My Lent Commitment: Clearing The Stage

I've never been good at remembering when Lent starts. And when it does, I've never been good at sacrificing and staying with it. It's the truth. I'm not proud of it. So, when I started work today and the first few customers came in with black on their foreheads, it wasn't a surprise to me that I immediately thought they got some dirt somehow on them.

I found myself in a mini-panic, fearing that I was likely the only person who hadn't spend time in deep, spiritual contemplation for the next 40 days of my life. So, I thought quick with something I could "give up". Wait...didn't I just do this back on December 31st and fail miserably? Why am I already back at this whole giving-up thing? I could give up sweets, or coffee, or pop or some kind of food that I really love to indulge in. But it seemed to me to be such a cookie cutter decision (and if you know me at all, I don't like to do the "normal" thing).  Embarrassingly enough, I even solicited some customers from the coffee shop to find something for me to give up. But when one of them asked me what some of my vices are, I couldn't think of any. Because I'm perfect. Right? 

HA! Far from it. In fact, I'm writing this blog to let you in on a less-than-proud fact about me by what I've chosen to give up. To most, it may seem like nothing. But to me, it's huge. HUGE.

I....ladies and gents, am giving up secular music. I'm only allowing myself to listen to Christian music.

For as long as I can remember, I've loved music of all kinds. Growing up, I was only allowed to listen to Christian music. Sandi Patti and A cappella are the only groups/people I can ever remember listening to. In my younger years, I remember my sister specifically buying me a new CD of Cece Winans and getting me a new CD player for my birthday because she wanted me to listen to better music. For some reason, she was getting tired of me singing The Little Mermaid soundtrack into a hairbrush. 

I don't like to listen to the radio. But I do love to make my own playlists. I have a few for my different moods or different activities. But I love ALL kinds of music. I can go from listening to Beethoven to Los Lonely Boys in a matter of seconds. When it's rainy or cloudy, I seem to prefer some Norah Jones, John Mayer or Michael Buble. When I run or workout, I like some Rob Thomas, Maroon 5, Pink, Justin Timberlake and the like. My playlists are filled with anything from Justin Bieber and One Direction (look away! I'm ashamed!) to Colbie Caillat, Adele, Lionel Richie, Whitney Houston, Jennifer Lopez, Josh Groban, Bruno Mars, Chopin and Beethoven, and so many more. Almost every time period, almost every genre. I listen to music in my car, at work, at home. The headphones come with me when I go to the kids' practices. Simply said, I just love music.

And It's not that I don't like Christian music. I LOVE it. I really do. And I love the fact that there are so many different genres of Christian music than there used to be. It's just that I like variety. 

Ridding secular music from my life for the next 40 days won't break me. But I will have to give clear and concise thought to what I am actually allowing myself to listen to. I had to spend some good time earlier tonight putting together a strictly-Christian workout mix and one for around the house. And I'm excited about listening to it the next several weeks. I'm most excited, however, about feeding my mind and soul with thoughts solely on worship and focus on Christ and the work He has done in my life. I'm embarrassed to admit how much I don't listen to Christian music. But I'm admitting it. And I'm changing it. 

So, with that said, I would love for any of you to respond with some of your favorite Christian songs that you like to listen to, both for relaxing and also maybe to workout to. Keep feeding me with new stuff, any genre of Christian music and I would love to hear some new stuff. In the meantime, I'm leaving you with a link to a song that has become one of my favorite Christian tunes and that has inspired me to make this commitment.

From Christian artist, Jimmy Needham....."Clear the Stage".

Favorite lyrics (although I love ALL of them):

"Anything I put before my God is an idol. Anyting I want with all my heart is an idol. Anything I can't stop thinking about is an idol. Anything that I give all my love is an idol."

