Through His Eyes

Today I am linking up with the Red Writing Hood over at the red dress club and responding to the prompt – Lesson Learned

I was a new bride. Barely married for a month – still unpacking boxes and opening gifts when I decided to surprise my husband with a romantic dinner for two. I did not know much about cooking 20 plus years ago (some might say I still do not know much) but like many newlywed innocents, I had a vision of a night of fun, romance, candle light, good food and wowing the socks (and a few other items) off my husband. I planned to use my culinary graces to create a a meal he would always remember and to employ my amazing ambiance skills to lavish an intimate, romantic setting on our dining room card table. All I needed, I thought, was a good recipe, some candles and a negligée, and when he walked in the door of our little apartment, he would feel like a king.

But when my husband walked in the door that night – a kingly romantic feast was not what awaited him. I was wearing the negligée, but the table wasn’t set, the dinner was on fire, the smoke detector was going off, the kitchen was filled with smoke, and I was in tears.
My husband greeted me warmly, opened the windows, took the chicken off the stove and began to set the table. He lit the candles, turned on the stereo and graciously served us burnt chicken, crispy vegetables and lopsided strawberry cake for dessert. We talked, we laughed, and he ate every piece of the burnt, dry, tasteless, crispy chicken, every one of the cold-in-the-center-half-frozen vegetables, and never mentioned even once that the cake was geometrically challenged. The evening ended as I had planned – but we did not get there in the way I had envisioned. It wasn’t my love being poured out on him – but his love poured out on me that redeemed what could have been a quite disastrous evening.
I awoke the next morning and turned on the news to learn that the Detroit Pistons had won the Final Championship game over the Los Angeles Lakers while my husband and I ate our “dinner.” Not only did we not watch the game – but my husband never even mentioned that it was on.
Lesson Learned

Z is for Zebu and other Celebratory Markers

I don't know if there are markers, things in your life that serve as a reminder to you.  Reminders in your life that cause you to react, or respond.  For example, water reminds me to pray for people I know in Hawaii.  A candle reminds me that I am not alone in my walk with Christ.  A brick causes me to remember I need to be diligent to take down the walls in my life.  And a zebu reminds me to give thanks with all of my heart.


The zebu is a type of cattle found mostly in South Asia, but they can be found in many different countries where they have been cross bred to create a cattle that produces a better meat and are better suited to work in hot climates.  They are used as oxen, as dairy and beef cattle, and for their hide.  I learned of the zebu, not in a biology class, or a zoology class, but rather, I learned about the zebu, more commonly referred to as cebu, by watching Veggie Tales.
When our children were preschool age, our home was filled with Veggie Tale video tapes. The kids loved them and we found them quite humorous ourselves, so we enjoyed them too.  The songs were catchy, the humor was simple - but there were also underlying jokes that adults could enjoy too.  And the messages were always good.  When our youngest was three, and we would ask her what video she would like to watch, she would sing the entire Veggie Tales theme song before naming the video she wanted to watch.  It was cute.  The first time.


The Veggie Tales videos would have Silly Songs with Larry, in addition to their main story.  Larry would sing songs about his hair brush, his cheeseburger, and his pet cebu,  (also known as a zebu), just to mention a few of his silly songs.  So, when thinking about the letter Z, one word I could not get out of my head, was zebu.  (mostly because once I thought of that word, Larry's silly song has been running through my brain nonstop ever since), and zebu (obviously) made me think of Veggie Tales, and thinking about Veggie Tales reminds me of a very stressful time in our family.  A time when I was so exhausted, I could barely get through the day. For an entire month, my husband and I had additional responsibilities that we needed to tend to that took us 6 hours each day to complete - in addition to our jobs, in addition to 'normal' outside activities, and in addition to raising our three young children.   The circumstances that lead to our family obtaining additional obligations are not mine to tell - but the stress was our children's too.  During this wearying month letting the girls watch veggie tales - every night, every single night, for an entire month helped with them.  So Z is for Zebu which reminds me of Veggie Tales, which reminds me of a difficult time which brings me to the celebratory portion.
During this month of stress, I found myself angry.  Angry with God, angry with the situation, and our home was no longer a place of peace, or joy, or a place anyone wanted to be.  I was reading Psalms at the time, and this verse jumped out at me "I will give thanks to You, O Lord my God, with all my heart, And will glorify Your name forever" and I told God, "No, I can't do that.  Not now.  I cannot be thankful now."  But the verse wouldn't let me go.  So I gave in.  One night, I fixed a simple dinner - but I put out our best china, a table cloth and candles.  I bought some Martinellis and told my family we were going to celebrate and give thanks.  They thought I was crazy. 
"What," they said, "just what are we celebrating?" 
"Our circumstances."  They just stared at me. 


