Hindsight is 2020

They say silence is golden.

If that’s the case, 2020 has been filled with lots of gold. At least from this blog.

It’s a couple of hours till midnight. Back in March if you had asked me if I had wanted the end of 2020 to come fast I would’ve said absolutely not. I don’t ever want to wish time away. 

But here we are 120 minutes before 2021, and I’m trying to find the words to describe what the last year has held. Eager to see its demise. 

With negativity all around, it’s easy to be negative. Its 2020...it’s been so easy to point out all the bad stuff about this year. But a little voice inside me is saying, "Hey, don’t do that anymore." The voice points me in a different direction, completely opposite pretty much of every other voice I’ve heard in the last 365 days.

So I start to ponder.

I got a new dishwasher.

That is the one and only thing I can come up with.

As those that love me the most know, I’m going to use one of my signature phrases.

That’s pitiful. 

A dish washer. That’s the best I can come up with???

Pitiful.

I mean seriously...a year of a virus...a complete shut down...a year of injustice...a year of nasty American politics...a year where so much has been taken away. Too much to even name. 

Of course, on spot a dishwasher is the best I got. 

As we end this year I am sitting watching a new series with two of the three kids. The Chosen. A series about Jesus. 

He laughs and makes jokes. My heart smiles big as I hear the kids chuckle. 

He has a soft spot for his mother. He makes fish appear for his friends and turns water into wine and then dances at a wedding. 

He calls a woman by her name and casts out all her demons. He tells a lame man to walk and rids shame from a provocative woman. 

And he takes time to talk with the little people. The ones everyone else ignores.

Where has he been in my 2020? 

He has been in the delight of my daughter’s eyes as the clock struck midnight 365 days ago a block away from Times Square. 

He was in the hearts of a group of college students as they prepared to love on Caribbean children on a five square mile island, not knowing what was waiting a few weeks away.

He was in the heart of my dear friend as she said goodbye to her mother. 

He was in the solitude of a quiet Caribbean beach. 

He was at a bus stop in Hell’s Gate.

He was in a ripe strawberry patch with my sister and my girls.

I saw Him in the wisdom of a friend as we walked our neighborhood and talked about life. 

He was in the excitement of an anxious bride as she prepared to become a wife. 

He was present at summer family dinners with two special friends. 

He was heard in the laughter that echoed through our home as we played games and found joy in our family of five. 

He was in the sunset as my I watched my parents walk side by side, knowing that is their favorite place to be.

He was in the excitement of the news of a baby to be welcomed. An honorary grandchild! 

He was in the eagerness of my freshman and the courage of my middle schooler. 

He ran alongside a cross country program as they completed an unexpected full season. Region champs and eighth in the state... icing on the cake. 

He was on the sidelines every Friday night with a Purple Tiger who wore number 53, never missing a game. 

He was in the half empty halls of high school and the chaos of an elementary school. 

He walked alongside a family as they began to question and wander exactly what He was calling them to do and where to go. He held their hands as they got comfortable with a new normal, in a newer circle. 

When you take away the busy...the completely full calendar...the detailed plans...He is there. Beautifully and wonderfully there in the simplicity of an unexpected but yet complicated year. He is there. 

I am thankful. 

Looking back on 2020...all we have really done is argued. 

The virus...real or not real. Masks...to wear or not to wear. Blue lives...black lives...all lives. Biden...Trump...or who. To vaccinate...or to not vaccinate. Traditional school...virtual school. 

And we all scream. Let’s all make sure our opinion is heard...our side is louder than the other. Let’s set the others straight. We are in the right...right?

Are you tired? 

I know I am. 

Let’s throw up the flag of surrender and admit none of us have it all figured out. 

The kids start a new episode. Jesus. He is full of grace and patience...we all should take pause and notice. He swam against the current. He found the silver lining even when there were storms. To every question and problem, He not only had an answer...He was the answer...He still remains the only answer. 

