Last week, I was called a murderer.

Last week,  I was called a murderer. I am pretty sure I look and act nothing like one. I am a stay at home mom who is wholly devoted to her faith. I serve. I do carpool. I make pancakes shaped like kittens. I enjoy snuggling in and laughing with my husband. I play with our puppy. But, to this person, I should wear a sign that says, "murderer". I should wear it because I had an abortion.

Like so many of the times I pull down the curtains to what makes me me, my hands are shaking as I type this. I know that some of you are going to read this and just move along with no sense of judgement. Maybe some surprise. But, I know that some are going to read this and stand by the murderer label you think I deserve.

At the time of my decision, I was a mess of a young lady who looked put together on the outside but was a depressed wreck on the inside. I did not see life within me, but just a biological speck. I was scared. I felt alone. I felt like my only choice was to not stay pregnant. I was not facing an abortion as a means to end a life but to make living mine bearable. The women who cared for me at the clinic were nothing but compassionate. I do not think they went to work that morning thinking they were murdering babies, but instead protecting young scared women from a great unknown.

If I just ended my pregnancy, very few would even know. If I chose to remain pregnant I would carry a very visible marker. One that comes with judgement. I did have other options, but none that would allow me to deal with my own shame and guilt without judging eyes.

You may call me a murderer now and if I had carried the pregnancy you would have called me a slut. Either we support single moms without shaming them, or we let them make a personal and quiet choice. We cannot have it both ways. If you are crying out that someone who has an abortion is a murderer, are you also reaching out a hand to support a single mother who chose otherwise? Are you opening your home to adopt a child who was carried instead of aborted? If not, then this is not your place for opinion.

When Grant and I dated we chose upfront to tell our "sad stories" and this is one I told him without hesitation but with a helpless feeling that it would make me too damaged for him. Ever the man after God's heart, Grant did not see damaged, but wounded and beloved in me. It was the first time that I allowed myself to believe that God saw me the same way. Forgiven.

Truly, when we did marry, I thought getting pregnant was going to be very tough, if not impossible because surely God would punish me for ending a previous pregnancy. Oh how His mercy came quickly! It was in the silent and thankful tears over those two little pink lines that He reminded me that He does not hold grudges. He does not keep score. He simply forgives at our repentance. He loves first and them encourages our obedience to His ways. It is never the other way around with Jesus. Can I tell you how thankful I am for that!? If I had to correct my sins before He loved me I would be without Him. You would be without Him. Can any of us take back our sins? No. We can ask for forgiveness for them. We can use them as part of our testimony to the goodness of God. But, we cannot ever make someone feel judged for her own sin. We cannot let her think that her sin is bigger than our own.

So, if you are a Christian, will you please take a step back and remember just Who Jesus is and how He treats people. He loves first and then corrects. And, when He does, it is directly to the person. It is not in off-handed social media comments or thinly veiled status updates and shared blogs. It is through a relationship. He puts Himself in situations to be with people who need Him. While on earth, He easily could have stood within a tower and shouted down His commands with judgement. But instead, He got His hands dirty. He built relationships with people who sinned. He was friends with the very people who needed Him the most, the people the rest of society and religious leaders thought best to ignore. I encourage you to do a gut-check. Are you really being like Jesus? Do you need Him to come and draw a line in the sand and ask you to toss the first stone? There are a lot of stones being tossed out there today. Yet, there are still a bunch of sinners with planks in their eyes. The planks are just labeled differently.

If you are crying foul over gay marriage, do you have any relationships with gay people? Or, are you just typing out your opinion and commenting on blogs from behind a screen? If you are crying murderer to those who have had an abortion, have you built a relationship with a woman who needs support because she did not have one? Or, are you typing out your judgement on her?

Let's become Christians who start to actually live like Jesus did! Let's hold onto Him and His ways AND love those who do not. Let's face it, why would anyone who does not currently have a relationship with Jesus want anything to do with Him if the only thing he sees and hears from His followers is disgust followed by judgement? Trust me, if how I felt last week, knowing I am beloved and forgiven, is any indication of how a non-believer feels when seeing what some fellow Christians put out there, than we have a very long way to go in re-building our relationship with the lost in our world.

