An Unexpected Sit

I took the three little ones to the Children's Museum today. I expected the hustle and bustle of children. And I expected some amount of stress seeing as I would be handling a 5 month old, a 2 1/2 yr. old, and then my 3 year old. But they are all such sweet children that I really enjoy going places with them. We enjoyed our usual places in the museum...the super market, the farm house, the tot-spot, the cafe...but then as we were leaving, we saw something I hadn't expected to see.

There in the middle of the lobby was a child sized version of the Woolworth's sit in counter from 1960. Everything was exactly the same as the original. The stools, the menus, the coffee and doughnuts. And even just sitting here typing, the tears come streaming down. I tried really hard not to loose it in the museum, especially because there were other kids and moms all around me, and for me to just start weeping would seem pretty inappropriate. But I could barely hold it together. Asher and Maddie just climbed up to the stools. They spun around and "fixed" their coffee. They pretended to eat and drink...and be merry. They didn't have to ask to sit down. They didn't have to wait to be served. They weren't denied the freedom to simply be. They felt totally free and accepted, with no questions asked. Then some other children came up to play at the counter with them. Three African American boys. They all played together at the counter and then, I really could barely hold it together.

It blows me away that only 50 years ago not everyone had that privilege. That African Americans were not allowed to SIT at certain lunch counters and eat doughnuts and drink coffee. It truly takes all words away from me, and leaves me with tears in my eyes and shaking my head. That people, just like me, only with a little darker skin, would be treated with such disdain and disrespect. Only 50 years ago.

As I stared at these boy's pictures, I felt such valor, strength, and dignity. A courage mustered up that I have never had to muster. A strength that I have never had to face. And a foe that I have never had to encounter the way that they did. Only 50 years ago.

Sometimes it feels like it's been hundreds of years since things like segregation were even an issue. But then, I remember. And I am thankful for men like these, who "with their very bodies, obstructed the wheels of injustice."

Fight...

The first time I saw the "Fight like a girl" slogan, I thought it was genius. What a great phrase and campaign for breast cancer. I often think about how many women have had to fight. Women I know, women I don't know. Stories I hear or read, or stories I tell. But I love to know that we can fight.

My first reality hit with breast cancer was when I was almost 11. It was the week after Christmas, and the week of my birthday. I had just gone back to school from Christmas break, and was called to the office. I wasn't quite sure why, until I saw my mom. She had tears in her eyes, and a look of urgency about her. She told me that my Grandma Betsy was about to pass away, and that we were going to say goodbye. It was a long drive, and by the time we reached our destination, my sweet grandmother had already said goodbye.

She had fought a hard fight. Twice with this enemy. There had been signs, but let's face it...this was 20 years ago. Women with pain or lumps, simply kept going. They didn't complain. They didn't go to the doctor to actually talk about symptoms, and heaven forbid if it had to do with their...shhh....breasts.

When Grandma Betsy finally did begin to fight, she had chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, and probably more that I don't even know about, and still that wasn't enough. She was 59.

I remember not getting it until I saw her that day. Not realizing how real this "disease" called breast cancer was. But seeing her in the bed, I got it. I knew how much I wanted her to have peace. Rest. Victory. And she did. However, I wish that I could have celebrated with her still here. I wish that she had had a t-shirt that said "Fight like a girl!" For she surely did.

Today, I went into a shop for something, and one thing led to the next, and somehow the store clerk and I ended up talking about how both of our grandmothers had suffered through this disease. Hers had made it through two battles, and was continuing to fight. Mine had not. We chatted about the struggle, and desire to support others on this journey, or in this fight. Then, she asked me. She asked me if I had gotten a mammogram yet. I was so thankful to be in the day and age where a store clerk would have the guts to talk about this thing that in the past would have been hushed. Or where people would have ignored the lumps under their arms, just to simply keep face, and not be embarrassed. But instead, we encouraged each other in early detection, and confronting and possibly disagreeing even with doctor's advice, to be checked early.

Today's my Grandma Betsy's birthday. I wish that I could have been at a 79th birthday party for her. She would have sang beautifully and then blown all those candles out. She would have played a song on the piano with her bright beaming smile. And she would have had something dynamic and pink on.

Celebrate with me this month. Do it for someone you know. Do it for someone you don't know. But let's press on to always fight like girls. My little way of bringing awareness is trying to wear something pink everyday for the rest of this month. It helps me remember to

think of and pray for those fighting this battle now.

