A Little Room and An Apology

There is a room in the basement of my parents' house. It's a small room. It has two small windows, and a door that leads out into the den. Today it houses a computer atop a desk. Lining the walls are different stringed instruments, all which sound beautiful at the fingertips of my daddy. This time of year, this room begins to be the storage room for wrapped Christmas presents as they await their opening by the three kids and my nephew.

This room has changed quite a bit over the years. At one time, it was a bedroom. There was a twin bed in it. I can remember my Grandaddy sleeping many nights on that little bed when he and my Grandmother would visit. One morning we shared many laughs as he recounted his night of sleep, awaking to a  mouse cuddled on his pillow beside his little bald head. My mom made sure his bed fella was gone and disposed of by the end of day.

When I was a teenager this room was where I did homework. But as a preteen this room was adorned with New Kids on the Block paraphernalia. Posters from floor to ceiling, covered every inch. A sleeping bag and pillow with Jordan Knight's face laid on the floor. A "boombox" sat in the corner. Many nights I was told to turn down the music of the Hangin' Tough album. Pretty sure my parents were happy to have this phase behind us, as they cocked the thumb tack holes and painted over the tape marks on the walls.

But this room was magical when I was a little girl. It's where I was the doctor, the teacher, and the princess. It's where I rocked baby dolls and put them down for naps. In this room, Barbie met Ken. They married time and time again and filled "Cindy's World" with their families. In this room is where my older sister and I played and laughed and, as all siblings do, fought and argued over who played with what. She left this room before I did. I missed her.

She always took such good care of her toys and this room. The baby dolls were always dressed and clean. The Barbies had the latest fashions and their hair was styled perfectly. When she finished with a toy she put it back. "Cindy's World" was always in order, with the furniture arranged in the correct rooms, neat and tidy. The dishes in the play kitchen were always washed and stored and the fridge was stocked with all the appropriate items.

Enter Aletha.

I rearranged the Barbie furniture and misplaced the tiny fashionable shoes and clothes. And if I needed a haircut, so did Barbie. And Ken was prone to car accidents, which always produced bruising. Markers and crayons did the trick. Some dolls didn't fair that well; some were missing extremities. Baby dolls looked better in diapers and liked to play in the mud and ash pile in the back yard. Who needed pretend plastic food when you could use Elmer's glue for milk and hide half eaten apples in the tiny kitchen cabinets?  

It didn't take too long for my mother to catch on and take some action. These days she will pull out a couple of baby dolls to show the grandkids. Nancy Caroline and Sadie love to hold the dolls and play with them. They always giggle as their "Aunt Sissy" points out that their mom never played with those dolls. She tells them of my antics and how I could not be trusted, so momma hid these dolls and they are the only survivors.

Pretty much I was the female version of Andy's nemesis, Sid.

So dear sister, it's been a long time coming, but I want to say something to you. I owe this to you for wrecking so many of the toys you took such good care of for so many years...

I am sorry. And I am searching Ebay for that Barbie that had the kissing lips. I really have no idea why I ripped her lips off. 

And I know at this very moment you, the reader, more than likely are chuckling, thinking how silly and funny this all is. But as grown ups haven't we all been guilty of taking something great and messing it all up?

The Creator gives us a beautiful world in which to live and enjoy. We throw down our trash and pollute the air and water, without much thought at all. We waste our resources and live in excess. Why be happy with what you have when you can have more?  Even if it means a few less trees and others are going hungry.

Us Americans live in a country where we boast freedom and the right to speak, but yet we abuse these concepts. We develop the opinion that we are the elete ,that we have it all figured out. We scream our beliefs at each other like toddlers on a playground. We must state our thoughts on everything and everyone; we must be heard. We turn things like social media sites into an arena for arguing and fighting and bullying, instead of maybe what it could have been...a way for friends to stay connected and a mode to promote joy and love. 

Sex. Instead of keeping it special and intimate and private, it's turned into something funny and nasty and wrong.  We use it to sell products. We let it dominate our lives to the point that it's an addiction, a thirst that can't be quenched. It's by products are now pornography, prostitution, and slavery. We also have turned it into a political issue. It seems we have forgotten that God created everything, even sex. How it's treated today, what we've made of it...yeah, I am sure that is not what He intended it to look like.

We have really messed up Christianity. CHRIST-ianity. Jesus Christ. What did He look like? How did He behave? Do we resemble Him? He met people where they were. He became a friend. He held their hands and healed their wounds, both physically and emotionally. Today, many of us close off our circles, only interacting with those people that look and act like us. Many hatefully condemn others for wrongdoing and sins that they deem "greater" than their own. I think we forget that on many occasions we read the accounts of Jesus befriending others, extending love and kindness, and then simply saying, "Go, and sin no more."

We could talk about lots of things. Food, marriage and family life, freedom, school policies, and so much more. We could talk about how awful so many things have become at the hands of us humans. But what if we stop complaining, and get to work. Ever heard of a re-do? Ever heard of an apology?

There is great healing in the words "I am sorry". There is even greater healing in a change of action. Make an amends and start living differently.

Take care of this world. Pick up trash, reduce, and recycle.

Post one positive comment each day. Stay silent when you want to fire back. Instead of spending five minutes looking into someone else's business for the sake of being nosey, send a message to someone you miss. Respect other's opinions and beliefs.

Teach your children about how beautiful a thing sex is and God created it. Teach them the boundaries He gave us, and those boundaries are in order for us to have joy and be healthy. Pray for purity and peace for yourself and for so many that struggle in this matter.

Put the CHRIST back in Christianity. There is hope in anything when we start to resemble our namesake.

Whatever it is that you have had your part in messing up in this beautiful life...apologize in some way and start helping to fix it. If we all do that, what a wonderful world it would be!

Fall With My Favorites

I love the Fall. If there was one thing that I missed, other than family and friends, while we lived on Saba, it was the change of the seasons. We left Tennessee for our new Caribbean home in the middle of a Tennessee hot and humid Summer. August melted into September. September melted into October. Then October melted into November. No cooler temperatures. No crisp Autumn smell in the air. No football games to tailgate. No multi-colored trees. The true Tennessee Fall of 2001 is one of which I have no memory.

This time of year continues to be my favorite. My eyes love the changing tree colors.  My arms love the feel of my favorite sweatshirt. My nose loves the smells of campfires and toasted marshmallows. Football fills my Saturdays. Cups of hot coffee fill my hands throughout the day. And the knowledge that my Creator could only orchestrate such a miracle as the changing of the seasons fills my soul with comfort.

Through the years, this time of year has brought about new and different things for our little family. A few years ago in our church family, Michael and I were asked to consider teaching the college age class together one Fall. We accepted the challenge. And somehow in someway, it has become a tradition...Michael and Aletha Thomas teach the college class each Fall at the Woodbury Church of Christ. And somehow in someway, it has become one of my favorite things of the Fall. The people that fill and have filled this class are some of my favorites. (Go ahead and chuckle, college age friends.)

We've studied specific books of the Bible. We have read and studied the newest and latest from some of the best Christian authors. We've split and done guys and girls studies. We have served together and played together. We have laughed and cried together. But most importantly, we have grown closer to God together.

This Fall has been no different. Michael is leading the class and we are partnering with our friends, John and Amie, in facilitating "The White Board Bible Study". In the curriculum, we begin in the beginning, with Creation. And we march through the entire Bible, not just picking out certain people and stories to study, but fitting all the pieces together. This study teaches how the "stories" of the Bible are all part of God's big story. You can't have Abraham without having Noah. You can't have David without Ruth. You can't have Jesus without Adam.

This past Sunday we finished a section dedicated to the Exodus. So we have seen the story line of many famous Old Testament characters. Adam and Eve. Cain and Abel. Noah. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Joseph. The Children of Israel. Moses.

These folks have taught me wonderful Godly character traits through the years. True intimacy with the Father in Adam and Eve. The importance of worship in Abel. Dedication in Noah. Great faith in Abraham. Morality and forgiveness in Joseph. Courage in Moses.

But this go around...this Fall, in this college bible class...this almost 40-year old mom of three has seen things a bit different...

WHAT A HOT MESS!!!

Every single one! They by no means had any of this thing called life figured out. Alot of us today, think these times we are living in are the worst. I beg to differ.  These first generations we read about were far from perfect or G-rated. Things are bad, but that isn't new to God. It isn't new, but it still all makes Him sad.

They listened to satan. They murdered. Some could be called arrogant and prideful. You ever laughed at God in doubt? They did. They lied and deceived. Some of them sinned in anger, while others got drunk. They witnessed the greatest of miracles and actually heard the audible voice of God...and the next day they complained and looked around for other gods to fill His place.

Oh, but the hope this gives! God uses the roughest, the weakest, the nastiest alot of the times. No, let's be honest...He uses those types of folks all the time. I know this for sure because I have witnessed it. I am a product of it. You want a hot mess...look no further than this girl right here.