If you are carrying around a choice or sin that you think leaves you marked by society, damaged or unloved, please please please know that you are every bit as worthy and beloved by God. He does not put sins into little categories with some being unforgivable. As much as judgmental people want you to believe otherwise, sin is sin. Period. The plank in my eye is neither bigger or smaller than the one in yours. And, thankfully, Jesus died to cover us both in forgiveness all the same.

I am sinner.  I am beloved and forgiven. I have been forgiven much so my grace and mercy needs to overflow. Will you please join me?

PS: This is not a piece for debating pro-choice/life or marriage. If you do want to talk about those things or other "dividers" in our culture, let's have coffee and talk through our thoughts. We may leave in disagreement but hopefully with a relationship in tact in spite of our differences.

an untold story of depression

My hands are shaky typing this. My heart is pounding. Yesterday I responded to people's comments about depression (in light of Robin William's suicide) that if we were all more transparent then maybe mental illness would not have such a stigma. Maybe with transparency would come more people speaking up about the help they need. I felt convicted that transparency can start with me.

Few know this story. Few know the hold depression had on me 15 years ago. Few know that when it did my dogs were almost shot when the ambulance arrived. Few know that I threw up charcoal for 24 hours. Few know that would have been Baker Acted. Few know that I almost died 15 years ago.

Here is my depression story. I am telling it because I survived the hold depression had on me. I am telling it so if you are reading and struggling with the same sickness that you know you are not alone. I am telling it so that you know help is a phone call away. I am telling it so that you can be aware of people in your life who may be suffering. Depression is an illness. It is beyond being sad. It is not something a person just changes.

I was diagnosed with "situational depression", meaning I let situations in my life have a deep impact on my emotions with no way to deal with them. Truth be told, it was bubbling under my surface since my freshman year in college. Hindsight is a wonderful tool in that it lets you see the signs that no one, including yourself, recognized as cries for help. My freshman year I went from being an honors AP student to a quarter shy of failing out of college. I truly did not care about anything...school, friends, myself. My world was rocked by my parents divorce. I did not have the emotional maturity to digest just what happened. I was hours away from my family and left to deal with an enormous amount of broken pieces. I hid it by being a fun, partying sorority girl. I had few friends at UGA that knew me before. With this, it was easy to be a different person. My roommates did not know me as any different. They did not know my actions were cries for help.

My junior and senior years were better but I did not care about any of it. I graduated high school with big aspirations and graduated college with no clue what to do next. I did not fit in anywhere it seemed.

I desperately did not want to be back home. Home was no longer there for me. I tried to escape to the river and then the Americorps. I eventually made my way back home more lost than ever before. From there I settled into almost an alcoholic's life. I maintained a job during the day and played all night. I did not need alcohol the way an alcoholic does, but I needed the act of it to feel like I fit in with those folks I was hanging around.

From the outside looking in, all was great. I had a good job, new car, bought my first house at 25, fun friends, boyfriend. The inside was very different though. My relationships were shaky. I had a boyfriend who made me very insecure. I was still reeling from my parents divorce all those years later. I still felt like I did not fit in anywhere. I was lonely with a sea of friends and family around me.

At the time, I had no faith. Even there I was alone. I was not considered Jewish because my mother is now Jewish. I was not sought after by Christians because they all thought I was Jewish. It was such a lonely place to be. I was out of place in a synagogue and horribly uncomfortable in a church.

I did decide to try and fill that void. I came to know Jesus, but only on paper, if I am truly honest. I saw Him as my ticket to eternity in Heaven but not as my Hope.

In the mean time, I did seek counseling. I did not look at my depression as an illness but something I should be able to talk myself out of being. Counseling did help. I did end up on an antidepressant that did more harm than good. Because I was not honest with anyone with what was really going on, my primary doctor prescribed me Ambien to help me sleep.

There I was, thinking I had Jesus, desperately trying to make a failing relationship work, maintaining appearances with friends, family and co-workers. But, on the inside I was blank. I cannot put into words the feeling depression can cause. Blank is the only word that describes it.

