There’s a boy outside

Boys are grose!

Boys have cooties!

I never bought into that line of thinking. Quite contrarily, I vividly remember thinking that boys were rather neato. They could run really fast, pick up slimy frogs without even wincing, and the amount of sweat they produced while running around the playground was impressive. They were all the things that I was not, and there was something enticing about that. They were the prince and I wanted desperately to be the princess.

The first boy I ever laid eyes on was as neato as they come. He called me beautiful and sang songs to me as he rocked me in his arms. The story goes that he would sit me up on the kitchen counter in my baby seat and even do a little soft shoe dance to the tune of “Tea for Two”, making me giggle ‘til I couldn’t breathe. That most neato of all boys happens to be my Daddy and he was the first to ever steal my heart away. I thought he was breathtakingly handsome, and still hold that belief to this day. He and I have always shared a special bond, so I can’t begin to guess how difficult it must have been for him to see me give parts of my fragile heart away to those stinky, sweaty boys!

Dad and I have sung a song together throughout the years that portrays a little bit of that saga. I thought I would share the words with you:

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

It seems like only yesterday when I heard my little girl say

"Daddy, there's a boy outside, his name is Rod.

He wants to play in our backyard

Can he daddy? Can he daddy? Oh please daddy."

Is it really so long ago she'd come to me and wanna know

"Dad, there's a boy outside, his name is Lee.

He wants to carry my books for me.

Can he daddy? Is it alright, dad? He's got freckles, dad."

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

Then came pony tails and jeans and my little girl was in her teens

"Popsie, there's a boy outside, his name is Tom.

He wants to take me to the prom.

OK, popsie? He's cute, popsie. We'll be home early, popsie."

Before I knew it time had flown and how my little girl had grown

Now it was "Father, there's a boy outside, his name is Eddie.

He wants to know if we can go steady.

Can we, father? Yes, father. Oh, can we borrow the car, pop?"

Yes it seems only yesterday I heard my lovely daughter say

"Dad, there's a boy outside, his name is Jim.

He asked me if I'd marry him. I said yes, dad.

Got something in your eye, dad? I love him, dad."

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

A child, an adolescent, a young lady, a wife

And oh yes, there's another man in my little girl's life

"Hi dad, there's a boy outside, his name is Tim.

I told him Grampa was gonna babysit him.

Thanks, dad. Bless you, dad. Good night, dad."

The men in my little girl's life

The men in my little girl's life

What a sweet song! What a gut-wrenching reality. Now that I have two daughters of my own, it leaves me weak in the knees to think of them giving parts of their hearts away to boys with cooties. How did my Daddy survive? How could he stand to the side and watch the story unfold? Like the time that I gave my big lollipop to the little boy who promised to be my boyfriend if I gave him my sucker, but then he and his stupid-head friend sat in the back of the bus, eating the sucker and laughing because I fell for their joke. I was out of a sucker, a boyfriend, and a big chunk of my heart. Daddy has heard me cry over many a boy, many a sucker, and sometimes they were one in the same. But ultimately, Daddy knew the secret. He knew that if I ever fell in love with the supreme Lover of my soul, then no matter what heartache came my way, I would be okay. And he was right.

See, girls - boys really do have cooties. Boys are grose. They will break your heart. But they also can take your breath away, waltzing you across the dance floor in beautiful glass slippers. They can make your heart beat fast and your imagination twirl with the possibilities of a magical future together. God designed this beautiful thing called love. But He is also there waiting for you when someone stomps all over your heart and doesn’t stay around to help clean up the mess.

Isaiah 54:5 is an intriguing verse and one that I have taken to heart. “For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is His name.” When we make God our first and foremost husband, then all the other boys play second fiddle. They don’t hold near the control over our delicate hearts that they did before. He is the One Who thrills us more than any human being could dare!

