Man Alive

I've always heard this expression, but never known what it means or where it came from. After extensive (google) research, I've still come up short. I guess I'll have to pick a new exclamation for moments of disbelief.

Still, tonight, the phrase seemed appropriate (not that I'm any closer to knowing where or why it should be used). I got a call shortly after I put this darlingness of a child down to sleep for the night. Turns out that while at dinner, the father of this baby boy passed out and was with baby mama in the E.R. I've always dreamed of when this call might come. Like when the parents of kids I babysat regularly through high school were running way past the time they estimated for me, I would, just for a moment, think "what if they had a wreck or are on the way to the hospital. What would I do if that really did happen. yadda yadda." I never imagined I would get the "we're in the ER" call on the first night I babysit for a new family.

Long story short, the dad is fine, just got a little too hot and bothered there in the Chili's (baby back ribs... barbeque sauce). I just felt bad because I didn't want them to have to pay me for time spent at a hospital. Which ended up being four hours. That's not me complaining, that's me sympathizing.

It was such a blessing to be able to rock this little boy back to sleep come 9:30 while praying for his parents and asking God to guard and protect such a precious family. I had the t.v. but after a while that got boring. I remembered that I have mom's Bible in my purse, so I got that out and started reading through Psalm 119. That is one long chapter! I wrote a few notes to friends. I texted people and tried to call others back. There in this little house I was forced to be productive and was led straight to the Word.

When the parents got back we stood and talked and then sat and talked. About keeping kids while she tackles a business venture. About seizures and throw up. About debt snowballs. The usual. Jackie mentioned quitting her job a few months back to be with her 2 boys and how huge a leap of faith that was. She continued by saying how amazing it is to literally look a check book and not know where money is going to come from to take care of everything, to know that numbers aren't going to add up, and then move on to the next month to find that it's all taken care of. Somehow, in what should have been the most trying 8 months of a marriage, this is the most financially and spiritually sound the family has ever been. And she was quick to point out that it is a God thing, even saying how neat it is to be at a time where everything is dependent on Him pulling through and then realizing that He has (and He will), month after month.

That optimism (or is it faith?) spread even to her view of tonight's events. "If we really needed a quiet dinner to ourselves, no hassle, we would have gotten it. But it turned out differently and that's okay, too. We got what we apparently needed... and at least we still didn't have any kids!"

Oh, and the man's alive.

That is why that phrase is appropriate tonight, yes? Eh, maybe I still haven't gotten the execution of that one down.

All of this is to say that things could have turned out way differently tonight and I am so thankful to God that He worked the events in a way only He could.

"Give me understanding, and I will keep your law and obey it with all my heart. Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight. " Psalm 119: 33-34

Strangely Absent

One of the failed ventures of spring semester for me was the Esther study the sisters and I set out to do. I think we all knew when we started how hard it would be to coordinate as a group often enough to do a full-fledged study together. Even so, I had hoped to do much better on the work in my own time. For some reason, the lack of meeting time left little motivation for me to finish. I also wish I had spent more time with the ladies outside of the Bible study. But before I knew it, it was the end of the school year and I was only three weeks into the study, with way fewer minutes minutes of QT clocked in with these precious friends than I would have liked. No ones fault, really. Just an observation.

I pulled out the study to find some sort of truth that I should be reminded of tonight. Because I don't know if you picked it up about me here lately, but I'm looking for some passion for the truth. Leave it to Beth. Er, God. There, on page 30 if you have it, was what I needed to see. Beth is setting up the schemes upon which the whole book is built. PURIM is what she calls it-- Parties, Unknowns, Rescues, Ironies, or Moments-- the factors that have lasting impact in the study of Esther.

"By the end of our study (which for me, that time, was 2 weeks later), your acrostic themes will comprise a photo album illustrating Purim's truest message: the Providence of God."

Providence being the truth that God is never more present than when He seems strangely absent.

