Author: Sam

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Muno’s Heart

“OK Kolby, what does daddy for a job?” I asked my two-year old in an attempt to teach her some basic family information.

“Ummmm…daddy make pants!” Kolby replied earnestly.

“Close sweetie!  Daddy’s a pastor.”

“Dat’s wright.  Daddy tells people bout Jesus and he fixes hearts.” Kolby said with a smile that could melt butter.

“Mommy, can Da Da fix Muno’s heart?”

“Of course he can baby!”  I ran and got Kolby’s red monster doll –Muno from the series Yo Gabba Gabba and we sat him in front of daddy and I told Tim very firmly he needed to tell Muno about Jesus.

Tim looked at me with mirth, shaking his head and laughing, but he played along with us .

“Muno, Jesus loves you very much,” Tim said in his best pastor voice.  “He knows sometimes you bite your friends and it makes him sad.  Jesus sacrificed his life for you on the cross because he loves Muno so very much.  He wants Muno to live an abundant life and have a strong heart. “

I whispered under my breath, “Abundant…seriously?  She’s two.”

Daddy frowned at mommy.

Muno then squeaked out, “I do want to follow you Jesus,” only it sounded a bit like daddy on Nitrous Oxide.

So daddy led Muno through a simple prayer.

Kolby sat quietly the entire time taking it all in.  Then she picked up Muno, thanked daddy and fell asleep in my arms shortly thereafter. 

I woke up this morning clutching Muno’s hand in mine.  Seriously.  Maybe the little guy was mourning his life of sin and needed some cuddling.

I rolled over and opened one eye sleepily gazing at my husband.  “Hey PANTS-tor…what’s up?” 

 

 

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All Fleeced Up

Check out my beret...

For the last twenty-one months I have been hustling –writing early in the morning, at lunch, during baby’s nap and at all sorts of odd times.  I have been jotting down notes in the car, at church, on scraps of paper and sometimes even tapping away on my iPhone to pen some fabulous tale of awesome I might otherwise forget.

And it’s all been for this day. 

Today, I am officially a full-time freelance writer.

I wrote a while back about a big decision we were praying over and how Tim asked for fleece from God and God provided the fleece by miraculously placing a white van on the freeway with a “Got Fleece?” license plate right in front of my car.

God is so stinking creative!

Well, this was the big decision –to go all-out for my dream or stick with the safe and secure route.  In all honesty, moving from a full-time steady pay-check to a life of an eccentric beret wearing writer/artist just scraping by didn’t sound too appealing to my husband. 

But God provided the fleece.

I secured a couple of steady writing gigs and negotiated a deal to do a little contract work for my tech job.

We won’t starve, although I still may wear the beret and start mumbling in French, and read all of the works by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Hemingway and maybe 50 Shades of Gray (if they offer a PG version).

I am pinching myself this morning and blown away by the grace of God and his mercy. 

Sometimes our dreams do come true with plenty of hard work and spit and gumption.

And a loving God who provides the fleece and doors of opportunity no man can shut.

What is your dream job?  What can you do today to move towards a career that resonates in your spirit and makes you feel alive?

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Not so Compassionate

The other night I spoke to a group of gals at Birthchoice –a nonprofit supporting the parents of unplanned pregnancy.  It was the usual crew of girls albeit a few new faces.

The topic was pregnancy and exercise and the level of interest was slim to none.  I know not every talk I give will raise the roof, but is a small rumble too much to ask for?

One of the new ladies was either mentally disabled or had fried her neurons from excessive drug use.  I was warned by the leader that she had been very disruptive the week before and interrupted the speaker constantly.   I prayed for Holy Spirit intervention or at the very least, enough humor to keep it light.

Every few sentences I uttered, the woman chimed in.  I found out it was her fourth pregnancy and she walked an hour a day and the names of her kids and a thousand other details all while I was supposed to be speaking.

I kept thinking of Henri Nouwen and the lessons Jesus was trying teach me about compassion and empathy but my frustration level subtly rose notch by notch with every interruption.

I asked the girls a few questions to figure out their lifestyle and discern their difficulties in finding balance between exercise and babies, work and education.  