But we did it.  We had a candlelight dinner.  We used the good dishes.  We opened up the sparkling fruit juice - and we started to give thanks.  Soon, we were laughing, sharing stories and our home became a place of joy again - all because we gave thanks with all of our hearts in the middle of some trying days.  The kids were quite little then - and they don't remember the night.  But I do.  I remember that in stressful times I am to still give thanks with all of my heart. And because that time in our life was closely associated with Veggie Tales, those videos, and a water buffalo cattle called a zebu, will always serve as markers to me to remind me to give thanks to God with all of my heart.

V is for Vacation

It all out started innocently enough, a few families, sitting around a friend’s dining room table, staring at a map of the US, reminiscing about places we had seen as children.  We all had stories to tell of trips gone wrong, dads who lost tempers over whiny children, children who were left in hotel rooms by parents who thought ‘someone else’ had them, and tales of siblings bonding over endless hours sitting in the back of the family car playing the license plate game. It wasn’t long before the reminiscing became dreaming and the dreaming became planning -and planning became the vacation of a lifetime.  Before the summer’s end, we would travel over 5,000 miles together.  In a motorhome.  Together.  Over 5000 miles and 21 days.  Together.  In a motorhome.  

After hours and hours of planning and negotiating the adventure, we decided on our route.  We would drive the middle of the country on the way out, and hit the southern route on the way back.  Our trip started on a Saturday morning around 6AM.  A family of four and me with our three girls loaded into a motorhome and headed out to see our great country.  First stop, The Orange, just a few miles down the road.  We jumped out of the motorhome – well some of us jumped while others grumbled, stumbled and whined, seeing that we were only 25 minutes away from our house and we were stopping to see a big Orange on the side of the road.  We took some pictures, met the owner, who opened up the restaurant so we could tour inside, and soon we were on the road again.

While we drove with the intention of seeing the ‘usual’ sites, we also stumbled onto some more out of the way places and attractions like the Orange that gave our trip a more organic, simpler feel than a frenzied destination driven experience.  We stood on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, we had our picture taken with the “Big Texan,” and we ate frozen custard in St. Louis.  We chased fireflies in the Ozarks and met some of the most delightful people while we were lost.  (Met some scary people too, but that’s a whole other post)  We watched the sunrise over Pennsylvania farmhouses and dipped our toes in the Atlantic Ocean.  Other families joined us along the way and we explored Central Park in New York, ate pizza on the steps of some brownstone apartments, and had our picture taken in front of the world’s largest guitar.  We watched Fourth of July Fireworks on the Mall in DC and walked for miles to find food.  We played board games, sang show tunes and listened to stories on tape.  We ate at the Pig Out Palace and the Cracker Barrel.  We saw Ground Zero and placed our hands on the memorial at Oklahoma City.  We visited Sky City in New Mexico and got caught in a terrible thunderstorm in Ohio - and in DC.   We played hide n seek in Totem Pole Park and the Bass Store – yes, we were entertained for hours in a Bass Store.  We drove through Memphis and Oklahoma City and even Roswell, not one of original the places on the itinerary.  But, as wonderful as the trip was, we had some disappointments too.