I may, just because I can't help it, still sing this into a hairbrush. You're welcome, Kelz ;)

Birthday Rose

There are some stories that just have to be told. My only regret in telling the following one is that I don't have more information to share, nor do I personally know those whom this story is about. All I know is that the path of my life intersected with someone special this week and in the few moments I observed his life, it made a profound impact on me.

At the beginning of the week, I remember seeing him at the back of the line during a busy hour at the coffee shop. While other customers showed faces of slight impatience or hurry, I noticed his calm demeanor. He virtually had no expression on his face. While it hinted towards a face of contentment to stand and wait, this man seemed to have an agenda at the same time. And yet, patiently he continued to wait until the chaos subsided and he could have our attention. What he was about to say was important, I could tell. But the depth and substance about it was something that would soon floor me.

As he spoke to the owner of the coffee shop, I could barely hear him over his tenderly quiet voice. I heard him ask about a group of women that meet on the first Wednesday of every month for a Bible study at the coffee shop where I work. While many groups come in and out, we were having a hard time pinpointing which Bible study group he specifically meant. The idea came to look at our wall of photos, a sentimental collage of memories and people who frequent our coffee shop.

He found the group he was looking for. On the photo was titled "Discipleship Group". He went away with the owner and talked to her for a short while and that's the last I saw of him that day. But when she came back, she told a story about enduring love that brought us to tears. This was real life and the heart of this man bled with a desire to continue to love even greater.

Not long ago, maybe even within this past month, this man had lost his wife. For 62 years, they had been married and each year on her birthday, he would give her roses. I'm not sure if it was just one rose or a certain number of roses, but he faithfully gave them. But this year, her birthday came and went. I can imagine how his heart must have grieved on that day as he missed celebrating another year of her life with her.

Today was the day she would have met with her Discipleship Group at the coffee shop. As I said, I don't even know how long she has been gone, but the void of her absence in the group seemed fresh. This man, whose face is forever etched into my memory, brought a dozen roses to share with each of the ladies in the group. He wasn't even certain if they would still meet today. But he arrived at 11am, just as he had said he would do, and he brought a dozen red roses. And he waited. And waited. A good twenty minutes went by while he waited for the women to show up.

Finally, in came one. Then another. And in an effort to give them their privacy, I kept a comfortable enough distance to take in the endearment shared between all of them and him, but not intrude on the moment. I feel like I was paralyzed with his warmth as I watched it all unfold, kind of like those moments when you witness an engagement as it is happens and you can't help but stare.

I'm not sure what words were spoken. I don't know his name. Or hers. I can't even say I recognized many of the women in that group. I don't know much of the story at all. But what I do know is that I saw on the face of this man the heart of passion and love he held for his wife. To him, it didn't matter that she is gone. His love hasn't left and he chose to continue to honor her even in her absence. I've never been one to like roses. Today, that changed.

Wedding Ring found

I'm happy to announce to all of you who have shared in my lament over my lost wedding ring that Natasha is no longer naked. My wedding ring has been found. And my husband and I are back to being on speaking terms (kidding).

Losing this ring revealed a lot about both Paul and I. 

For one, I'm not a panic-type person. Never have been, never will be. I've always seemed to have an "It is what it is" mentality and kind of take things calmly, even when I should, perhaps, freak out. When I realized my wedding ring was, in fact, lost.....I didn't panic. I was devastated about it for obvious reasons. There is very little in this world that I value materially but this ring is one of them. Sure, it can be replaced, but it's not the same as having the ring on your finger from the day of your wedding.

Paul, on the other hand....well, he doesn't panic, but he doesn't relax. He would be looking high and low at most opportunities he had, even after hours of both of us scouring the carpet and cupboards and drawers and closets. We plugged drains to check later when we had more time and took garbage out to the garage to fumble through when we could get dirty. When I would come home, I wanted to sit down and sulk a little bit. He wanted to upturn the bedroom and keep looking. 

