Category: children

On Bad Days

Have you ever had a day when you just want the world to go away? Like a nagging sister, the world is right there– tagging along, always needing something and making you tired and grumpy! I had a day like that recently.

When I woke up, the world had already begun its spin and I was sucked into the spin within my first hour. How can it be? I just woke up! How early do I need to get up, so that I’m not behind? Some days it seems like some time before 5:00 AM would do it. But who gets up before 5:00?–dairy farmers. I’m sure dairy farmers don’t care what the world thinks. They’re too busy taking care of cows. That’s exactly what I need, a cow.

Next thing I know I’m running out the door. Last month I wrote a song that has a line in it: “getting out the door’s like getting out of quicksand.” Yes, that’s true for me. I ran out of the door and started driving down my driveway only to stop the car and run back into the house to get the thing I swore I woudn’t forget. Ugh. Then I ran back to the car. The last time I had a start like this I drove off with my favorite red coffee cup on the back bumper of the car and you got it. It fell off somewhere and I have never seen the pieces it left behind. I drove by the area I think it flung itself into only to find high grass and a deep ditch. I didn’t check the bumper that morning but nothing would have surprised me. I loved that coffee mug.

I made it to school in time to drop boys off. It rained today, so when they got out of the car instead of the usual in the air kisses that they blow me, they blew me off and headed for the front door of the school in the rain. That’s ok. We had a plan for today. I parked the car and met them inside to deliver some slices of leftover chocolate cake to some of their teachers, past and present. As I shared the cake with Zach’s teacher, I said, “just a little sunshine coming your way!” As I headed to the next teacher– the PE coach, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a school door. I was wearing no make-up, but wet hair from the rain. All I made time for this morning was my frumpy clothes. Today would have been a great day for sleeping in. The PE coach was out sick, so we gave a piece of cake to a friend down the hall who was thrilled.

Next, I stopped off at Max’s class and asked his teacher if she had any work I could help with. Three hours later I finished organizing a year’s worth of second grade readers. I know I helped, but I was hoping for something artistic, like designing a colorful decoration for the hallway. Now, I love doing that, but organization is not my gift. But I’m sure that’s what she needed today and looking back, I’m glad I could help. When you think of me, don’t think of filing. OK, cows are starting to look better.

I headed home to make some phone calls and grab lunch. Right before I turned the car off it started making a funny sound. You know the sound, the one that sounds like money. OK, by now the world is really getting on my nerves! We just replaced a radiator. I wonder how much it costs to maintain a cow.

When I picked up Max and Zach we headed to Max’s class and decorated the hallway. A friend of mine came by and had her daughter out on the playground and asked if the boys could join them. “Are you nuts,” I thought, “how long can you keep them?” I mean, “sure that’s a wonderful idea.” Three hours later, our hallway of trees, butterflies, grasshoppers and flowers was complete.

Upon arriving home, everyone read books. Then Max did his homework. We all ate our slightly overcooked dinner together and made designs with a Spirograph. Do you remember those? We made our way to bed and read “The Day Jimmy’s Boa Ate the Wash” which was a great book for today. We said prayers and I kissed boys goodnight. Then I was off to watch Grey’s Anatomy–thank goodness for TIVO. Who’d have thought time-shifting content could be so life changing and miraculous? Until the unthinkable happened–the last 5 minutes of Grey’s was not recorded. I know that I can get someone to tell me what happened, but at the time, let’s just say, it took my breath away. Now that I think about it, it’s kinda funny. I’ll bet if I was a dairy farmer, I wouldn’t have time to be interested in TV shows. I’d be waking up at 5 or 3 am to milk the cows instead, here I am with my day.

Someone was born today… someone died… someone fell in love… someone got closer to curing AIDS or a form of cancer… someone broke up with their boyfriend… someone celebrated a birthday with family and friends… someone celebrated a birthday alone… someone climbed Mount Everest… someone got lost… someone lost their first tooth… someone got their first job… someone found out that the cancer is still there…someone found out they are not sick anymore… someone else learned they are going to have a baby… someone felt loved, while someone else thought of taking their own life… all of this happened and so much more… and I felt all day like I wanted a do-over. Maybe that’s just it, we don’t get one. Max’s pre-school teacher Ms Beth used to say, “you get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.” Maybe today was all the best and worst rolled together in into 24 hours, but it was my day. It just was. At the end of it, I find myself falling on my knees, thankful to God for all of it. For those who know the real “dirty-hair-pulled-on-top-of-my-head,-didn’t-take-a-shower-yet,-my-house-isn’t-clean-and-won’t-be-until-I-don’t-know-when,-got-$1.34-in-my-purse,” me. Those last five minutes of Grey’s Anatomy can be lost forever. I didn’t lose one minute of my day. Each moment I felt–the joy and disappointment. Tonight while preparing dinner…. I over-cooked a grilled cheese sandwich and I started crying. Zach looked up from the table and said, “what is it, Celia? is it just everything?” And I thought, “yep it is.” Somedays are like that even for dairy farmers.