To help bring more awareness, check out any of these sites for great ideas and products.

National Breast Cancer Foundation

The Breast Cancer Site

Fight Like A Girl Stuff

Will You Ever Turn

I had a wonderful weekend at the beach with a group of beautiful girls. A few of us that live in our neighborhood took them down to talk about real stuff. Relationships, sex, shame, forgiveness, redemption, breaking free from cycles of sin, were a few of the topics we discussed.

These are girls that have never seen the beach before, girls that don't know how precious they are. Girls that have suffered much more than I could ever imagine, girls that have struggled to fight to even remain alive.

As I dropped the girls off, and drove home, I saw two of our other precious girls, who are were walking down a dark street. Walking with two boys that had the look that they were up to nothing good. I turned around and went back. Even though it was late, even though it was dark, because I hoped so much that they would get in the car. That they would let me take them home. They said no, as they stayed in the shadows, and barely said anything at all.

Will you ever turn back

from wandering down that dark street,

covering your face

as one trying to hide.

Will you ever look back

and see all who love you

All who want you

To have a better life

Than the one you think you deserve.

As I see you walking

I think you're beautiful,

But you won't even look me

In the eye.

Will you ever turn back

And see how much He loves you

How much He holds you

In the palm of His hand.

He'll never let you go,

No matter how you run,

No matter where you hide,

He holds you fast,

He holds you sure,

And though you won't turn,

Neither will He.

He'll never turn back

From loving you.

Heeding the Battle Call

This week about 25 kids from our neighborhood are headed to camp. These kids are smart, sweet, and beautiful, but also are from at risk environments, and know how cruel life can be. I had wanted to be one of the counselors this week, but God made it clear that it wasn't going to be possible. Camp is a time of fun, but also a time of retreat. A place where these kids can let down their guard, and just feel. Feel joy. Feel pain. And the way that they connect with God and each other, allows them to draw near to Him, in a way that doesn't happen every day.

Today as we prayed for the leaders at church, I felt the Lord leading me to still consider myself a part of the team, but as an intercessor. As someone thinking and praying for them here, and lifting them up before the Lord each day. So as I sat down to post about the Fourth of July, and our fun time this weekend with friends and family, my heart was burdened for these precious kids. Who don't even get to be kids for very much of their lives. Their freedom does not come so easy, which makes me want to fight for it that much harder.



Fireworks or gunshots,
Who can tell?
There's much to feel
And a need to be real.

I want to write life, peace, and joy
But the honest truth is that there's
Much more to the story.

The truth isn't always pretty
Isn't always neat.
And justice is waiting
To be found in the streets

As fear sets in,
And the enemy draws near
I pray that tonight you will sleep
And know that there is a path made clear.

For your Father above
Is watching all the while
And even though it seems He's far
His hand is quick to love.

Come close dear ones,
Draw neigh this night
And know His promises
For you are held tight.

Buy Coffee...Free Slaves.

A couple weeks ago, my hubby and I were blessed to be able to go hear about some horrendous facts and amazing deliverance stories about people enslaved. Not figuratively...Literally. You may remember when I posted about it here. You may not remember the number of slaves today...not 100 years ago...today. I'll remind you - over 27 million. I was and still am pretty blown away by what that we learned. The man that spoke was the executive of International Justice Ministry, which is a tremendous organization. If it makes you sad to think of children being in slave labor, or women being sold into prostitution, I would urge you to look into partnering with IJM.

However, whether or not you feel led to partner with IJM longterm, I bet you drink coffee...or know someone who does. In May only, Storyville Coffee is having a "Give It All Away in May" campaign, and they are giving all of their profit to International Justice Ministries. Not a tenth. Not a percentage....ALL of their profit this month alone will go to IJM. Maybe you could use it, or give it away, but this is the last week. Think about trying their coffee...and bringing freedom to the captives. But, hurry...there are only a couple days left in May!

Simply:

1. Go to www.storyville.com
2. Purchase coffee or home-brewing equipment.
3. 100% of your purchase price will be donated to IJM. Yes, every dollar of your purchase (including shipping) will be donated to IJM.

Broken

A few weeks ago I had a porcelain doll left beside our door. I didn't know when it had been placed there, and I didn't know who delivered it. But she was beautiful; all 18 inches of her. With her long brown silky locks and bright eyes smiling. She was dressed in a full winter white fur coat, complete with muff and matching hat, and of course the white lace up boots. I knew she must be for my daughter, but I just wasn't sure from whom she came.