And keep looking, he did. After I had fallen asleep downstairs on a couch, I was awoken by a creepy shadow standing over me. I opened my eyes and saw Paul just standing there, ring in his hand that was covered in muck and spent coffee grounds while the other hand held the very last of what was at the bottom of the trash bag. My ring, still unbeknownst to me how it got there, was buried deep in the bottom of the garbage that we had put out in the garage to rummage through when we could. 

It says a lot about the two of us. 

He does not give up. I do love that about him. And my ring fits even better than it did before. Now, to figure out a way to not have this happen again....

Naked Natasha

I never had names for my fingers before. Well, unless you count the preschool song I learned when I was four...you know, when I was introduced to Thumbkin and Ringy and would giggle with the other kids when we would put up our middle finger and sing about it's name. But never before have I had an actual people name for my fingers.

But today, I gave myself one. It's Natasha. Let me introduce you to her. Yes, by default, she is female even though I think I have ape MAN hands. I don't know why I went to a Russian name. Maybe it's a hidden alter ego that my finger has and has only just revealed. I don't know.

Natasha is my ring finger on my left hand. You know, the one that almost every woman dreams about adorning someday with a nice ring that tells the world that we're spoken for. I used to have a ring on Natasha. But now......now, she's naked. Shame on her.

Okay, long story short. I lost my wedding ring. I take it off often at home because I am not really a jewelry-wearing person in the first place. That, and I have a lotion obsession and am always putting lotion on my hands, so the ring can get dirty fast at times. I took it off at night when we got home from a dinner and the next morning when I went to get dressed and leave the house, I couldn't find it ANYWHERE.  I looked for a good hour and back tracked every place it could have been or where it could have fallen. I went through trash cans (gag!) and upturned my entire room trying to look for it. At one point, I thought maybe Paul had taken it and was going to get me something secretly for Christmas. But then I thought, no....he knows me well enough to know that that would not be something that would mean all that much to me....so I kept looking. And I've been looking for the the past 2+ days.



But here's the funny part of this, if you can find a funny side to it.

Have you ever lost something and told people about it and they proceed to tell you where to look? I am getting the biggest kick out of this today when I told multiple coffee shop customers about it.

Customer #1: "Well, have you looked UNDER your dresser? Because it could have fallen behind it or under it?"

Me thinking..."Gee, the thought never occurred to me to look in the most obvious place that it would be. Thanks!"

Customer #2: "Where was the last place you saw it?"

Me thinking..."Is this really the logic we're going to use? Because if it is, I'm not serving you coffee. Had I known the last place I saw it, it wouldn't be lost now, would it?"

Customer #3: "Did you look in your pockets?"

Me thinking... Actually, not thinking at all....just blank staring back at them and trying to forgive myself for bringing up the story in the first place. Small talk sometimes comes (insert Rumplestiltskin voice here) "with a price"... and then thinking "Please, for the love of everything sacred, go find your seat and stop giving me ideas of where to look before I unleash my immaturity on you and sarcastically respond to your nonsense...

Customer #4:..."You know what it means when you lose your wedding ring, don't you? It's time for you to get a new man." (She's an ornery little old lady, this one) Hehe!

I understand people are trying to help, maybe even offer some empathy for my situation. I'd probably be equally as amused if I would tell them I lost my wedding ring, and they would just look at me and say "Darn. That stinks" or "Well, why don't you take better care of your biniss!!!" Either way, my ring is still lost and Natasha is still naked.

I do believe whole-heartedly I will find it someday, hopefully sooner than later. And then it will all come back to me why it was where it is. And I may owe someone who offered obvious advice an apology. Until then, I will keep telling my coffee shop customers my story and see how they respond.

Confessions of a Serial Smiler

I have a deep dimple on my left cheek. Face cheek, that is, you nasty nasties. On my right cheek is another one, not so prominent but there nonetheless. Growing up, I used to HATE my dimples. People would put their fingers in them, comment about them, pinch my cheeks and tell me how cute they were and it used to drive me crazy. I used to think they made my already cheeky face look fat.