This is the day that the Lord has made… let us rejoice and be glad in it. PS118:24

Just Because

A few nights ago I was helping my sons get ready for bed. I had Max (the oldest) do the usual routine: bath, put jammies on, brush teeth and make the last potty stop. Then I said, “find brother and tell him you love him just because.” So he did. Zach smiled as he hugged him and told him “ I love you.” Then it was Zach’s turn: bath, jammies, teeth, last trip to the potty and find your brother, tell him you love him just because. So he did. Did I mentioned after each declaration of love that the recipient was wrestled to the ground just to make sure they got the message. That was not what I envisioned. It was still one of those times when you remember what is important.

During a retreat I led last month, I sat with a girl who told me that she was struggling with her younger brother. She lamented that he was mean to her and he just didn’t get it. It was clear that she loved her brother deeply. She had learned how fragile life was and she wanted her eighth grade brother to get it. I said, “he’s just being a little brother. You keep telling him you love him, better yet show him how you feel. Find how what he likes to do and do it with him. Find out what he loves just because. Show him what it means to care about him and then love the brother you have today–the way he is right now. Make it about the giving. One day maybe he’ll look back and see the gift he has in you.” I encouraged her to see the gift today that she has in him.

She sent me a text message after the retreat. She said she had just returned from her brother’s band concert. He played drums. I told her about Max and Zach’s night. One day maybe I won’t have to remind them–they’ll just say it because. Because we need to use those words, because we all need to hear those words. At the end of our text conversation, I said, “sometimes the just because moments make all the other ones bearable.”

Isn’t that true? Think about it. Those people who do things for you just because, hold a special place in your heart and in mine. First, they get you what you love and they cherish it! Isn’t it wonderful to have someone know you? Do you have someone who knows what you love? Maybe they know your birthday.. your hard days.. your favorite things? To be known is not only important, it’s sacred. Second, they remember. Not only do they know, but they remember. Third, they follow through. Sometimes I do the first parts well, but I get lost in the third part… the doing. I watch, I listen, I file away, I stop, I ask, I may have the best intentions, but sometimes I don’t get to the finish line. That’s just crazy–I buy the card and forget to send it. I think of them during the day, but just don’t get to the phone to call them. Every once in a while, I remember and I do the right thing.! The look on their face, their voice on the phone when they received a card out of the blue just because. That is what it’s all about. I am a true believer that those moments of receiving carrying us through, because they’ve made the difference in my life.

Last month, I met a friend at the grocery store just because. I loved her and I tracked her down. As I walked through the check out with her, I thought about all the little things she has meant to me over the past years and about the ways I have been there for her. I know God was a part of my being in that grocery store. I also know that on that day, I was part of bringing God’s kingdom, in some small way. My week with her turned out to be just one of those weeks and really it began at the grocery check out aisle four.

A few days ago, I called a friend that came to mind. I had not talked with him in months and I just said, I’m not sure what’s going on but you were on my mind and I called to tell you I loved you just because I do. For a moment the phone was silent, then he said, “I’m not sure how you knew that today was a bit of a set back and a snag, but thanks for the call.” To know someone, to remember, to follow through, to be a part of their moments, to speak those words, to just do something for someone else is the thing. I know it is God’s work that we get to be small part of.

I encourage you to make some moments for someone esle this summer. — Celia

P.S. I have been thinking about writing this for a week and as I sat down to write, I received a card from another friend that started with two words, “Just because.”

Entertaining Angels

She stared directly at me and burned a hole in me with her dark brown eyes. She was holding her mother’s hand and lagging a little behind her mother’s pace. Her red dress was what first caught my eyes and then her face drew everything toward her. She really looked at me as if she knew me and knew all about my life. I wish I could use the right words to describe what I felt but in a minute I knew she knew me. Right there at gate C14, as I made my way to baggage claim, a 2-year-old named Sierra captivated me. Her mother walked by me and she turned her body around to look at me. She began waving and then stopped. I of course, stopped and said, I see you… you are beautiful. What’s your name? As I bent down to talk to her, she had stopped her mother as well. The mother’s eyes were gentle but tired and she smiled and said, Her name is Sierra. By then Sierra and I were in full embrace and I said again, “I see you and I love you.” I had been away from Max, Zach and Ron for days and I was so thankful for Sierra’s hug. As her mother began to pull away, Sierra motioned kisses to me in the air. an appropriate farewell for a 2 year old. Her hair covered in red ponytails, her white shoes, her red polka dot dress, as cute as they were, all paled in comparison to the countenance on her face–pure love.

Have you ever met anyone and see it shining from their faces? And then there’s the knowing… the real, genuine, truthful knowing that is exchanged in the connection. It was more than words shared, because to be honest, I was the only one talking. Her mother after sharing her named, sheepishly said, “thank you,” when I commented on her beauty. As they walked away, I stood and told Sierra “I’ll see you another day. Go with your Mamma, she’s a good Mamma and she loves you and I’ll see you another day. Sierra continued to blow kisses until finally she turned around to catch up with her mother’s stride.

As I made my way down the hallway toward baggage claim and toward my family I was thankful for the gift of our encounter. I have been pondering this season… all it means and all I still don’t comprehend about these holy days. This morning, Zach summed it up on the way to school. We were talking about Jesus and about Easter. We talked about how Jesus came to teach about God’s love and show us how much we are loved and he eventually died doing so. Zach one of my back seat theologians said, “yea, that Jesus loves us more than we can know.” That sums it up for me. Max and I agreed and I wished I had said it that way ‘cause it’s true.