He didn’t scream. He didn’t argue. He didn’t write a post to prove a point. Conservative. Liberal. Moderate. I don’t think he used those terms. 

He just was and he just did. 

He was just love. 

In the next 365 days a lot will happen...some bad and some good. It may be better than 2020...but then again, it may not be. In all of it I just pray I i can see Him clearer and be more like Him than I did and was in the last 365 days. 

Goodbye 2020...hello 2021. 

Thank you, Jesus, for it all. Let us be more like you. Let us be love. 

Joy in Silence

I didn’t like myself yesterday. 

I complained. I was impatient with people I dearly love. Pessimism. Negativity. Self righteousness. Pride. They were my friends. 

And this morning in the hangover of a bad attitude, insecurities and self doubt are nagging at my joy. 

Finding joy is becoming a complicated process these days. Escaping the overly shared opinions, controversy, and the constant finger pointing and fighting is impossible.  Everyone gets offended by everything. Around every corner you find an expert. Yesterday around a corner or two you would have found me, the expert, and I am real sad about that. I miss the days where around most corners we just found friends. 

Is anyone else exhausted? Is anyone else having trouble with it all? Anyone else having trouble finding joy? 

So this morning, in the still before the three kids invade the silence and the smell of morning coffee, I am searching for joy. Simple, quiet, unnoticed joy. Something I can hold onto the rest of the day. 

It does not take long to realize I am probably not going to find it by the click of the remote or the touch of a phone screen. The refrigerator and pantry may have a few things that mask themselves as joy, but nothing that will last. The candle on the coffee table creates peace for a short while. But joy, where is it?

The airco cuts off just as the refrigerator stops running. Silence. Completely. 

The cicadas sing their song. Two birds conversate back and forth in the back yard. The sun hits the brick floor through the window blinds. 

Joy. Sent from the Creator. 

My voice breaks the silence and I begin to talk out loud to my Father. I lay my mess ups and insecurities from yesterday at His feet. I give thanksgiving for His truth...the ONLY absolute truth. Boy do I need the encouragement to only look to Him as the expert! I ask Him to help me with this. And I know He is listening and understands because He walked and lived in the mess, too. 

Open my eyes to only see You in the midst of the mess. The joy You bring is always there. It is I who decided to lose the focus. Silence the sting of stress and negativity that the enemy brings. Create and renew in me a joyful heart and spirit. 

Heal this world. Settle our hearts on You. Humble us. 

Thank you for being the Joy Giver. 

May we honor You as that, along with so much more. 

19

18. It speaks freedom and adulthood. It’s an even number, nice and neat. We celebrate it and look forward to it.

20.  A milestone. Two decades. It brings about a feeling of accomplishment and safety.

In between is an oddity. 19. It gets lost in the mix. It’s uncomfortable in the aftermath of the celebrated and forgotten in the shadow of the anticipated.

However, here we are. 19.

Nineteen years ago I naively expected the nineteen years ahead of us to be filled with nothing but joyous adventure and love. We have had joy and adventure and love. But the unexpected has become the foundation of a marriage that continues to evolve and change into something that goes beyond the juvenile definition of love.

Some have these mountain top moments of epiphany. They come to know the Father through intimate interactions; sudden and short moments that change them forever.

As I have found myself in long journeys in the valleys, I have longed for only the mountain tops.

That hasn’t been my story. It hasn’t been our story. Our relationship to each other, and so in my relationship with Him...yeah, we are in the midst of a novel, far from a short story.

Why has our 19 year marriage been so much different than I expected? Why have we had rough edges? Why have we had to learn to like each other even though we have had great love for each other? Why hasn’t it been as easy as I expected?

19. If it had been the expected, Jesus would have been just the character in the Bible story. I would never have seen Him as my human Messiah. If it had been what I thought it would be, grace would have been a thing I misunderstood instead of something I lived and freely accepted. If it had been everything I dreamed of, my husband would have been the lord of my life...instead I acknowledge God as both my Savior and my Lord. Because of the unexpected, I now understand that love is beautifully hard and ugly at times and is used to refine us into coming closer to another human so we can see and feel the relationship the Father intends for us to have with Him.