I have been the world's worst with impatience. I overcommit and let people down. I am prideful. I like to be in control. I have lost my temper. I have hurt the ones I love the most. I have said the wrong things. I have lied in order to not disappoint.

And then there are the big struggles. The ones I only trust to my inner circles, my accountability partners. The sins and struggles and burdens that carry heavy shame and fear and anxiety. We ALL have these. My encouragement to you in these matters, is to find your people. Find the ones you feel safe with, that can accept the flaws and extend more grace and love than disappointment and shock. Find the ones that can be open and honest in return with you. Find the ones that will weekly hold your hand and remind you to hold your eyes upward. Find the ones that will speak truth to you and gently lead you back when you get a little off course.

Secrecy is a dark and scary place. It isn't safe. Exploiting all of your junk and mess for all to see and know, or sharing it with the wrong, non-trustworthy person isn't safe either. God did not intend for us to walk this road alone. You know the verses...confess your sins ONE to ANOTHER...carry ANOTHER'S burdens. I encourage you to be private, not secret. There is a difference.

I am beyond grateful for and adore my people. They know who they are...friends and family. As a book I just finished reading put it, "Your mess is mine.", and vice versa.

So yeah, He didn't intend for us to walk all this mess alone. He gave us each other, and He also gave us people we can't tangibly touch or talk to, but He gave us their stories.

So when you mess up, when you tell the lie or you doubt. When you are envious or seek to have all the control. When you are angry with the discomfort of where God has placed you for the moment. When you struggle with lust and being faithful. When your mess is alcoholism, drug addiction, or the such. Remember Eve, Noah, and Abraham. Remember Moses and those impatient children of Israel. Remember Joseph and all the others.

God never gave up on these people, and He won't give up on us. If we follow Him and allow Him to, He won't only not give up on us, He will use us. Because the God of Adam, Noah, Abraham, and Moses...He is the same...He is our God too.

Let The Little Children Come

A lot of folks look at me a bit odd when I tell them that I learn just as much from the three kids as they learn from me. But it is so very true.

Nancy Caroline teaches me to notice the details, pay attention to the small things in life.  She teaches me to do everything I do 150%...because that is what she does. One of my favorite things I have learned from her as of late is worry and fear are choices you make. These things can be overcome. This child is wise beyond her years.

Sadie teaches me to be silly, even in the most serious of situations. Being silly is good for the soul.  She also teaches me to just “be” sometimes. She is resourceful…fiercely resourceful. I learn independence from her. I have no doubt that this little girl will grow to be an independent, strong, confident woman.

I have been learning from Jackson the longest, of course. Determination, bravery, and overcoming obstacles…Jackson excels at these things. He has always taught me not to take myself so seriously. And his laugh makes anyone realize that laughter is a necessity, not an option.

As their mother, I have stored specific teachable moments from them in my heart and my memory recalls them often. In the last few weeks, a little lesson I learned from Jackson has been playing over and over in my mind and heart.

The City of Children is an orphanage for children in Baja, Mexico. It is based on love of God and the love of children. It is a beautiful place with so many beautiful children.  Michael and I both traveled there as college students and continued to visit together after we married. It was only natural to take Jackson there shortly after he was born.

On his first trip to The City, he and I joined a group out of Nashville. Michael stayed behind, immersed in rotations and medical books. Jackson was a hit! The children loved the fair skinned five month bundle of fun. The little girls liked to push his stroller. The little boys gave him soccer balls to hold.  The children Michael and I had watched grow up, now loved on our little one as we had loved on them.

On this specific trip we not only had work to do inside the orphanage walls, but we also traveled outside into rural areas to fill needs of folks that were struggling. One day of our trip was spent shopping for groceries at a local store and then traveling to give some relief in the form of food. Rice, beans, tortillas, fruit…all in the name of Jesus.

Our team would pile out of the van and grab the food and then head into the house to meet with the family and pray. We met dads and moms, single mothers, and lots of kids. They were thankful and prayerful. And they all were fascinated by Baby Jackson.

I held tight to my baby boy, knowing he was safe in my arms. There was a fear. Looking back now I don’t really understand of what I was afraid. Maybe I was afraid he would fall onto the rough Mexico loose dirt walkways. Maybe I was afraid of a foreign germ. Maybe it was just the unfamiliar. Maybe it was just being a mom.

We stood outside one home that seemed to be filled with a dozen kids. It was a small makeshift house that I was pretty sure didn’t have electricity or plumbing. I remember wondering how they all slept in such a small space.

One by one the kids began to gather round me, reaching to touch Jackson’s cheeks and hands and chunky little legs. I began to panic. Their little hands were dust and dirt covered, some having snotty noses and matted hair.  They asked to hold him, to which I immediately made excuses as to why they couldn’t. I held onto him even tighter, keeping him perfectly perched high on my hip.

Then a dusty, tanned, dark eyed little girl came over with a soft little smile. To this day I can still vividly see her face. She didn’t say a word, but just reached out her arms, breaking the language barrier by a gesture that was undeniable.

“Come to me. Let me hold you.”

I tightened, but at the same time Jackson plunged his little arms into hers. He grabbed onto her and giggled with excitement. Being humbled by son, I let go and watched as the little girl bounced him on her hip and talked to him in a language that made him gaze at her with curiosity.She kissed his check as he returned the favor.  At six months old, Jackson was wiser and more accepting and loving than his mother. I watched carefully and learned the most beautiful lesson from my baby boy.

In three of the four gospels, we find Jesus teaching and preaching. Some parents show up, bringing their kids to meet Jesus. They hoped He would pray for them and lay His hands on the children. That’s when the disciples called a time out. I can just hear the scolding…

“Don’t you dare bother Him! Don’t you know He is the Messiah! He doesn’t have time for these children!”

The parents must have been so embarrassed. Some were probably livid for how they had been spoken to by these followers of Christ. But can you imagine the disappointment and hurt in the children’s eyes as they began to back up and walk away, untouched, unprayed for, unloved?

“Let the little children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.”

Oh the joy that must have been present between Jesus and those kids as they were allowed to run into His arms! I bet they climbed onto His lap, thrilled just be with their Lord. We have a lot to learn…

Jesus wasn’t afraid of the dust. He wasn’t disgusted by the snotty noses and matted hair. He extended His arms and an invitation.

I am pretty sure God wants us to go into any situation willing to learn, but not always eager to teach. We should pass no judgment, we shouldn’t be too busy, but we should love unconditionally.

We better get busy opening our doors, freeing up a little extra time, and start inviting the little ones, no matter what they look like or where they come from, to “come to Him”.  

This can look lots of different ways.  It might even be as simple as saying a kind word or explaining something in a calm and loving manner. Maybe it’s volunteering at a local school. It could look like pulling a child on your lap when no one else will. You could give up a few hours to help with homework, do a service project, and play a few games. It could look like attending a football game, finding a common ground, or sitting down to a bible study. This could be as big as taking someone as your own.

The way I see it, the only way the little children can come to Jesus today is through us.  

The Scary Pharisee

When I read stories about the Pharisee characters of the bible, I cringe. My mouth still drops open in shock when I re-read the account of the Pharisee praying in the temple (Luke 18). I bet people around that heard him had the thought a lot of us do today when someone opens their mouth and inserts their foot...

"Did he really just say that?!?!"

I wonder if that is what God thought as the prayer made its way up to heaven.

Jesus’ reaction to these men throughout scripture gives me pause, and makes me walk my walk and talk my talk with caution. These Pharisees that we read about, they scare me.

The name Pharisee comes from words, in languages that I can’t even understand, meaning "seperated ones” or “loyal and loved by God”. They studied the law and prided themselves on obeying God.  One could say they became extreme in their desire to know and obey...so extreme that they completely missed out on Christ.  When they witnessed his works and heard his words, they dismissed him as hoax, maybe out of disbelief or maybe out of fear.  This dismissal evidently led him to the cross.

During Jesus’ ministry we see him speak out against the Pharisees much. At times, if I close my eyes, I can imagine the sarcasm in his voice and see the frustrations on his face when he dealt with them.  He had to carry a sadness as well for a people that claimed to know God, but yet didn’t care to know Him in the flesh.

In Matthew 23 we read this…

“Then Jesus said to the crowds and to His disciples, “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees are the official interpreters of the law of Moses. So practice and obey what they tell you, but don’t follow their example. For they don’t practice what they teach. They crush people with unbearable religious demands and never lift a finger to ease the burden. Everything they do is for show.” NLT

"They don't practice what they teach."

"They crush people with unbearable religious demands..."

"...never lift a finger to ease the burden."

"Everything they do is for show."

I am scared. Scared that us believers today are a bit more “Pharisaical” (yes, that’s a word) than we’d like to admit.