Every once in a while I am reminded of how that love knows me, claims me, sustains me, invites me, embraces me and sees me. Like my meeting with Sierra. Out of nowhere I’m instantly reconnected and reminded and overwhelmed with more love than I can know. I wish that for you. If you see a little girl in a red polka dotted dress, don’t pass her by. She may be Christ’s messenger with a kiss or a hug for you on your journey. It is almost easier to forget to be on the lookout for the angels that live and visit us everyday as messengers of God’s love. Who knows, maybe God was using me that day to see Sierra and her mom and to be of an encourager for them along their way; just as they were to me.

As Paul is closing his letter to the Hebrews, he writes these words, “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:1-2 NRSV)

I sang for a leadership event for Calvary Community Church in the Los Angeles area last month. A small group of leaders and chosen influencers gathered to focus on making their church a more hospitable place. We talked about fun, we talked about being inviting and we talked about being on the lookout. One lady said it well when she said that she was much better at recognizing opportunities in her rear view mirror. I’m not sure how it works, but God is moving and I’m looking out my windshield at what’s coming. Join me on the lookout.

Love you, Celia

on bad days

One of my favorite books is “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst. Alexander has a bad day that begins with waking up with gum in his hair. His day included: no toy in his cereal, getting demoted to third-best by his number one best friend, kissing on TV and lima beans for supper. He finally says he’s going to Australia and his mom in her wisdom says, “some days are like that, even in Australia.”

A few days ago, I started my day by hitting my big toe on a box in my office, first thing in the morning. Ouch! Then, I couldn’t find my car keys. I looked all the places I’ve lost them in the past, I recalled all the places I’d been in the last days, I even dropped by a few and asked about my keys. I always got the same answer, “Oh no, how are you driving now?” Ugh! A few years ago Ron came to me and said, “Celia, I love you, I adore you, but I can’t look for your keys anymore.” What he didn’t realize is that it makes me crazy, too. I have a special place where they are suppose to hang, but did I put them there? Okay, I checked one more time, but no. Maybe if I moved to Australia I wouldn’t need keys.

Next I dropped Max, my new first grader, off on his first big day of school and as I was talking to his teacher about helping in the classroom, she shooed me on my way, and said we’ll be fine. I know she didn’t mean to shoo me. If she knew me she wouldn’t shoo me. Really I taught school, I know what it means to teach them independence, but today he asked if I’d walk him to class and I thought, while I’m here I’ll make myself available. Last year several parents were in and out of kindergarten with learning centers, reading to the class and helping out in the room. When the moms this year talked about how different it would be, I assumed they were talking about themselves, not me. I wanted to say to his new teacher, “I get that he’s bigger now. Trust me, I’m fine, but you might like some help.” About that time, she smiled and closed the door. So I smiled at the closed door and walked slowly to my car. With my spare set of keys in hand, all the while trying to figure out how this year is going to work. Okay, so I felt a little hurt that I’d been shooed. I knew I wouldn’t spend much time in his twelfth grade classroom, I just didn’t anticipate that beginning this year, in the first grade. I made my way home and instead of getting to all the work on my desk. I revisited my quest for, you guessed it, my keys. Ron looked for keys, he really does love me. Then the babysitter came by to watch Zach a little and to get her last paycheck of the summer. I forgot about my keys for a bit. I made some phone calls, bought some airline tickets and did some paper work in my office.

Soon it was time to pick up Max from school. He is a car rider and if you have ever picked up an elementary student from school at the beginning of the year, you know that Australia looks pretty good compared to that line. I grabbed a peach for me and a snack for Max, said goodbye to both Zach and the sitter, hopped in my car, put it in reverse and thought to myself, “I’ll get to school early and talk to the moms about the shooing and my quest for keys.” As I backed up, I checked my rearview mirror, not remembering Zach had adjusted it for his height. I saw the pecan tree in our yard and thought I was clear for take off. As I was backing up, I heard a loud thud and felt a jolt. “Where was the babysitters car parked?” I thought quickly to myself. No, no, no! As I jumped out of the car, Ron greeted meet at the scene. Then the crying and wailing began, “I’m so sorry.” It was only a little ding in her hood, but one I knew would need professional undinging. What’s wrong with me? Why am I not in Australia? As I walked back into the kitchen, I was the one who felt like a teenager. The sitter smiled and said, “I put one of the dents in the front, so don’t feel so bad.” Her smile and hug was a comical relief. Oh, did I mention she was packed to leave to go to college tomorrow morning?” “Yea,” she laughed. We laughed together until her cell phone rang. It was her dad checking in. We all froze. “Ok give me the phone,” I said, and I greeted him with the news. Ok he didn’t laugh, but of course said, “Celia it’ll be okay.” Hold the rest of my calls, because I’m considering having lunch with a Koala Bear. Ron rode with me to get Max from school. I wiped my eyes and mustered a smile as I saw one of the moms. She yelled, “coffee tomorrow morning at Bean Town, the local coffee shop.” Okay, I said over the car. As Max got into the car, we hugged. I told him about the crazy thing mom did and that I was thinking about Alexander and his story and about going to Australia. Max said to me, “some days are like that.” We both cracked up laughing, and he gave me a hug and told me the best thing and the not-so-best thing about his day.