19. It hasn’t been about us. It’s been about Him. It has been beautiful and flawed and full of mercy and grace. For that reason I celebrate 19. I confidently say I am happy to celebrate it by your side.

Thank you, Michael for being my valleys, my mountain tops, and everything in between along my journey to know our Father more intimately. I hope I can be a reflection of His love for you as you have been for me for 19 more years to come...and then some.

A Rainy, Quarantined, and Imperfect Easter

The rain sprinkles my bedroom window and seems to be in harmony with the chimes that are singing in the breeze on the back porch.

That is a beautiful positive.

This has been the normal routine lately. Finding what I call a beautiful positive and focusing on that in the midst of all of this.

I don't have to go into great detail as to what "all of this" is. We all have experienced it to some degree in some way and some how. At the least we have been uncomfortable. At the worst we have been depressed. And between the two are a wide array of feelings and emotions and whatever else one wants to call the nasty.

I think it can all be summed up in one word though. 

Loss. 

For all of us it's the loss of normalcy, which in word can be cheapened, but it is loss all the same. And y'all...it's hard. For us adults it's not only hard but it's hard to explain to the ones we are raising and mentoring. It's hard to explain because of another loss...the loss of answers. We don't know the other end of the "what ifs...", but then again have we ever known and just now in this time it's becoming all too clear. 

Seniors have lost their final high school memories. Coaches and players have lost seasons. Some students have lost perhaps the only peace they know in the comfort of a teacher's care and a school's providence. 

Engaged couples have lost the excitement of celebrations and had to move their wedding dates. Families have lost travel plans and vacations for which they spent months planning and saving. Celebrations of life are now limited to gravesides for fifteen minutes, causing some to lose the chance to say goodbye.

Some have lost jobs. Some have lost financial security. Many have lost trust and confidence and doubt is creeping in. There are even some more than likely on the brink of losing sanity. 

And then of course many have lost their health and safety, and most tragically some have even lost life. There are no words. 

All of us have experienced loss in some way to some degree. There should be no comparison. Let's stop with the judgement. We all need to allow space for the loss of whatever it is to be grieved and the feelings that are there to be felt. Just like almost all things in life, everything concerning this time in our lives and history isn't black and white...there is so much grey.  

During my quiet and meditation time this weekend He keeps placing one thing repeatedly on my heart...

"Whatever you know to be true..."

Jesus. 

That is what is true. Really the only thing that is true.

I have been asking myself from the beginning of all this, what would He do? 

The other night I was social distance visiting outside with a couple of friends. Another friend joined us briefly and he mentioned I looked a bit tired and stressed. He took me by surprise when he reached out and hugged me. That is exactly what this extrovert who speaks love with physical touch needed. 

And I immediately thought, that is exactly what Jesus would do. 

Jesus would hug those that needed hugging without reservation. He was known for touching lepers and people who had some pretty nasty germs back in the day, you know. By the way, it wasn't socially acceptable either. I don't think He would be any different today.

But you know what else. Jesus would wear a mask, too. If that made someone feel loved and cared for, He'd wear a mask. He brought people down from trees and went to their houses so they would be comfortable. He met with people in the dead of night so they would feel safe. He went to bedsides and graves to heal and to raise. He even gave the promise of heaven to a trouble maker while they were dying on crosses. 

So what would He do? He would do what ever is needed to be done for those that He loves. He would give a hug or make a visit. He would wear a mask and practice social distancing. And He would do all the other things that fall somewhere between.

The rain continues to be a beautiful positive as it's now joined with the loud crashes of thunder and the flashes of lightning. We view today's weather in human eyes and think of this being such a sad and imperfect day to celebrate Easter. If the quarantines and isolation weren't enough, throw in the nasty weather and it's about as imperfect as you can get. 