We missed New Orleans and didn’t get to see Bourbon Street.  We didn’t get to sip mint juleps on a terrace while watching southern belles stroll down the sidewalks.  We didn’t get to enjoy southern hospitality or see the French Quarter.  There was a hurricane that summer, and the motorhome just couldn’t take the winds, and we ended up having to travel home the same road that we had taken on our way out.  Oh well, we shrugged it off – no big deal, there’s always next year.  How were we to know, that just a few moments in time later the New Orleans that we had so casually postponed to another vacation was headed to a disaster?

Years have now passed, the children are nearly grown and haven’t much interest in driving across the country with mom and dad.  While we had a wonderful time, and we are all still friends, we never did make it to New Orleans, and the days of little kids crammed in a motorhome for long road trips are long since gone.  The vacations of old are beautiful memories to treasure and stories to be retold to friends around dining room tables.  And who knows, it might not be too long before one of our children find themselves sitting around a dining room table swapping stories with friends only to find themselves planning their vacation of a lifetime.

N is for Name

“What’s in a name?  That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

When I was pregnant with our oldest daughter, we began pouring through baby books to find the best name for our child.  We wanted a name that we not only liked the sound of, but we also wanted a name that had significant meaning behind it.  And, as a teacher, it was important that the name did not immediately bring to my mind a child with whom I had had a negative experience - for even a child will create a ‘name for themselves.' After many hours of deliberation, we decided on a name. 

We chose Tiffany Noelle.  We liked the sound of the name, and most important to us, we liked what her name meant.  Tiffany comes from the Latin word epiphany which means the appearance of God, and Noelle is the French word for Christmas.  So, when we put it together her name means, “The appearance of God at Christmas.”  She was taught early on the meaning of her name so she would have the opportunity to make her life reflect the definition of her name, right from the start. 

And I think she has.  Even as a baby, she was patient and kind.  When I think of her as she is now, I think of someone who is sensible and calm – although I am well aware she can be quite loud and boisterous with her friends.  She is slow to anger and quick to help.  She is creative and a powerful story teller.  She is intelligent, but does not display her intelligence in a way that is arrogant or self-promoting.

Her collection of friends is probably what describes her as most Christ like.  It is quite an eclectic group.  She has friends that are cheerleaders and friends that are nerds.  She has some that are brainy, and some that barely made it through high school.  She has friends from all walks of life, Christian, and non-Christian, atheists and seminary students.  She has friends from all over the world – some she has met in person, and some she has only met on-line.  She can relate to all groups of people, much like Christ did while He was here.

She has a passionate heart for the broken – for those who have been deeply wounded, ostracized, and marginalized.  She sees people that others overlook and offers them her friendship and in the process leads them towards the healing power of a life redeemed in Christ. She will witness to anyone – at any time.  She is never afraid to share the gospel with people she meets.  She can offer both intellectual arguments for God’s plan of salvation – or relationally based ones, it does not matter - she will meet you wherever you are.

She is not one for small talk – she likes conversations that mean something, but lest you think she is a serious creature, she loves movies, anime and dressing-up in costumes for conventions.  She likes to play games, to laugh and is competitive.  She will climb any tree, scale any wall and is not afraid to get hurt in the process.  She knows the ER doc at all anime conventions personally, and most lines to the Disney princess movies.

To know her is to know that God appeared to us at Christmas to redeem all lost people.  This is what her life stands for.  Tiffany lives up to the definition of her name.   And while it’s nice to think she is a product of the definition of her name, that isn’t necessarily true.  Had we called her Abigail, or Theresa, she would still have a Christ-like character.  In our culture it isn’t your name that defines you – but you define your name. 

We define our names by our actions more so than the static pre-determined definition of our name.  We all have a reputation we create; an association that goes with our given name or, that goes with a name we have chosen to wear. 

When someone recalls our name, do they recall a Christ-like attitude, compassion, and love?  Do they think of someone who is strong, humble, selfless, or would they connect our name to mean someone who is bitter, gossipy, and haughty?

A name means something – and when we choose to call ourselves Christian, the question then becomes, are we living up to the meaning of our name?