As I sat and recanted this day for your encouragement, it was quite late in the evening and I couldn’t sleep. I wandered into my home office to find a #2 pencil and made my way to our guest bedroom to read. On the nightstand sat my dad’s pocket watch and the book I was finishing by Margaret Becker. It’s called “Coming Up For Air” and it has been just the right thing for this season. I read the last chapter and Margaret shared about the death of her mom and her journey through those days. On the last page she recalls a thought her mom shared with her one day, “the good Lord gave us only this day, M. Make something of it.”

I reflected on the day I’d had. I looked down at my dad’s watch in my hand and thought, “what’s really precious, Celia?” For me, real life is primarily not about my stubbed big toe, or my losing keys, or my being shooed out of first grade class, or about accidents involving cars. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s the small things that take the wind out of my sails, not the big ones. Misplacing my emphasis makes the little things become big things. It’s about my losing sight of the fullness of love in my life–the loss of perspective. What I know to be important, is to love and to be loved. That is pure, rich and precious. Sharing something that is real, something like a smile on a friend’s face when they just rear-ended your car or like a hug from last year’s teacher, who I adored–She and I agreed, we’re all gonna be okay this new year. I know I’ll love this new teacher just as much — shooing and all. A wave from a mom reminds me that I’m not in this alone. A reminder from Max of the best and not so bewt things in our day and every once in a while, there are some days without not-so-best parts–I love those days! God is in the midst of each moment and I am so thankful for this day–even this day. It was one of my days I realize what a gift it is, even the little things, so I must embrace it all.

The next morning I had coffee with six of the moms whose children shared a kindergarten class last year. We laughed about my being shooed. They shared their stories of running into things with their cars. I got up to refill my coffee cup and glanced back as their laughter filled the room and I realized that I was grateful, even for the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. Some days are like that, even in Franklin, Tennessee. Australia will have to wait for another day. I’m off to make something of this new one, and I invite you to make something of yours. Enjoy!

Psalm 118:24 This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Ciao, Celia

P.S. I found my keys, tucked away in a corner right where I left them.

Sometimes it’s just right

Some things just feel right. Last week I came home from traveling and decided I’d spend some time with my four year old, Zach, while Max was in school instead of spending much needed time in the office. Ron told of Max and Zach dragging Ron’s golf clubs into the front yard and chipping golf balls over the weekend (while I was away). This morning, Zach suggested that he and I play golf. The weather had finally taken the turn I was waiting for—a spring warm-up. I love warm, growing up in Louisiana, I know hot. Last month I was in Wisconsin and I know it’s warm that I love. It was sunny, starting to turn springy and Zach and I chased the little white ball a bit. As we got outside, he handed me a wedge . . .

I remember my first round of golf. Several years ago, I was in Alamogordo, NM for a youth event. The youth director, Wes, and the choir director, Mike, asked me what we should do on one of our days off. They suggested golf. I said, “I love golf.” They picked me up and we headed off to Cloudcroft Golf Course, which was a beautiful course with lovely homes lining the fairways. As we drove toward the course, I learned that they played together almost every week. Looking back, our experience was pretty comical, especially the first tee. As we arrived, we rented a set of clubs for me, got me a box of balls and a cart. Mike hit a screaming drive and then Wes really got a hold of his first shot. They were both perfectly situated in the middle of the fairway. We headed to the ladies’ tee and as I prepared to tee up my ball, I said, “Ok, how do you play?” They were surprised and I said, “You didn’t know I didn’t play?” They were both shocked. “Well, I am a youth director’s wife — I have a lot of miniature golf experience, but I just know I’ll enjoy and excel at this game.” After they picked their jaws up from the cart-path, they proceeded to teach me how to play. Once I was told I was holding my club too tightly. So I compensated and as I swung, I remember my driver flying out of my hands. It must have looked like an episode of the three stooges. I spent the next few holes trying to make my ball go as far as that driver had. Once I remember picking my ball up and throwing it farther than my best drive. Eighteen holes make a long game for a rookie. Let’s just say that several groups played through. I have to say they were really good sports about the whole day and to many of your surprise, those guys are still my friends to this day.

Upon returning home to the Dallas area from my New Mexico trip, Ron couldn’t believe I didn’t tell them I didn’t know how to play. “Well they didn’t ask me, if I knew how to play. They said, ‘Do you like golf?’ I answered, ‘I love it’ and that was true.'” During our years in Dallas, I encouraged Ron’s friends to let me tag-a-long on their golf outings. One of my favorite teachers was named Bob. He was an attorney and we’d play with him and his two sons, Bobby and Ryan. He always had great tips and I was pretty good at taking his advice. I remember the first time I really got a hold of a ball. I remember the sound it made. And I remember how my grip felt unusual at first, yet I really connected and it was a great shot for my experience level. I did a victory dance. When you hit one great shot, you want to keep on playing. Bob was also there to watch me blow up on a hole. He always had a quick comment or joke for me and he has this explosive. Anyone who knows him will tell you how infectious that laugh is. The game was just never about the score. Bob was my favorite golf counselor. For me the whole day was about enjoying his company and his smile. The golf tips were just lagniappe, (that’s French for a little something extra.) Bob’s way of just gently teaching –he taught with loving eyes, you know, eyes that smiled and laughed and made you feel special while teaching you something. That’s it–he’d say when I really hit one. Then when I’d mess up, he’d smile and say that’s golf. The thing I looked forward to was our time with Bob and his humor and delight in love of our time together, much more than a golf lesson.