  1. How many of you work?                              None
  2. How many of you are in school?                One

And then I realized how my stupid my questions were and I got pissy and a little defeated.  One of the girls had been showing off her hair extensions earlier and when I looked up, she flipped her glorious locks over her shoulder. 

I think it’s what set off my internal envy switch.

I am standing up speaking and what’s going through my mind is pure evil…This is so unfair!  I want hair extensions for my scrawny tresses but they are too expensive and my kids need new shoes.  Some days I want to stay at home and not work two jobs to pay the mortgage and all the sports fees and endless activities for my kids; so what gives you the right to be lazy and Welfared and sooooo relaxed while I have heart palpitations and still take more time out to volunteer and share with you how to exercise when you are going to laugh at me and eat Cheetos anyway and then just have another baby? (was that a run-on sentence or what?)

After an exhausting thirty minutes, I finished up and exited quickly.  Normally, I hang out and talk with the girls but I needed to sort out my heart and emotions.

Jesus clearly needed to take the wheel back from Satan.

Here is what I discovered once I calmed down and dug into my crusty soul.  Like everything in life, nothing is black and white.  I admire these women for choosing life and not aborting.  I love them as sisters in Christ and I can champion and promote their desire to overcome adversity and grow into responsible citizens and loving mothers. 

But I cannot take on their burden if or when they choose to operate with entitled and lazy behavior, nor will I condone it. 

I volunteer and give because God called me to encourage and love these women and it’s possible only a few will hear the message and respond.  But even if it’s only one or two or even none, they are precious to God and to me.  My agenda is love and to come alongside them -not  to fix.  And in all honesty, at my worst, I am no different.  I too want to be coddled and cared for and take the easy road some days. 

But at my best, when someone believed in me –even when I didn’t believe in myself, it allowed me to experience a sliver of hope and to dream of a different and courageous life. 

A life where God can take a selfish and self-righteous girl –despite her complete and utter unworthiness, and allow her the grace to grow and minister to other women. 

 

 

 

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Driving Lessons

Walking out to the car from the grocery store with three kids in tow, I grimaced at the sight of my dirty SUV.

“Uggh! Kyle. When we get home you need to wash my car.”

My son smiled and nodded his head amiably. As we pulled up to the house Kyle noticed my parents’ car parked in the driveway –a temporary resting stop while they vacationed in Cancun. It needed to be moved if he was to hose down my car.

“Hey mom, I’ll wash your car if you let me pull out Mimi and Poppa’s car from the driveway and park it in the street.”

I looked at my son, on the cusp of high school and now suddenly interested in cars and rims and all sorts of manly automobile trivia and chuckled, wrinkling my nose. “No way, my parents would kill me if I let my kid crash their car.”

But the look on his face was pure yearning –a strong desire to grow up, experience life and to feel the roar of an engine under his feet. How could I say no? (Here is where my husband later injects –“What the howdy-doody were you thinking?”)

“How about I move my parent’s car and let you maneuver my car into the driveway?”

Kyle’s eyes rapidly blinked. “Umm sure, I’m cool with that.”

I quickly moved my parent’s vehicle out onto the street and then threw Kyle the keys to my car, motioning him to roll down the window so I could direct him.

Kyle moved the seat to make room for his long legs, adjusted the mirror and then gave me the thumbs up sign.

“Ok, pull it out in reverse and turn the wheel to the left to swing out into the street,” I instructed.

Kyle put my charcoal grey Nissan in reverse and then before I could yell, “NOOOOOOOO!” gunned the car backwards across the street. Just as he hit the curb, he braked and his head lurched forward as he pulled to a stop.

“Wow!’ he yelled. “The gas is pretty sensitive. “

Then he hit the pedal again, still in reverse and jumped the curb. The bumper grazed our neighbor’s tree as the car stopped violently.

“Oops mom, I forgot to put it back in drive,” he yelled in chagrin as I doubled over laughing until the tears ran down my legs.

Kyle shifted into drive, hit the gas and shot toward our long driveway. The right tire clipped the curb and whizzed past the mailbox by an inch as Kyle headed straight towards the garage door at forty miles an hour.

The worst possible scenario flashed through my mind. I imagined Kyle crashing into the garage door and t-boning the Cadillac parked just inside. There would be airbags and blood and worst of all –some serious explaining to do when daddy got home from work.

