Mom-savant, steel magnolia, optimistic realist, frequent laugh-er, photographer-in-training, poet warrior, killer cook, lucid dreamer, Jesus freak, ellipses abuser, beach lovah, lousy iron-er, word crafter, sommelier-wannabe, social media enthusiast, PR understander & occasional reviewer. Wife to one, mom to three, friend to many. My dream job is OPI Color Namer.
When I watched and heard the trailer for (in)RL yesterday morning, I swear those girls spoke a word over me--
pretend you're outgoing...
love people well...
get through the mess...
it's an expression of trust...
a good friend loves at...all...times...
a safe place to cry the ugly cry...
walls around my heart....
made to crave being together....
desperate woman seeks friends....
we just say who we are....
you didn't give up....
(in)RL is powerful because it does bring us together...
healing mosaic of grace...
If you can't quite wrap your mind around this decidedly unconferency event planned for next Spring, play this video, check out the website...and stay tuned for more videos in coming months that will help explain it in full.
{This post will be most appreciated by people who actually know us...feel free to click away. :) }
"Hey--I've got a GREAT idea!" I tell 'em. "After dinner, break into groups and re-write the lyrics to songs you know and then have a show for us!!"
They don't know me that well so they were polite, but since I got the stink eye from my daughter ~ complete with raised eyebrow and cocked head ~ I was gonna let the idea die a quick, natural death. I was mostly kidding, anyway, though there was a serious-as-a-heart-attack part of me, too.
girls wrapped in blankets and conversation, the guys finding a guitar and keyboard in our playroom. Music and laughter filled our home; music and laughter filled my heart.
About an hour later, we were summoned. Had I known the wonderfulness in store, I would've grabbed my flip cam. At least I had my cell phone to capture the debut of the Rachel Dance Christmas Song.
FYI, there was no earthquake during filming; that's me trying and miserably failing to hold the camera steady. I don't t h i n k you can hear me snorting.... :)
How can you not have mad love for these guys? Parts of the performance were brilliant, and the imperfect parts? Well, those might've been my favorite.
I've included an original copy of the lyrics below since laughter drowned 'em out more than a few times.
The stupidest of times. The best of times. A season of sowing oats and seizing days and when the prayers of my future in-laws must have been protecting me the most.
It was the year I'd meet and make my life-long-best-friend-forever, the one whose place was always Shotgun, the friend whose conversation always ends in comma so we can pick up Right There the next time we meet. The friend who taught me how to drink beer and then right directly got up close and personal with Jesus and stopped drinking it herself and when I didn't stop, too, she lived grace right before my eyes and didn't judge me a bit. She just loved me and showed me Christ, sowing seeds of a different sort.
It was the year the Clemson Tigers, undefeated, marched straight into football history, eventually beating Nebraska 22-15 in the '82 Orange Bowl. Coach Danny Ford led the way and to listen to his postgame comments, you'd think Tiger Band had something to do with each victory. Homer Jordan. Jeff Davis. Perry Tuttle. William-the-Refrigerator Perry. Glory days.
It was the best team money could buy, and we'd pay dearly for our National Champions title--probation for the rest of my college career.
Thirty years later, Fall's taste is familiar. When you're a fan, a winning season is satisfying feast.
I imagine there are freshman now who are sowing oats and seizing days, and oh, how I pray for their protection from the stupidest of times.
The freshman are feasting at Clemson again, and although it's against the odds, not one of them aren't dreaming of a repeat of the '81 season. Not one of my comtempories aren't thinkin' about it, either.
Time will tell (and though I'm crossing fingers I'm not holding my breath...).
I went back for Clemson's homecoming this year, one of my favorite return trips of all time. Good times with friends, a picture perfect day, another for the win column and memories rich and colorful ~
And...for all the Clemson fans who haven't yet seen it, my son's favorite video du jour: Shock the World Tour ~
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants. ~ Psalm 116:15 NIV
After sharing Sara's nearing-end-of-life-story with you, it seemed right to let you know I received word early this morning she died peacefully last night, her mother and brother by her side. Anguish and relief inhabit my heart, such paradox on the surface. It is only in deep places they coexist.
I wonder if it is because of my own mother's death when I was a little girl that I see death's mercy. Mama battled cancer in the early 70s when treatments were much more barbaric and pain managment was in its infancy; my father suffered a 14-month end-of-life 4 1/2 years ago, excruciating to witness. Dementia tangled his mind and feebled his body, and my siblings and I learned to care for him in a way I wish no child ever again would have to experience.
Death was a mercy to my parents.