Is there a “boy outside” in your life these days? Congratulations, princess! But just remember to make God the ultimate Lover of your tender heart. Spend time with Him in His Word and in prayer and let Him sweep you off of your feet as you worship Him. Then suddenly, the Great Healer can soothe any cootie bites you may pick up along the way from those sometimes stinky, sweat “boys outside.”

Sittin' Pretty

“…for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” Philippians 4:11b

The Apostle Paul said it – not me. I wouldn’t dare say that I have fully and completely learned this lesson, but I am certainly a work in process.

“Whatever state I am in” has changed several times over the last many years. Let’s see. There was South Carolina, North Carolina, Louisiana, then back to good ‘ole South Carolina. While I am fairly sure that the apostle Paul was not referring to a geographical state in which to be content, it is no secret that moving around can be tough. There’s a new house, new license plate, new friends, new school, new church, new grocery store, new bank, and new names to try to remember. Lots of new.

Each time the address has changed on my driver’s license, I have found the intense need to hang onto God for dear life. That’s not a bad thing. Whether searching for the laundry detergent aisle or that new best pal, God was quietly there assuring me with His peace. Psalm 121:5 says that the Lord stands BESIDE you. Can’t you just picture God standing in line with me at the DMV? What a thought!

I’ve had other addresses, too, that I didn’t mention yet. Maybe you’ve lived there once or twice yourself. I recall the neighborhoods of Surprise, Disappointment, and Stress. Oh, and let’s not forget the subdivision of Grief, Betrayal and Discomfort either. Those were doozies! How vividly I remember sitting on the front porch of those emotions and wondering where my fairy tale life had gone – silently asking God the questions that He knew were running around in my heart. “What just happened? Why? How? What now?” The numb throbbing was loud in my ears. The fear of the future ever present…but so was God’s unmistakable peace. People would ask, “How ARE you – really?” And I could honestly answer that I was pushing through with God’s grace and strength – really.

Then again, I have lived in some swank sectors, too. The view was incredible from the neighborhood of Maturity, Growth, and Fulfillment! And the birds were always singing when I made my home in Joy, Exhilaration, and Delight. Those places are my favorite. But the key is somehow to find the serenity and peace God gives no matter WHERE He has placed me for the time being. I don’t seem to find that in a Hershey bar (though it never hurt). No, I find my focus when I spend time reading the words God spoke, when I speak to Him and pour out the cares of my heart, and those delicious times I spend talking about Him over coffee or lunch with a friend. (We call that “soul slushing.”)

I will leave you with a more complete section of Paul’s writings from Philippians 4:11-12, and I will whisper a prayer that you and I can continue to experience more and more of the contentment that comes from knowing the lush love of an extravagant Savior – regardless of the current state in which we find ourselves.

“…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” (NIV)

Birthday Blurb

"My birthday was always a huge deal growing up - a themed party every year and lots of laughs and giggles. Through the years, the hoopla has dwindled, but I'm thinking that I don't like that trend. Since I'm turning 41 this year, I told my family that I would like for us to do 41 different things to celebrate! Let the fun begin!"

Moving Away and Moving Forward

- as published in SHE! July 2009

Last summer, we packed up our earthly goodies into multitudes of big, brown boxes and then watched as the moving truck slowly pulled away with all of our belongings. Filled to the brim with a mishmash of emotions, we were certainly excited about all the new spaces and faces to come! However, our excitement slowly faded to fear and apprehension as we began to settle into our new abode. This adjustment to our new surroundings was going to be harder than we thought! I am far from a control freak, but as the “Chief Operating Officer of all things domestic” in the Griffin household, I knew that it would fall to me to take the bull by the horns and help my little brood acclimate to their new world.