“Jesus stop him!” I screamed with horror.

Kyle – eyes wide with terror looked over at me.

“Hit the brake.” I yelled.

All of sudden the car jerked to a stop. Kyle threw it in park and climbed out gingerly. The car rested a mere millimeter of an inch from the garage door –about the length of a fingernail or a lady bug.

“Mom, that wasn’t like my video games at all, we might need to practice some more,” Kyle weakly grinned.

I collapsed in a heap –alternating between laughing and yelling, rolling on the grass in a gasping and convulsing dance of gratitude and frustration only a parent of a teen can fully appreciate.

Next time –we are practicing driving in a parking lot in the middle of the desert with no one to hit but a cactus.

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Boys, Video Games and Extended Adolescence

The football passed back and forth tossed in high spiraled arcs. I smiled as I watched my son Kyle and our dear friend Michael wile away the last sunshine of a lazy Memorial Day and hang out man to man-or better yet man to almost man.

Kyle, at almost fourteen, is on the cusp of manhood -teetering precariously between maturity and immaturity on any given day. But with every pat on the back and encouragement from the dudes in his life (dads, grandfathers, mentors, coaches and older friends) he continues to inch towards adulthood.

I was struck with emotion when I realized how each one of our male friends went out of their way at some point in the day to connect and encourage my son. I don’t take that blessing lightly because I know how crucial it is for men to intentionally lead, parent and guide our sons if we are to regain and raise another generation of valiant men.

And this rite of passage is something I see sorely lacking in our society.

We used to send our boys off to college and the military, or at the very least an apprenticeship and have them return a little worse for the wear –but independent and savvy enough to survive on their own. Men led each other.

But there is a whole generation of men floundering.

I scratch my head and ponder where have we gone wrong? Could it be rampant divorce, boys abandoned by dads, or a culture targeted by media and bombarded by leisure?

Somehow we have we allowed our boys to stagnate –numbed, dumbed down and distracted by video games, sex and pornography. They are missing the glorious adventure and crucial transition of becoming their own man and surviving.

As the mother of a son, I know the last thing I want is his twenty-nine year old butt parked on my sofa –jobless –and playing Call of Duty shouting for me to make him and his boys a sandwich.

Church planter Darrin Patrick calls this type of male a “Ban,” a hybrid of boy and man.

“Ban is a juvenile because there is an entire market niche created for him to live in the lusts of youth. He is the best thing for the porn industry and the video game industry (48% of men between 18-34 play video games for almost 3 hours a day). Ban puts off adulthood, mortgages and marriage. Women give up waiting for Mr. Right and settle for Mr. Ban, an apathetic, sarcastic boy man.”

So why the rise of Ban?

Sometimes I think we have taken away the most necessary elements of story in our son’s lives –conflict. Our boy’s shoot aliens on a screen instead of battling real villains or bullies on the playground. They look at porn instead of fighting for a woman’s heart and they flounder for meaning instead of forging a life of courage wounded and bloody from the trenches.

We protect and screen the hard knocks of adversity unwittingly sacrificing the triumphs of overcoming a great challenge and we give our boys crumbs to feast on instead of a meaty life of adventure and purpose.

It makes me want to send my kid off to wilderness camp or the military…but I think I’ll settle for football and a North Dakota trip this summer at least for now.

What do you think about Ban?

And more importantly…What can you do to invest in a boy or a young man today?

;

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Dr. Gandhi, Yoga and a Stress Test

I took a stress test yesterday but strangely enough it wasn’t too stressful.  It might have actually been the most relaxing part of my week. 

A stress test involves getting hooked up like the Bionic man with wires and sticky patches that suck your hair right out of the follicle.  Then they place you on a treadmill and slowly turn up the pace from a leisurely stroll to a Mt. Everest run/climb.  I was holding on for dear life at the end and panting like a dog on a hot day. 

But it felt good to run hard and work off some steam.

Work has been extremely stressful, finances tight thanks to our new Lion(i.e. private school tuition for Kyle), Kolby had the hand, foot, and mouth virus all week and then there’s my pesky little heart issue –which makes me more stressed.  It’s like a slippery slope of heart palpitations, fever blisters and sweaty pits.