Then came July 4. That morning I remember being in the shower and feeling the most depressed and alone feeling I have ever had. I had no plans. My relationship was officially over. My friends all seemed to have other things to do. I let the water run over me and thought, "if I just left would anyone notice?". Sadly, what snapped me out of those thoughts was the fact that I had two dogs and cat. I knew that if I just walked away from life never to return that they would notice. They depended upon me. With that, I made myself snap out of it and carry on with my day.

Looking back, my sister knew something was off with me, but surely had no idea just how deeply. She came to visit and talked me into coming out to a party at her house that evening. So, I did.

Again, a surge of loneliness overwhelmed me. It is hard to describe how you can feel alone in a sea of people. Genuine, nice, loving people...and I felt like I was alone and blank. What set that night apart from others was the fact that I did not have my ID. Of all things, I could not get into Pete's Bar without it. That left me literally alone. With this, I biked back to my sister's apartment frantic and scared. My intention was to just sleep on her couch and hope when I woke the next morning how I was feeling would be gone.

Instead, after getting woken by late-night partying roommates, I drove myself home. I remember that drive like it was a dream.

I got home and was afraid, lonely and terribly sad. I wanted desperately to be able to go to sleep and wake up when I was better. I did not want to die. I honestly think, that while my relationship with Him had yet to develop, that Jesus has planted just enough of a seed of Hope to keep me from thinking death was better. My insecurity over my failed relationship was overwhelming. With this, I called him as I was taking a handful of Ambien. I do not even know why I called. But, that call did save my life. He called my mom and 911.

The next 24 hours I also remember like a dream. I remember Neptune and Bailey barking. I later learned it was at the firemen and police men attempting to get in. Had my mom and our friend not gotten there when they did, my door would have been banged down and potentially my dogs shot. I remember being loaded into an ambulance and wondering what the neighbors would think of me now. I remember drinking a thick black drink in a very bright hospital room. It was charcoal to filter the Ambien and make me throw it up. It worked. I threw up for the next 24 hours. I remember our friend, Marj, taking my hand and helping me sign a piece of paper. I later learned it was a paper committing myself to Baptist Hospital. Without my signature, I would have been Baker Acted for seven days. I remember waking in a dark room with another person sleeping in the bed next to me. I remember being scared. I remember going to the bathroom just to see that the laces had been removed from my shoes. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing black all over my face and teeth. I remember that there was not a toothbrush so I tried with my finger to erase the black. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor sobbing. I remember throwing up one more time.

From there, I learned that I was supposed to stay at the in-patient psych ward at the hospital for three days. I skipped the group meeting and met directly with the head doctor. I ran the hospitals's UW campaign and I think he remembered me. After much pleading, he called my mom. The Lord intervened then. The doctor released me to my mom that afternoon upon my agreement to attend AA. Looking back, it is sad that they only saw me as an alcoholic and not a depressed person. Drinking just covered my emotions.

And, that was it. I went home. I cleaned myself up. I cried into my dogs. The thought that my actions could have resulted in their deaths shook me to the core.

I did attend two AA meetings as directed. What they did for me was allow me to see my life in a new way. The people there showed me just who I was and what I had to offer. It was freeing to be with people who were willing to admit they too needed help. The problem was, I was not an alcoholic, so being there felt fake. I was shocked at some of the faces I saw there. People I knew from my professional life and our community were there. People, just like me, who seemed to have it all together but still needed help. I looked at them and thought, "it's okay to be in need of help.".

That lead to a change. It was a gradual change. I no longer felt alone. I relied on friends more but still few knew what actually happened. I stopped comparing myself to everyone else. I let go of that relationship fully and moved forward. I flushed every ounce of Ambien and antidepressants. I started exercising. I found a comfort in the gym and the people there. If you are sweating and barely breathing from an intense workout, it is hard to be fake. I started to learn just who Jesus is. I let the hope He brings settle into me.

The thing is, I could have lost it all that night. I did not intend to die, but I just about did. I did not share the depth of my depression with anyone because I did not want to let them down. I was still not comfortable letting my friends and family know the full depth of my emotions. There is a good chance some are learning about that night for the first time in reading this. In reality, years of trying to be someone to everyone let me keep a facade that few saw through.