"Hopefully [Purim] will train the eyes of your heart to see how an unseen God works in similar ways in your own life experiences and remind you [of His providence]... there in the hiddenness, God builds a woman she'd never otherwise become."

Sometimes (as in right now) in all of my worrying that God isn't working in my life, I forget that by being here and asking Him to do so, He is. Because that's just how He rolls.

As I spend my days getting my beauty sleep, working hard, exercising, eating healthily, washing clothes, and trying to be a good friend-- all in an attempt to be filled-- I find myself strangely sitting straight up on empty. Meanwhile He waits to teach me a valuable lesson about fulfillment-- or He at least waits to begin that lesson. Something tells me it may take a while. Not only because sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake, but also because there is a lot to learn, I'm sure.

And right now, if the best way for Him to start teaching me is to let me find out on my own time (borrowed time to begin with) how frustratingly impossible it is to fill myself up, then I'm okay with these feelings of inadequacy. If for no other reason than the fact that on my own little lonesome, I am inadequate. He continues to find new ways to drill that one into me.

What I can know is that this story of little ole me does not end in defeat. Despite the feelings of inadequacy and despite the inadequacy itself. Victorious only in light of God's grace. Providence might have something to do with it, too.

"... and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." -Colossians 2:10

"I belong to my lover, and his desire is for me." -Song of Solomon 7:10

"May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us-- yes, establish the work of our hands." -Psalm 90:17

"The kind is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your Lord." -Psalm 45:11

And there you have it. Some sort of truth to be remembered tonight.

Thank you, honorable Lord.

Unsure

A little over a year ago, when Emily came to FredVegas with Mom and Dad, she saw a new side to me, I think. Not really a different side, just mannerisms and sayings that come along with doing life alongside completely new people.

Like this lovely bunch.

Around them I am a little less apparently southern (the roots are still just as there and just as deep, I assure you). I am way less ghetto. A little more mannered (the people at school are now thinking this is her, more mannered?!) ... well, most of the time. Mostly though, I'm a little more like my Vegas friends when I'm at school. Go figure.

One of Emily's favorite new phrases I picked up on around my friends is "I'm unsure" (it's not actually her favorite, it's was more like the most used and noticeable at the time, therefore making it the easiest target for Em to make fun of). Its usage is pretty self explanatory.

Where are we going to go to dinner? I'm unsure.

When is that assignment due? I'm unsure.

What made him think that was okay? I'm unsure.

Who is this creepster sending Meds stuff in the mail? I'm unsure.

Are we going to play power uno? I'm unsure. (the answer was most likely a yes, by the way. When did we not play uno?)

I think I've made my point. Except for I actually haven't gotten to the real point yet. You know me better by now.

How do I go about getting better at my relationship with Christ (because what I've got right now just isn't working)? You see, I know I have to. Reached that point round bout my last post. But the next phase, the actual progress, has to start. And I'm unsure how to bring that about. I'm sure somewhere between reading my Bible and spending deep, good time in prayer would be a good place to start.

I'm certain Satan knows that's how it usually happens, too. I honestly believe he has used fatigue to keep me from it this week. I have felt so lazy. I have slept at least an hour and a half every afternoon this week. In Tuesday's case, I slept 7 hours. What is that? All I've been doing is working, which is not terribly strenuous. I go bed by no later than 1 a.m. The extra sleep really isn't necessary. But when I'm tired and dazed, it sure seems necessary. Then I wake up feeling all kinds of lazy and unproductive. Because I haven't been productive. That much is true.

I haven't been a great friend. I barely helped as Emily labored with love for my dad (a new Smith house renovation, no doubt). And there has been no quiet time to speak of. Even after I was shocked to see Slow Fade as the feature song on Sunday morning (my last post was written on Saturday), and the sermon so relevant to what is happening in my heart. I was in awe of how God works like that. He even works through bands like Casting Crowns, who I don't really care for in general. Matter of a fact, I really don't like that song. But He used it in the moment I needed him to and I am so grateful for that.