Where to start? There were millions of boxes to unpack, cabinets to line, pictures to hang, agencies to call, and Oreos to eat – but just what was the order of priorities? This family needed a plan! The first biggie on the list of “to do’s” was to find a place of worship. Some churches we visited were high energy, some more reserved. Some were well organized, while some were more chaotic. We even attended one place where the praise band didn’t wear shoes. Lack of variety was not an issue. We finally found a place where our family “fit” and could grow – with shoes on, nonetheless, but it took a while for us to really feel like a part of what was happening. People were so warm and welcoming, but each Sunday as we re-convened in the family van, the theme was the same. It really is possible to feel a little lonely, even in a large group of people. We longed to “know” and “be known.” In my quest to help get us plugged into this new church family, I contacted each of my kids’ ministers and asked how they might best serve in their area (notice I didn’t say how they could best BE served). The ministers were thrilled to receive the offer for help! My middle schooler is now utilized in children’s worship time as a “referee” with a cool striped shirt to display her authority! Having a place to serve turned out to be a big piece of the puzzle for each of us.

Finding new friendships was high on the priority list. Ugh. Who knew that this would be such a task? Our family is a collection of social butterflies – the more friends the merrier! But goodness gracious, we went through play dates like Imelda Marcos went through shoes! The kids had fun with their new acquaintances, but I could see the disappointment in their little eyes after their friend would leave. They missed their OLD friends! You know, the ones where you can be together and not say a word, and it’s okay? Or you laugh at all the same stuff, and have lots of stories and memories to share? That kind. Well, first of all – “that kind” takes time. No way around it. But I also told my kids that finding new friends was like trying on shoes. “They won’t all fit, so sometimes you have to try on lots of pairs til you find some that are comfortable.” We girls always get shoe analogies. Our youngest kid ended up being chosen to play on a travel softball team this summer. She told me just the other day, “Mom – the only reason I’m playing on this team is ‘cause of all my friends.” Listen: I don’t care why she’s playing, I’m just glad she’s making friends!

By far, the biggest hurdle in our move was found in the educational world. Many of you know that our oldest child has Down Syndrome. He settled in to his new learning environment without so much as a look back at Mom. This, my friends, is a new twist. Usually, Mommy walks back to her car on the first day of school, wiping tears onto her sleeve and begging God to help him have a good year. This year, I didn’t need to use my legs to get me back to my vehicle. I simply floated, knowing that Jonathan was going to have a phenomenal year. My youngest daughter transitioned beautifully. She had only known the “private school” world up until now, but settled into a precious neighborhood school with a teacher that was simply sent from above. Things didn’t go so smoothly for my precious middle school daughter. First of all, just being a middle school girl is hard enough all by itself – but to move to a new place, cross the threshold from elementary to middle school, AND transition from private to public all at once? Bring out the haz-mat suits. We had a full-fledged disaster on our hands. The first 3 months of school had me eating antacids like they were candy. Long, long story short – I ended up being TEACHER to my 6th grade daughter. I have many treasured friends who have chosen to educate their children at home, but to be bluntly honest with you, I never thought I was “home school material”. But when our kids are in despair, we will do just about ANYthing to save them, won’t we?

Yes, it has been quite the year of adjustments – and I’m just about ready for some “comfortable and familiar”, thank you very much. It has been hard, grueling work at times, but as we settle in and find soft places to land, I can honestly say that it has been worth it! 2 Corinthians 12:9 has proven true! “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” That, and a whole lot of Oreos have been just what I needed to survive.

Stop and Smell the Basil

Sometimes God shows up and I miss it. He goes “all out” to provide lavishly for me, interact closely with me, and love tenderly on me, yet I overlook it. Yes, I’m not at all proud to admit that sometimes HHHis spectacular goodness goes completely unnoticed and flies right under my radar. But then there are those other times. Those other times when I get it. I see Him and what He is up to. I trace His hand in the sand, pause and gaze at His handiwork and I am wooed all over again by His overt gestures of love.

This past summer afforded one of those gifts of God’s love that I actually noticed. I had come across a yummy pasta recipe that called for fresh basil and tomatoes and was licking my chops at the thought of making it for myself. My Daddy’s tomato plant had yielded the perfect ripe tomatoes for my culinary delight, so my quest to gather the right ingredients started off with a bang! The fresh basil, on the other hand, proved to be more elusive. The grocery store produce department lured me in with their precious little portions of fresh herbs (nicely packaged in their own tiny plastic contraption). I spotted the price. Ridiculous! Two measly leaves for how much? At this rate, an entire plant would cost more than my weekly grocery budget!