M is for Mirrors...

M is for Mirrors, Mothers, Mother-in-laws, and my daughter Megan

I will almost always check myself in a mirror should I pass one by.  Checking that my hair is in order, my eyeliner is not smeared all over my face, and to make sure I don’t have broccoli or some other unsightly vegetable stuck in my teeth.  I use mirrors each day when I am brushing my teeth, washing my face and applying make-up.  I count on them to accurately reflect back to me what I look like so that I can change what needs to be changed, clean what needs to be cleaned and to count the ever appearing wrinkles that remind me I am losing my youth.  We can find mirrors in hallways, bathrooms, living rooms, cars and purses.  There are precious few places we can go to and not find a way to check how we look.  We spend countless amounts of money trying to make our reflection – our mirrors, appear beautiful.  And I think spending time to create beauty is a worthy pursuit – but our outward beauty is not the only beauty we need to pursue, and definitely not the most important one.  There is another mirror that needs our attention too.  Another reflection that is harder to see, but has more value and worth.  It is the mirror that reflects our soul.

When we look into the scriptures, when we meditate on them, infuse them in our lives, they become alive and its truth begins to reflect what is true in our lives.  What we focus on in our mirror – or don’t focus on is then reflected out.  If I look into the mirror of God’s word and discover that I am to forgive, then I need to forgive.  Otherwise it is no different than if I looked in a mirror, saw I had broccoli in my teeth, and left it there to go have my picture taken.  It makes no sense.  If I claim to be a Christian, then I need to reflect Christ’s image.  If I claim to be a Christian, then I must daily look at my mirror, the Bible, to see what I need to address in my life so that my life is a life reflecting of God’s beauty.  I have been quite fortunate to have many people in my life that have reflected Christ’s heart to me.  The first to come to mind is my mom.

My mother is a woman who has always mirrored Christ to me.  She is a very positive and kind person.  I have never heard her say anything that would remotely sound like gossip or would in any way defame another’s reputation or character.  Over the years I have learned that growing up was complicated for my mother.  She was the middle child of parents who were raising three children coming out of the Great Depression.  She had many heartaches, disappointments and trials that would make for several impressive lifetime movies – but even so, she has never uttered a word of bitterness or anger.  I grew up blissfully unaware of many of the traumas she had to overcome and my relationships with the trying people in her life were never negatively stained by anything she ever said or did.  She worked tirelessly to make certain our needs were met and that many of our wants were tended to as well.  I have never heard her voice raised in anger or known her hand of discipline to be too harsh.  My mother’s mirror reflects God’s grace and forgiveness. 

Another mother in my life that displays Christ’s servant’s heart is my mother-in-law.  She too is not one to gossip, to say anything that would cause me to think unkindly of another or to be careless with her words.  My mother-in-law has spent most of her married life as a pastor’s wife.  That meant raising her children behind glass walls with everyone watching her and how she and her husband handled their three boys.  She must have had to endure gossip and finger pointing and criticism from  left and right as pastor’s families are often held up to scrutiny, and a higher standard than the rest of us.  But she never reflected back the same.  My mother-in-law is a gracious woman and humble.  She has a great sense of humor and can laugh easily at herself.  She has a servant’s heart and doesn’t mind doing the dull, monotonous things a wife and mother must do.  Whether it is cooking dinner, singing on a Sunday morning in church with her husband, or working in a bank to help make ends meet, she has always taken on these chores with grace.  My mother-in-law’s mirror reflects humility and a servant’s heart.