Under the weight of great loss I tenderly offer: death is mercy for Sara.
At the funeral of a friend's father years ago, my pastor offered beautiful words of encouragment, kind companion when I've since walked through the valley of death's shadow--
"Even if [he] had the choice to come back fully healthy, to be with the people he loved more than anyone in the world, he'd choose not to leave the presence of God."
Sara's legacy is a gift of eternal love and life well lived until the end. For her, home wasn't a place bound by geography or construction, it was in the hearts of those she loves and who love her...her family, her friends and her King.
Left to my own construction, Sara's life would've been much different; God would have healed her body. She would still tell His story of glory and grace, but from the perspective of miracle, not suffering.
But then I can't help but think about how in dying she taught others how to live, truly live! She planted seeds of joy in thousands of hearts--thousands!--and by example demonstrated what that looks like when life is hard, when it hurts.
Confined to her apartment for years, and more recently from her bed, Sara mined the precious and priceless from Ancient Words. She testified to God's goodness in spite of her illness, she praised His faithfulness as He allowed her to see how His best was better than her best.
Her life became a vessel of God's truth, resulting in the transformation of others; not because of her but because of Christ--His power--in her, working through her! Talk about joy...!
* * * * * * *
It is an odd thing to explain, this grieving a friend I've never met. I admitted that to Jessica recently--on the inside the tears flow freely but on the outside I don't know how to share. When I've begun to try, my family and friends don't know quite what to say, so I say little and let the storm run its course on the inside.
But I've got this space and it's often where I process "out loud."
Mainly I just wanted to share how others have encouraged me at these saddest of times...and to offer you the Great Hope that enabled Sara to choose joy in life and in death.
Check out Leigh's other designs at Curly Girl...and while you're there, please tell her I'm her biggest stalker fan! Then buy lots of her stuff; you'll thank me for making the introduction if you aren't already familiar with her work. With Leigh's wonderful wit and whimsy, she might've topped my fizzy affections for Mary Engelbreit.
Since I'm gushing over my favorite creative genuis du jour, DO TELL me about your favorite artist and why you've got mad love for 'em!
p.s. This is not a sponsored post. The opinions are still my own. {wink}
Sara is dying. Knowing this keeps her present in my mind and prayerful in my heart.
For as long as I can remember, my husband and I have played this little game; well, less a game and more a practice: Whenever anything happened to someone we know--and by anything I mean typically a bad thing--we'd try to imagine how we'd hope to respond to the circumstance.
When friends walked the trek of infertility, what would we do if I couldn't get pregnant? Would we adopt? Would we invest in treatments that might change the mind of my womb?
When my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer (after both my mother and grandmother died from the disease), what would we do if the same lot fell to me?
When our dear friend Cindy suffered permanent brain damage as a result of an accident and her husband left her, would we have remained committed to our marriage when personalities changed?
How would our lives under fire reflect Christ?
Our logic, I suppose, was to think through how we wanted to behave to live out the pre-eminence of God in our lives. Talking about and thinking out loud before we were walking through unexpected tragedy--before feelings and emotions stirred reaction--was our way of orienting our minds and preparing in advance to make good decisions, tough choices, when life got hard.
Because life gets hard.
So we'd watch how others responded in their difficult circumstances, and talk through and imagine how we'd hope to respond if we were in their shoes. Sometimes we'd find ourselves hoping we'd respond the same way; in other instances we'd pray that out response would be vastly different.
Because of Sara's illness, she has been confined to her apartment for years...years...pain, her body's often-companion. The past several weeks have been the worst, which is saying a lot.
Sara's response to her debilitating, life-ravaging illness? Joy.
I met Sara through our writing team at incourage. For the past two years, she has been a consistent voice of encouragement to me--through her words on her blog, comments to my posts, emails or skype conversation, and most recently, text messages. Telling someone they're consistent is one of the highest compliments you'll ever receive from me--in every instance she has ~
been completely candid and honest, admitting her struggle or physical pain, yet remaining faithful
luminously reflected Christ in her, great hope of glory
acknowledged God's sovereignty and conceded that even her illness is part of His redemptive plan, to bring...to live...the Gospel, in a way not possible in perfect health.
Sara realized this week her death was imminent; on Tuesday she admitted through a heartbreaking-to-me-text that she felt different, that she thought it would happen soon. And she was ready.
Jessica, a precious friend of mine and a best friend of Sara's, has been in close contact with Sara and her family over the past several days. Everything that Jess shares demonstrate's Sara's consistent voice of praise to God, and love and consideration of others, concerned about how everyone else is doing.