So, I leave you with my story. There are far more details to it. But, in the end, please take this and use it to show others that they are not alone. I was a successful, talented, loving 26 year old on the outside, but a sad, lonely child on the inside.

The grace of God saved me that night.

And, if you only know me as myself today. Know that the story above is why I am the way I am. I am transparent so that you will be comfortable being transparent with me. I am in awe of the Lord who pursued me to the brink of death to be His child on earth. I am empathetic to anyone with any need because I had a need so deep that only God could help me. If I do not drink with you one night, or accept a 2nd cocktail know that it is because every so often I worry I could slip back into letting a drink cover my emotions. Know that I look at Grant, Cate and Colin sometimes with tears because had God not intervened that night we would not have what we do today. And, finally, please know that if my story is in the least familiar to how you are feeling today, please call me. I will sit by you the entire way as you get healthy.

Luke 1:78 - 79

My sister would have been 46 today.

Many of you are reading that title and scratching your head, "Sister? Chris has an older sister?". I do, did, I am not really sure how to refer to her now. She died last June. I am not sure how to process her death. Lee was never fully part of my life, but the reason behind her absence guides me in so, so many ways.

Lee in very simple terms was an addict. The majority of my memories of her point to that. She bribed me with milkshakes when I was eight to not tell on her for smoking. I remember her being in some serious trouble for sneaking out to get high when I was 10. I remember her being a remarkable saxophonist. I remember her being a fierce competitor. I remember at 5 feet tall her making the winning basket in the duPont gym. I remember my heart sinking when we heard sirens near our house and the phone rang. We all just knew it was Lee in that accident. The Lord intervened and what should have killed her did not. I remember it being her prom night and she managed to talk the doctors and my parents into letting her go. A huge void would have been left had she died that day. 

But, today, the void is not there because she really left so many years ago. But, before the addiction took her, she had moments of grace. I remember her driving all the way up to Athens to visit with me because she knew I was literally drowning in my emotions after my parent's divorce. Maybe she knew I needed to be rescued because she did not want the same devil who trailed her to get his claws in me. I remember I was thankful she was there, but also embarrassed. I look at how I treated her and it was not nice. She did not fit in with my cute sorority sisters. Ever stuck in 80's fashion I did not want to take her out. It makes my heart hurt to think of that now. 

I know now, what Lee needed that weekend was to be accepted by her "perfect" sister. She needed to see that I too was vulnerable and needed help. Instead, I showed her that I was not in need of her help.  

We tried to have a relationship after I graduated. Lee married, had two beautiful children and lived what looked like a lovely life. And, it was, except the devil trailed Lee at every turn. I truly believe that he got his final hold on her in the weakness of post-partum depression. None of us saw it as that at the time. We saw a spoiled alcoholic who just would not grow up. As a mom and wife now, I see a woman who desperately needed Jesus. I see a woman who desperately needed a true friend and sister. I see a woman who fell for the lies the devil tells us. She was not pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough...how many enoughs do we allow ourselves to believe? 

Lee is why I won't allow the devil to get that hold. She is why I do not strive to live a life full of wealth, big houses, fancy cars, designer clothes. Lee had all of that! It masked what she did not have. Instead, I live a life full of what the devil does not offer.  

I want to live a life so that I am so aware of those around me that I cannot look past them. I think of how many times I just looked past Lee instead of sitting and talking with her and knowing her. I never let her see my vulnerabilities. Instead, I just attended her fun parties and fit in with her where she was. I never invited her to fit in with me where I was. 

I am transparent to others because of Lee. She could never accept help from me because in her eyes I was "the perfect one". I want others to know just how false that is. Jesus found me in the depths. I was at a point where I was going to either cling to Him, or allow the devil to trail me too. I struggle with wondering if Lee ever had that opportunity? Did she choose her path, or did the devil just take her over? 

Our children do not know she has died. In fact, they did not even know she existed until about a year ago when Lee re-appeared because her health had taken such a poor turn. I do not have the heart to tell Cate that Lee has died because I do not want to admit that sometimes the devil wins. 

Roaming like and Israelite...longing to be settled.