Now that I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate having dimples. They're unique. The other day when I was working at the coffee shop, an older gentleman came in. I took his order and he just stood there with the most awkward smile, not saying a word. When he finally decided to speak he just spoke through that same weird smile and said "I like your dimples. They are very (and then he closed his eyes and proceeded to say)... attractive".

Ummmmm........okay. Thanks? Yeah. Thanks...that's how I'm supposed to respond to a compliment.

Compliments have not always been easy for me. In fact, when people give me compliments, I have a squirmy feeling inside. I don't know how to react to them. I don't know how to accept them. Most times, I just plain don't believe them and feel like it's just flattery anyway. But when people compliment my smile, I feel differently.

Another customer once called me over to her table and told me that she loved my smile, that it consumed my whole face and being and that she couldn't help but smile herself even though I was not even smiling at her. That made me smile even more and then I couldn't stop.

But I have a confession to make.

I am a serial smiler.

I smile even when I'm not happy. I smile when I'm upset. My lips turn up when I want to scream, when I'm depressed or tired or anxious and maybe even when I'm sleeping. Most people might think this is a nice trait to have. But the truth is, it often depicts an outward happiness when I am inwardly struggling. Combine that with my already natural inclination to present myself as having-it-all-together, and it's often an emotionally deadly combination.

Truthful emotions do not come easy for me. There is a part of me that trained myself to believe that being happy and being "okay" meant being more mature spiritually. I convinced myself somewhere along my path of life that I had to be a fortress of optimism and positivity with everything that came my way, that a smile on my face meant that I somehow truly believed in my heart that "all things work together for good" and that God had a higher and better plan for my life.

But the truth is, I don't always feel like that. More times than not, I DON'T feel like that. When I'm honest with myself, I recognize that real emotions are just what God wants to hear from me. When I hurt, it's okay to want to cry. When I'm confused, it's okay to ask God "What's going on?". When I feel lost and abandoned, it's okay to search for God where I don't expect Him to be. When I'm weak, it's okay to allow myself to be held. When I feel sad, it's okay to not pop out my dimples He gave me and to pray in a way that leaves me vulnerable and open. Just like when my own children are hurting, I want them to be honest with me in how they are feeling.

Last week, I had a meltdown. Like the cry-so-hard-it-closes-your-ears-and-nose kind of meltdown. The kind when, after it happens, you look back on those moments and you even scare yourself. Yeah, that was me. Not many people would have known it about me last week. A few people asked me if I was okay and I, of course, said I was fine. "Hormonal" I think is the actual answer I gave...an answer that seemed logical enough for a response and satisfying enough to not make them ask any further. I kept my smile on, I still laughed and joked and all the stuff people who wear good masks do. But inside I was hurting and in need of help...but I was just too weak to ask for it.

I'm working hard on being real with people. I'm trying my best to not let my smile or my dimples hide things that I ultimately need to talk about and deal with. I know it will take awhile to get there because it has taken a lifetime for me to build up the capacity to be so emotionally hidden. But it's something I AM working on and am trying to get better with it. I am at war within myself. Constantly. And though I am very happy and joyful with my life, I am not immune to struggle and hurt, despite my greatest efforts to show the world otherwise.

As I Am

To be accepted by someone, especially when you don't deserve to be or have done nothing to merit their acceptance, is an incredibly humbling and empowering thing. To me, there are not many feelings that have the power to do both...empower and humble.

Grasping the concept of acceptance has always been a difficult one for me. As A Christian, I know the truth of acceptance in and by Christ, but if I'm honest with myself, it is a day by day, hour by hour struggle for me to take that truth in good faith and actually believe it applies to me. On any level. There isn't a day that goes by where I still don't wrestle with the feeling of never being "good enough" to be accepted. Especially "as I am".