There is another M in my life who reflects Christ.  She is still learning, still trying to figure out who she is, but as she tries on new ideas, as she explores new friends and activities, there is a common thread through all of her life.  It is that it is truly her heart’s desire to reflect Christ.  Our daughter, Megan is considerate, helpful and thoughtful.  A few Sundays ago she and I made cards for a girl her age in the hospital.  She does not know this girl, but she wanted her to feel loved and cared for so she sent her hand-made cards with scripture verses and kind words.  Last summer she was invited to go rafting for a week with her childhood friends.  It was a trip she had enjoyed annually for many years but last summer it conflicted with an opportunity to go to San Francisco and serve in a homeless shelter.  She chose to serve.  Ever since she was little, she has had a tender heart – a compassionate heart.  But she has a quiet determination about her as well.  She challenges herself to excel in school and athletics, even though it means losing hours of sleep and time with friends.  Each day I see more and more of Christ reflected in her character and I am eager to see how it will all develop as she continues to grow.  My daughter’s mirror reflects Christ’s compassion and love.

I do not know when my children look back on their lives what they will remember.  I do not know if they will think back at what I mirrored to them of Christ if it will be a memory of positive or negative reflections.  I do know from time to time that when I speak to them, every once in a while, I will hear my mother’s voice.  I will hear her Godly words of wisdom, counsel and guidance come out of my mouth.  And I hope that one day, when someone tells my daughters that they sound just like their mom; it will be because they are mirroring the image of Christ.

L is for Lemonade Days

This is one of my favorite pictures. It represents to me what many moms hope for their children – memories of lazy summer days where they haven’t a care in the world - sipping lemonade, lying on the docks, swimming in the pool, building forts and just having fun. For several summers and a few Christmases we packed up the kids and drove 15 hours to Oregon to visit my in-laws. They lived on 11 acres and we would travel there not only to see them, but also to build precious childhood memories for our children. Memories of endless summer days when the toughest decision you have to make is what flavor of snow cone you want, the biggest obstacle you must overcome is learning to wait your turn for the slide, and the trickiest problem you will have to solve is how to keep the ice-cream from dripping all over your clothes.

And while those lazy, sweet, lemonade days of young innocent children running around Grandma and Grandpa’s back yard have disappeared, the pleasure those recollections bring have not. I have been blessed – because we were able to create those moments for our children. Many families in our world do not have that option. War, poverty, famine – those are the realities many moms must deal with. Their hope is for food, adequate shelter and clean water for their children. And as we approach Mother’s Day, I cannot help but think of those moms, who love their children no less, who hope for their children no less and who long for their children to have the necessities they cannot provide. They do not have the luxury of lemonade days. And I know it is a luxury – and I do not take it for granted.

I am grateful for organizations that do more than remember there are those in our world who do not have. Organizations like World Vision, the Eden Project and our church just to mention a few of the many that are about helping those in need. Our own daughter will be spending 8 months working with people in places all over the world who do not have the luxury of lemonade days and I hope that she will be able to bring that to them – a moment in time the children will remember, a time when God broke in and gave them love, compassion, and grace.

I still hope lemonade days for my children. I still want them to come home and feel relaxed, like they haven’t a care in the world, like the biggest issue in their life is choosing between lemonade and iced-tea while they sit by the pool. But I want that for them so that they can be refreshed and refueled to go out and pour their energy into actual problems of the world, so that they have the passion and the drive to do the work that God has created for them to do and in doing so, may they bring a touch of lemonade days to anyone God puts in their paths.

K is for...

K is for Kimball – betcha didn’t see that one coming…

Last Sunday, one of the points in the sermon was that we all make sacrifices when we marry, that, when we choose to enter into a marriage, we are choosing to set aside some of our own agendas, our own dreams, and our own passions for the sake of the other.  The pastor gave as an example his own wife who had dreamed of living in Africa.  However, when she married him, she gave up that dream because that was not his dream. 

I think this example struck a chord with many of us.   It certainly made me think.  What did I ‘give up,’ what did I sacrifice when I married my husband? 

When I graduated from high school, I had my whole life planned out.  First, I was going to graduate from the university with a theater degree and then head off to Broadway where I would become a famous (nonmusical) stage actress, all the while maintaining my Christian principles and integrity.  But, that didn’t quite work out.  A few months into college, I became disheartened with my major.  The people were shallow, fickle and two-faced.  The professors were asking us to do silly, meaningless things like lay on the floor and become one with the cement.  And, not only that, but they were actually assigning work.  Work.  Drama wasn’t supposed to be work.  And the more I was in the field, the less I liked it.  The pleasure I once experienced on the stage was turning into work and I was beginning to hate my craft.  So I decided to try something else.  I became a teacher. 