When we moved to Tennessee, I continue to play a little here and there I dusted off some old golf clubs of my dad’s and entered the game. I still tagged along when I got the chance. Somehow, my grip changed. I got more and more comfortable with it and yet my game didn’t improve–it got worse. Once my sons came along, I didn’t play for a number of years.

Looking back, playing with those first two guys in New Mexico and our youth worker guys in Texas, and with our friends here in Tennessee, I was the only girl. I should have been the odd person out, but I never felt like I was. My memories of those days spent together on the course were that some things just feel right. You breathe differently, you’re at ease. The company builds you up and you leave better. It had had very little to do with the golf, it was about spending time with great people.

Now, here I was in my front yard. As I showed Zach how to hold a club, keep your head down, loosen your knees, and see where you want the ball to go. Follow through all the way. I can still hear Bob’s words for me and his laugh. The thing I loved most were those days getting to know him and his family. The golf was good, but the family was much better. Losing your ball in the woods, getting stuck in a sand trip, hitting your last ball into the water, like that scene in “Tin Cup,” riding in his cart. I don’t even remember what we talked about, but it fit–like getting a good grip. Something was just right about it. I don’t know what made it so, but I have a feeling it was mostly just being with Bob. Zach brings my focus back to the game and says, “you try one, mommy!” Well I just teed it up and let it go and off it went. It was a beautiful shot over our Magnolia tree that stands near our mailbox. “Wow,” Zach yelled. Hey let’s see if I can really get something going. We live on an acre lot, so I teed up diagonally across the yard. My old grip was back! Long before I changed, changed, changed, I remember Bob’s words, and almost hit the mailbox. On my second shot, returning from the mailbox, I overshot my target and it bounced toward the street. “Mom, that was great,” Zach proclaimed. Just as Ron came out to check on us. “Celia, what in the world? The other day when Zach and I played, I wasn’t hitting them full out. You could hit someone’s house or a car.” “Yeah,” Zach laughed thinking that might be good for a laugh.

I told Zach about some guys who play golf a lot better than mommy like Tiger Woods, and a couple of Louisiana fellows Hal Sutton and David Toms. Like mommy’s a song maker-upper they play golf as their work. Zach said, “next time can we invite them over to hit golf balls to our mailbox?” Next time, we just might. As Zach and I picked up the golf balls and found my last one, in the bushes, I smiled as I realized more than my grip what really felt right was time spent with Zach–real, uninterrupted time. Like golf, sometimes you just don’t connect, the more I over-think things, the worse it is and sometimes, it’s just right. When it clicks, it seems that I’m remembering the importance stuff and forgetting all the other stuff and I’m amazed. Important stuff–like hanging out, doing something together. Time–I do know this life is like a vapor. So friends soak it up and hit some golf balls with your mom, dad, children or friends. Turn off the TV and do something together. Hear stories, tell jokes, laugh, be together, fish, dance, play a game, talk some friends into teaching you something new–thanks, Wes & Mike! Like snowboarding, or playing spades or bunco or crocheting or joining a book club. Because my theory is that Life is too LONG not to enjoy it. You too may finds that “it’s a fit and it feels just right.”

Power Guys

Driving home from school one day I asked Max about his day. “You know, mom,” was his first answer, then I asked the all probing question, “what’d you have for lunch?” That always gets him talking! I can honestly say I never remember any of those conversations from my own childhood. I’m not saying I was never asked, I just can’t remember. Well Max sure remembers his day. “Well mom, I didn’t eat much ‘cause I was trying to convince Scott (name changed, to protect the playground) that my power guys were real.”

The origin of power guys is that they are Max’s personal team of Power Rangers. For those of you who don’t watch Power Rangers, these guys are humans that have special powers. They are able to do what most of us dream we wish we could do – super human strength, super human energy. They band together and fight the good fight against evil forces. Check your local guide for listings.

“Scott doesn’t believe they are real and I spent my whole lunch time telling him they are.” Now Max and I have talked about the Power Rangers show, how there are story maker-uppers just like book writers, song writers, We’ve talked about actors- we’ve made movies, yet these guys are real. When in a bind, I’ve heard him say, wait let me call my guys, They’ll know what to do. He said, “I tried to tell Scott they were invisible but he just won’t believe me.”

And then I did it, I had to do it, well I thought about it first. “Okay Max, now are those guys real?” In the rear view mirror, I could see his face. “Mom,” he said. “Now Max,” I cut him off, “are those guys really real, real like dad and me, real like our dog Blue or your Brother Zach?”