Apparently not grateful enough to do something about it. It is such a struggle for me right now. Life is just so comfortable (too comfortable when you think about the 7 hour nap) and it is so very easy to go day to day feeling secure, without a care. How easily I forget that my life can be rocked in an instant. And when it inevitably is, I don't want to be unsure about the God who saves. I want to know Him.

But right now I am undoubtedly unsure how to go about it.

People Never Crumble in a Day

I've started a new post in my head like 80 times in the past couple of weeks.

I mean, about all sorts of stuff. From work and love to baseball and so you think you can dance. How is it that every night I have run out of time to write these entries? It's not like I'm dong anything "bad". I'm watching baseball and so you think you can dance and alias. I'm working my tail off while the oven commences to breaking and managers leave the building and put 5-week-experienced me in charge-- working hard but loving it all the same.

I've heard people talk about that all my life, but am just now, nearing age 20, truly understanding it. And still, not even close to really understanding. After all, marriage and children haven't been tossed into the whole work equation. Shoot, a boyfriend hasn't even made an appearance. So, yeah, there's a lot to learn. But now I'm starting my work/love post and that just isn't where I am this morning.

What else am I doing? Hanging out with the family that I love to be a part of more and more every day-- more exposed to our flaws, but with more time to appreciate our strengths. Missing Emily and wishing there was more time to be a part of her life-- her amazingly involved and faithful life. Trying to be a better friend this summer than I was last summer. Making dinner and cleaning house. Reading other people's blogs and wondering what in the world I have to say. Starting my own post, reading some old ones and discovering how high and mighty I can tend to sound. Being smacked in the face by how so not high and ridiculously not mighty I really am. And discovering day after day when I don't write that I don't have anything to say. Seriously, not a word about my daily life or thoughts means a thing. Even in my head, the imagined posts bore me. I mean, they start out quirky with some sort of quip, but soon dry up and I don't come down to put my fingers to the keys. That is exactly what I feel like-- like I'm drying up. It's a terrible feeling because everything around me is so rich and I do feel so blessed. But what am I adding to it?

Honestly, I don't feel added to. Swear (except I usually don't) I'm not depressed. Promise. And the drying up feeling? No one else's fault but my very own. Because plenty of people, all people I love, are investing in me. We shop, we talk, we hang out, we eat, we play, we laugh, we work. These people basically add everything to my life. Without them there is nothing to do, no one to talk to. But at the end of the day, these people alone add nothing. At least, nothing without the purpose God gives to them being in my life. And that purpose has been sorely lacking. Because I have slowly given up seeking it. I haven't put bad things in place of the pursuit of a Godly life, but I have put things in its place. And over time, those things-- the tv, the cleaning, the work, the facebook, the blogging, even-- have lost a little of their fun. Mainly because coming in the place of my relationship with Christ automatically makes them bad things. It takes a little while to get that frustrated with the lack of spiritual fulfillment in my life to see or admit that, but it is freeing to get there.

It has been a slow fade. Which is why the other day when I drove home from I don't even know where and the Casting Crowns song, "Slow Fade" came on, something clicked. I haven't been sad or aloof. Trust me, I've been having all sorts of fun this summer. And there will be blog posts to come to totally illustrate that fact. But it is all in vain if I don't get this right. This purpose thing. At no point in the past month have I really been aware of this drying up or fading and had you asked how my summer was, I wouldn't have been lying by answering "great." As the song played in the highlander-- the one I may or may not be taking back to school, the one I consider a privilege to drive because I may again go vehicle-less in Virginia where I will have to have a job and where I would love to be able to cart friends of old and new off campus to spontaneous fun-- it felt like I was being reminded that I can just say uncle. I can just admit that I can't and don't want to keep going on in life without the purpose.

It sounds really dark and depressing when put like that. But the joy comes with the fact that there is "the purpose." If I can quote Chris Tomlin, "his name is Jesus and he understands. He is the answer you've been looking for, so come home running, just as you are." The moment I admit that I'm not happy with how I am-- not unhappy with the people or circumstances, but unhappy with me-- there is freedom to not have everything going on around me perfect. It isn't up to me to make life go smoothly. But it surely isn't going to go smoothly if I'm not right with me and the Savior who died to make things right.