Later on, my neighbor asked if I had gotten the gift that his friend had left. I realized then, that it was from my friend, who has lived in the house beside me for the past 3 years. He went on to say that she had left, and had taken the 12 hour bus ride to Connecticut to spend "some time" with her boys. Now, if you're familiar at all with how transient inner city lifestyles can be, you would know, that basically it meant, "She's gone."

As he told me, all I thought was, "I didn't get to say goodbye."

She is a beautiful woman, described by most people with words like "addict", "dirty", "ignorant", "prostitute". My kids just see her as a warm welcoming lady who doesn't always look happy, and sometimes acts a little strange. I know she used to be a dancer. I know she's a mother and a grandmother. I know she lived in a house without lights for almost a year. I know she doesn't like who she sees when she looks in the mirror. I know that she aches for healing, but has no clue how to have it. I know that she's broken and wants to be whole.

One of the last times I saw her, she was hunched over clinging to her knees, sitting at the end of my walkway, where it meets the sidewalk. Crying in desperation. Her two grandsons were with her, even though the hour was late. I walked up and put my hand on her back and started to pray for her. I could feel her bones aching for relief. After we prayed for a few minutes, she sat up. And what she was clinging to was what looked like a church's pew copy of the Holy Bible. I just thought, "I have no idea how broken and desperate she is." And I have no idea how God can free her from this hell that she lives in. But I know that He hears her. I know that He aches for her to know deliverance and redemption.

This song asks, "Did he do it to himself? Or was it done to him?" And I wonder that about my friend. She definitely has made choices that have kept her where she is, I'm not excusing her for her own decisions. But when you're brought into the cycle at such a young age, and have no idea how you're going to survive, unless you sell yourself so that you can eat. Or have a roof over your head. Did she do it to herself, or was it done to her? It doesn't really matter either way. What matters is that she is loved by One who is greater than this world. Greater than any addiction. Greater than any situation. Now that she's gone, I just pray that somehow she would choose to cling to the Great One. And that she would somehow be made whole.

I hope I get to see her again one day. And I hope that she looks so different that I barely recognize her. Please join me in praying that this would be a new life for her. That she would be set free, and that her life would be redeemed from the depths of the mire. I hope that she comes to believe that He is able to do incomparably more than we ask or imagine, and that she sees how beautiful she truly is.

Choked Out

I went outside yesterday for a minute to take the dog out and to pick a few flowers for our table. I went around to the side of the house, and was going to pick a few flowers off the Rose of Sharon bushes that we have. They're the only flowers that I can see from my kitchen windows, so I love it when they bloom.

When I saw them, I realized that they had all this excess greenery all over them. At first I just thought that they were really overgrown (after all, I'm no master gardener). But as I looked closer, I realized that they were being totally taken over by a very thin, but very strong weed. It didn't even look like a weed. It disguised itself so well, that I actually thought it might be part of the Rose of Sharon. But it had carefully entangled it's pretty vine all around my friend, so much so, that the she was completely bent over and tangled up. She was being choked out. Even though the Rose of Sharon was a very vigilant healthy bush, it still had a weed that was just clever enough to grow up around it, and take over the plant completely.

I went inside got my scissors, and went back out, and diligently cut off every part of the vine that I could. As I snipped the vine away, the Rose of Sharon began to bounce upward to the sun, as to say, "Thank you! Thank you! I'm free!" Now, I know plants can't really talk, but if you had seen how trapped down and entangled it had been, you would have heard it singing for joy, too.

As I cut away like a warrior for this lady of mine, I thought about the parable where Jesus is describing the different kinds of seeds sown.

“Others fell among the thorns, and the thorns came up and choked them out.... "The one on whom seed was sown among the thorns, this is the man who hears the word, and the worry of the world and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful. "

I know how easy it is to be totally rooted in truth and know the Lord is God, and yet still, have the cares, worries, and just normal distractions of life choke out my heart being free and in communion with the Lord. It doesn't just happen that I grow up in my faith and mature in my relationship with Him, without anything trying to come against me. And the sad thing is that we all have different kinds of discouragements, disappointments, fears, worries, and temptations that seek to keep us bent over and entangled. Unable to really stretch out and grow to be who God has us to be.