Zach (4 years old) chimed in, “Mom they’re in a spaceship and they have control over their bodies.” Okay, I too wondered about this statement. The only thing I could figure was Zach’s teacher had talked with the preschool class about self control and keeping their hands to themselves, but Max seemed to know exactly what he meant. “Yea mom, they are,” and off he’d go, explaining something that I’ll be honest with you, started to make sense.

I have people out there who I don’t see regularly, some I see often, some I see rarely who are there for me, who I believe in me, who love me, who are on my side and fight the good fight with me and in a moment’s notice like a well trained army would fall into rank in no time. How do I know? I’ve seen them do it many times. I’ve called them, I’ve emailed them, I’ve called them, I’ve dropped in on them. I’ve run across them over and over againTheir real love sustais me.

God continues to show up time and time again. Sometimes God wears a familiar face, other times a stranger might become my closest friend in a crucial time. Crazy how it works over and over. I have experienced something I too cannot explain fully to anyone else nor convince them of how it all works except to say, I’ve witnessed it first hand and I too have stood by others. Shoulder to shoulder in the battlefield or on the front lines.

Recently I called a friend to who I knew was going through tough days. She said at one point, I can’t believe you called today. I just thought I was distracted and instead of addressing the pile of papers on my desk, I felt this indescribable urgent, this push to call her. You’ve had it, it sounds like someone calling my name, other times I just cant’ shake that person, until I hear their voice or see their face. A couple of months ago I heard of a friend in Nashville, going through a wacky time. I showed up at his door unannounced, when he answered it, he smiled and said, I love that you came here. I love that you love me this way.

I do believe there is a spiritual realm to life, to be honest I’m not in touch with it most of the time. I go about my life and every once in a while the Holy Spirit is ever present. I feel in turn and I miss those days when I’m not. I’m on my knees asking God to help me, to be in touch with them, with Christ,with the Spirit’s leading and God’s always present direction.

Well, just as we crossed the river toward our home, I began to have a change of heart.

Zach was saying, “I believe they’re real.” Max looked up with his head bowed and said, “I know mom, they’re not real”. Once again I cut him off, “You know what Max, You’ve proven your case, you might be right. Your power guys might be real and you can believe in them as long as you want to.” But you know Scott is real–a real friend–God is real and always with you and Zach and dad and I are real and we love you. I could see the relief on his face.

“Okay where are they now Max?” I asked moving on. “They’re flying near us, do you need them mom?” he asked. “Not yet, but maybe soon.” “Let me know,” mom, “cause I’ll call them for you.”

Reflecting on that day and his power guys, aren’t we called to be that, the church–to help in time of need, to be strong when danger is near. to fight the good fight? I can think of those who under incredible difficulties have had super human strength and courage; who make the hardest situation look easy and graceful. Those I have talked to, those real power guys, seem to have one thing in common — FAITH. Their belief that they are not deriving their strength, courage, and grace from themselves. God has provided. A friend asked me recently when talking with her during a discouraging day, “when has God let you down, Celia?” My answer would have to be NEVER; people frequently do; myself daily; God never, always present, always providing.

the Real Santa or just a helper?

The line was moving slowly and Max and Zach were not moving slowly, as usual. How crazy is it to stand in a line for a half hour just to see a man sitting in a chair? On the way to the mall we had a long talk about the difference between the real Santa and his many helpers. We had prepared the boys to meet one of his helpers–there are so many malls these days. At one point Ron left with both of the boys for a potty run and I was left in the line by myself for ten minutes. It was funny to stand in line alone and when they returned, Zach had been leaning against the split rail fence in the mall. The rough wood had left a million or so pulls in his sweater which were going to be seen in the photograph. This was the first time he had worn this sweater. I repaired those and we were back to waiting . Finally we were next. Zach peered around the corner and turned back and said to us, It is really him. It’s really Santa. One of his assistants ushered us toward Santa. Max and Zach sat on Santa’s lap. As the photographer finished printing pictures of the child in front of us, I could tell Max and Zach were talking to Santa. They were laughing and carrying on. The photographer told me that as long as we were buying a photo (at the mall price) we could snap a few of our own while they worked. I took a few pictures, but was moreinterested in hearing the conversation that was going on. Then I saw Zach lift Santa’s beard and examine the connection between the whiskers and skin. Santa said, “see, it’s real. It’s really me.”

Quickly the photographer returned and to our surprise, the first image was a keeper. As the boys left Santa, they said, “thanks,” and “we love you.” Santa motioned to Ron and I and shook each of our hands. He looked us dead in the eye and said, “Merry Christmas and God bless you. You have a dear family–very special.” To say I was taken back is an understatement. I’m not sure what I expected him to say. Something more like, “order package A of the prints for $139.95;” certainly not, “God Bless you and your dear family.” I was so moved. I smiled and said, “God bless you, Santa. Thank you.”

Okay here’s the thing, he really had a twinkle in his eye. As I shook his hand, I thought about our drive to the mall and about Zach’s questions. I told Zach I’m not sure maybe he’s a helper and the real one was busy at the North Pole. Is he the real one? As I stood face to face with Santa, I wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t and I am still wondering today.