But what if that Sunday morning so many many years ago was rainy and nasty, much like today. Would that have changed anything? No not at all. 

A beautiful sky, green grass, eggs and a bunny, and the fancy clothes...those things don't make for a perfect Easter. 

The only perfection ever needed is alive and well and continues to be the answer to all the unanswered questions, the hope for every doubt, and the love for everyone who has loss. 

Jesus. 

A Post by One of the Three Kids

Nancy Caroline’s Saba 2020 Blog Post...

On January 17 & 18 our Saba Spring Break 2020 group of 24 members met in Woodbury at the Cannon Inn to start our planning. That weekend we spent time planning events, elementary classes, high school classes, getting to know our fellow teammates through spiritual formation, and learning a little more about the island we planned to land on almost eight weeks later.

We continued this preparation every sunday night from then until some not so good news came on March 3rd.

On this day our team was informed that no students would be allowed to go on a spring break mission trip due to the out break of COVID-19. The 13 students that had planned, fundraised, and prayed for this trip would not longer get to step foot on this island when planned. But as a group and with Sabans we decided better few than none. So 9 of 24 team members continued to prepare to go to this beautiful island.

This planning was hard knowing we would have so many children sad that their “favorite lipscomb,” could not come. But we pushed through reworking events, classes, and meals.

Once all of this was figured out the now team of nine loaded up, on March 13th, with all the supplies and food needed for the next ten days on “The Unspoiled Queen.”

Arriving on the last flight to Saba that night the team was now ready to see God’s purpose for all the changes and craziness. That night we ate our annual first night meal at swinging doors with a few Sabans joining us. That meal brought both joy and laughter, getting to catch up with the people we have missed while away.

We went through out our saturday with so much happiness and joy to wake up and walk around in paradise. Getting to escape the craziness and madness we didn’t know the extent of back home.

That day some of us got up and went to serve the people of saba by building a bus stop. While the rest of us got a few extra hours of sleep. Lunch was a traditional saban meal of johnny cakes as a reward of hard work. That afternoon some of us took strolls through the bottom to deliver things to locals, look at God’s beautiful creation, and find as many kids as possible to talk to. Coming all back together as a team to get ready to go eat our dinner with an oh so welcoming Indian family on the island. Followed by our kick off event of ice cream at the gazebo. This day was filled with service, relationships, and love. But little did we know this would be some of our last days on Saba.

During our event we got word that St. Maarten, the only airport that flies in to Saba, is closing its air space to prevent any further development of coronavirus on their island. At family meeting that night the entire team learned the news and there came the tears, anger, and emptiness. Our arrangements home now had been moved a week before any of us had planned.

Five members left on the first flight out that Sunday morning, with the other four leaving Monday.

Going home is always the hardest part, but it was extra hard this time. Knowing that we had told the kids the night before we would see them Monday to play, talk, teach. We had said all of our hellos not knowing they were actually our goodbyes.

Entering back into the United States was nothing like us or any of our family members imagined. There was no integration, no medical screenings, but there also was no toilet paper. Our hearts were hurting the whole way home knowing we may have let a little kid down.

For me I was hurting because I really needed Saba, and although I got her for 67 hours. I still longed for her scenery and her people. I knew it was safer to be home than in a foreign country, but I didn’t know why God had sent us to just come home so early.


We have now all been home for three weeks, and for me at least, not much has gotten easier. The sadness is definitely easier to hide but still there. The regret for not talking to more people than I did, still nas at my stomach. But I do know God sent us for a reason. Maybe it was just to be able to let Sabans know that trough this pandemic, we wish we could be with them, but want to keep them safe. Maybe one of us said something to a Saban in those 62 - 67 hours we spent on island that will change there life. We may not know the exact reason for all of this madness now, but I do know God will eventually show us.

Although our time was cut short, I am still so thankful for the team I went with, the Sabans I hugged or elbow bumped, and all the laughs along the way.