We get busy loving the Word, studying it and cramming every ounce of knowledge we can into our minds. We have to make sure we are educated and full of knowledge.  But can we do this to a fault? Is this really what Christianity is all about?

We make our lists of the “dos” and the “do nots” and want to walk the fine line carefully.  Is everything truly black and white or is there any area of grey?

We pass the homeless guy on the street, and don’t even acknowledge him with a smile. We don’t care to know his story, and we think he probably doesn’t want to talk, and that any relief we could give him will be spent on cigarettes and liquor. I wonder if that is what the Pharisee thought when he looked the other way as he passed the dude that was lying on the side of the road?

We walk into a comfortable church building on Sunday morning with the best dress we have to offer, snarling our nose a bit at the poor choice some folks have in clothing. We see ourselves as the better Christian since we are filling a pew rather than being somewhere else. Do we resemble the guy in Luke 18?

These Pharisees we read of and Jesus warns us about, were more concerned about themselves. They studied and memorized the law. They busied themselves crossing their Ts and dotting their Is.  They read the commandments...but they forgot to check out the illustrations.

I don't know about you, but I need to practice what Jesus teaches. My hands and feet need to match the words I am reading. I need to fill my mind with the knowledge of God's story and then put into action the things I am learning. I need to be a doer, just not a hearer. I need to show my knowledge and faith by the works I do.

The Pharisees, they missed it. They missed Him.

"I want them to be encouraged and knit together by strong ties of LOVE. I want them to have complete confidence that they understand God's mysterious plan, which is CHRIST himself. In HIM lie hidden all the treasures of WISDOM and KNOWLEDGE."
Colossians 2:2-3

If they had showed a little love, practiced a little more extreme faith, sat down and actually got to know Christ, the wisdom they longed for, the knowledge they prided themselves on, it would have ALL been found in His love and illustrative teaching.

I hope we aren't missing Him.

WeCareCannon

It was late March back a few years ago. Michael, the three kids, and I had just gotten back from the Spring break trip to the island.  My day had been going well, even though it was overcast and a bit cooler than my fresh-from-the-Caribbean body was longing for. I was upbeat and happy, with joy in my heart from ten days spent loving on Saba.

I wheeled up to Woodbury Grammar School for some sort of “mom duty”.  As I parked the car on the front curb of the building, I noticed the school principal, Mrs. Bonnie Patterson, and the assistant, Mr. Jeff Todd, parking as well and getting out of a car. As my feet hit the pavement, I met the two school administrators with a smile and a happy, “Hey guys, how are y’all?”

I did not expect the response, but it has forever changed me. Mrs. Bonnie replied…

“You want a mission field, I have you a mission field. We just came from filling the fridge and pantry shelves of a house where some of our students live. It was practically empty, Aletha, empty! We have to do something.”

For me, that is how WeCareCannon began. And that's also when Bonnie Patterson became one of my favorite people. 

When a few men and women from our community began to roll around the idea of our community being motivated and pulled together to help each other out, I HAD to be involved. Folks started talking about school supplies and backpacks. Then school appropriate shoes. And if you are giving new shoes, why wouldn’t you give socks too? I will never forget attending a county principal’s meeting and being told, “Underwear! They need underwear too!”  Little by little, others began to throw in ideas. Before long medical exams, dental checkups, haircuts, and hygiene products were on the lists of musts.

Once one knows, how can you not pitch in and help in some way?

But this is what is on my heart…

It isn’t about a free handout.  It isn’t about doing something because you think this is what someone else needs so that you can pillow your head at night and feel good. It isn’t about donating a chunk of change and then turning a deaf ear to the real needs of the families and children of our community.

It’s about meeting a child and asking their name. It’s about having a conversation about their grandfather who is about to have surgery and praying over his healing.

It’s about giving a young lady a fresh haircut. When she looks in the mirror, she doesn’t think about it being free, but she feels confident and she remembers the stylist that was kind.

It’s about a child being able to run and play like the other kids in class, with shoes that are appropriate on a gym floor and fit perfectly.

It’s about the grandmother who is raising her four grandkids. Her worry is lifted by the kind gestures, needed supplies, and encouraging acceptance.

It’s about a volunteer freezing in a gym while handing out supplies, realizing she’d rather be uncomfortable for a few hours so a child can be comfortable for an entire school year in the appropriate size new underwear.

It’s about a kid seeing a lady in Piggly Wiggly. The two see each other and immediately hug and begin to talk about how the school year has gone.

It’s about the man that wrote a pretty hefty check to financially support WeCareCannon.   He shows up the day of the event to be a tour guide. The same hand that wrote the check, holds the hand of a new kindergarten student, encouraging them that they are going to love their new school and do absolutely wonderful!

It’s not only about a financial need. It’s about an emotional need. It’s about an intellectual need. It’s about the need of stress relief and the absence of worry.

WeCareCannon is really about a feeling that I wish could take over not only our little community, but our country and our world.  If we help each other out…and we ALL need help in some way at some time…then we don’t get bogged down with what the government should or shouldn’t do or about somebody taking too many handouts and the such.

It’s about the need of unity and understanding and love.

Really it all boils down to this…“Treat others as you want to be treated.”

It’s as easy as a backpack. It’s as little as a cap eraser. It’s as simple as a smile or kind word.

It’s as big as a child’s life changed forever.

If Once You Slept On An Island...

Jet lag, laundry, football practices, cheer camp, gymnastics, and WeCareCannon.  That is what re-entry to our life here has looked like this week. The majority of these things bring me joy, but those first two...I could do with out those.

I have looked through hundreds of pictures from our two weeks of day camp, island life, fun, and love and service. The smiles make me smile. The familiar little faces I know are too many miles away, but are etched on my heart. The memories are making my day dreams sweet and my sleep a little easier.

Below I am attaching a poem a good friend of mine shared with me a few years ago. She Faceboooked it to me, knowing how much Saba meant to me and how the island had changed me. Thanks, JJ.

We all are a composite of all the events, experiences, people, and places that have come and gone and/or stayed in our lives. It's so very true, isn't it? The way we behave, phrases that we say, the way we view things, and the habits we develop can 9 times out of 10 be traced back to someone in our life or an experience we have. We go places, people cross our paths, and we are never quite the same.

There is this vine that grows in my flower pots every summer. It has the cutest little yellow flower with a black center. It is a staple in my flower selection. Sometimes I have to search all over Murfreesboro just to find it. It is called the Black Eyed Susan vine...and it's Saba's national flower.

Many folks have opened my freezer to find, in their opinion, some of the oddest items. Sugar, flour, cornmeal, and the such. I am afraid of sugar ants. Tennessee doesn't have sugar ants...but Saba does.

These phrases roll off our tongues before we even think about it...

"Just now."

"She will make 10 in July."

"Okay. All right."

The Thomas house sounds like you are on the road in Saba a lot of days.

I use to mourn being away from the Unspoiled Queen, and let's be honest some yucky days I definitely still do. But this is the realization that I have had as of late...

Saba is always with me. We are not a part. She is in my flower bed and freezer. She is in how I speak.  She is etched in the laughter of the three kids when we share memories and tell stories. Social media allows us to share pictures and life together on a daily basis. She will arrive on an airplane back in Nashville three times over this next month. Her people communicate with me and some even grace the rooms of our  house with their presence.

Just as I pointed out in an earlier post, my grandmother's sweet spirit is a part of the island because she is a part of me. In the same manner, the spirit and the love found on Saba is a part of my life here in my home of Tennessee because Saba is a part of me.

This realization also embraces the thanksgiving for all my other people and places.  My sweet family. Carthage. Jackson County. TTU and Cookeville. Pacific and St. Louis. Rome, Georgia. My current home of Cannon County. And all the people that make these places warm places in my heart and joyful thoughts in my days.

God intended for us to enjoy His creation and to be relational and connected with the people He placed on this earth and in our lives. His son was the greatest example of being in the moment, meeting people where they are at, and always remembering where you come from. He was the epitome of love and having it overtake one's life.

So I leave you with this poem. It always makes my heart smile.

If Once You Have Slept on an Island

If once you have slept on an island

You'll never be quite the same;

You may look as you looked the day before

And go by the same old name, 

You may bustle about in street and shop

You may sit at home and sew,

But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls

Wherever your feet may go. 

You may chat with the neighbors of this and that

And close to your fire keep,
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell

And tides beat through your sleep. 

Oh! you won't know why and you can't say how

Such a change upon you came,

But once you have slept on an island,

You'll never be quite the same.

By: Rachel Lyman Field


You Can Leave the Island...

We are in the clouds again this afternoon. Movies are being watched. iPods and iPhones are being played on with games and music. Team members are snoozing. Writing seems like a good way to pass the time.