It's funny, we never really wanted to leave Jacksonville. But, at the time, Grant was doing marketing/sales for a private equity group. The economy was just starting to shift so they let him know that he should look for something else. That is when the Lord lead us to Monroeville, AL (Grant's hometown) in the most unlikely of ways. Grant was offered the job over his momma's fried chicken - no interview, just a conversation with the President of the organization over dinner. We moved there in an Uhaul in one of the toughest drives I have ever done - my hometown and everyone I loved the most, our church, our first house all in the rear-view mirror and a 21 month and 3 month old in the backseat. We pulled into Monroeville and that first night and next day I just sobbed. I remember vividly looking at Grant as I was unpacking clothes into my closet and telling him I wanted to go home. He cried with me. That was by far the toughest, yet most refining, 14 months I have experienced. No sooner had we gotten there did the economy tank. We ended up short-selling our Jacksonville home. Grant's salary was cut and he was advised about six months after that they could not afford his position long term. So, here we are, middle of a small town where we are very uncomfortable miles from home with two very young children wondering what in the world we were going to do. Had we misunderstood God's plans for us? 

That time did a few things for us. With no church home, we grew so close to the Lord because we had no choice but to depend upon Him and trust Him to provide and lead. Our marriage and family was strengthened because we only had each other. And, even though there were some extremely difficult moments, we were able to build a better relationship with Grant's family there. 

Grant's job was set to end. Things had not been handled very well by the leadership at the organization. Grant confided in a Godly man on the board who the Lord used to protect Grant's position and pay. But, it was miserable for Grant. One day, he stayed home to work, needing a break from all the drama going on at work. He came in from his office saying that someone from the Montgomery Chamber had called him and emailed him. He had no idea for what purpose. While he had sent resumes all over the place, he had not sent one there. That person calling was his next boss. 

The Lord opened the door to a great position in Montgomery that released us from what had become a very uncomfortable situation. We had prayed to be released from our situation but could not see the Lord at work. We could not get to Montgomery fast enough! 

The Lord blessed us this time with an actual moving budget so the fact that we had a moving company and not a UHaul felt like we had hit the lottery. He lead us to a beautiful home to lease in a lovely part of town. So, our journey in another new place began. We were content in Montgomery. It was not perfect and I am thankful we did not have to worry about public school while there. We made our best efforts to let it be home. About the time we starting looking to buy a home and really settle Grant felt like we were not actually going to be there long-term. He did not know why and was not looking to change jobs, but his Spirit told him to not look at real estate. 

A few months later the door to working at CSX opened. Grant did not pursue changing jobs. In fact, when he first told me about the opportunity to interview, I was less than thrilled. I needed some stability and not another move. Thankfully, the Lord intervened and opened my eyes to see that He had better things planned and I needed to trust my husband's leading. 

After months of interviewing he was hired. We prayed for the Lord to close this door if it was not His choice (and there were plenty of chances given the long interview process). And, so the Lord lead us to Nashville. 

We could not have asked for a better place to live. He lead us to the one rental home available in our desired school zone. An unlikely choice buried in the Craigslist ads. It is a less than desirable house given the work it needs but sits in a lovely neighborhood and allows Cate to attend a fabulous elementary school. 

We really felt like we had been called to the majors with this move. We had an actual relocation package!!! I cried when I read through it. Our first move had us (and awesome friends) packing a UHaul with two babies on my hip. This move had packers and a budget! 

I keep a loose journal. I write in it every so often about funny things the kids have done, random stories I think they will enjoy when they are older and prayers to the Lord. I read through it last night. One constant cry of mine is the longing to be settled. The longing to actually be able to put down some roots and let a place be home for a while. I want to decorate a home and nest in it.

I never prayed to move from Jacksonville. We had only prayed for the Lord to bless Grant with a job that would provide for our family. We have prayed for the Lord to expand our family through adoption. We have prayed the Lord to give us opportunity to witness to our unsaved family. But, never, had we prayed to leave Jacksonville. Yet, we are not there. Now, once in Monroeville, we certainly prayed to be released from living there. But, we had not prayed to leave Montgomery. And, we are definitely not praying to leave Brentwood. We are praying, though, to be just where the Lord wants us. 