As we drove away, Zach said, “you know he’s the real one, mom.” I asked what they had talked about. Max let me know what he told Santa that he wanted–band instruments, so when his friends come over they can play. Goodness, start the therapy fund!! Zach said, “well I asked him how do you get skinny?” “What do you mean Zach,” I asked. “You know mom, how does he get skinny to get down the chimney.” Santa told me, “it’s magic, I can’t tell you.” Max made sure he knew wewill be visiting grandparents on the all-important day and to make sure our toys get to the right house. I assured the boys we’d leave him a reminder note.

I don’t know where you are this season or if you’ve visited Santa, yet. Let me just say, he is real and he can still speak to us. Maybe your conversation will hold an unexpected blessing, like mine did. Santa, who sometimes is the symbol for every commercial message that we hits us during this season, reminded me that he knew what the focus of the season is and should be. It’s about faith and family. The birth of the Christ child in our hearts again this year. May you be surprised again and let the mystery of Christmas come into focus. Rest assured that there is no place where God’s truth and message cannot find you, even in the mall.

The last thing Zach wanted to know was if Santa could see through our skin to our bones–an X-ray kind of vision. Max told him, “no, that’s Superman.” It is so easy to get mixed up this time of year.

God bless you and Merry Christmas! I like you and love you, Celia

On Fear

LaPlace, Louisiana was the location. The task was to learn how to ride a bike. The parsonage was a small three-bedroom house. It was the first house on the street. We lived across from a racetrack. When you live that close to a racetrack, you know exactly when the cars are running. I gonna guess the church got a good deal on it — location, location, need I say more? The front yard had a ditch that always flooded when it rained. On an average day, it held enough water to be full of crawfish. I spent many a day catching those crawfish. I remember my sister and brother coaxing me onto my bike. It was faded pink with pink tassels on the handlebars and a pink and white banana seat. As we went down the road, I remember screaming, “Do not let go! Never let go!” My sister and brother would take turns running with me and I remember my dad coming out to give them a break. They would run along side the bike. I screamed the whole way, “Don’t let go.” They screamed, “keep peddling” and finally they would let go. The bike and I would wobble for a few yards and then crash. One thing I remember distinctly was my fear. How I hated the feeling of no control of my bike, of my entire life in that moment. I hated it more than liver and onions. My mom liked liver and onions, but I digress. I hated it more than a cold. I hated it more than when I split my pants at school right before recess and had to wait in the principal’s office till my mom dropped off another pair of pants we called gouchos (they were in fashion at the time.) I hated fear more than being dumped by a boy in my adolescence. I knew what fear looked like and I did not want anything to do with it. And then one day riding the bike was easy. The fear was gone. The next thing I remember about biking was riding down thrill hill in my next home in Many, Louisiana. There I remember riding with all of the neighborhood kids. We gave each other rides on our handlebars. Riding on a friend’s handlebars, now that should have caused great fear but nothing like learning how to ride could compare.

Since then I have had moments like that experience, when fear takes hold of me. It is as if someone grabs me around the neck. And it seems to squeeze all the good stuff out, and everything goes black, except of course the fear. I remember that same fear finding me on Mount Magazine in Arkansas. We were on a youth outing called “Senior Summit” and I was about to dangle my body off of a rappelling rope that disappeared off of the edge of a 150 foot cliff. Words cannot adequately communicate the fear I felt stepping off of that mountain It felt like death and I could not get my breath, like things would never be right again. I remember halfway down the mountain, I finally enjoyed the descent. As quickly was the fear had come, it was gone–like the onset of hiccups–there they come and there they go. Poof the fear was gone and I was in the middle of joy.

Last week, our family was in central Illinois visiting some of our extended family from Ron’s side. Some cousins were riding bikes and doing jumps off of a ramp and our oldest son Max, who we have only seen ride a bike with his training wheels, jumped on one of there bikes and started riding. I do not mean trying to ride, I do not mean learning to ride—he was riding, There was no mom or dad holding on. There was no yelling or wailing and gnashing of teeth. In Chicago, we learned an expression that Cubs fans use. When a homerun is hit completely out of the park (on the left field side), it lands on a street called Waveland Avenue. Max did more than just kind of ride the bike, he “hit it onto Waveland.” He glided past us and I remembered when I was 8 and I remember how hard it had been for me. We clapped and celebrated. Fear had passed over him on this one and he was captured not by fear, but by joy. There was a simple beauty in the moment.

Some things are just going to be easy and others so awfully difficult and we do not know which will be which. This past year I watched the show “Lost.” Why someone who travels on planes would watch that show, I do not know. The season started with a plane crash. One of the characters talked about fear. He said he gave fear only 5 seconds. He really felt the fear with all his being and 5 seconds was all the time he was going to give it. I thought about that concept.

In my life, I can jump in without fearing fear. I can refuse to be afraid that I will fall apart or break or somehow get stuck in fear. I can survive moments that seem scary, because I have seen the joy that lies beyond. So I trust that joy waits, out of sight on the other side. When I have felt that grip, the next thing that follows is a prayer that usually begins with, “help me please…” and ends with “…thank you Jesus.” Sometimes life is as easy as gliding and other times I am holding on with white knuckles, but I try to remember to breathe, and to remember that God is with me in both the fear and the joy.

