Reconnecting

Some of my dearest friends in this world live 795 miles away. Louisiana is a long way from the Palmetto State! Until this summer, I had not seen those friends for 3 long years! Too long. As I threw my arms around each of them and squeezed tightly, so many of them whispered the same thing in my ear. “I knew I missed you, but I didn’t know how MUCH until I saw you!” How beautiful to finally reconnect with them. Facebook and e mails are wonderful things, but nothing is an adequate substitute for face time.

Our meaningful days were spent laughing over shared memories and catching up on all the nitty gritty. I remembered why I fell in love with them in the first place. Their quick wit, “knowing glances”, and even body mannerisms took me back to a time when we were part of each other’s daily worlds. I miss it.

That set my mind to wondering how all that might apply to my God-walk. There are plenty of times when God and I have a day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute connection. But other times are more of the Facebook and e mail variety. I Thessalonians 5:17 has always intrigued me. “Pray without ceasing…” or as the New Living Translation verbosely states it, “Never stop praying.” Just exactly what does that look like in real life? With all the demands and stress in my life, I sometimes have the attention span of a house fly and I’m supposed to remember to pray at all times? Usually when crisis situations have my life spinning out of control, I am keenly aware of my need for God. So we talk. A lot. God is on speed dial. When long-awaited answers to prayer arrive, we quickly give thanks. But I can’t always put my finger on what causes me to stay close to God. Who knows why sometimes I am more in tune with Him than others? It is, after all, relationship. And thanks to good ‘ole “Mr. Human Nature” there are ups and downs.

Are you like me when it comes to reconnecting with God? When I kick my spiritual shoes off and jump back into the Word of God, I find myself splashing around in His truth like a kid in front of a broken fire hydrant on a muggy, hot day (not that we ever have that kind of weather around here, mind you). His Word just spouts off of the page at me and I glance around to see if anyone else is looking – because it is SO personal! How could God know I was thinking that? Has that verse always been there, or did He just stick it in when I wasn’t looking?

The writer of Psalm 42 was reminiscing about grander times when he said, “My heart is breaking as I remember how it used to be: I walked among the crowds of worshipers, leading a great procession to the house of God, singing for joy and giving thanks amid the sound of a great celebration!” He missed the days when he and all of his friends spent time learning about and praising God in His temple!

Ah, the good ‘ole days! Well, forget the good ‘ole days – they can be in our past, present and future! We have access to our great big God all day every day. And when we do reconnect with Him, inevitably He hurls His strong arms around our neck and we blurt out, “I knew I missed You, God. I just didn’t know how much!”

(as published in SHE! September 2010)

Never Bark at a Dog

Kids crack me up. One can never predict what might tumble from their imaginative brains down to their unfiltered little lips! Thus was the case with seven year old Hannah the other day. Skipping along the sidewalk to the library, she spouted this random, unsolicited advice, “Never bark at a dog.” While waiting for her to finish pontificating, my grownup mind searched a list of possible reasons never to bark at the canine species. It might bite you was the response I was expecting, but her words interrupted my wondering. “NEVER bark at a dog because you don’t know what you might be saying!” This is true. I am not fluent in dog language. My little friend further cautioned me that I might even be saying bad words to the dog and not even know it! Oh, the humanity.

Words are powerful. God surely knows this and warned us to be careful with our words – long before the thought ever occurred to Hannah! Proverbs 18:21a tells us, “The tongue has the power of life and death…” Ruff ruff! It sounds like maybe I need to pay better attention to my own barking. My words hold the power of death? Yes – death to dreams, confidence, courage, hope, affection, trust, respect – just to name a few. I may never know the damage I’ve done by my careless words! Maybe I was being sarcastic or just making a joke, but at what expense? My beloved mentor, Florence Littauer, wrote a best-selling book years ago entitled, “Silver Boxes.” In this wonderful book, she shares her own experiences with the power of words. Here is her poem by the same name:

“Silver Boxes”