When I read the story of Abraham and the sacrifice of Issac and read that the Lord used that lesson to prepare Abraham to be a father of all nations I see that He uses our circumstances to teach us the value of obedience. He allows us to grow in Him through our life situations. He let the Israelites roam for 40 years because they were not obedient (and quite whiny). Moses never stepped foot in the promised land because of a final act of disobedience. 

Some days, I feel like an Israelite. We have been roaming for more than four years. Is my heart complaining? Some days, it is. I long to be settled and I can look at the negatives of life and complain. Most days, I just thank the Lord for where He has us and hope I am doing His will. 

I wonder if our roaming days are not quite over? Once again we find ourselves in a place we would like to call home, but also feel like it may just be another stage in our life to be refined by the Lord. This may just be another time to grow deeper into a relationship with Him so we are prepared for what He is working on. Are we prepared to completely adjust our life to meet Him where He is already working? My selfish heart says "no". I love it here! Life here is easy. We have made some sweet friends. The weather is awesome. Cate's school is amazing. While not in much fellowship there, we are growing through the teaching at our church. Grant's job is secure, though we both do not like the amount of travel he must do. Walking our Faith is pretty comfortable here. 

So, I do not know where or even if the Lord will lead us next. But, I can say that the recurring theme of my prayers since leaving Jacksonville has been to be rooted in a community and to be used by the Lord. I look forward to when He allows that to happen. In the mean time, I will find my contentment in Him and allow Him to mold me as He needs to so I  am prepared for His work....wherever that may be. 

One ball of emotions this week...and some coconut candy.

Easter...I love it yet it causes me to be so emotional every year. As a youth I loved it because it meant dying eggs and hunting for them. Getting amazing goody baskets from my parents. My Grandma's coconut candies and peanut butter eggs.

Now, as an adult who knows Jesus, Easter is such an emotional time. I still relish in the fun of dying eggs, watching the kids hunt for them. I love making candy. I enjoy filling Easter baskets for the kids. But then, I hit an incredible sadness this week too. It is a strange mix of emotions. I am joyous...sad...guilty ...happy...I cannot quite explain it.I am joyous and beyond thankful that God has a plan for us (ALL of us) to save us from eternal hell. I am beyond sad that it came at the expense of His Son enduring what He did on the cross. This particular week always has me wanting to remember each day as it may have been during this week for Jesus.

On Palm Sunday, I picture the scene of Him riding on the donkey. His followers showering Him with their praises. I love when the pharisee tell Him to hush the praising people and He says, "If they don't, the stones will.". (Luke 19:40) And then, I think, are there times when rocks are having to sing His praises because I am too self-focused to be doing so?

Then, I realized a connection to stones today in 1 Peter 2:5. Jesus calls us his "living stones". He is our cornerstone and we are the stones of this spiritual house.  It made me wonder if Jesus was referring to literal stones and then other followers as stones too. As to say, if these folks were to be quiet, there are plenty more who will not be.

Through out this week, I think of His disciples and family. If I was one of them, how would I have reacted? I fear I may have been like Peter. That makes my heart sad. I pray that when I am faced with denying Christ for my own safety or standing for Him at the risk of my life I will boldly stand for my faith. Though, I do understand the disciples fleeing and resisting. Can you imagine how terrifying those few days had to be? How sad and confusing?

Tonight, is when I think everyone would have been coming together for their last Passover together. I find it so ironic that I have celebrated many Passovers as a Jew, and have great knowledge about the ritual of the meal. I am thankful for those nights because it gives me such an imagine of the dinner Jesus attended.

To think that this evening, in Jesus' time, He would be praying with blood dropping from his brow because He was faithful to His Father's plan. My husband made such a beautiful point about this moment. In the Garden of Eden Adam chose his will over God's; in the Garden of Gesthemine, Jesus chose God's will over His own.

I hope that thought stays with me....not my will, but the Lord's, in whatever I am doing.