And for me it is so much better to be at this point, knowing I have to get better at my relationship with Christ, that I must once again put my dependence on Him, than to be where I was, fooling myself into thinking that everything was great. In the words of Casting Crowns " be careful if you think you stand, you just might be sinking."

Jesus casts a rope. He cast it on the cross and He is still actively saving. It's not about who I can go out and save (though I would love to find places, or really more like take God up on the places He has already provided, to tell others about this rope and this savior). It's about me still being saved. Not that I am, but that He still is. There is comfort and joy in knowing I have a way out of the nothingness-- something reassuring about a firm grasp on that rope. Especially after confidently standing in quick sand, though with more and more frequent glimpses of the trouble I was in as my feet went deeper and deeper. Then suddenly, the realization that I can't. And the fear that accompanies the inadequacy. But then, a rope.

A way out. Someone who loves you, no matter the trouble. Someone who still, dirt and all, wants time with you. And who knows that time with Him, what I've lacked for some time now, it's exactly what I need.

People never crumble in a day. But they do crumble. And I was. Slowly, though, what I need is once again becoming what I want to do with my time. That is, time getting to know the man behind the rope.

Well, and then adding so you think you can dance and shopping trips back in.

Funny, those things seem so much sweeter when I've got "the purpose" on my side.

His name is Jesus. He understands. He is the answer I've been looking for. And He. Never Crumbles. Period.

Real Life

Check out the newlyweds:

no, not them (although, aren't they cute?).

I'm speaking of my parents.

And by "newly," I do mean 29 years ago. So 29yearsagoweds. That just didn't sound as good. Mom kept saying yesterday "I'm getting married at 3!" and I would keep replying "29 years ago." Then I asked her if it felt like 29 years. She pondered my question for what seemed like 29 years, I'm sure picturing some pretty good as well as some pretty low moments. Remember the concrete? That was probably in the replay running through her head. The answer? Yes and no.

I think she was just too excited to be getting married (at 3 p.m.) to come up with a better answer ;)

There is something so blessed, sacred, fabulous, comforting, inspiring, honest and real about having a mom and dad who would do it all over again, 29 years and a whole lot of crap later. Maybe not for free, but they'd do it again (that is not only an extremely clever sentence, but also a quote from House Guest, and therefore I cannot take credit for it... just when I had people thinking I was a decent writer).

We have a saying that comes up a lot around here-- "that's real life."

For example, this...

... is real life.

Oh, I like this game (and now I've gone back over a good majority of the 13,000 pictures on my iPhoto to find so true to life moments).

First, a picture of mom drinking a smoothie last weekend to the last drop. That's real life. I promised to never make this picture public... it's real life that I did anyway.

Stepping in a mud pile during a senior picture photo session... real life.

Sam mid-bite in the midst of a typically female-dominated discussion.

Josh strolling through a grocery store, already eating something he has no intention of paying for.

Like when you're stressed out about final papers and decide "what the heck, I need a break, it'll be good to be with the girls for a day, chillin' at a baseball game" but then Jill's car breaks down.

Or you're just trying to get a decent picture of some older BCM leadership and this is what happens.

Or when Lindsey does something crazy

Like when Mesha is trying to yell at Jordan (our manager) for scheduling her on a Tuesday ("when he KNOWS she can't do Tuesdays, what would possess him to do that, is this sabotage because she will NOT have any of it, WHAT is his issue for doing this to her... etc") and he's sitting there checking facebook.

Or when someone comes running, asking Deirge where they can find this or that in the CCM kitchen and she goes off on her social duties (only to find that they are out of "this or that"... bummer). That's real life.

When all 3 Smith girls are getting ready in one bathroom, running late. Real life.

When the ladies of Willard 112 decide to go back on a spontinuity (i know that's not the word, take it up with my Rooms) kick and dye Noelle's hair and then she starts doing inappropriate things behind my back (or butt). Real life.

