Guilty Pie

I often joke that I lose the "Mother of the Year Award" the day after Mother's Day each year. Perhaps I blow it by losing my temper or by refusing to play knights and dragons or by desperately needing a nap. There are any number of ways I feel like I fail my boys. But today I really did blow it. Big time. (No, really!)

Around 8:30 a.m. I received a phone call with a small, sweet voice on the other end. "Mom, you didn't send in my lunch form," Reed said. "Yes, I did sweetie. I sent it with Seth's," I replied. "No, my teacher said you didn't," he explained. "Is there a grown up there with you? Please put her on the phone." So, I explained to the woman on the other end that I send both lunch order forms in with Reed's older brother. Everything is fine (or so I think).

When I pick Reed and Seth up this afternoon, I mention my phone call with Reed that morning. Huge tears well up in his eyes. "You didn't sign me up for lunch today, and I didn't have anything to eat," he cries. Okay, now I understand. You see, last week we planned for Reed to take his lunch on the day that Panera caters for the school, which I thought was tomorrow. My mistake...it was today.

"Did they give you something to eat?" I ask. "Roast beef, but I didn't like it. I'm STARVING," he replies, as tears drip down his cheeks. I quickly drive home, fix Reed a corn dog (and then a second, which he completely devours), and fix myself a big, heaping dish of guilty pie.

As I chew (guilty pie is tough to swallow), I resolve to pay more attention to the details, and I will try. But I know that this isn't the last time I will mess up, disappoint my sons, or miss the mark as their mom. I spit out the bitter bite of guilty pie and exchange it for a more filling slice of humble pie.

I ask Reed for his forgiveness. He looks at me curiously (he has nearly forgotten the "no lunch-yukky roast beef" crisis of his day). But hopefully the boys learn, in moments like these, that it's okay to make mistakes, it's honorable to admit them, and it's important to seek forgiveness.

And, for your information, tomorrow's lunch is from Wendy's ... and I did send in the order form for both boys!

The Valley Song

Today I'm grieving for friends who are in the midst of a battle. It seems like the enemy of our hearts has won. I am so sad, but I know it cannot compare to their sorrow. Yesterday this song by Jars of Clay came to mind. My friend, Janna, shared it with me a few months ago, and it was truly like a balm for my soul. Here are the lyrics (to hear it, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvHMjILrSJ0 )

verse 1
You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I'm crying out to you

I will sing of your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy.

When death like a Gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face

But I fear you aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that assures

I will sing of your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy.
Hallelujah.

verse 2
While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut

And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down

I will sing of your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy.
Hallelujah.

Jesus proclaims: "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4:18-19). Other translations read, "He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives."

In this valley, I will sing and worship and pray for a glimpse of the river beyond the next bend. I pray for my friends to cling to this hope ... for Jesus has come to rescue, to redeem, and to restore. Hallelujah.

Grace

I think about grace a lot. For one reason, because it's a word God spoke to me several years ago ... maybe a name, but maybe more of a truth he wanted me to consider and understand. Because I associate "grace" (elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action -- which I often feel sorely lacking) with "GRACE" (the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God), my stumbling, stammering self serves as a daily reminder of my lack of creditials, my missing the mark, and my inability to deserve such a gift.

Sometimes my lack of grace is something only I am aware of, as I miss a step and trip down the stairs unnoticed. Other times I do this in front of others, and my face flushes crimson. And then there are those times that I just have to laugh when my spectacular lack of grace takes center stage and the spotlight is on. Yesterday I had such a moment.

The boys and I went bowling with my cousin, and we had the alley nearly to ourselves -- thank goodness! I stepped over into lane 10 to take a picture of Seth in action on lane 12, when I stepped over the line. Okay, no one ever told me that they slick the bowling lanes down with baby oil or butter or something. My bowling shoe-clad feet whipped out from under me, and I believe I hovered in mid-air before crashing to the hardwoods on my right buttock. Ow!

Bad enough. I am thinking, "Who saw that?" while also thinking, "Man, that hurt!!!" The kids are checking on me, my cousin is concerned, and I am just wanting the world to keep spinning while I remain unnoticed. That's when the voice on the loudspeaker, no joke, comes on. "Please do not step onto the lanes. They are very slippery." Hmmm ... first thought, "No kidding!" Second thought, "Little late for that instruction." Third thought ... never mind, I'll keep that one to myself.

Moments like these (and there are many) remind me of my imperfections, my foibles, my flaws. Yet, they bring the idea of grace to my mind and make me aware of how generous God was to gift someone as ungraceful as me with his GRACE. Underserved, unmerited favor. And whether I am as graceful as Olympic diver or as clumsy as circus clown, his GRACE covers me -- completely. I may lack grace, but I overflow and swim deeply in his GRACE.

Home

This week my boys and I went home ... to my home in LaFollette, which my parents built when I was two years old and where they have lived ever since. It's a trip we frequently make, as we're blessed to live only an hour from them, and it is a joy to watch the boys play there.

As I was tucking Reed in on Wednesday night, I said, "Do you know whose bed this used to be?" It was mine throughout my childhood, with the neighboring twin bed occupied many years by my sister (until she moved into her own room next door). I looked around the room and remembered playing in that space, running down the hall, hiding behind the door to the den and peeking through the crack to see what Mom and Dad were watching on tv.

Now it is my boys turn. They had some "spy gear" with them on this trip, so they attached the "lock" to their bedroom door. Anytime one of us would try to open it, an alarm would blast and I could hear them whisper and giggle behind the door. Papers slid out from the crack under the door with secret messages written in code, and when one ventured out, he had to give the password to reenter.