She's worried about us and how her death will affect those who know and care about her!
She's not fearful. She is ready. She's wants you to know Christ.
Last week at our incourage writers retreat in Hilton Head Island, SC, we Skyped with Sara. Thanks to technology, we showed her the beach and our beautiful setting. As best we could, we hid the tears. The moment--pure joy...broken beauty; we sensed its importance and captured it.
Later, she told me it was the highlight of her year.
Through her illness and suffering, Sara is sharing and living the Gospel in a way not possible had she enjoyed perfect health. Left to me, she would have been healed right away and avoided this painful road; but in God's mysterious ways, He has deemed Sara worthy to tell a much different story.
Her faithfulness and beauty in the telling has changed lives, not through her own power but from the power that lives in and through her.
Sara had a decision to make so she chose joy and invited all of us to do the same.
Sara is dying well.
Sara has modeled how I'd hope to respond if I ever found myself in a similar circumstance...I'd want to respond just like her.
That is the highest compliment I'll ever give.
* * * * * *
Matthew Paul Turner (Jessica's husband) has written an achingly beautiful tribute for sweet Sara Frankl (aka @gitzengirl) I hope you'll take time to read. (Jessica's post today also has links to others who are sharing their thoughts about Sara's impact in their lives; her family is reading every account out loud to Sara.)
Steven Curtis Chapman's song With Hope has been incredible blessing this week; listen below, read the heart-lifting lyrics, and I think you'll be greatly encouraged. When you have hope, don't you have everything you need?
With much love,
~ Robin
This is not at all how We thought it was supposed to be We had so many plans for you We had so many dreams And now you've gone away And left us with the memories of your smile And nothing we can say And nothing we can do Can take away the pain The pain of losing you, but ...
We can cry with hope We can say goodbye with hope 'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no And we can grieve with hope 'Cause we believe with hope (There's a place by God's grace) There's a place where we'll see your face again We'll see your face again
And never have I known Anything so hard to understand And never have I questioned more The wisdom of God's plan But through the cloud of tears I see the Father's smile and say well done And I imagine you Where you wanted most to be Seeing all your dreams come true 'Cause now you're home And now you're free, and ...
We have this hope as an anchor 'Cause we believe that everything God promised us is true, so ...
So we can cry with hope And say goodbye with hope
We wait with hope And we ache with hope We hold on with hope We let go with hope
Sometimes I do or say things my kids don't care for.
Like when I tell them "Do (or don't do) ________, or I'll take a baseball bat to your knee caps."
For example, "If you or any of your friends ride your RipStick down our VERY STEEP driveway AGAIN, I will take a baseball bat to your knee caps."
Bloody carnage seems to beget bloody carnage, and the gruesome pictures recently texted to me of their friend warrant my obsidian warning.
Now it's not that I'm a violent soul or that they feel threatened in any way; it just sounds awful. And based on its hyperbolic ludicrousness, it's funny to me.
Just not to them.
So imagine my sheer delight when I discovered this in an etsy shop--
Let's just say my children don't share my enthusiasm and the oldest is questioning why-in-THE-world she ever called me perfect....
I'm back from a long weekend in the place where my marriage was infant-nurtured, my babies were conceived and loved by a hundred mamas, and that still feels like going home though I wasn't born there. Well-familiar faces give me reason to add to my thanks this morning.
41. The unexpected friend who appeared when it felt like the world walked out.
42. The friend who taught me a memorable lesson in generosity.
43. The friend God used to illustrate "It's not about me."
44. The friend who never told me what I wanted to hear but what I needed to.
45. The friend who convinced me that anything is possible.
46. The friend who showed me appearances are deceiving, differences don't matter so much and love is more desirable than riches.
47. The friend whose enthusiasm, excitement and encouragement is measured in time and intent.
48. The friend who always gives me reason to laugh.
49. The friend who inspires me with creativity and beauty.
50. The friend who reminded me that it's more about your present and future than it is about your past.
It was a great weekend....
(I wonder if each could identify her/himself in my characterization... :))
You're invited to join this community offering of gratitude with multitudes on mondays, hosted by the grace-filled Ann Voskamp.
There's a season of life where sleep is impossible.
It's the Season of Teenagers.
Last night while my oldest was away at her college's pre-orientation, my two boys, 14 & close-enough-to-17-for-it-to-count, had friends over. When I went to bed, the two youngest were watching tv and the older four were playing Xbox. Miraculously, I fell asleep.
1:14 am - I wake up.