This morning began at 5:00am for this mom. I rolled off my air mattress and slid on my shower shoes. One last Saba shower for Summer 2016.  Some of the nuisances of the community center have a way of growing on me. I am sure I will find myself in the weeks to come, turning the water on and then off as I wash my hair and lather up with soap, and then on again to rinse.

Us girls got up and got moving and felt accomplished to be packed, cleaned, and waiting for our ride to the airport by 7:00am, a good forty five minutes early. We sat on the cistern and let the sun hit our faces a bit longer while we looked out over lower Hell's Gate.

So much of these trips is about the island, of course. But these young women (and young men, too) sure have changed me over the last fifteen years. I adore serving alongside them. They encourage me to be adventurous. They inspire me as I watch them live life so intentionally. They contagiously laugh with me. They fiercely love on my island. They are true reflections of my Father.

It was a short wait compared to other trips, at the Juancho E. Yrausquin Airport today. Check in went smooth and we enjoyed visiting with a few friends who made their way down to see us off. As we waited, Sadie came up with a plan.

The little twin otter plane landed and we gave our boarding passes to Fabi, the gate attendant. My feet always have a hard time finding their way up the short flight stairs into the 19 seat cabin.  I took one last glance. Saba seems gigantic standing on Flat Point and looking up. One would never guess she is only 5 square miles.

When I took my seat, directly behind the three kids, Jackson was very eager to tell me what his baby sister had asked the pilot.  As she had taken her front row seat, she carefully leaned up and in a sweet voice asked...

"Sir, can you please fly us around Saba?"

As you take off from the Unspoiled Queen, the plane banks left, and then has a direct shot to St. Martin. That is the normal routine.  My seven year old's request was a fun one, but one that I didn't expect to be fulfilled.

As we sped off the little run way, the three kids had their fingers crossed. And the plane banked right.

As we flew around her, the sights were all so familiar...the church bell tower in Hell's Gate, our old house, Fort Bay and the harbor, St. John's and our beloved schools, the Bottom. The road snaked around the rainforest and rocks. The little red roofs decorated my island just perfectly.

There was so much excitement in this extra special treat granted by our pilots. But tears began to flow...from my eyes and the eyes of the three kids as well. Oh how we will miss her!

What a beautiful gift God gave the world in the miracle of places like Saba. A dormant volcano with a lush rainforest perched perfectly in the sea. She is as beautiful under water as she is above. Sea turtles, Sharks, and thousands of species of fish call her home. She boasts iguanas, mangoes, and July trees. Her people are lovely beyond words and are more than friendly. They have a way of life that many of us could learn a thing or two from.

Only the Master Creator could orchestrate such a place. And only He could create the love that I have for the little island with the big personality.  He is better than good...better than great. He is extravagant in His creation and in the story He continues to write on Saba and on the hearts of the Lipscomb teams that get the gift of gracing her shores twice a year.

I am filled with prayers of thanksgiving on this flight home. I am filled with the prayer of hope that March will come quickly. And more than anything I am filled with love and a prayer of praise for an extravagant God.

I will end with the first line of the song playing over my playlist at this very moment...

"You can leave the island, but you can't leave my love."

Tuesday on Saba

I love every day on this island, but a day when I awake to a pristine blue sky without a cloud in sight...that's my favorite.  Days like this is what one dreams the Caribbean of being. On days like this, I find myself keeping an eye on the top of Saba's highest point, Mt. Scenery. If the clouds stay away and if we are able to find a couple hours of down time, a hike to the highest point in the Netherlands is a must.

Today I made the trek with the youngest Thomas kid. She had her Saba sidekick, Rashadijn (aka, Shady) along with her.  I loved hearing their 7 year old dialogue and seeing their little legs ascend to the top. They tackled all 1064 steps without much complaint at all.

While we hiked with a few of the team members, Nancy Caroline hung out with her friends Natalie and Lauren in Windwardside.  Just down by the sea at Torrens Point, Michael and Jackson were experiencing their first dive on Saba.

Two of us on the top, one of us in the middle, and two of us at the base in the waters. The Thomas family had Saba covered it seemed.

Sharing Saba with the three kids is something that I store up in my heart.  The memories of hiking with Sadie, the image of the three of them snorkeling side by side, getting to see Jackson become a diver, knowing Nancy Caroline fits in so well here with the kids and loves helping at day camp....things like that make me realize that the island and the three kids are getting along just beautifully.

At day camp today, I spent another day in my old classroom teaching Saban children how to cook. We decided to try a little cultural competition...Saban Pumpkin Fritters vs. Southern Fried Pies. My fellow team member Amie volunteered to lead the children in making the fritters, while I tackled the pies.

We began cooking down the dried fruit and sugaring it up. The markets didn't have peaches or apples, so we used apricots and mangoes. I taught the kids how to take the biscuit dough and roll it out into a good sized little circles. Then it was on to the frying.

This task ended up being pretty tedious, due to the kitchen air conditioner being on the blink. About half way through, the room felt like a sauna. But the children were happy, with or without airco.

The little fella I assigned to help me with the frying is Jamal. He and his brothers and sister are some that have loved Lipscomb from the very beginning pretty much. He has chestnut brown eyes, tanned skin, and his hair is in a single braid down his back. His little bright eyed smile gets me every time.

As we stood and watched as the southern delicacies turned to golden brown, we began to ask each other questions.

I found out he likes to cook at home with his mother. He learned that I sometimes miss being in a classroom cooking with students. He loves soccer. I love American football. We both have an older sister.

I asked him about making Johnny Cakes and fritters. He asked me how much sugar to add to the fried pie filling and where he could find the fruit in the market on the island. He asked why we used a fork to clasp the edges shut.

Then came the question that led to all sorts of stories...

"Mrs. Aletha, where did you learned to make these fried pies?"

Grandmother. I then told Jamal all about my grandmother. I told him how she had coached me for years on frying pies, canning pickles, planting flowers, making biscuits, and living life. I told him all about how she made me laugh and how when I was little I thought she could do no wrong. She has always been kind and has always loved me so well. I told my little friend about how age is now taking it's toll on my sweet grandmother.

Jamal told me he thought she sounded nice and he hoped she felt better soon.

Just as I finished telling him about Grandmother, another boy walked up and asked if he could join us and help fry. "Yes" immediately fell off my lips before I realized the two boys standing on opposite sides of me now had been at odds pretty much the entire day camp. I braced myself for the exchange that was for sure to take place.

Jamal gave Tobias some pointers and the frying commenced. They were friendly and even shared a few laughs. All I could think of was just maybe the stories of my grandmother had softened the attitude of these boys. The smell of the fried pies and the memories on my mind felt like an assurance that her spirit was very much a part of my island because she is a part of me.

Today ended with a traditional "devo in the gazebo". This is one of my favorite times on Saba. It's a period of praise and prayer. It just so happened that tonight we forgot to take our song books. So we broke out in all the children's VBS type songs we could think of. It also just so happened that it was Shady's first devo with us at the gazebo.

I couldn't help but realize how special this ended up being, all of us gathered there in the gazebo singing songs that our special little friend knew almost all by heart.  It was like the Lord catered the evening of "just so happeneds" into an evening of "this is how I meant for it to be".

What a day! My feet are tired tonight, my eyes are heavy, my heart is full, and my joy is great.

An Overdue Update from Saba

This was written last Tuesday. Internet has been a bit of a challenge for those of us staying at the community center. And I haven't wanted to be immersed in the social media world very much during lunches at Child Focus. So I am taking you back in time a bit. More will be posted this coming week I am sure. For now, happy Sunday...

I am about to close my eyes for the day. It is hot in this community center tonight. The wind is light and my skin is sticky. The Saban tree frogs are chirping, ready to sing me to sleep. The laughter and conversation of my fellow female teammates joins in with their lullaby as well.

Yesterday I lead 6 and 7 year olds in a cooking making session at camp. Today I helped lead a group of teens on a scavenger hunt and then on a hike that ended with making smoothies as a cool refreshment.  To say the least I have had the best of both worlds...the youngest and the oldest.

I love to see the little flour covered grins of the littles as they try to sneak a bite of the cookie dough. And I love the jovial conversation and ease of the bigs. The children of this island make me love the little things in life that the hustle and bustle of American life seems to loose in all the chaos.

Tonight we gathered in our normal family meeting just outside our community center doors. As that meeting went on, many of us began to realize that we were not alone. Up above us on the roof were a few little fellas, trying to squeeze in a few more moments with "De Lipscomb". As things began to end, a little voice bellowed down a question, letting his presence be for certain...

"Ms. Aletha?"

"Yes, Caleb?"

"Would it be okay if I prayed over you all tonight?"

My heart skipped just a beat before I quickly took him up on his offer. He prayed over our sleep and our safety. He thanked God for us. And he then asked that God bring us back to Saba next year. It was one of the sweetest, sincerest little prayers I have ever heard. A little boy talking his big Daddy about some people he has come to love on a playground and in a school and at a day camp.