I have vivid memories of playing at my grandparents' house when I was a child ... the sight of my grandmother, Amma, standing in her small kitchen cooking chicken and dumplings or homemade biscuits. My grandfather reclining in his large red leather chair or sitting at the dining table, mixing his molasses and butter with a fork for those homemade biscuits. I can recall the knick-knacks on the shelves, the cherry-scented Jergens lotion in the bathroom, and the big tree out front that we climbed on.

I watch my boys sneaking through the halls of my childhood home, up to some mischief, or enacting some battle or adventure in the yard, and it makes me smile. I know that Seth and Reed will always recall the smell of this house, the sight of BaBa on his mower, the expectation of MiMi in her kitchen, and the deep sense of home that they feel when they are here.

Jumpin' July

Our blog has suffered from a busy month of summer fun. Let me catch you up on what our family has been doing in July.

The month started with a visit from our friend Joe Coker, his son Layton, and his new wife Amy and stepson Conner. It was so fun to have them here, to celebrate the Fourth of July with them (a nearly annual tradition), and to honor them with a small dinner gathering of our Carson-Newman friends. They are moving at the end of the summer to Texas, where Joe will begin teaching at Baylor University. We're so excited for them!

Soon after their visit, the boys and I headed to Nashville for a few days with my sister, Beth, and her husband, Barry. You can see photos of the highlight of the trip below: rock climbing at an indoor climbing center. The boys were just amazing, as they both climbed with determination and focus for several hours. We also enjoyed a very hot day at the Nashville Zoo.

We returned from Nashville to welcome our dear friends, the Teichmillers, for a few days at our home. Jinda, Will, Sara, and Jack's visit was great fun, as the boys LOVE playing together, and I enjoyed the "girl time" with Jinda and Sara. Thanks to them, I was able to see the American Girl movie, which my boys would never have agreed to!

The next week Seth and Reed attended soccer camp at Christian Academy of Knoxville. The boys will be attending school there starting this fall, so we were excited to have them on campus and connecting with other kids who attend CAK (hopefully minimized their anxiety a bit). They had a good time and were real troopers spending four hours in the hot July sun each day.

Ahhhh...isn't July over yet? Not hardly. After soccer camp, the boys headed to Chattanooga for their annual visit with Tim's mom, Ann. They spend nearly a week with her every summer, and they love it! Chuck E. Cheese, the aquarium, movies, and time with their cousins ... it's no wonder we have to detox them after such a week!

Yet, they have gone from a busy week in Chattanooga to a busy one at home, as our church is having our version of vacation Bible school this week -- Kamp Kidstuf. Each night from 6-9, the boys are participating in the "Danger Zone" track of KK: dodgeball, zip line, marshmallow guns, a mud pit, slip 'n slide, and more! They, along with about 170 other kids, are gathering at Providence each night for lots of fun in the various tracks but more importantly to learn about God and His amazing love. It's such a great week!

So the month comes to a close. It has been a memorable and meaningful one, full of friends and family! Now, we're so thankful to have another week and a half of summer break left. We intend to savor every minute until the new school year begins!

Climbing in Nashville

Fireball Fun

Backstory: In 2006, I decided that I was going to start running. I don't really know why. I've NEVER been a runner or an athlete of any form or fashion. But I'd recently lost quite a bit of weight and was feeling healthier than I had in long time, so I felt inspired to push my body and see what I could do.

At first, I could only run a few feet. In fact, I set my goal to run from one light pole to the next; then, past two light poles. Eventually I increased my goal to run from my neighborhood to the neighborhood just up the street. I thought I'd never get there. After I achieved this goal, I wondered, "Could I run a mile?" I'd clock it on my car's odometer over and over -- the firestation. I had to run to the firestation.

Well, after much training with my friend Jennifer, we ran to the firestation. Then we set a new goal: to run a 5K. We trained for four months last year for our first race, the Turkey Trot, and last November we ran every step of the 3.2 miles. I just can't tell you how amazing this was for me -- to accomplish something so athletic, to push my body, and to reach my goal.

Last Thursday (7/03) I ran in my second 5K -- the Fireball -- with Tim. It was a 9 p.m. race, thank goodness! The July heat and humidity was tough enough, even at that late hour. Tim ran the Turkey Trot with me too, but since I had my running buddy Jennifer then, he went to the front of the pack to make good time. This time he committed to run with me the whole distance.

One thing I love about these races is the start: the huddled crowd waiting for the start, full of adrenaline and nervous chatter, and then the view of the runners slowly spreading out along the race route, a constant stream of people moving in unison. However, I quickly try to block out the other runners so I can establish my own pace and stick with it. And for the first mile, I do well. I love having Tim right by my side, matching my steps.

Then, a side cramp hits. Ugh. This didn't happen at the Turkey Trot. I try to push through and keep running but I can't. I have to slow down and walk. And I'm upset. I feel like a failure. I urge Tim to keep running, but he won't. He stays by my side and encourages me every step of the way. "You're amazing," he says, over and over again, whether I am walking or running (I do more of both). And my heart swells because I know that he believes this to his core. I may not be running a glorious race, but I feel glorious because of Tim's words.

In the end, we ran more than we walked, and we completed the race by running across the finish line (only 3 minutes slower than my Turkey Trot time). I find that I learn a lot about myself in my running, but on this night, chief among the lessons I learned was how blessed I am to have my biggest fan beside my side every day and every night -- keeping pace with me, urging me on, and inspiring me to keep running.

We're not sure when our next race will be, but we do intend to run the Knoxville 1/2 marathon in the Spring of '09. I can assure you that Tim and I will not keep the same pace in this race, so if anyone wants to be my running buddy, I'd love to have you join me! And if you've never run before, begin in the morning by running from one light pole to the next -- it's a start!