But the joy that I found in all of this, is that it's not just us fighting! He is fighting for us. Jesus wants to take those weeds off, and come to our rescue. I'm so glad that He doesn't just see us there struggling, and leave us as we are. He doesn't say, "You know, you really need to get yourself together, and get all that junk off you." No, He comes and cuts each vine and each weed away, until we're set free. He is our warrior, and He longs to fight for us and with us.

Junk In The Trunk

Saturday morning necessities: coffee, sunglasses and/or hat, change in your pocket.

This Sat. I was so excited to go yard-saleing because my sweet friend Kelly came along with me! I need to make a couple additions to my principals, one of them being, it's always more fun to go with someone else! I don't think I've ever talked about my history with yard sales, but my friend since forever ago, Heather, and I started going when we were in high school. It was a new found love for me, since my family never really did much yard saleing. But Heather was a pro. And she taught me to love traveling down those Pitt County roads to find whatever treasure we could. So, I learned early, it's always better with two. That way, you can ask each other's opinions, and have fun together, and also...there's strength in numbers. Which brings me to my second addition...

Don't Let Price Tags Intimidate You.

So, you know, yesterday turned out to be really pretty in the afternoon, but not so much in the morning. It wasn't really "yard sale" weather. And, actually, many people moved their sales to Monday, since it's Memorial Day. (So if you missed it on Sat., you still have a chance to go on Monday!) But Kelly and I still went, and were having fun even in the sprinkles, and getting some pretty good deals (which you'll hear about in a minute).

It's not very often that you meet grumpy yard sale hosts that are stingy and unwilling to deal. I mean, if you're buying their old junk, usually their pretty cordial. Well, we met Stingy Man this weekend. We came to one house, and there were a lot of fun toys. And especially a lot of little girl toys. I start looking, and realize that there are Groovy Girl dolls and accessories, Littlest Pet Shop playhouse and accessories, Little Town toys....I could go on, but for those of you without children this age, you would probably lose interest in this post. I saw that the toy prices were high, with stickers noting that each "set" is $5 and then the accessories another $5. WHAT?! Ok, maybe for a couple of sets, I would pay $5. But not for just one set. Not at a yard sale...in the rain....on Memorial Day weekend. So, I start to gather a few things together, and make an offer for a couple of the sets, asking $10 for for a few sets plus a box set of puzzles. The stingy man looked like that was the worst offer ever, but he looked at his daughter allowing her to make the decision, since they were her old toys. She kind of reluctantly said yes.

SO THEN, I started to look through the books realizing that I had missed some fun ones. He had said paper backs were .25 each, and hard backs were $2 each. (OK, just fyi- $2 per book, at a yard sale is not a good deal.) So, I pick out 6 paper backs, thinking that I'll take a few off his hands, and I ask if he'll take $1 for the stack (instead of $1.50). Again, he acts all offended, and says "I'll take $2!" Dude, you just went more than the asking price. That's not whatcha do. If people take more than one, you make the deal a little better. Since they are taking your junk off your hands, and paying you for it. I said, "Well, if they're a quarter each, and I only have 6, that comes to $1.50. But I'll put one back, and give you $1.25." And that's what I did.

So then, when Kelly went up with her pile, it was supposed to add up to $10 at their price, but she got it for $5. A much more reasonable price. I think I wore him down.

I tell you this story to let you know that sometimes you have to be on your game. Now I realize for the more timid ones, this is hard to do. But you do not want to be taken advantage and pay way more than you need to or want to. If they won't come to your price, than they probably won't end up getting rid of it, and it will be their loss. Most of the time, you can tell them what you are wanting to pay, and usually if it's reasonable, they'll be happy to take it. Unless they're stingy man. I think this may have been his first yard sale. (When I told Randy about it, he said, "It's probably because he remembers how much he paid for all of it." I laughed.)

So, yes, there is strength in numbers, but also just remain confident about what you feel comfortable with price wise. It's your game - you're the buyer!

So I ended up doing pretty well getting some fun new things for the house. Here are my favs...

River loving her new pet shop toy - yay!

big old decor things for anywhere (I paid $10 for both!)

Yes that is Calphalon - like new, and only $15!!!

pretty new candelabra to put up

fancy finials ($10 for all of these!) ( these are the things you put on the end of curtain rods)

i love these fun big lanterns that can go anywhere - inside or out! $2

We piled it all in, and loved every minute of it. I meant to get a picture of my trunk, with all the junk in there, but maybe that will be next week. Hope you had a great Memorial Day weekend!!!