went to the ER with total body pain. By Saturday when I saw her, she was lying on a stretcher having just returned from a CT scan and an MRI. All pain meds had worn off and she was frozen. Her body hurt so badly that she could not move a muscle. As my mother screamed out in pain from just breathing, I leaned over and kissed her forehead. What in the world is happening?

Over this past week I've watched my very active mother; the woman who can keep up with my twin 4 year olds with no problem, reduced to an invalid. She might as well have been paralyzed as she had to ask for someone to scratch her nose. Each day there have been tests and doctors and more tests and more doctors. We are on day 9. She has improved but minimally. Still there are no answers. It took a week for my mother to smile again. Mostly because it hurt too bad. Each day my dad spends days with her and I spend nights. I am waning at this point. I've cried most of the day. I'm exhausted but I have a family and obligations...like funerals. My mother is waning as well. It seems that for every good day, she has a bad day making her odds of improvement merely 50/50 by this, day 9. 

I owe my mother so many days of care. We all owe her so many days.

For as hard as it is for her to be the patient. It is proving just as hard to be the caretakers. 

I'm hoping that this isn't the start of another life. A harder life. She has barely been able to live the retirement one long enough to enjoy it. In the meantime all we can do is pray for answers and feel helpless in the hands of doctors we don't know. 

Christmas magic

I watched tonight with a slight twinkle in my eye as my 10 year old daughter readied the living room for Santa. We do this every year. We move the fireplace screen and pick up all the pillows... remove any obstacles that may be in Santa's way. This year it was the snoring Santa and Rudolph the singing reindeer. She made daddy promise to turn off the pilot light on the gas logs so Santa didn't get burned. This year has been tough. She has had to fight for what she believes in. Starting from one month into school she came home with stories of children who did not believe in Santa trying to spread their lies to her. "Mom! They are so stupid! They say that the parents are Santa. How can that be? You're asleep too!"
Her furvor is admirable. Her loyalty is inspiring. It also means that I've done really good at my job. I have already labeled this the best Christmas we will ever have. The boys finally get it. They love Santa and presents and yet they know that it's baby Jesus' birthday. Addison is still a believer... Even if she's hanging on by her finger tips. This may be the only Christmas where these two things coincide. And so I've declared this year the best! I can't wait for tomorrow. It's as exciting for me as it is for them. I think Christmas loses its magic when you stop believing in Santa but returns when you have your own children and get to BE Santa. I'm just happy this season. Happy to have my kids. Happy to have my husband home and helping. Just happy.