I know I’m supposed to give this all to Jesus but clearly I’ve been grabbing my burdens back and stuffing them in my backpack. 

My Dr. came into read the results.  He almost didn’t let me take the test because my blood pressure was all wacky when I arrived-probably because I came straight from work, but then he remembered he had the day off on Friday and he didn’t want to miss his golf game so he let me take the test.

Here’s the crazy part –after I worked out my heart rate looked all pretty and even –in nice little up and down rhythms.  Once I let go and relaxed into the run my body fixed itself. 

The Dr. looked at me strangely.  “Usually when we test, it goes the opposite way.  Which means you are stressing yourself right into a pace maker.  Do yoga, cut back on the stress and figure out how to relax young lady.”

But Dr. Gandhi doesn’t realize how much I hate yoga after a bad experience with a man in front of me who forgot his underpants and wore tiny shorts.

So, unless I want a pace maker I guess I better learn how to chill.  The funny thing is I’m a pretty mellow person and I don’t even realize I am stuffing stress.  I have a secret little pocket in my heart where I hide emotions and cram pain into a bunch of toxic ickiness.  Then it explodes into shingles or heart issues.

I keep singing “Jesus take the wheel,” in a raspy little voice hoping for a Holy Spirit band-aid when I should probably be on my knees begging for a fire-hose washing of the gunk weighing me down.

I really don’t want to go to Yoga…

But maybe I’ll try to run again and whisper to God and find my rhythm.

 

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Pay it Forward

So my heart’s been acting a little cranky lately. It’s not a spiritual issue –more like the forty-year warranty on my body is about to expire and the valves need some fixing. I’ve spent a lot of time hanging out at the Happy Heart Center waiting, waiting and waiting for my busy but awesome cardiologist Dr. Gandhi to take more tests.

Kolby accompanies me on these journeys and even though it’s a pain the behind to hang out in a waiting room and atrophy, my two year-old keeps it real. We sing silly songs, read magazines called “Great Circulation” and play on mommy’s iPhone. We have long conversations about doggies, and William (her best friend) and Mickey Mouse.

A few weeks ago we sat near an older couple who watched the two of us and chuckled at my busy toddler. They told me about their grandchildren and we swapped stories about living in Newport Heights (my old neighborhood) and writing and life.

No one mentioned why we were there. It’s never good news at the cardiologist or the oncologist but it just might just be one of the more genuine places to meet people. Everyone there is a bit frayed around the edges. Masks are let down. Sadness and hope and resolve swirl around like air freshener.

I found out they owned a clothing company for little girls called “Girlfriends” and the lovely lady –Anita asked me what size Kolby wore. She also asked for my card to check out my blog and said she might send us a treat.

I wished them the best and off we went to wait some more.

On the day before Mother’s Day, a big box arrived in the mail and I tore into it. I pulled out one beautiful dress after another for my little girl.

And I was blown away at this couple’s generosity. We didn’t talk about God or illness or anything sad that day –because it was the unspoken and obvious, we just laughed and gloried in the life and vibrancy of a small child.

And maybe that was our simple gift to them.

Thank you Anita and Jerry for your random act of kindness and paying it forward! You made my Mother’s day very special ♥

What can you do today to bless a stranger?

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Get to Know God -Real Dude Spiritual Leadership

If Real dude spiritual leadership starts with getting to know God, then what does KNOWING look like?  I hesitate to give any sort of rules or a 3-step plan because I know (all too well) it’s far easier to check off a list than to pursue a relationship, so maybe the first tip simply is this:

1.    Throw Away the Rulebook

Religion is about rules, relationship is two-way engagement. 

Getting to know God is a lot like meeting a best friend or a spouse and the space between the initial spark and eternity.  One day you are alone and the next –a son or daughter of the King.  You have become the bride of Christ (not a super masculine metaphor here) but the point is –you enter into relationship and it is sacred and set apart and it is good.  

Getting to know God starts with a yes.  You ACCEPT his invitation.  You say giddy-up to a grand adventure.  It is jumping into a wild river and not knowing where it will take you.  Faith is your only rope to hold onto.  Grace is your life-preserver.