Dejected, I made my way to the lawn and garden department on my mission for the herb in question. Nada. The fresh basil plants were completely sold out. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with a hankering for that those lush, green, fragrant little pieces of flavor. Man! Without the fresh basil, the recipe would just be glorified spaghetti! That just wouldn’t do. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I formed a pitiful whimper of a prayer – but God, I wanted basil! (insert pouty face here).

Not even a full week later, I was over at Laura’s house. As my friend and I sat on her back patio, yacking away and baking in the summer sun, I spotted a beautiful potted plant by her back door. Was it? Could it be? This plant was way too huge and lush to be…I jumped up out of my lawn chair and upon further inspection (including the smell test) all but gave that big ‘ole basil plant a hug and kiss! When she witnessed my undiluted joy at the sight of her herb, Laura kindly offered for me to take as much of her basil as I would like. Oh man, this was the best! Sure, I was excited to get my basil, but way more than that, I was excited that God heard me and knew the desires of my heart. Even if those desires are a bit random at times, He knows me. He knows what makes me smile. God was definitely in the basil.

I’m guessing that you’ve heard of Jacob’s ladder? Yes, even Jacob of the Old Testament had a basil moment. The story is found in Genesis 28 where Jacob didn’t miss God’s overture of love to him while on a cross-country journey. Mind you, Jacob was using a stone for a pillow. That would give me weird dreams, too. But Jacob saw the living GOD in his dream (angels ascending and descending up and down the steps and the Lord at the top, which was the opening to Heaven). Uh, wow. Wow. WOW! Jacob’s encounter with God was real – and he knew it! Genesis 28:16 says, “When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it." He could have missed God – been too sleepy to really care, been too busy preparing for the next day’s journey, or worse yet, could have written the whole thing off as an overactive imagination. But he didn’t. God showed up in Jacob’s life and he noticed. So much so, that he took that rock of a pillow and turned it into a monument of remembrance of the time and place where God communed with him. I just can’t help but wonder how many times I have been in the royal presence of the Lord, and as Jacob so aptly put it, “I was not aware of it.”

God doesn’t have to send me visions of angels on steps (though that would be super cool). The free basil was just as much a visit from the Heavenly Provider as Jacob’s ladder was! When God sends a ladder or basil moment your way, don’t feel the need to build a monument, simply take the time to notice that there is a God who is crazy about you and is constantly doing things to win your heart. Just take time to stop and smell the basil!

Heaven CAN'T wait

It was such a blow to the gut last spring as we learned that Sugarlump's colon cancer had returned after five years of absence. It didn't sneak in, it crashed in loud and large and our heads swirled as we tried to grapple with the truth that this thing was big and there was nothing to do to stop it from slowly but surely taking her life. Such a hopeless feeling. Such an amazing lady. So giving. So gracious. So kind. So full of life. Such an amazing cook. Each dish prepared with her secret ingredient - pure undiluted joy in serving those she loves. Her smile hugs you warm and tight.

The chemo wasn't effective - her body couldn't withstand the poison. Surgery wasn't an option - the risk of her not making it through the surgery was too great and there weren't any guarantees that it could even be removed. Thus, started our agonizing wait for the inevitable. I marveled to watch each of her 5 children, their 5 spouses, 16 living grandchildren, adoring sisters, nieces, nephews, and lifelong friends as they each poured out from the overflow of love in their hearts for this amazing lady who had loved them so lavishly for years. How do you cram in all the words you want to make sure that she hears before her departure? How do you capture each sweet kiss and stolen glance for safe keeping?

It won't be long now. Things are changing quickly. While our hearts throb with the reality that we will be separated soon, there is a quiet peace knowing that this dividing chasm will be temporary. As we stand alongside her and wait, we thank God for the angels known as hospice who will guide us through this birthing process into her new life. Our deep sorrow is only trumped by our wide-eyed wonder at what lies ahead for her in eternity.