1:14½ am - I walk into the playroom, find the 14 year olds now playing Xbox, send 'em to bed. Walk downstairs to look for the older boys, hear 'em laughing and playing basketball outside. I listen a few minutes, then once I'm comfortable there's no monkey business going on, head back to bed. They never knew I was up.
1:30 am - I've tossed and turn 1,295 times and prayed for my daughter's future roommates, relationships and college transition.
1:45 am - Tossing and turning now up to 3,173 times. Also counted 8402 sheep. I consider praying some more but all I can think about is what the boys are doing now.
2:00 am - I hear dogs bark in the distance. I begin imagining what the boys are doing, sure they're the impetus for the barking dogs. Ringing and running? TPing the neighbor's yard? Meeting up with they type of girls who sneak out of their houses at two in the morning?? Experimenting with all kinds of illegal substances one of them found from a wayward uncle's stash???
The middle of the night stirs demons and delirium.
2:18 - Awake for over an hour with no sleep in sight, I throw on a robe and walk back downstairs. The boys have made cinnamon rolls since my last check (Exhibits #1 and #2, an empty icing container and dirty pan). I open the back door and hear them talking just outside our garage, so I inch closer to spy.
Thomas spots me immediately, then with a smirk on his face and idiocy in his voice says, "Hey, Mom...we're just out here drinkin'." If you know him, you know the goofy look that's on his face.
They all laugh but there's not a cup in sight.
I walk to the door and he says, "We're talking. I dunno why, but we're wide awake and we're just talking...." I quickly study each of them, and true--not one of their faces suggest it's 2:30 in the morning. Except mine.
I zigzag a finger in their general direction and tell them no leaving our driveway, no TPing houses, no ringing and running and I ignore Thomas' flip, "And no boozing???" He says some more things that would totally be lost in translation (unless you have boys his age), the things that demand laughs from his friends and rebuke from his mother.
Which demands more laughs from his friends.
He wins.
Satisfied they're not up to anything of concern, I tell them I'll check on them in hour. In my head that sentence is finished with "...if I'm awake" but I really hope to be asleep.
What they don't know won't hurt 'em, and I wonder if they know I'm probably not telling the truth.
2:42 am - I'm pretty sure I'm asleep by now.
When your children are infants through preschool, you get no sleep because they wake up during the night and need you.
There's a brief respite during the tween years to rest you up before the teen years begin; this is catch up sleep from what comes before and preparation sleep for what lies ahead.
The Season of Teenager lasts six or seven years; you get no sleep because your children are likely awake and don't need you or are because you're aware they could be doing something that will precipitate their need for you.
This is probably just fine because you're middle aged and CAN'T sleep regardless, so really your kids are doing you a favor by giving you someone to blame.
Then one day all your babies will be off at college, or gainfully employed and living elsewhere, or married with or without children and you can sleep all you want until...
the grandbabies spend the night.
* * * * * * *
Subscribing in a reader or via email blesses my socks off. Go ahead. Make my day. It's summer and my feet need to breathe!! :).
After reading Drums, Girls, And Dangerous Pie("a story about a middle school boy whose younger brother is diagnosed with leukemia. The boy ends up shaving his head to make his younger brother feel better about losing his hair to chemotherapy.") he decided to do something in support of kids with cancer.
So he shaved his head...
and in two years, raised over $5,000 for children's cancer treatments.
This year, with ideas and support from his mom (my friend Dawn) and Children's Hospital Foundation, Jack's at full tilt, hoping to wrangle 50 people to join him in shaving their head and upping the fundraising ante to $20,000.
He dares to be the Little Engine Who Thinks He Can.
Bravo. With a little help from his friends, I think he can, too.
There are plenty of ways you can support Jack's generous, bold initiative, whether or not you live in Chattanooga:
Come HUNGRY to Spirit Night at Chick-fil-A on Monday, June 6, 4:00-9:00 pm. A percentage of sales will benefit the Children's Hospital Foundation. You can dine at Gunbarrel Pointe or Hamilton Place Mall. Be sure to let cashiers know you're there to support Jack's Chattanoggins!
Make a donation. Your dollars directly help fund cancer treatments for children.
Attend THE GREAT SHAVE EVENT at Chattanooga Market on Sunday, June 26, 11:00 am-4:00 pm. It'll be kinda like a sheep sheering but without the sheep. :)
A kid helping kids. Jack is anything but ordinary alright.
While I can't respond to every one, I LOVE hearing your comments! It's easy--just click the tiny word "comment" at the bottom of the post, register and SPEAK! {thanks!!}
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