2.    Seek Him not Stalk Him

As a bookworm-y sort of gal, I determined to know everything about God.  So for the first ten years as a Christian I became what Bob Goff calls a Jesus Stalker.

I read through the entire bible six years in a row.  I attended two to three bible studies at a time.  I listened to preacher pod-casts (actually we called them tapes back in the day) and I memorized plenty of scripture.  I read every Christian book on the market –including the men’s section and the care section and even the exegetical section.  I had a prayer journal with pictures (I used Christmas cards and pasted them in –all pre-Pinterest).  I had a sermon journal and a reflection journal and a “I’m clearly the best Martha” journal.  I even enrolled in seminary.

I chuckle now at my incredible pursuit to learn about and SEEK Jesus –and then slightly vomit in my mouth when I think about how annoying I probably was.  I was a modern-day Pharisee in a mini-skirt running hard and fast on a spiritual treadmill trying to win the approval of God. 

3.    He’s Got Your Back

The problem with the spiritual treadmill is eventually you can’t keep running any more –usually when a monster storm of circumstances hit and you lose your footing and go flying through the air and land in a sorry heap (At least that’s what happened to me)

One day, Jesus determined I had enough head knowledge and he picked up my ordered little universe with highlighted chapters and sticky notes and chucked it against the wall. 

In this season I learned to DEPEND on Jesus and apply everything I had so earnestly learned into a real and working faith.  I learned to listen and not just ask, I learned to be still and rest in him and I learned freaking HUMILITY.  I grieved and wailed and groaned to my God until the tears ran dry and there I remained –somehow still standing before a Holy God.

And I learned he never left.

4.    Don’t be a Martyr (unless Jesus renames you Stephen)

Time marched on and then I married a pastor and we planted a church and like Isaiah I said, “Here I am God, use me.”  Only I forgot to set good boundaries and it came out more along the lines of “Here I am Church, abuse me.”

This was my entry into the Martyr season of my life, unfortunately I to had to crash and burn-out (again) before I listened to what God actually wanted me to do and not want I thought I should be doing.  I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t tell me to work outside the home and lead a women’s ministry and build a freelance writing career and raise three children and start a church all at the same time.

Only Satan could be such a masochist.

But the enemy of my soul didn’t have the last word.   Jesus picked me up –again- and gave me a lesson on boundaries and we started over.  Much of my journey has been trial and error, but certain activities do draw me closer to God.

5.    Spiritual Disciplines that ACTUALLY work

     a.    A life of Prayer

     b.    A life of Worship

     c.    Space to Reflect

     d.    Jesus with Skin On (friends who keep you accountable)

     e.    Occasional Fasting(from food, tech, muffins or anything you obsess on)

     f.     God’s Word

Here is what this looks like in my life…

 I do only what I am called to.  I say no more than yes, but when I say yes I am all in.  I mother, I write, I go to the park and swing in the sunshine, and I have time to love my husband.  I volunteer within my giftedness and serve when I see a need and where God opens a door. I lean into friendships. 

Life is much quieter now –more simple and yet far more abundant.  I pray constantly but it’s more like breathing and talking to my best friend instead of me picking verses and promises and expecting God to move in my time.  I journal when I want to probe my heart.  I read to grow deeper and I try to find solace and encouragement in the scriptures –not as a to-do list or a way to gain the approval of God.

Part of getting to know God was also getting to know myself and the depravity of my own heart. 

So when I reflect on getting to know God –I can only describe it as a long journey with a good friend who just so happens to be the creator of the universe. 

And the Real Dudes I see who are near to God seem to roll with the Big Guy too.

.

 

 

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Caddy for Sale

It’s always shocking to find a note from the Coroner’s office stuck to your front door. I can only feign relief that I wasn’t home when the cops showed up to leave their dirty little message.  Opening the door to two somber policemen conjures up thought of loved ones dying in a fiery freeway accident or sudden heart failure.  Can’t they come up with a nicer way to tell people their loved ones have kicked the bucket?  (Ahhh, but that’s a topic for another day!)  It turns out; they were investigating a ’66 powder blue Cadillac that had been parked in an unnamed parking lot for too long.  They figured the owner had died and it was time to gently break the news to the relatives… either that, or confront the perpetrators who had knocked off the poor sucker.  It just so happens that I know the owner of said Caddy, and though he is alive and well, he may be a victim of domestic assault by the time I get my hands on him.

