"A good legacy always beats a good time."

I went to a marriage conference this weekend. It was a little awkward. Ok, a LOT awkward. From the moment that I tried to register and the online form wouldn't let me continue unless there were two conference attendee names, I felt out of place and debated going. The speakers were Mark Driscoll and his wife of Mars Hill church, and it was a simulcast of their "Real Marriage" tour. I stared at the event description online and felt God nudging me to go. I enjoy listening to Pastor Mark's blunt and funny take on marriage, and I'd wanted to go to this tour for years, so I shrugged and registered.  I was the only single person there, despite the fact that it was advertised for anyone in any relationship status.

What a rich message! If you are married and happy, married and miserable, single and wanting to get married someday, or even sorting through the rubble of a broken relationship, there was truth here that will challenge you. Check it out.

The first night, I drove to the church where the conference was supposed to be hosted, and the lights were all off and the parking lot was empty. Did I get the dates mixed up? I was secretly relieved as I thought I'd gotten out of attending. This week had already been long and exhausting, and I had my son's birthday party the next day to prep for. The last thing I wanted was another late night and even grumpier kids. Just as I was internally high-fiving my chore list about freeing up time to get work done, my friend texted me that I was at the wrong place, so I corrected course and made it there in time, tossing up a prayer, "God, please don't let me fall asleep during the lesson." The first two sessions were good. They were funny and honest. I enjoyed them, but debated coming the following day. As we were leaving that night, my friend asked, "So, are you coming tomorrow?" "Sure," Crazy Bethany answered. (I don't know how to turn crazy Bethany off sometimes. She just takes over and doesn't think through things.)

 So, there I was, sitting there on the second day of the conference, heavily caffeinated, surrounded by married couples holding hands, giggling, and elbowing each other pointedly, and I doubted my decision to be there. I'd laughed a lot. I had squirmed a little. I had gotten some better perspective. But why had I felt so convicted to attend?  I was anxious about getting everything finished before people showed up at my house expecting a cool party. During the break that morning I thought about picking up the kids early and leaving before the final session so that I could finish my work at home. Again I felt God prompting me to stay. "Sure, why not, God," I thought. "I guess I could use an extra hour of sitting still after the crazy week the kids have given me. ...Hey, speaking of which, what are you going to do about those kids of mine anyway? I love them like crazy, but how do I control them? I need a bigger vision for our family right now. And maybe a nap. How can we bring joy and wholeness from the brokenness that we've come from?"

The final session started and Pastor Mark started describing his family history. Drunken alcohol pirates from Ireland, they moved to America to escape consequences from their pillaging. They settled into a life of potato farming, drinking heavily, beating their wives, and breaking their children, which continued until Mark's mother got pregnant. She didn't want to raise a child in that atmosphere, so she and his father moved. They broke the curse to some degree. Mark remembers visiting his grandfather with his parents as a child, and his grandfather was a miserable, lonely, broke, alcoholic, old man. Mark swore to never end up like that. When he grew up and became a Christian, he started thinking about how to build a better future for his new bride and their future family. He was the first link in a chain of generations who have the opportunity to say that they were raised by solid, godly, loving parents who had a vision for building a legacy of love and wholeness.

As he talked, I realized that this was why I needed to be there. I hadn't verbalized it like this, but I had been struggling to see beyond the broken past to the future legacy. Hope kindled in my heart as I saw a different path.

We are all selfish. Left to our natural instincts, we will only care about what we want, not what others need. In a family setting, this leads to a legacy that harms, not blesses us. Was it a blessing to grow up in your family? Did they make family choices in light of love or selfishness? Many homes are more harmful than helpful because they operate out of selfish brokenness. Rather than intentionally making decisions that equip their children to live in strength and wisdom, it ends up being more "survival mode" where the parents are just trying to be happy. "A good person leaves a legacy for their children and their children's children." What legacy do you want to leave? We need a vision so strong that we can hold every decision against that standard.

Life give many opportunities for a good time that can destroy your life legacy. A GOOD LEGACY ALWAYS BEATS A GOOD TIME. How many marriages are destroyed by one spouse ignoring their vows and choosing a "good time" over faithfulness? How many young people regret caving and choosing an exciting relationship rather than sticking to their standards for a spouse?

One of the biggest lies that I hear is that we "deserve to be happy." We have the right to pursue happiness, we're told, and if we aren't happy, we need to get rid of what is making us unhappy and find something else that will make us happy again. WRONG. God isn't in the business of making people happy. He's primarily interested in making people holy. Happiness is a byproduct of right-living. If you are making poor choices in a quest to be happy, you will end up with the opposite of what you desire. Yesterday my daughter wanted some candy that I had promised her for completing her chores. Rather than doing her work and waiting for me to get it for her, she climbed up on the kitchen counter to get it for herself. I caught her in the act, and guess who lost the promised reward? Today she came and asked me if she could try again. She finished her chores and got her four M&Ms. As I handed her four candies in her favorite colors, her eyes lit up, she threw her arms around my neck, and exclaimed, "Oh thank you! I love dem!" The best part of this choice was that she not only earned her candies honestly, she earned the joy of celebrating with me.