The thing with salvation that I've been learning is that it's not something of my past. It's not a day set aside to remember when I gave control of my life to God. It is an every day surrender of the very core and essence of who I am, as I am. Not as others perceive me or even how I perceive myself, but exactly  as I am.

So today, I decided to permanently give myself a reminder of this truth, not just because I need the reminder of being accepted by God as I am but because I also need the reminder to offer the real sides of me to others in vulnerable acceptance for the sole purpose of bringing glory to God for where He has brought me.

One of my favorite authors, Brennan Manning, said in his book, Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging:

"In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others." 


God loves me in spite of everything I do. This is an unconditional love that NEVER fails, even when I fail to understand it or even accept it.

Not when I'm good enough
Not when I clean up my act
Not when I cross that line the thousandth time...

Your grace is more than enough to cover all my sins
You washed them away
You love me just the way I am. (Big Daddy Weave)

I know the maker of the storm and sunrise
He is both the lion and the lamb
He is strong enough to shake all earth and heaven
Yet meek enough to take me as I am (Nicole C. Mullen)

Even though they say You loved the world so much You shed Your blood; 
God, I feel I'm too messed up for love; 
They tell me come as I am; but I smell like smoke; 
My whole life is full of sin cause it's all I know; 
The Bible told me You died for my sins; 
If I believe in Christ to save me from the end; 
But I'm scared to ask You to save me; my heart's so evil; 
I've got thoughts just full of hatred; hurt from people; 
I thought that first I had to clean up my life; 
Now I'm here and I just gotta cling to the light; 
I'm ready to do it but, I pray You understand; 
My life is a mess, will You take me as I am? (Lecrae)


No matter my past you'll still take me as I am.

doesn't every girl get a fairy tale?

The writing below is not my own. It's from one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, one who has changed my life forever. She's only 18 years old and is teaching me SO much. I asked her if I could share some of the things she writes about because her writing is so real and authentic. It's about her life, her real feelings and experiences from the hood...yes, in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I have changed just a few of the words, not because I even wanted to, but because I was afraid that many would read the writing and focus too much on the profanity and not enough on the pain deep within her heart from which she expresses herself. I wish I didn't have to do that. I also kept the punctuation out, just as she did. If you can find the only place in this writing where she placed a period at the end of the sentence, I think that one little dot behind that sentence speaks volumes, speaks to the emphasis of that particular feeling. Thank you for taking the time to read the message of her heart .....

the mind has its own way and your flesh is another one

how do you heal when your  heart never gets time
to beat without the hurt and pain

nobody really knows what it feels like
to be another lost soul walking the earth alone

never understanding why life can't go my way

or why i can't be loved in this messed up world

every girl out here has a label on them and they don't even know it

you can't trust no one.

you do wrong and it really follows you

you got girls out here going behind each others back

messing with each others boyfriends 

living off the state

just to go to the club

just to meet a man to take home for the night

hopefully if she gets lucky enough she will get a guy who will buy her a meal 

if her convo is good enough she might get 20 dollars out of the deal

its like girls are selling their souls 

to get their nails done

and hair done 

and an outfit for their children 

because their unfit boyfriends or baby daddy out there

giving it to everyone their baby mama knows

so yes it sucks

to live in a world alone

not knowing where these days will take you

our lives are filled with anger

and madness

and frustration

we feel overpowered and unloved

so we're out here in the cold world

selling our bodies just to make it through a day

what about us

why don't we get heard

is it because were from the other side

and no one believes that we will make it out

so we keep doing all the things we do everyday

cuz its what were used to

and its how we live

its how we survive

so keep your judgment to yourself

cuz its about time for the world to see what its like 

for girls in the hood where anything goes

and the main goal is to keep your mouth closed

girls **** for fun

girls **** for freedom

girls **** for peace

girls **** for understanding

we **** for love

our mothers tell us one thing but we do another

we want thugs

a cold hearted careless man who lives with no direction

doesn't every girl get a fairytale