My darling husband acquired this monster car (which measures longer than a Suburban to give you a good visual) about ten years ago, for the pure whim of taking a road trip to Vegas.  It has stayed with him (like a venereal disease) over the years and has traveled with him from home to home. And though he rarely drives it, it gets occasional use at weddings and for random photo shoots.  His claim to fame is using the caddy for a swimsuit calendar.  Somewhere behind the hot models is his beaming face behind the wheel. He reminds me that we both brought baggage to the marriage, I have two adorable children and he brought the beast…I mean the Cadillac. Fortunately, he has grown to love my kids but I have not felt any furthermore affinity for the gas guzzler that is now parked in my driveway.

Yes, in an effort to avoid towing, the Caddy came home and there it sits like a ginormous eyesore.  Last night I told him an anonymous caller had complained to the association about the obnoxious car in our driveway.  It took him a few seconds before he choked on his cashews and started chortling. Each night as I lay my head down on my pillow, I dream of it being stolen.  Then again, after they fill up the tank with gas and die of shock, they will probably bring it right back, washed and cleaned and ready for the next photo-op. 

66’ Convertible Caddy for Sale.  All offers considered. Please contact Scrappy!

*Note*  I first posted this eighteen months ago.  What the heck people?  I want my garage back now!

 

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Real Dude Spiritual Leadership

When Christian husbands hear the words Spiritual Leadership they often cringe and move into an emotionally defensive ninja posture. They cover their ears and hum “nu nun nu nun” to drown out the sound of the “oh so subtle” but fully loaded assault they know their wife is about to lob at them.

“Did you hear what Pastor Awesome did for his wife for their anniversary? OMG…he flew her to a chapel in Tuscany where they ate biscotti and strawberries dipped in crème fraiche. Then he knelt before her, gave her a monogrammed gold leaf bible and prayed for world peace. Wow, what spiritual leadership!”

And then this sweet, loyal and loving husband, who goes to work every day, provides a home and provision, plays horsie with his kids, coaches baseball and takes his wife to brunch every Sunday after church hunches his shoulders, looks morose and feels completely inadequate.

And the reason he feels like a schmuck is because too many women confuse Spiritual Leadership with a cross between Fabio and their youth pastor –a Jesus-y James Bond sort of guy with a golden tongue who waxes poetic spiritual metaphors about car-care and the football draft from his pre-dawn quiet times with the Lord.

All too often, Christian wives inadvertently adopt a distorted idea of Christian manhood as a spiritual measuring stick for their husband. They take a few examples of biblical application regarding humility or faith (or any fruit of the spirit for that matter) from the pastor’s Sunday message and apply it with a broad stroke to beat their husbands up with after the service.

They don’t envision a real man, a real life and the day-to-day decisions which encompass true spiritual headship of a family. Pastors aren’t all saints or perfect husbands (although my man is a rock star) and a guy doesn’t need to work for the church to be a true minister of Jesus Christ and strong spiritual leader to his wife and kids.

What men do want to aspire to (and their wives can gently encourage them to) –are spiritual disciplines which will help them develop a closer relationship with God and therefore build strength and leadership within the marriage. So, I’ve got a few ideas culled from the plethora of awesome men I have the privilege to know (and yes…I’m talking about you Mariners MV men) . These are the traits and attributes I see exhibited in their lives which bless the socks off their adoring ladies!

Sam’s Tips to Develop Real Dude Spiritual Leadership

1. Get to Know God

2. Pray with your spouse

3. Intimacy (Christian code word for SEX)

4. Serve One Another

5. Parent with Purpose

6. Rethink Love as an Action Verb

The next six blog posts will address these traits and give helpful suggestions for Christian couples who are honest enough to pull out the jammed logs blocking their vision and get real about their marriage, the state of their own heart and what it means to love like Christ did.

And just in case you think this is a series written only for men…I want to challenge you with this.

I believe, above all these tips, the most important factor in a man’s spiritual leadership is his wife’s ability to AFFIRM, stop nagging, pray, forgive, and become her husband’s biggest champion allowing God to transform her husband into the man of her dreams in his time.

Care to join me on the journey?

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