I think in this current culture, violence has become so diluted. With this, I think what Jesus actually endured starting tomorrow morning in his time, seems to not be such a big deal. But, let's pause and really think of what He did endure even before having to carry His own cross. He was beaten so badly that He was not recognizable. Stop. Look at who is sitting next to you and imagine what he would have to go through for you to not recognize him. That thought makes my heart hurt. After that, he was forced to wear a crown of thorns and a robe. A crown of thorns. Next time you see a rose bush imagine those stems being crushed into your head. The robe. The pain that had to come when it was ripped off of him, as it surely was stuck to his bloodied body had to be excruciating. Add to this the fact that He was being ridiculed and the scene is horrible.

We seem to often gloss over the actual act of being nailed to a cross. Have you ever experienced nailing a large nail into a cross? I have. It was an exercise we did at our home church in Jacksonville. It is one I will never forget. It is difficult to drive a nail smoothly and with one blow into such a hard wood. We like to think it was not so bad because the nails were in His hands. Goodness, I cannot imagine the pain and the agony of such a slow process.

From there, Jesus was on his death bed for hours. He endured for hours because of US! I weep at that thought. He died a very painful death for me before I even knew Him...even mocked Him. I could throw up at the thought of knowing there was a time in my life when I thought Jesus was not one to be praised and worshiped but to be mocked. A time when I though anyone who followed Him was a fool.

But...thankfully, I will get to Sunday. I will find a triumphant JOY! I will find the foundation of my faith. I will find an empty tomb. If Jesus just died we would have no faith. He would have just been a prophet. How happy I am that He is not just some prophet!!! He was laid in a tomb a man, and rose from it our God! That, my friends, gives me chills! That is why all of my crazy emotions this week conclude with absolute praise and delight. That is why we have the opportunity to spend our eternity in Heaven...right there with Jesus.



Our Easter would not be complete without coconut candies. I used to make my Grandma's recipe. Today, however, I re-wrote the recipe. Gasp! Sorry, Grandma! This new recipe is so yummy!!! Here it is in case you want to make something special for the weekend. I will also be making Grandma's peanut butter eggs. 

Chocolate Covered Coconut Balls...or Coconut Cookies...you decide.

1/2 c. brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 Tbs flour
1 egg, room temp

Mix all together until smooth. (This replaces 5 oz of condensed milk.)

Add to this:

2 c. powdered sugar
14 oz flaked coconut

Stir together until the sugar is melted and the coconut evenly coated.

From here, you can do one of two things.

Scope out even mounds (I use my smaller cookie scoop) and with damp hands roll into balls. Place in the refrigerator. Once hard and cool, cover in melted chocolate (your choice...I prefer dark chocolate).

Or...preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Gently press each mound so that if flattens to a disc. Bake for 8 - 10 minutes - until they are a bit bubbly and browned. Feel free to dip these in chocolate too!

Happy Easter, friends!

Confessions of not feeling guilty at Christmas...

Yesterday I read stranger's blog about how her family has changed the way they celebrate Christmas. They have stripped anything and everything secular from it. Her family felt they had lost Jesus in the celebration and that prompted a total re-do for them. Through-out her writings she would (in all capitals) be sure to write that just because they had made a change that she was not judging those who did not. In the end, though, I felt wholly judged and pretty miserable. Why I let a stranger's writings effect me so is beyond me. Thankfully, by last night, I let my husband and friends allow me to see things a bit differently.

What left me feeling like a complete Christian Christmas failure was that we do allow secular traditions to be part of our Christmas celebrations. I grew up celebrating everything but Jesus at Christmas and with half my family being Jewish celebrated Hanukkah too. My past-family traditions are not at all Christ-centered. None are against celebrating Him, just not focused on Him. We had no nativity. We put up a "Hanukkah Bush". Santa brought gifts a plenty. We celebrated being together as a family. We could not wait to get out to my grandparent's house Christmas afternoon. We loved going to my Aunt's for latkes and dredel games (I still love that waxy chocolate in the golden coins!).

As a parent, I wanted to bring some of those traditions into our family. Grant and I agreed that Santa could join our celebration, but on a limited basis. He gets to bring the kids a stocking. In no way does their behavior influence him bringing it. One aspect of Santa that I have never liked is the fact that you have to do something to earn his gifts. Oh wait...do I sense a teaching moment here in comparing how Santa and Jesus give us gifts???