My words were harsh & hasty
And they came without a thought.
Then I saw the pain & anguish
That my bitter words had brought. Bitter words that I had spoken
Made me think back through the past;
Of how many times I'd uttered
Biting words whose pain would last. Then I wondered of the people
I had hurt by things I'd said;
All the ones I had discouraged
When I didn't use my head. Then I thought about my own life
Of painful words I've heard;
And of the times I'd been discouraged
By a sharp and cruel word. And now clearly I remember
All the things I might have done;
But, by a word I was discouraged
And they never were begun. So, help my words be silver boxes,
Neatly wrapped up with a bow;
That I give to all so freely,
As through each day I gladly go. Silver boxes full of treasure,
Precious gifts from above;
That all the people I encounter
Might have a box of love

Ah, my words can also be power-packed with life! I see this most of all in my relationship with my children. When I praise them or affirm the God-gifts in their lives, my words are like cool water to the parched soil of their hearts. The wilting stems of self-doubt begin to straighten themselves up into tall confidence and before I know it, there is vibrant foliage of resilience and striking blooms of courage!

I think that Hannah may be onto something. “Never bark at a dog…or your spouse, children, parents, boss, co-worker, umpire, or even that driver that cut you off in traffic today! You don’t know what you might be saying!”

(as published in SHE! August 2010)

One Man’s Trash is Another Girl’s Plant Stand (as published in SHE! July 2010)

God is in the repo business. He loves to take over where others have given up. I was reminded of this when I was dumpster diving the other day. Yes, you read right. I went dumpster diving. For those of you not familiar with this coined term, “dumpster diving” is when perfectly reputable human beings rummage through the garbage for things that others have tossed aside as trash.

It all started on a sunny Friday afternoon when I was barreling down Ballpark Road – the location of our city dump. The closer I got behind the pickup truck ahead of me, the more intrigued I became. There, in the truck bed before me, sat the most adorable scrolled wrought iron chair. Red, nonetheless. My thoughts yelled out, “Surely he isn’t going to the DUMP with that chair!” His right blinker began to pulse along with the beat of my heart as we drew near the garbage sight. Sure enough. The red, wrought iron chair was on its swan song. Well not if I had anything to do with it! I turned my Mustang right around and stalked the chair’s owner until he was out of sight. Sheepishly, I drove up beside the clanky, green dumpster that held the treasure. I wasn’t completely sure if I would be strong enough to lift the chair out, but I was determined to try. The first several attempts were completely unsuccessful. My arms were simply too short. So, I gave up and went home. OF COURSE NOT! Quicker than you could say “free chair”, I had a plan.

You should have seen me edging our red, Mustang convertible up beside that tall dumpster. I hopped up onto the car and began to reach over into the dumpster. The chair had become tangled among a discarded clothesline, yard swing, and a lawn mower. So I gave up and went home. NO! I plunged forward….almost literally! Feeling the staring eyes on me from across the parking lot (I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion) I summoned my arm muscles to work together in one sweeping motion and retrieved my prize! I did it! The red chair was mine now! Upon returning back home, I placed my treasure in a place of honor on the front porch with a lively plant in it. Next order of business was to post my dumpster diving adventure to my facebook status. I was pleased. One of the first comments on my wall was by my beleaguered hubby who was traveling on business and found out about my garbage procurement via social media. Oops! His comment read like, “Dear, do you really have to dig through the garbage? Has it come to that? And do you have to tell the whole world about it?” Why yes. Yes, I do. Not only was I excited about the chair, but there seemed to be a story here.

I can’t help but think of the parallel between myself and that red chair. Its paint is chipping and it is missing a leg, but that is somehow part of its beauty to me. There is still so much value in it and it is worth redeeming. When God saw life carting me away to my death in the back of a pickup truck, He did the unthinkable. He stood beside the dumpster of death and reached in to pull me out and redeem me. He placed me in a position of honor on the front porch of His love and placed new life inside of me. Psalm 103:4 says it beautifully, “He redeems your life from the pit; He crowns you with faithful love and compassion.” Does that not make you want to twirl around with joy? Can you grasp the fact that the very Creator of the universe, the Holy One, stepped into time and filth to redeem your life and mine from the pit? Amazing.

Next time you are driving past the city dump, let your heart take a twirl with the thought of being redeemed from the pit! And if you happen to see a woman standing on a convertible, keep driving. She’s plumb crazy.

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.