After he finished, I couldn't help but to ask if I could return the favor. My words had a hard time finding their way out. I felt like I was fumbling trying to fight back the tears, knowing the Father had once again given me a glimpse of Him. This time through a little fella from a little island in the middle of the sea.

Sometimes as a team leader, I try to find the right things to say at just the right time. I search for the perfect passage for Michael and I to share as we say goodnight to our teams.  We spend hours organizing events, writing curriculum, assigning day camp responsibilities, and planning devotionals.

What I am guilty of loosing sight of is this...God orchestrates the most powerful messages at just the right moments to reveal Himself to us. He will use us or whoever He wishes, whether we have exhausted ourselves in preparation or if we have just spent the day playing with friends and going to a day camp.

So today I learned to be thankful for the people that make a difference in my day. The people that show the unexpected love and care at the unexpected moments. Tonight I am thankful for Caleb.

Summer on Saba is Here!

With this post, you are assured that the first of this year's Saba Summer Lipscomb and Friends Mission Team is safely on Saba. It was a long but happy day of travel yesterday that ended with pizza and salad, prayers of thanksgiving, and a make shift bedroom of air mattresses and army cots.

Today has been a day of worship and organization. We are about to meet with Stacey at Child Focus to make sure that day one of Day Camp is ready to roll. Then it will be off to Swingin Doors for steak night!

These were my thoughts as we traveled from Woodbury to Atlanta to St. Martin to Saba.  Check back this week for more updates and thoughts...


Today I am writing from 30,000 feet. It's the first of July and for us that means one thing...Saba.

My energy has seemed endless the past couple of days.  My dreams have been filled with little white cottages with red roofs atop. My suitcase is packed to the brim with tank tops, t-shirts, and Tevas.  My feet are anxiously awaiting the water. My ears can already hear the tree frogs and the sea breezes that whip through the trees in the park. My mouth can't wait for the first bite of a Johnny Cake and the taste of a cold Ting.

My physical body is about to catch up with my heart.

The three kids had no trouble waking at 2:15am this morning. Their excitement never ceases to make my lips curve into a smile. They packed their little bags and have been counting down the hours. At this moment they are eating goldfish, watching in flight movies, and taking in the passing clouds out the windows of the plane.

It's been 104 days since we last saw her, The Unspoiled Queen. For the next 16 days we will walk on her road, play in Her waters, and love on Her people.

Last Spring Break as the team organized for a canvas of the island, Michael and I gave instructions and split the team into groups. Before we split up, I shared a little story with the team. I love a good story.

When Sadie was a baby she despised her car seat.  Even the shortest of trips could be miserable. Until we found The Bee Movie. She loved it. We could pop in this movie to the DVD player, and faithfully the screams and tears turned to giggles and applause.

The plot of the movie...Barry the Bee, voiced by Jerry Seinfield, decides that bees are being used by humans for their honey and goes to court to sue humans, eventually winning. In the end he realizes bees need to produce honey to survive and humans and bees need each other. In true Hollywood animation style, lots of antics go on as Barry makes the journey to the courtroom and beyond.

Michael and I had this movie memorized word for word before we actually saw it. We drove many a mile with our baby girl watching intently with the car speakers turned wide open.

There was this one part that always got us...

Barry gets stuck on the windshield of a moving truck. He begins to panic but is consoled by a mosquito, voiced by Chris Rock. The two banter back and forth, and are having a good chat...until the driver of the truck decides he needs to clean the windshield with the wiper blades. Panic insues.

Chris Rock bellows...

"Watch out, triple blade, triple blade! Hold on for your life! These crazy humans always needing to see! Open your eyes, stick your head out the window!"

That last line was the purpose of the story that morning. It's my encouragement to every team member we travel to the island with through out the years. Slow down...take a moment...open your eyes...stick your head out the window.  Be present in the moments that God has granted you on this unique five square miles that very few get the chance to experience. What is He teaching you through the creation around you and the people you meet? How are you encountering Him as you walk along the road and pillow your head next to your fellow team members at night?  How is He using you? Better yet how is He using others that He has given you the chance to witness?

At the end of that day, a fellow team member, new to the work on Saba, ended our family meeting with his thoughts. His take away from the day...It's not about opening your actual eyes, it's about opening the eyes of your heart.

TRUTH!

So as we begin this two week adventure here, we plan on rolling the windows down...we'll stick our heads out the window...and we will ask that the Father opens the eyes of our hearts on a daily basis.

This just doesn't only apply to a little group of day camp volunteers on a remote Caribbean island. Join us. Whether you're on vacation, putting in a 40 hour work week, or enjoying the summer days at home with your kids...

God's story is being written through all of creation, through the lives we live, and through the relationships we are a part of, near and far. Things are not just by chance...coincidences, I think not.

Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window!

Happy Father's Day

As you know each Spring we head to Saba with a group of fun, service filled, intentional, relationship seeking folks. Saba is one of 22 locations Lipscomb descends upon every March. Many people make lots of things happen for these trips to be possible. My sweet friend Erin Gupton has overseen the compiling and publishing of a devotional guide for the past two years. It has been a beautiful addition to Lipscomb's Spring Break Missions. Knowing 22 teams are spread out all over the globe, but are focusing on the same thoughts daily is more than moving. Miles separate us, but we are one.

This past Spring she asked me to contribute to the devo guide. My topic was grace and forgiveness. As you may see on this blog, that topic is a big part of my heart. What I wrote about is very fitting to share today. 

Happiest of Father's Day to Edward Anderson...the truest of examples of my Good, Good Father.

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I can remember the first time I knew I had actually sinned. It was a lie. At seven years old and in second grade, the greatest fear I had was disappointing my parents. So when I messed up at school, my first inclination was to hide the fact that I had gotten in trouble.

It was easy to hide my mistakes that afternoon for a while. My mother questioned me a bit, and then we went about a normal afternoon at the Anderson house. But then my father came home.  My little mind had not a clue my mother was suspicious.  She asked me to describe the events of the day to my daddy and he listened carefully.,taking in my deceptive take on it. After I finished, he put me on his knee and asked with kindest voice, "Are you sure that is how it happened?"

I can remember the heaviness in my heart and how the lump in my throat got so big that I couldn't swallow. My earthly father made it so incredibly easy to shed tears and tell him exactly what had happened and that I had lied to cover up what I had done.

For a brief moment I can remember the sting of the fear of punishment.  I dreaded what was about to be dealt. But what was said was a bit different than my seven year old self expected.

My dad began to tell me that yes, I had messed up, made a mistake, but that did not make me a bad person. He knew me that I would never be perfect and he was good with that. He forgave me and was proud that I had told him the truth in the end. And I have always remembered the last thing he told me before I hopped off his knee..."I love you. Learn from this mistake."

My earthly father extended the most loving grace to me that afternoon, and many more times in my life since. He forgave without a heavy dose of disappointment and punishment, knowing that the regret that I carried was enough of a load. He taught me to forgive.

What is so amazing though is that this example is but just a glimpse of the grace and forgiveness extended from my Heavenly Father.  Once you know His grace, you have to work extremely hard to get loose from it's grip.  It forgives easily.  It guides lovingly.  It completely erases wrongs.

We will still feel the lump in our throat at times. The sting of fear will be present at times. But...

If you are open to His grace, if you strive to embrace and understand His forgiveness, if you accept it, the grace and forgiveness that you then will extend to others comes easily.  Realizing that the sins that plague you nailed Christ on the cross, that He felt every burden of our sins with every sting of the whip and pierce of the thorns, that He felt the shame and guilt even though He was completely blameless...and still the Father forgives you fully, completely, freely...that is more than freeing! It allows you to forgive like He has and does. It allows you to show the most amazing mercy.  It allows you to love relentlessly. His grace and forgiveness will allow you to forgive the little things and prepare you toll the road to forgiveness when someone you love deeply wrongs you terribly.

So during this time on your given mission, extend grace and forgiveness in the little ways. Practice it. When someone says something the wrong way or in the wrong tone, don't be so easily offended. When someone takes the last two strips of bacon at breakfast, be happy for them. When your teammate leaves a mess and you help clean it up, have a good attitude and a servant heart. If someone wrongs you, keep no record of it. Forgive. Show mercy. Extend grace. Be a glimpse of the forgiveness and grace extended to you every second, every minute, of every day.

By the way, I told my dad that I was telling you this story of my childhood mistake. He had no recollection of it.  Our Father's forgiveness...isn't it grand!?

Where Is The Grace?

I pulled up Facebook a few weeks back. Killing some time as I sat alone on a bench waiting for eleven other people to come out of a bathroom at Disney World. Do you know how many bathroom breaks a party of 12 has to take while vacationing at The Happiest Place on Earth?! Some people have the bladder of a flea...but I love them completely, tiny bladder and all. And I digress...