Santa is fun. Santa is fantasy. Santa adds a little bit whimsy to the holiday. But, Santa is not why we are celebrating. He is a guest at our celebration.

Yesterday, I felt like I had failed our children and not honored Jesus with our Christmas celebrations...until our car ride home last night. The kids belted out Christmas songs. I listened carefully as Rudolph was followed by Come Tell It on a Mountain; and Frosty followed Happy Birthday Jesus. Our children fully understand that Christmas is celebrating Jesus.

I was concerned that we had bought too much for our family and perhaps our kids would grow spoiled as a result. Grant asked me to look back a month to just after Thanksgiving. It was then that the kids were clamoring to fill two shoe boxes for children they do no know, but knew enough about to know that they did not have all that they do. They carefully and thoughtfully filled those shoe boxes with toys and the like. As I had stacks of Angel tags on my desk they could not wait to pick just the right one. Their sweet, little hearts were anxious to go shopping for other children. During each of those shopping trips not once did either of them ask for something for themselves. I find that pretty remarkable for a three and five year old!

This week before bed, Grant has been reading the kids the Nativity Store. Each night introduces a character in the story. We have a set that has eight boxes. Each box has one of the characters. Each night the story asks what God wants for Christmas. The last box has a little mirror in it so the kids may see that God wants them for Christmas. It's very sweet. The kids LOVE it! They fully embrace who Jesus was, how and why He was born. (Cate likes to jump ahead to Easter most nights because at five, she already understands that without His death and resurrection, His birth is not as important.)

What I have come to realize is that I want us celebrating Jesus 365 days a year. I want our kids to know Him, to grow in His image and to strive to be like Him all year long. If we boil down celebrating Him to just these few weeks, what is that worth to Him? As mush as I abhor how commercial we have allowed Christmas to become; it would be equally as awful to make it legalistic.

Thank you sweet friends who made me see that I do not need to feel guilty for enjoying secular Christmas music; putting up decorations, allowing Santa to join us for some fun; maybe even spin a dredel; or allowing ourselves to ENJOY the FUN of Christmas while we do worship and praise our Savior.

Merry Christmas, friends! We do celebrate a mighty King, for whom I am thankful beyond words. I pray you find your peace in Him everyday this year as well.

Ode to a Wagon

I test drove a new car today. I felt like I was cheating on my old one. I had no idea I was so emotionally attached to this eleven year old Volvo wagon. But, I realized in the sea of change that has been our life it has been a constant.

You will notice that I normally refer to things as "our". "Our" children. "Our" home. "Our" love. Well, in the case of the Wagon, she is MINE. She is the first car that I actually bought. I secured the financing. I test drove her. I chose her. (Grant helped to find her and certainly helped me make my decision, but being we were just dating, it was really mine to make.) I was so proud of that purchase. Previously, I was a lease-girl. I liked shiny, brand new cars. The Wagon was my first used car purchase and she was just perfect for me...and ultimately our family to come.

I drove the wagon to my wedding ceremony. Grant drove Cate and me home from the hospital when she was born. Grant drove the wagon for a while so we could save money. That wagon was parked at my first house on Kenneth Street, it survived living in Springfield, made the move to San Marco...Monroeville...and Montgomery. But, now, it won't be traveling with us anymore. The Wagon will not be going to Nashville.

That. Makes. Me. Sad.

Sad to the point that I was teary as I spoke with the man at the dealership about her trade-in value. Sad that as I drove off in the soon-to-be "our car" that I was teary. Sad that when I think about not having her with not so great speakers, pealing leather, creeky struts, broken back hatch, slow pick-up and the 148,000 miles that she has on her...I just plain want to cry.

It is her time to go. And, quite frankly, had Ford not completely messed up making Volvo I would be putting some big bucks into getting her back to her glory. But, alas, she is not worth it anymore. But, for the memories that she quite literally carried, I might have been willing to spend the money.

So long my dear Wagon. You have been a blessing to our family, kept us safe and faithfully gotten us to where we needed to go for more than seven years. We will miss you!