Claire making this face while Katie Titus hides behind a stool and Cole looks like he has no idea what the heck is going on.

Emily and her better half (because sometimes it's like they might as well be married) gettin' their hands dirty in ministry.

Deirge laughing uncontrollably at something Dina had said. Dina laughing because Deirdre is laughing, unaware that all of this laughter is, indeed, at her expense. But laughter all the same, I suppose.

Ashley instructing Gillian on the art of cooking decorating. And then her OCD-ness kicking in, providing for a speed of about one decorated cookie per hour. It's just her being thorough. It is also, you may have guessed, real life.

The Creepster showing up and engaged in some sort of physical battle with Noel. Typical. And real life.

Sometimes you're keeping a 7 week old baby and don't have a crib, so you use a laundry basket instead. Maybe not the most vogue option, but real life.

I was getting to a point before all of this. Hopefully you've picked up on the pattern. Sometimes stuff doesn't go as planned. Other times, people act in direct accordance with their personalities and that is humorous. The idea behind "that's real life" is that most of the time, good or bad, you have to roll with it. And if you can't find the good in a situation-- the humor, the growth, the purpose-- you're just going to go crazy.

Especially when real life turns to crap. Then it'd really take some integrity to find a purpose in carrying on. I mean a lot of the time you can just laugh real life off. But then there are just completely humorless situations and to work through it? That is real.

When it comes to marriage these days, divorce seems like the real life option. It's increasingly becoming the norm, while happy marriages set up shop in fairy tales and feel good stories. Marriage is idealistic. Divorce, reality.

In observing my parents I'm learning that marriage is so not ideal (again, a quote from a movie-- Bride Wars, of course). It is real. It takes work and compromise and arguing and a bunch of frayed nerves. That's the inevitable. Not divorce... it's evitable. Are there situations for it? Yes. Is it something for a child of divorced parents to be ashamed of? No. Do kids of divorcees feel a lot of shame? I think so. I often feel guilty that I can't empathize with these people. Because I feel like I can't possibly know what they're going through. To them, I have the ideal situation going on here-- parents in love 29 years later. But to me? This is real life. We've got the ups and downs and in-betweens. The hurt feelings, the tears, the laughter, the struggles. It doesn't feel ideal-- it feels real.

I can't say that I don't feel blessed, though, that one of my first memories is of my parents sitting me down and promising me they would never get a divorce. How could they be sure? They couldn't know then what would happen in the future, right? Aren't there extenuating circumstances? For other people, yes, I believe there are. All kinds of things can go wrong. Cheating, homosexuality, abuse, just crap in general. The crap they couldn't promise away. But the cheating, homosexuality, and abuse, for my parents, was then and there, always and forever, ruled out. Black and white, it would not happen. And based on everything I observed about them back then, I believed them. Up to this day, I believe them. Because they said so. And because they promised more than to each other, more than for the sake of their kids.

It's not that they weren't going to let real life affect their marriage. It's that their marriage has been real life. A marriage that has been prayed over, for, about, through, in. For better or for worse.

I was being nosy and found this verse that mom sort of assigned to their marriage: "O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together." -Psalm 34:3

So it has been their intent all along to prioritize in this order: 1) God 2) Each other 3) Kids 4) Work. It hasn't always worked out that way in every situation. But it is working.

And I praise the Lord for it. And for 29 years.

But mostly, for making Himself a part of real life.

I'll bring it back to the actual newlyweds now. One day about a year ago Luke said to Stephanie (to insult her, I might add, rude) "you're acting like my mom." She sharply responded, "well, you're acting like your dad." But clever Luke came back-- "well it's worked for them!"

Yes it has.

I am second. Promise.

I'm reading a book right now by Josh Hamilton entitled "Beyond Belief: Finding the Strength to Come Back." When my grandmother started raving about his story-- this tattooed baseball player was so sinful and then found Jesus and is so repentant-- I have to admit I felt like she was exaggerating, flipping about some tattoos, and that this was just another "thank you, God, for my 2 million dollars a year contract, you are so amazing" story.