So there I was scrolling down the news feed, and a post caught my eye. A friend was irritated and put out.

We have all been there. Hungry. In a hurry. In need of fast food. And fast is the last thing the food is, not to mention it isn't even what was ordered. And then round two fails at order promptness and correctness.

You huff and puff a bit but you don't yell. You do not throw insults at the cashier. But what do you do when your feathers get ruffled...you take to Facebook and you rant.

Where is the grace?

A few years back when my 12 year old was ten years less, we were visiting friends in Mexico. Jackson was introduced to Jamaica, a kool aid type drink made from the Hibiscus flower. To say he loved it is an understatement.

As we sat with friends at one of our favorite local taco joints, Jackson sipped away on the deep dark red juice. And before we knew it, most of us were suddenly covered and stained from the toddlers drink of choice.

I jumped up, panicking, frustrated, embarrassed.

Where is the patience?

On Wednesday afternoons during the school year, I help out at an after school program with the church family of which I am a part. We snack, we play, we serve, and we learn. Anywhere between 50 to 75 kids are in attendance on a given day.

Most days are good, and the kids are happy.  But they are kids. They have arguments, they act out, and they throw slurs.

"That's stupid."

"I am not your friend anymore!"

"You are an idiot!"

Where did they learn this stuff from?

The access to information on this earth now is unprecedented. In order to know something we want to know all we have to do is Google it, get on Facebook, or check the latest tweet. The days of just watching the local news are a thing of the past.

You know what your neighbor is eating for dinner, not to mention the latest social news that everyone is talking about. In a year's span we talk about politics, issues concerning gender, mission work and religion, how others parent, and how we treat animals.

Alot of us become obsessed and lash out at all others that have differing opinions than we do.  We are quick to point out how others mess up and how they could do better.

Where is the humility?

You may be wondering where I am going with all this. My heart is heavy. I look at us and the world in which we live and can see that we are screwing a lot of things up. We have opportunities everyday to make the world better. We squander these moments due to short tempers, busy schedules, and the absence of grace.

Instead of seeing the good in people, we size them up and place judgement in their actions, words, and intentions.

We see the mom loose it in the grocery aisle and immediately think she is a horrible mother. The cashier messes up the amount of change he gives us back. We snap at him and are appalled he can't even do simple math.  Our kid's teacher forgets to send home the school newsletter. Oh my goodness, we aren't going to know what is for lunch or what is going on this week in class! Can't she get her act together?!  A child at church is out of control and has bad manners. This child gets on our nerves. The simple answer in our minds is a good spanking or scolding.

We don't always only have these attitudes toward strangers.  It seeps into our homes and our friendships and in the mirror.  Dads are hard on sons, wanting them to act like "men" well before the times are passed when they just need to be a little boys.  Us wives sit around in our circles and complain about our husbands shortcomings. We beat ourselves up when we forget something, double book our calendars, or can't be like the other lady down the street who "has it all together".

We live in a world filled with judgment, negativity, and assumptions. We are hard on each other. We are hard on ourselves. Harshness is dealt on a daily basis, in reality, for the simplest of mistakes.

I love to read the stories in the Bible and see all the things that our Jesus did. But we can learn a lot from what he didn't do.

In all four gospels, we read of Peter. He makes me smile a lot. He is full of less than holy humanity much of the time, but God turned his imperfections into the most beautiful story.

Probably the most noted story we read of Peter deals with him denying Christ. We have just read of his friendship and love declaration to Jesus at the Last Supper. And then we see him not once, not twice, but three times deny that he even knew his fearless leader and friend. He weeps and then he disappears from scripture for a bit.

In John 21, we see Peter and Jesus reunited. At first Peter can't even tell it's Christ on the shore, but when he does, his reaction is beautiful. Peter is too excited to row the boat to shore. He jumps out of his fishing boat and swims to where Jesus is. Can you imagine his joy? His best friend and Savior is alive! But I also bet he had a bit of fear.

"Is he going to still love me after I disowned him?"

In the true nature of himself, Jesus then serves his friends...he cooks dinner for them. They eat together. Then scripture lets us see a conversation between Jesus and Peter.

"Do you love me?"

Jesus asked Peter that question not once, not twice, but three times.

It is my belief that there are no such things as coincidences.

After Peter affirms his love and devotion to Christ, Jesus tells him to feed and care for His sheep. And he assures him that he will be guided and cared for as he guides and cares for God's people. Jesus let's Peter know he is loved as well, even after a pretty major mistake.

We don't see Jesus lash out and harshly condemn Peter. He isn't frustrated, offended, or filled with too hot of a temper. We do not see Christ filled with pride and disgust. He doesn't throw a slur or lash out with his opinion of Peter's behavior. He doesn't log onto the hottest of social media sites and rant about how stupid and wrong Peter was.

Jesus cooks him dinner and has a loving conversation, restoring the relationship without questioning motive, intent, or the reason for a mistake.

We need to realize others around us have bad days. People in our lives will mess up in small ways, and they will make the biggest of mistakes. Cashiers will give back incorrect change. Fast food orders will be wrong. Kids will spill drinks and act like kids. We will see people loose their cool and say the wrong things. People we love will cheat and lie. Folks we know will make mistakes. We will make mistakes.

Another's shortcomings do not give us permission to condemn them or excuse our own bad behavior.

So I am challenging myself and all of you. Let's speak only kind words when we run across the simple everyday mistakes. Post and tweet only the optimistic. Like the good statuses, pray for the not so good. Don't be so easily offended. Let's keep our opinions to ourselves if they can't be delivered with love. And be respectful of others' opinions. Be patient with the people who need it the most. Don't give up on the people you love when they mess up. Love on them a little harder. Find the good God intends us to find in the most difficult of situations.

We are all human and we are in need of grace. The kind of grace Jesus showed Peter. The kind of grace Jesus extends to each of us, day in and day out. And humanity is the only chance we have at seeing that grace in action each and every day.                                                                                  

In Less Than Four Years

What a busy but blessed season this is! It seems as though our feet are hitting the ground just as fast as our heads are hitting the pillow each night. The door to the house has become a revolving one.  It brings in old and new friends and sweet family members on an hourly basis it seems. It warms my heart and fills our home with love.

We have survived TCAP week, seen the end of another school year, and enjoyed a trip to Disney World. Jackson and Nancy Caroline have played a lot of baseball and softball, while Sadie continues to work hard at gymnastics. They have a slew of summer camps between the three of them. Michael and I have helped with the planning of WeCareCannon, started the ball rolling for Saba Summer Missions, and most importantly are working happily at being mom and dad.

Our family also saw Michel and Myron finish a school year at Lipscomb and head home for the summer. Wait...some of you still ask the question as to who these two fellas are. So, in a nut shell, they are our honorary "sons" from Saba.

Michel, the younger of the two, successfully finished his freshman year. He seems to have settled in well and even joined us on a mission trip back to his home island in March. I am very proud of him.

Myron graduated from Lipscomb with a degree in Enterprenership. He has worked so very hard and before he headed home to Saba for the summer he turned 21 and took the GMAT. We anxiously await the results and pray fervently for his success.

Those two words...Myron graduated...

In less than four years, one can get a degree from a very reputable Southern Christian university. In less than four years, a very young high school student can become a more than confident college graduate. In that short amount of time a young man can be on the brink of the business world.

In less than four years, an international student can make his way to a big U.S. City and lean upon the help of some senior college students to help him figure things out and begin to find his way. He can become roommates with a couple of "small town country boys". In the midst of dorm life with them he can find that small towns aren't that different from small islands.  These roommates can also become the best of friends.

In less than four years, a young man can learn a new culture. He opens his mind and can see good things. But he can also identify the bad, and he can learn from both. The young man can learn the lingo of the people he has been emerged into. He can adapt to the differences, but he can stay very true to his roots and where he comes from. He can respectfully love both "homes" and realizes that the knowledge and love of both are a true gift from God.

In less than four years, a thirty something mother of three can learn how to grocery shop for a host of the males species. She can take ground beef and learn every recipe under the sun to make it as diverse as possible. She can learn to change bed sheets in the blink of an eye. That mom can learn to hold her breath a total of 36 seconds. That's how long it takes her to empty the clothes basket of 3 boys sweaty ball clothes into the washing machine.

That same mom can learn to appreciate the game of basketball in less than four years. She can learn the names of Los Angeles Laker players. She can get use to having a Florida Gator football fan in her house. In less than four years, the ESPN sports center chime can become one of her favorite sounds.

But more importantly, in less than four years a mom can learn her arms can hold the tiniest of babies, but they feel just as nice wrapped around her 20 year old "son" in a hug of encouragement.

In less than four years, a man can be faced with a bit of a dilemma. "Am I a dad? Am I a brother? Am I a mentor?"  Finally that man can figure out that he is a bit of all three, and he can be very content with that realization. He can go on adventures, give advice, be a friend, and gently guide.