This trip will forever be known as the weekend trip to Saba to build a bus stop!

-Nancy Caroline

Sticky Fingers and a Full Heart

My fingers got sticky. 

The kind of sticky where if you pinch your fingers together it’s hard to pull them apart. 

And after that, I came home.

Two weeks before departure for our Saba Spring Break , Lipscomb University decided to suspend all student international mission trips due to the virus which will not be named. Although hard to swallow, we understood. 

We knew there was an island full of folks that were expecting us, so our family and a hand full of alumni decided to head on down to spread the love. 

Our family flew a few days early and then were joined by four others. We reconstructed the trip’s itinerary and plans. We reworked the curriculum. Each of us tackled new responsibilities and knew it was all hands on deck. 

When we finally were together on the island and ready to get to work, travel bans begin to take place. Countries started closing borders. Worry began to spread. 

Still on Saturday morning it seemed things looked promising on my five square miles. So, we decided to unplug and get to work. 

We helped build and paint a school bus stop. It was to replace the one that was missing when the locals opened their windows the morning after a lady named Irma visited a little over a year ago. It was a hot, sunny Saturday on Saba and we loved every second of it. 

That night we invited all the children and teens to an ice cream social. That’s when my hands got sticky. 

We served approximately 150 kids ice cream with chocolate syrup. There was laughter and smiles and joy. There was sugared up energy and lots of ice cream filled bellies. 

Then a friend told me to look at my phone. It was full of texts and missed calls. St. Martin, the hub of our travel in and out of Saba, was closing its air space. I spent the rest of the evening once again making phone calls and exchanging messages to change plans and alter itineraries.

A lot of people hear mission trip and probably think, “Did you tell any of them about Jesus?”

A lot of people think that once you have loved on someone or done something kind, you must tell them about your faith. Verbally give a testimony about what Jesus can do for them.

But from my experience, a lot of times when you do it like that, folks go deaf. 

Lately I have been really enamored with the time Jesus fed the 5,000. I love how He had leftovers. 

We are told about the leftovers but we are never told how many people actually started accepting Him after they were fed. You know what else, I bet some of those present were there just to take advantage of the good food. And from what I can tell Jesus was okay with that. 

Jesus didn’t worry about being taken advantage of or the motives of the people He served or loved. He just served. He just loved. 

He loved and served with no questions, no expectations, and no strings attached. He even loved them with the knowledge some of them would yell “Crucify Him!” in the days to come. 

My sticky fingers after serving ice cream may not ever lead anyone to Jesus. But my sticky fingers can be an expression of faith and love, not a transaction looking for a certain result in return for a scoop of cookies and cream. 

But if a little friend one day tells me about the time I gave them ice cream with chocolate syrup and then asks me about Jesus, that will be awesome. I will be more than happy to tell them about the joy that Jesus has given me...joy that is greater than any earthly sugar rush imaginable. 

But if that never happens, it's okay. I am not told ice cream will change anyone. I am not told that I will change anyone...I am just commanded to love everyone. Jesus takes care of the changing. 

Much can happen in a short amount of time. A lot can change. He used a school bus stop and a virus to change and turn my heart in just a few days. Oh, and sticky fingers. Can’t forget those.  He used those, too. 

As I write this I am on a flight a few hundred miles from Nashville. The Thomas family is on hour 37 of our efforts to get home. It’s been an adventure for lack of a better term. An emotional and mental roller coaster we never saw coming. 

We are thankful for our time although brief. We are thankful for each other and for the laughter our family can muster even in the most stressful of times. We are thankful for our teammates...those that traveled and those that had to stay behind. We are thankful for the guidance and care our friends on the island gave us during the chaos of this situation. We are thankful for our family and friends near and far that have prayed for us and have cared for us in various ways. 

And we are thankful for Saba. We miss you desperately. 

“Every act of love is a profession of faith because it whispers His name.” 

 -Bob Goff