I just do not enjoy those type of athletes, and I rolled my eyes, (not actually, because I am not trying to get killed) thinking I really didn't find some tattoos all that sinful.

And then I read the story and was once again reminded that He is so amazing.

So, it turns out, God once again used someone else-- in this case another complete stranger-- to teach me a little more. I am coming to find that I can't really teach myself as much as I would like to believe, and often act like, I can.

I. am. second.

Not second to Josh Hamilton, though his story does kind of kick my story's butt. God repeatedly uses the lives of other people to show me exactly how much I just wont ever know. At the same time revealing just how much He has done in other people, and how much He desires to use me, too. As readily as I will admit that I am not as strong, or as talented, or as experienced as Josh Hamilton, as quickly as I will say my story seems secondary to his-- that is just the beginning of how yielding I should be to God and the will He is working in me and in those around me.

Turns out Josh really was buried in sin. Crazy thing, so am I.

It is to say that if He can work in Josh, he can work in me. It is also to say that if He can use Josh, he can use whoever I might deem the worst of sinners. And that any one of them deserves to be considered before me. Maybe not because they deserve it (because sometimes wouldn't I just love to give them what I think they really deserve?), more like because I certainly don't. More importantly because God certainly does. Deserve to be considered before me, that is. When I say it like that, it sounds like a no-brainer. But then I go out on my merry way making fun of that person, staring a little longer than I should at that person, sighing under my breath at that customer. You know, essentially finding all these people who I'm better than. I swear (except I usually don't) it's not a conscious thing most times. But it's there. And it is a way of making me feel better. Even though, I'm pretty sure I just established, I'm second.

If I were truly humbled towards God, wouldn't humility towards others come easier?

I'm certain it would. Mainly because Jesus didn't die harder for me (Bruce Willis did). He didn't stay on the cross a little overtime for me. Oh sure, I believe He considered me as His blood spilled. But no more highly than the next person. No more highly than Josh Hamilton.

So if I'm second to Him, I'm second to every other person He claimed long before there was little me. And that is, let's see. Oh yes, everyone. Regardless of life choices or inherited characteristics.

I just thought I'd give myself a reminder.

And give you Josh Hamilton's story.

Brought to you (in part) by the Rangers. Don't say they never did nothin'.

In his book, Josh says he repeatedly recited this verse to resist urges. Urges he tried and failed to stop a dozen times during his addiction. As it so happens, humility works.

"But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: 'God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.' Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." -James 4:6-7

While They Were Sleeping

You ever just thought about how cool it is to wake up?

I hadn't really because, I mean, I'm a huge fan of sleep. Please. Love that stuff.

But while the rest of me recharges, the necessary organs, tissues, cells keep functioning to insure I'll wake up. Well, you know, if I so choose to. I didn't think that was such an amazing thing when I got up at 6 a.m. to take Kinley home and pick up Hudson and Addie.

But as I lay them both down for a nap this afternoon, I got to thinking what a miracle it is that a.) they even went to sleep in the first place (at the same time, I might add) and b.) I could just assume they would wake up. I don't consider myself even close to a fatalist, and I don't oft go dreaming up worst case scenarios. But in that moment I realized that it's not my place to go off assuming things-- even stuff as small as a breath.

Which is not to say go'on ahead and assume to worst. I guess I just got reminded today to appreciate the best (well, really, the best case scenario would be for them to stay asleep for a good hour and a half, but I wont get choosy).

They say (one day I'm going to have to meet them) you don't know what you've got 'til its gone.

So right now I'm thinking of something I've got and thanking God for it. And what I have now is a little bit of free time and some sleeping babies whose chests are rising and falling (I checked).

Now I will go pave paradise and put up a parking lot.

Once they (God willing) wake up.

p.s.- look who decided to join us (after clocking in an impressive two and a hafe hours of sleep)...