In less than four years, a big brother can become a little brother.  Two little sisters can find themselves not in the majority any longer. Children are resilient and have the innocently big hearts that so many of us need to revert back to. So these siblings very easily open their exclusive club for another, and then another. In less than four years, they can gain two big brothers.

In less than four years, a family of five can very quickly become a family of six and then seven.  That family can see the best out of each other, but can love each other through the worst. They can have expectations, but they learn to not make demands. They cheer each other on, they celebrate birthdays, and give each other encouragement. They laugh on road trips, play games around the kitchen table, and enjoy frequent trips to the Chinese buffet. The family worships together, invites the neighbors to play Sunday afternoon kickball, and learns the quickest route between Woodbury and Lipscomb.

In less than four years, one's heart can become happier...fuller...bigger.

In less than four years, I have learned so much from watching a 17 year old, 6'4", basketball loving, Caribbean boy become a 21 year old, broad shouldered, highly educated,  professional young man.  I have watched him love God, love on others, and love on us.

When Myron came I had no idea what we were saying "yes" to as he came to house on weekends.  What I have learned the most during these four years is this...

If you live your life open to God's story continuing to be written in you, you most certainly will impact others, you will change people, you will disciple. You also will step outside your comfort zone, you will be confused at times, and you will be pushed to some limits.

But what you do not realize is that the greatest change you see will be how God changes you.  He will open your mind.  He will cause you to see that things are not about comfort and staying in the "bubble" of the small town American lifestyle. God will cause you to see that everything He has given you...your house, your car, your family, your talents...are not to be hoarded up for yourself and your inner circle. They are the tools He will use to grow the Kingdom through your walk with Him.

Open the doors of you home. Don't be afraid of your dirty laundry being aired out. Welcome in folks. Feed them. Set at the table with them. Talk with them. Let them see the life you live. Watch how they live. Learn from them and let them learn from you.

"Always be eager to practice hospitality..." Romans 12:13

I can still remember the first weekend Myron came "home" from Lipscomb. I worked so hard with my Martha mentality to ready the house. Our friend Shelton dropped him off. I remember the anxiety I felt wondering if he'd like our home life and what he expected out of this crazy Tennessee family of five.  Could he take all the chaos and the noise? Would he be happy with what I cooked? He was about to see the "real" us, not the "10 day to two week mission trip us". Would he be disappointed?

Now I find myself holding all the answers to those questions. He loves us and our home...the good, the bad, and the ugly. He became one of us and we became one of him. The joy this brings me is unmatched.

So I sit now and miss his presence. Summer months are a bit too long. I already long to hear Myron and Michel banter back and forth as brothers do. I miss seeing him sit at his"office". I miss the sound of socca music bellowing from upstairs. I miss the sound of his chuckles from a random commercial or you tube video.  Normal Thomas family life includes Myron and Michel's presence...the anxiety now is in the waiting of their return.

God is good...all we have to do is open our doors...and our hearts.  You never can imagine what He will do. I mean, just look at what He did in less than four years.

A Shout Out to Teachers

This week has been a bit focused on the teaching profession. Someone along the way decided that we need a week devoted to "Teacher Appreciation". So each May since my oldest started school, I try to make sure I "appreciate" the ladies and gentlemen that I entrust to educate and academically guide my three kiddos.

Back in my elementary school years, there wasn't a week dedicated to this outward showing of appreciation. But nevertheless my mom had her gestures of thanks to my teachers. The most visual of these gestures was the Christmas red velvet cake.  For the teachers that were lucky enough...smile...to have both me and my sister, their holidays were filled with anticipation as the last day before winter break approached.  My mom's red velvet cakes were and still are pretty famous in Carthage.

I know my parents went above and beyond to make sure our teachers knew they were appreciated and valued.  But I think it took me becoming a teacher myself, and even more so a parent of a student, to realize how special educators are.

See if I am honest, I can tell you that there are still many things that arise during any given week that bring to mind many specific things I heard my former teachers say, do, and teach.

Just a few weeks back I accompanied Sadie's first grade class to a natural history museum. Investigating the T-Rex skeleton with my first grader, took me back to the melody that filled Mrs. Carver's classroom.

"Tyrannosaurus Rex was a very mean king, and if it wasn't for him we'd have a happy ending."

When I eat a fried cherry pie I remember the fun and laughter had in Mrs. Hutchins second grade class. She made learning fun and made this kindergarten and first grade cry baby fall in love with school.

The acronym V.I.P. always brings to mind Mrs. Owens. She had a way of making each one of us feel loved. And it didn't hurt that we played kick ball a lot!

If we give a birthday or Christmas gift to a fourth grader, it's always one of two books...Anne of Green Gables or Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing.  My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Harper, read to us each day after lunch. These were my favorite two books. Her after lunch reading time was my favorite part of the day.

When my two oldest come home with new knowledge of American history, I can still hear Mrs. Davis talk about the Civil War. And when they have a writing assignment, I feel prepared to help them due to the teaching of ladies like Mrs. Rich.

I am thankful that each time I read from the book of Proverbs, I can still hear the sweet voice of Mrs. Kathy Kemp and see her standing at her podium in Junior English class. And I am thankful that when I find myself in step to the background music of life, I have fond memories of Mr. Dowell. When I prepare a meal and take care of my home, I still relate back to the good teaching of Mrs. Lee.

As I have studied my profession throughout the years, I have found myself smiling with the realization, that yes, science does have something to do with my career and life.  Ms. Honey was right all along.

And then there are those teachers that I have carried with me almost daily during certain seasons in life.  You know the ones you want to make proud and pattern your life after. When I was in a classroom teaching I found myself teaching like Mrs. Connie Massey and immitating my ways after hers.  When I explained things to my students, and continue to explain things to my kids at home, I go back to her advice and expertise.

And when I think about how I wanted my classroom to feel, how I wanted to be the teacher but also the friend, how I have wanted to carry myself in and out of the classroom, I had and have the memories of Mrs. Fulton and the comfort of her classroom. I think of how the words of encouragement, and even at times frankness, fell from her mouth with grace and love.

These teachers, and the many more that I haven't mentioned but also learned so very much from, made me who I am.  They changed my life.  They have helped me be a good student, a prepared college graduate, a fellow teacher, a wife and mother, and a better person from their instruction, example, and leadership.

Today I smile with that realization, and I am blessed to be able to identify that now in order to witness the miraculous work that is going on in my own school age children.

It amazes me to see how Mrs. Holly and Ms. Taylor have helped Sadie become a fluent reader.  They enjoy and love her personality almost as much as I do and that means more than anything to this mom!

The encouragement and confidence Nancy Caroline has gained from women like Ms. Alysia, Ms. Loftis, and Ms. Mathis can not be matched. She will be a strong leader and secure in her decisions thanks to their guidance.

Jackson has been loved so well by ladies like Mrs. Jessica, Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Gannon. The patience they have shown with his speech beautifully assisted his therapists with his development and growth.

He will always know learning is important and fun thanks to teachers like Dr. Odom and Mr. Parker. And I am thankful he has men like Mr. Smith to look up to and model his life after.

Principals and educators like Mrs. Bonnie Patterson and Ms. Sebrena Wade will forever be friends and champions of my children. Relational living is a huge part of teaching!

Our three have learned so much from ALL of their teachers, therapists, and tutors, even though I do not call them all by name here.  Our community of educators in our family's life is counted a huge blessing!

The role that teachers play in our lives is taken for granted in many cases. The good teachers, the great ones are under appreciated, under valued, and under paid.  I know first hand how much imagination, creativity, patience, and time most teachers give.  They devote their lives to finding wonderful ways to fill children with the knowledge and abilities to make the world a better place filled with better people.

This devotion doesn't only happen from 7am to 3pm, Monday through Friday, during the months of August through May.  It takes place in Summer workshops and furthering education seminars.  It happens at after school staff meetings and collaboration sessions with fellow teachers. The commitment is spent playing with kids at recess and giving tutoring sessions. The devotion can be seen at their kitchen tables and in their living room floors during the wee hours of the morning as they write lesson plans and grade papers.  It occurs when they take on the added responsibility of coaching a team, leading a cheer squad, sponsoring a club, or overseeing an after school activity, even on the weekends.

When you are a teacher, you never leave your "job".  A teacher takes home the burdens of the child that is malnourished or mistreated. She will wake up at night wondering if some of her students are happy and safe.  He will find ways to make sure his students feel loved outside of the school walls.  Teachers will attend recitals, ballgames, and eventually graduations. Good teachers go to bat for their students when they are being dealt something that is unfair. She ends up being the supervising teacher of the student teacher that formerly could be found on her class roll. Some become wedding guests and friends on Facebook. Former teachers celebrate babies being born and console when life is a bit tough.