Bedtime

A couple of weeks ago I was tucking Max and Zach in bed. The normal routine is as follows. We talk about our day and answer the questions, “what was the best part and what was the not-so-best part of the day?” I loved the days when the boys answer, “there was no not-so-best part.” My next question is, “who do we want to remember in our prayers tonight?” Many of you are mentioned: friends, family members, classmates, pets, etc. As a Christian Education major at Centenary College, I remember one of the first prayers Dr. Don Emler stressed to the class to teach young children is the Lord’s Prayer. We say the Lord’s prayer. Max has added his own hand motions similar to Power Ranger’s moves when we get to the kingdom, power and the glory portion of the prayer. By the time we have had baths, read books, gone through the not-so-best part and best part of the day, and we have mentioned friends and family and said the prayer ending with the Lord’s prayer and the final closing, hug and a kiss; I am crying tired.

One night when I asked who we should remember, Max answered, “Anyone who’s bleeding” At first thought, I was taken aback– ugh. What a yuck kind of thought. Then Zach chimed in and said, “yea ‘cause they’re hurting.” So we said, “anyone who is bleeding.” If you were in that list, that night; I hope you felt God’s presence. It’s funny to think about the specifics of that–anyone who is bleeding is visibly hurt. We have scrapes and cuts around our house daily. Blood means someone needs attention. How many times have we all had a hurt that is not visible to others but it still is just as real? Depression… addictions, estranged relationships, and past wounds–I can think of several. My prayer is that I have eyes to see those hurts of others, that are visible and those not so well seen. God sees them all and fulfills every need.

Last week, we were at the beach with a youth group from Texas (shout out to First UMC Richardson). During worship on the beach it was shared, “as many as the sands on the beach and as much water as we can see and as far as the horizon is–God knows and loves us more.” As I am sitting in my church this coming Sunday, sometimes beside folks who know my seen and unseen wounds and have been there to bring healing, my prayer is that I will and that you will be agents of God’s love and presence in each others’ lives. As Max and Zach stumble through the Lord’s prayer and make ninja gestures toward the end of it, may I too be reminded of God’s love and presence in my life.

Letterboxing

In the Nashville newspaper there is a column called “from Ms. Cheap” Ms. Cheap suggests various things to do around town and in the surrounding areas that are, let’s say inexpensive. Cheap sounds so… well, cheap. She tells of best music opportunities, such as free concerts in the park, or of new openings of stores where a free hot-dog and drink might be attained. One of the best things we did last summer was taking the family to a big band concert at a city park. They gave a free dance lesson, then the band played for a couple of hours. Some folks even dressed for big band dancing and the dancing was great.

Recently a friend of mine shared with Ron and I something she and her family do for fun…. it’s called “letterboxing” and it has quickly become a hobby of ours. I think Ms. Cheap would smile on it and our family highly recommends it.

What is letterboxing you might be asking? Well the way we described it to Max and Zach is that it’s about finding hidden treasures. The longer answer is that people have hidden Tupperware containers all over the place. Inside of the container you’ll find a rubber stamp–some are ones folks have carved themselves others are stamps they might buy at a fancy stamp store or at a craft store. You’ll also find a small pad of paper and an ink pad. When you find a letterbox, you log your discovery (keep reading).

When we got ready to give letterboxing a try, our family came up with a name and logo “Two Boys Having Fun” and we went to Michael’s and found a stamp with two boys and a dog in the middle of them. We also bought a black stamp pad and some markers if we want to color our family stamp before we stamped it. When we find a box, we use our family stamp to stamp the pad then we date it and tell who we are–“Two Boys Having Fun: Ron Celia Max and Zach were here”! We have letterboxed two weekends and had a great time working together. This summer, we’ll be hiding some letter boxes for others to find and finding new ones in our town and maybe in your town.

You can learn more at: letterboxing.org. The website has clues to where over 15,000 boxes are hidden, all over North America. There are additional twists to this hobby, but they’re all explained on the website. Another website , has a little more of an international coverage. On either site, you can enter a destination and find out where nearby letterboxes are hidden. To learn more about the origins of this hobby, follow this link to the Smithsonian Magazine.

Since I’ve found a few of these boxes in prominent places, it’s funny to think of how many times, I’ve walked past a few of these boxes and had no idea they were right under my nose. Now when I visit one of these locations, I can’t help but think I’m in on a secret as I walk past a box I’ve found. It’s kind of like the little things we miss along life’s journey, while we’re busy doing what we think is important. The past few hears have tuaght me over and over again that maybe the little things are really the big things. I have realized that some of God’s greatest gifts are right in front of me. I have either missed them or overlooked them in my busy-ness. I pray that you and I enjoy all the wonder of summer — catching fireflies, walking barefoot in the grass, swimming, playing on the slip and slide, having our feet in sand, reading a great book, spending time with good friends, eating fresh veggies bought at a roadside stand, marveling at God’s greatest sunsets and maybe a new adventure with your family doing something fun (letterboxing or whatever you choose).