This week I am going to start praying and prioritizing differently. I am going to start drafting a "family legacy" for our family. What do we want to stand for? What do we want to accomplish? What do I want my children to teach their children? What stories do I want to tell my great-grandchildren someday?

What are some things that are included in your family legacies? What are some things that you want to change?

Strength to the powerless.

My life has been beyond chaotic lately. Some days I just stand still, so overwhelmed that I can't even move because I don't know what to do. But I know Who I follow, so after catching my breath and silently begging God for direction, I look around, smile, and do whatever my hands find to do with all my strength (which isn't much, quite often).

"You are so strong, it's amazing!" say my friends. Ha. I don't feel strong at all. I feel the opposite of strength. I feel out of control and powerless. My own failures prick and prod at the corners of my mind. Shutting them out takes effort... more effort than I have sometimes. I am tired. I am disorganized, always. I snap at my kids instead of disciplining in love. I can't keep up with the laundry, the kids' homework, or chores. My to-do list is so long that I need to upgrade from sticky notes to a scroll. My life isn't what I planned.

I smile, pray, and work. I hug my kids when I don't know what to tell them. I play "positive, encouraging K-love" when I need to hear truth. I bury my nose in God's word and find this:

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He gives power to the weak

    and strength to the powerless.

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Even youths will become weak and tired,

    and young men will fall in exhaustion.

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But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.

    They will soar high on wings like eagles.

They will run and not grow weary.

    They will walk and not faint.

And that is the secret to strength. We are all weak and deeply flawed. But we aren't called to be strong and perfect. We are called to draw strength from the only One who is perfect. When we don't know where to turn or what to do, our Father still has everything under control. Talking to Him has a way revealing perspective and giving peace where we only saw problems and pain.

Turning to God in those moments is like sucking in deep breaths of air while running. Breathing correctly while running has always been a struggle for me. I tend to hold my breath while running. Yeah, I know, it doesn't work for long. Breathing is important, if you want to avoid fainting on the side of the road. Luckily, we have a Father who loves for us to come before Him with all our mess and craziness, and to be WELCOMED, comforted, and strengthened as often as we need it.

Our strength is simply in knowing how to breathe.

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Amazing princesses

I really love mornings with my princess. She served me imaginary tea in bed this morning (which did me more good than a stiff cup of coffee). Then she cuddled up next to me, patted my cheek, and asked me if we could wear "fancy" dresses all day. Yesterday she made my heart pitter-patter with the best compliment I've had in ages. She indignantly huffed at people who don't appreciate her mommy as much as she does, "I don't know why everyone doesn't love you, Mom. You're the most beautifullest woman in the world." My little sassy Sissy has her moments, but that vote of confidence made my week. 

In honor of princesses everywhere, I'm re-posting some notes about princesses that I wrote a while ago. Enjoy!

(Re-posted from Jan 13, 2014)

I love good princess stories. But without Darkness trying to ruin the good, it's a boring story. Cinderella's humility and forgiveness shine through her evil step-mother's schemes to ruin her happiness. Belle's sacrifice and love for her father was demonstrated when her only option to save his life was to offer her own. (And there was no magical spell that was broken when she made that sacrifice. It only began a longer journey of difficulties for her as she was imprisoned, lonely, and terrified. If you read the original version, she prayed and begged God to give her strength to endure the horrible death that she was sure awaited her.)

I have some amazing friends and mentors, and as I was thinking through the common denominator between all of them, what is most noticeable is that they have all been through some really dark, difficult times. They've been broken, crushed, and despairing, but because of this pressure, they've grown into something beautiful. Times of pressure are never fun, but those moments are the most important times in our development. Without difficulty, we don't grow. 

I've been trying to think of lots of good stories about "champions" to tell my kids this year. There are some insane, courageous, inspiring people who make gloriously "good" choices and are memorialized by those big moments in time. But if you look at their life as a whole, it was full of failures and hardships and learning. How they dealt with the darkest moments were just as weighty as how bright their shining triumphs were. 

This gives me hope. Sometimes when things are dark, I despair. But the darkest moments are where the adventure is about to get real. Those are my moments to choose truth and love. 

This morning I asked my daughter, "Who are some of the Most Amazing princesses?" Her answer was not what I expected. Instead of her favorites (Rapunzel and Ariel), she didn't miss a beat before grinning and declaring, "You. And me. And all of the other girls who love Jesus." (Out of the mouths of babes...)

So today, I'm hugging my little princess and thanking God for His strength in the hard times. 

Here's a snippet of my little daily devotional book:

"You would like to see a map, showing all the twists and turns of your journey. You'd feel more prepared if you could somehow visualize what is on the road ahead. However, there is a better way to be prepared for WHATEVER you will encounter today: Spend quality time with Me. 

I will not show you what is on the road ahead, but I will thoroughly equip you for the journey. 

A life lived close to Me will never be dull or predictable. Resist your tendancy to search for the easiest route through each day. Be willing to follow wherever I lead. No matter how steep or treacherous the path before you, the safest place to be is by My side." 