Teachers, these things, all these things, this outstanding, hard, and tedious job you do with such love and enthusiasm...it is appreciated and respected and admired.

Thank you to the teachers who have, have had, and continue to care for, educate, and guide my children. You have answered a calling that is esteemed and appreciated by so many, including this mother of three. I entrust you with my greatest blessings, and on occasion if I get a bit bent out of shape or overbearing, I apologize. I pray for you and the school in which you work every morning and every night. I ask that you pray for me as I mother.  And I promise to make sure that the Thomas kids realize and acknowledge what you have done, are doing, and will continue to do for them. In our words..."You rock!"

All the red velvet cake in the world couldn't be enough to show all of my former school teachers how much I continue to appreciate them today. Thank you for the education and guidance you provided.  Not only about math, science, language arts, and everything in between found in the text books...but about living life and succeeding. Thank you for not being perfect teachers, but teachers that taught even imperfection can bring about greatness.

A Letter to Jackson

So as most of you know, this blog is made up of my ramblings as an island-loving, mother of three beautiful and amazing kiddos. Lately, watching the three kids grow and experience some tough life lessons, has been not so easy. This is especially the case at the ages of Jackson and NC at the moment. So I took to writing them letters...letters that I am actually sharing with them, and they have agreed for me to share on this blog.

I know some of you moms are experiencing the same issues and feelings, so I thought it might help to hear another mom's take on how she is encouraging and equipping her children. By no means do I have it all figured out. But it takes a village, and I love hearing from others on how they parent, love, and lead.  Here is some advice I have for my son. And of course in the days to come, two more letters, addressed to my girls, are sure to follow.

I would love to hear the advice and words you share with your children.

************

Dear Jackson,

I absolutely adore watching you grow. With every inch you grow taller, the more handsome I think you are.  When you spout out new knowledge your mind has taken in, I realize how intelligent you are becoming.

You had your back to me, walking down the hall at school the other day. You had been chosen to complete an important task for some of the teachers. At first I didn't realize it was you. I caught myself wondering, "Who is that tall, strong, good looking young man? These teachers must think he is pretty responsible."

Then I realized it was you...my little boy who isn't that little anymore.

When I held you almost twelve years ago for the first time, I was so overjoyed. For nine months, I didn't know if you were a boy or a girl. I spent almost every day driving back and forth to work; an hour both ways. One hundred twenty minutes talking to you, singing to you, and taking in every kick, hiccup, and wiggle.

I dreamed of the person you would become and what we would do together.  I had hopes of ice cream dates, laying on our backs in the back yard, and riding bikes. I prayed you would come to love and know God.

May 31, 2004. It was time to meet you. A very loud and boisterous nurse bellowed through the operating room...

"It's a boy, I see his parts!"

And before I knew it, the nurse had your little nose almost touching mine. You were screaming with life and that red hair looked like a flame on top of your little head.  I had finally met the one with who I had talked with and sang to for months.  The hiccups, wiggles, and kicks, they had a face now.  And I was in love, deeply, like nothing I had ever known.

That love continues to grow stronger and deeper. It amazes me. How can a love like this exist?! It's hard to believe, even though I am experiencing it.

When I hear you tell a joke, I think it's the funniest joke I have ever heard.  When I see you make a tackle on the football field, I just know you are the best player to ever put on a uniform. When you throw a pitch and I hear the ump yell "Strike!", I am certain you will make the big leagues.  When you bring home straight As on a report card, I know you are genius.

But I want you to know something...

You are more than a comedian. You are more than a football player. You are more than a baseball pitcher.  You are more than a good student.  You are more.

Jackson, I never could have imagined all the qualities God was going to place so perfectly in your personality.  The things that make you, you...those things can't be taught to someone. The way you care for others, it comes natural to you. The words of encouragement to fellow team mates, those are effortless for you, they just fall off your tongue without hesitation. You love people so well.  It makes it impossible for others not to love you. Your courage to stand up for what is right, no matter what, is a task that you make look easy, and so many of us admire that.

Your determination is inspiring.  Your little voice has struggled with the "hiccup" of being disfluent since you were three years old.  There have been the brief moments that you have expressed your frustration to me about  it, but it's been rare.  You never shy away from speaking to larger crowds, praying in public, taking the lead in class discussions, reading scripture in worship settings, or telling a funny story to a group of adults. You don't only not shy away from it, you enthusiastically volunteer for it. There have been a few times that I have witnessed you struggle to get your words out and your point across. But you never, ever quit or give up. I admire this about you so much, and as your mother, I am thankful for your attitude when you meet adversity.

You are growing up in a society that has the definition of a "real man" all screwed up. Jackson, there are things that you will see that don't need to be seen. There will be things your friends will say and you will hear that do not need to be said or heard. Jokes will be told that shouldn't be, and then laughter will be had that doesn't glorify God and may be at the sake of someone else's happiness.

You will be tempted. You will be tested. You will struggle.

I pray for your eyes. And I pray for the images that may be left in your mind. I pray for your ears, and the echoes that may ring in your ears for years to come. I pray that you will have a strong will not to laugh when everyone else does. I pray for the temptations that will find their way to you. I pray for the trials and tests you will endure. I pray for your struggles.

A "real man" isn't found in looking at inappropriate things and crossing lines. A "real man" isn't found in unattractive "grown up" words and dirty jokes and slandering of others.

First and foremost, a real man loves God. It is more courageous to love someone you can not see or touch, to have a Faith that isn't built on sight but on a knowledge and a greater Hope than of things on this earth.  As Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes , everything here on earth is meaningless, every bit of it. At the end of this book, he writes this...

"That's the whole story. Here now is my final conclusion: Fear God and obey His commands, for this is the sole responsibility of every man."

This came from the wisest, richest man of His time. And even though God granted his request of discernment and made him great, his wisdom and knowledge could never be complete. Solomon never knew Christ. Jesus brings complete wisdom and knowledge...go read Colossians 2:2-3.

A real man knows Jesus Christ, who provides perfect wisdom and knowledge. I am thankful you know Christ and that He is your Savior.

A real man, a gentleman, is respectful. He is respectful to others...his parents, his siblings, his elders, his friends, and even to strangers, and even still to his enemies. A real man loves others and puts them above himself. He loves them with his words, his actions, and his intentions. He loves them to their faces, and he loves them behind their backs.

He respects and loves the people he knows now and the people he will know in the future. Jackson, I am talking about...be still my heart...your future wife and your future children. That's a long way off, a LONG way off, but I promise the things you do now, and in the years through high school and college, will affect your relationship with them. Don't just think about the present, the current moment, but think and pray on your future. I already pray about this and will continue to do so.

Respect and love yourself. This is a huge quality for a gentleman. Never allow anyone to treat you badly or belittle you. You are amazing!  In the first chapter of James, we are told that out of all creation, we are God's prized possession.  Take care of yourself. Don't ever think some man made drug or chemical can make you feel better. Don't clutter your brain with useless, harmful things. Love yourself enough to fill your body with things that are good and pure, mentally and physically.

A real man is determined, hard working, and encouraging.  He sets goals and works hard to achieve them.  I don't care if you decide to be a doctor like your dad, a teacher like me, a big time lawyer or engineer, a cook or a chef, a policeman, or anything in between or beyond. I will love you and love what you do no matter what.  All I ask is this...Once you decide, go at it with all you have and never stop learning how to make yourself better at your job and at life.

So simply put...

Love God.
Love Others.
Love Yourself.

And know this...you will mess up. And that is ok. You are not perfect. You are not suppose to be. And just so you know, I am not perfect either. When you mess up, it's going to hurt. It will hurt you, and in most cases, it's going to hurt others that you love very much. But there are two things you are assured of during these "mess ups"...

1. God loves you and nothing can change that love He has for you. He extends forgiveness. It's your job to accept it. He keeps no record of wrong.

2. I am not going any where. I love you no matter what, but will speak truth to you and hold you accountable to the things that you know are true and good. My love for you is unconditional.

I love to read the story of Jesus and these days my mind focuses a lot on Mary, his mother. Two different times, we are given a beautiful glimpse of her inner being as a mother. Very simply put, scripture tells us..."And Mary stored up and pondered these things in her heart."

Jackson, I can relate to this. Since that day that our noses touched for the very first time, I have stored things up in my heart and my mind replays them over and over.

Your first steps. Your first words. Playing at the park with you. Riding in the back of your little green gator around the back yard. Your first home run. The first time you brought me flowers. The way you would say, "I loves you too, Momma." Your first day of school. Laughing with you on the beach on Dauphin Island. Hiking Mt. Scenery on Saba with you. Your baptism.

Each moment is stored up. I think on them and they bring me more joy than you will ever know. I will continue to store things up and I love watching you grow, change, and live life. Not only because you are mine, but because you live life beautifully. I am more than blessed to know you and that God allows you to call me "Mom".

I love you,
Mom