Chris Rice sings it well:
"And soon He turns the final page
We'll look the Author in the face
Then the book really begins
'Cause something tells me all these years of memories
Are only the first sentence of eternity "
("Nonny Nonny" by Chris Rice)

Home is where the TUBA is (SHE! magazine December '08)

I love Christmas. Love it love it love it! My special little guy, Jonathan (with Down Syndrome) agrees with his Mom that this is definitely the most wonderful time of the year. Jonathan doesn’t have a strong concept of “calendar”, but at the very first cold snap, he begins asking about Christmas. Over and over and over. Hence, begins the annual countdown. We are on the yuletide home stretch now and the excitement meter in the Griffin household is tipping the scale, for sure.

Only one problem. My little family is a bit “displaced” this Christmas season. We moved to a different city recently and are living in an apartment while we try to sell our house. Having downsized our living quarters over 1000 square feet, we are officially out of elbow room. Our current journey of “togetherness” is proving to be an exercise in self control, to say the least. It’s a good thing that Santa is making a list and checking it twice.

No matter how much nesting I have done in our new, space-challenged abode, it just isn’t home yet. It sort of feels like we are on an extended stay at a hotel. Who wants to have Christmas at a hotel? I mean, the song doesn’t say “I’ll be in Room 1225 for Christmas” – it says I’ll be HOME for Christmas!

I remember my very first Christmas as a married woman. It took place in a tiny little apartment that didn’t feel at all like home yet. We were dirt dumb poor college students, but all we needed was love. Okay, love and a Christmas tree. So, off we went to find our tree! We were so excited about picking out the perfect tree…until we saw the price tags! Good grief, they were expensive. I was heartbroken, because a real live tree was such a big part of my Christmas as a child. Hours into our search for forestry perfection, and cold, red noses to show for it, we had found a Christmas tree that we newlyweds could afford. Allright, so it was more like a Christmas bush. A spruce pine that stood all of 3 feet tall. Not a Frasier fir, but not bad for five bucks. Charlie Brown would be proud. I adorned our beloved tree with a plethora of red and white gingham bows and some leftover ornaments my Mom had given me from my childhood. It was a beauty. Suddenly, that apartment felt a lot more like home.

This year we’ve had to be equally creative to make our new pad feel like home. Our own special tree that we drag out from the garage each year (yeah, I succumbed to the ease of the artificial) and all of our cherished ornaments were a great start. As we unwrapped each tree adornment as though they were presents in and of themselves, we played “remember when” and laughed about the stories that were hidden in each of them.

Hanging the stockings was such a treat, too! While we don’t have a mantle this year, we decided that the high bar in the kitchen/dining room was the perfect home for our special socks. I just love to watch the eyes of each of my children as they try to imagine what treasures will stuff each crevice. And speaking of “stuffing”, we’ve been sure to do the ample amount of cooking and baking for the holiday season. Those cookies that come in a tube can be quite the culinary challenge, but when sprinkled with colored sugar, they are sure to please!

And last but not least, I’ve assured the kids that Santa will know that we have moved. My middle school daughter, Meredith, wants a digital camera (pink, of course) under the tree. My second grader, Savannah, has visions of a cell phone dancing in her head, but will probably have to settle for some new Hot Wheels cars, army gear, and Barbies. A creative combination, don’t ‘ya think?

Jonathan has quite the interesting request for the man in the big red suit this year. He has decided that he wants a tuba for Christmas. Yes, you read right. A tuba. Jonathan already has a trumpet and a trombone. It seems only fitting that he would top his collection with the crown jewel. A tuba. Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking? That a tuba and an apartment complex don’t mix? Ah, we’ll have to see what Santa thinks.

“Home” is a relative term, I suppose. Give us God’s love, each other, a hefty dose of Christmas nostalgia and we’re good to go. All that and a tuba is more than any family could ask for.