What really matters?

   My little champs and I were discussing how important it was to keep one's room clean today. Christian believes that it's really helpful to be organized when you're trying to find Lego parts. Ariana retorts, "Well, if I couldn't find the parts I wanted, I'd find something else and do something even cooler!" (Her cleaning philosophy is reflected in the explosion of baby dolls and tea party dishes covering the entire floor of her play area.)

   They don't really agree on, well, much of anything (except hating bed times). Most of our daily household chatter is debating who should get to play with the plastic sword first, whether Cinderella or Cars is a better movie, and how overrated bathing is. Those are the EASY topics. Then they starting asking the tricky stuff. They want to know where babies come from, why the sun is so bright, why apple cores mold when you put them under your bed for a week, and how the world came into existence.

   In listening to a scientist debate "old earth vs new earth" theories recently, I was thinking back to some heated discussions that my mom and I had about the topic a year or so ago. At the time, it seemed really important, and we were both a little heated. Fast-forward to the time after she got her diagnosis of terminal cancer though, and our conversations weren't even remotely about things like creation debates or theological differences. In those precious few months, it didn't matter. It wasn't important. What WAS important were people and relationships. It's crazy how the things that Really Matter surface when time is limited. It suddenly didn't matter at all that we disagreed on how old the earth is.

   Reflecting on how drastically my conversations with Mom changed in the months before she died has made me question my conversational content in all other relationships too. We all have limited time in some way or another. We have family and friends who only visit occasionally. We have chores, homework, and jobs that leave little time for our kids and spouses. We see each other for ten minutes after church before we have to head off to nap. What do we talk about? HOW do we talk? Sometimes the content is just an excuse for contact. Love is what matters.

To infinity... and beyond!

   The little champs and I have been working on something fun this morning. We randomly found a purple table that was the perfect size for a Lego table at a thrift store. I was going to repaint it black, but our Lego baseplates (green and blue) looked so much like Buzz Lightyear's colors when I started eyeballing the potentials that we just rolled with it, and here's how it turned out.

 Ari (dancing and squealing around the new table): Do you love it, Christian? Do ya!? How much do you love it?!?
Christian: I love it... to infinity and beyond!

"How are you?"

   A week ago today was my mom's final day on earth. It was miserable. She was tired and in pain. My dad was an emotional wreck, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I was wearing out the knees in my jeans praying for God to give Dad strength to cope and to give Mom strength to endure.

   I called her Monday evening to tell her that I loved her and goodnight, but she never answered. The next morning she died in her sleep. (What a way for her to wake up! She spent the night in pain and trying to sleep, but she woke up to LIFE! It's like the verse in Psalms that says, "There may be pain in the night, but JOY comes in the morning.")

   A week later and we're still trying to adjust. We cleaned out her room last week, and the last call on her cell phone was a missed call from me. That was sad. I found that she used a silly picture of me as a bookmark in the Bible on her nightstand. It made me ache because I missed her love.

   I have been overwhelmed with love too though. I totally dissolved into a puddle when one of my mom's closest friends was praying with me and said, "Lord, I assume this daughter for as long as I am on earth." Another one of my mom's very close friends checks up on me to make sure that I'm eating and functioning. (Which makes me laugh, because my mom always fussed at me to make sure that I was eating too.) Yet another mother came by and did my dishes in spite of my protests.

   But I still don't know how to answer everyone who asks, "How are you?"

   I am sad. I am blessed. I am shocked, grieving, and hurt, but I am also confident, joyful, and hopeful. I feel like a zombie sometimes, too tired for any more emotion. Other times I am so overwhelmed by emotion that I can barely move. I am happy that her suffering is finished. I am more aware of how my life impacts my children and what it means to "leave a legacy."

   Wow. What a week.

   How am I?

   I am ...recovering.

   Recovering like after a crazy workout when you're almost too sore to walk or move, but it feels good because you made it and you know how much stronger your muscles will be. All that's left to do is rest, eat, stretch and let healing happen.

   Thank you all for the love and prayers this week. My babies thank you too. :-) Christian summed up the week like this: "We had a really hard week, didn't we, Mom? It's a good thing that week is over. Now we can get on to the Good Stuff."

Pumpkin Pies

I just showed Christian the new blog.

"Oh, how CUTE!" He exclaimed. "Let's write on it."

Me: What do you want to write?

C: Can we use pictures and letters?

M: Sure. What do you want to write about? You choose something that is important to you and talk about it, and a lot of people can read what you have to say.

C: Tell them that I love pumpkin pie. And then tell them where we live so they can drop pies off here. And then put a period at the end of the sentence, Mom. Oh, and post a picture of pumpkin pie. Why don't we just name this blog "Pumpkin Pies"?

Introducing....

Guess what, friends! Under heavy pressure, I have finally agreed to create a blog to share some of our adventures. In all my spare time, I promise to semi-faithfully do some writing, and YOU have to promise to respond so that I am not just talking to myself! Goodness knows I do enough of that already.