But, somewhere, along the way, I lost my way.  I allowed myself to be swept up in the lifestyles of my peers until one day I woke up and discovered I didn’t know who I was anymore.  The person I thought I was going to become with her integrity and Christian values intact had disappeared and I was left living with someone I did not recognize.  Love, compassion, and self-confidence were replaced with shame, guilt and fear.  I hated who I had become and was confident that everyone else would too.

By the time I met my husband, I had a laundry list of regrets, a suitcase full of poor choices and a closet of secrets to offer to him.  And, he chose to love me anyway.  He did not treat me like the person I had become, because he saw in me who I was becoming.  He did not become disgusted with all of the stuff I was bringing to our marriage, but slowly overtime, he has helped me give it all up.  By marrying my husband I gave up insecurity, a low self-esteem and shame.

My husband is playful and I am serious.  He is motivated by knowledge and I like emotion.  He is an athlete and I like to sit - a lot.  He is the one who has had to sacrifice.  He wanted to live a life with minimal ties, so he was always free to go wherever God might call.  But now, we have a mortgage, pets, a car payment and ‘real’ jobs.  And he has done all of this because of his commitment to me, because he loves me.  He treats his role as both father and husband seriously, in that he does whatever needs to be done to meet our needs – no matter what it costs him.  Whether it is going with the kids to a midnight movie – on a work night, fixing dinner so I can work late, working overtime to pay extra bills, or playing pretty pretty princess for the 1000th time, if it needs to be done, he will do it.

My husband is an amazing man and I am blessed to be his wife.  I see how he sacrifices for me, for our family every day and I am grateful.

K is also for Kimberly

When I was pregnant with our second daughter, I knew she was going to be strong.  Whenever she would stick an arm or an elbow in my ribs and I would try to push it into a more comfortable position, she would simply put it right back wherever it was – and throw in a little shove.  I would then gently move it out of the way again, only to have her put it right back and there it would stay – no matter how uncomfortable it made me.  She has been making her presence known since day one – and I am so glad she has.

Kimm is energetic and passionate and smart.  For Christmas this year she gave me a ‘jar of memories.’  It had 100 slips of paper in it and I was to read one a day for 100 days.  Some were touching, some were fun but all of them gave me a daily reminder of how much she has blessed my life.  It was hard not to read more than one a day but I managed to reread some and stretch it out for a little more than 100 days.

She is funny and athletic and has an unwavering faith that is encouraging to all.  She is a leader, she is beautiful and she has a compelling desire to serve God.  As an 18 year-old just starting out her life, she has turned down colleges and scholarships so that she can go to Nicaragua and care for orphans, work against sextrade in Malaysia, and give encouragement and training to pastors in Kenya. 

She is not a perfect child.  If anyone is going to get into an argument in our home, it will almost always be the two of us.  She is her own person and does not respond well to my ‘suggestions’ about how I think she should do her homework, clean her room or take care of her responsibilities.  She does things her way – and her way works.  Sometimes I think she could have raised herself and done it better. 

She has taught me to be flexible, impulsive and to not take life so seriously.  She has shown me that we are individual creations of God and who don’t fit into premade molds.  She has given me patience, strength, and shown me repeatedly that I am still a work in progress with much to learn.

She graduates from high school in a few weeks and a few days after that she heads to Haiti where she will help with some of the ongoing earthquake relief.  In September she leaves again on her mission trip that will take her to far off places and won’t be home for 8 months.  And even in her absence she will continue to teach me.  I won’t be able to check in with her each day to make sure she is ok, comfort her if she gets sick, or tell her she is loved.  I will have to trust that God will bring all of those things to her as He continues to care for her on the other side of the world.  I know He can do it – He’s been doing it for the last 18 years.