Super Week

This week we experienced a completely new twist on the old idea of vacation bible school. Thinking out of the box, Four Mile created Super Week - a vacation bible school for families. Here are a few thoughts on why this new take on a classic program worked.

Schedule

Rather than having a program solely for children, Four Mile took a risk and organized a family program which took place every night from 6-8.

The evening began with dinner, provided by the church, so that those coming straight from work wouldn't have to worry about getting everyone fed and out the door on time. After dinner and a sketch, the children went off to class, and the adults stayed put, listened to some teaching, and then broke into small groups for discussion.

The evening then ended with children and adults meeting in the sanctuary for a time of worship together.

Families eating together, learning together, and worshipping together. Brilliant.

Creativity

This was the first VBS I attended where the material didn't come from a box. No packaged lessons or music. Rather, the theme of the week centered on our church's purpose to Celebrate, Connect, and Contribute.

By using a superhero theme, our church staff created the characters of Celebrato, Connectra, and the Contribunater - these superhero's battled adversaries in a sketch every evening. The sketches were short, to the point, entertaining, and included the element of repetition from night to night so that the children were engaged and clear on what was happening in the storyline.

We even watched animated shorts prior to the sketches which enlightened us to the back stories of these superheroes. Catchy. Clever.

Our Director of Worship wrote a theme song for the week, "I Wanna Be a Superhero", which everyone learned. Worship always began with this song. Upon entering the sanctuary last night I spotted Harper up front with the worship leader and other children leading the congregation in this song, complete with hand motions. How do you think that made me feel? She is feeling confident and connected.

We then continued in worship by simply using the same songs we sing on Sunday mornings.

Continuity

Both children and adults received the same memory verse each day - with the children receiving a simpler version.

It was nice to know that the children were being taught the same lesson that we were - which made for good discussion afterwards.

The entire evening was tight. It flowed. There was a unity of purpose. The community, young and old, were all learning together.

Zane has found worship to be a little too loud for his liking, so we've gotten in the habit of bringing a notebook and markers for him. He astounded us yesterday by writing letters and words all over the pages of his notebook. We were shocked. I've not even worked with him on letters. He wrote "Zane", "Harper", "Mom", and "Dad". He is never without his notebook. Always drawing. Always writing. We think this calming activity is really helping him.

So, Harper led worship this week. Zane just *poof* started writing. Out of the blue. She and Zane are memorizing scripture.

I would say it was a super week.

Light is Light

Light is light. No matter how dim, no matter how bright.

Light is light.

I found myself saying this to a friend today. A friend, who in the midst of his own pain, was able to bless our family with a meal, and took a moment on the phone to ask how we are fairing. George, who was supposed to be in Beaver this weekend, had to call off his trip due to the flu-like symptoms that suddenly took over my body on Thursday. There would have been absolutely no way I could have handled the kids and the care-taking of the house for showings, unless he remained at home. And thus, he did.

And not only did he stay home to help, but our surrounding troops stepped in with hugs, prayer, meals, phone calls from lifelong friends, babysitting for Zane, rides to get Harper to/from a party, more meals, and just your good 'ole down home support. A few friends from church, neighbors, Lincolnwood parents, college buds (Stacey, I will call you back - post illness) and MK ladies all picked up the baton and ran for us. I have a lot of Thank You notes to write. Gladly.

This does a lot to help adjust one's perspective on things. As I said to George earlier, "My perspective on this entire house-selling experience has indeed changed (for the better - although I would never wish selling a home in a recession on ANYONE), even if it doesn't actually relieve the pain." The pain of fatigue, stress (seriously, I think I have mini heart-attacks throughout the day), and more fatigue has taken over my body. I am so far from being the "me" I know myself to be, and am aching, literally aching, for myself to return. For even though I can see pockets of light, I am still in the midst of feeling physical pain.

A new perspective isn't an immediate pain reliever.

God has changed my perspective through His very presence and through the presence of His people. My children are also those people. If you've never thought of your children as being a spiritual support, then I challenge you to listen to them a bit more closely.

I've got my daughter, who before leaving for school, joins me on the bed while I lay there languishing in chills, aches, and fever, so she can read me the 23rd Psalm and share with me that God is Peace.

I've got my son, who shares with us that "I love Jesus so much in my heart" and than taps his head while saying, "I love Him in my mind also."

This same little boy, who at times baffles us with is spiritually mature perspective, also made mention of our friend's grief in losing their newborn baby. Upon my sharing that little Leah is in Heaven with Jesus, he made this remarkably intuitive statement, "That is so sad. But it is so good! Amy's baby is touching Jesus right now because Jesus is the only one who can make her feel better."

Seriously, what is a parent to do with that other than leave the room in tears? And then, before the moment fades, call Leah's parents who love Jesus with their whole being, and yet still bear the pain of loss.

A new perspective isn't an immediate pain reliever.

This type of heartfelt proclamation can not be taught to a child. This is way more internal than I can ever hope to reach in the life of my kids. This is God territory.

I could care less if my kids have the books of the bible memorized, whether they know when the walls of Jericho fell or can tell me on what animal Paul was riding during his conversion.

All of that can be looked up in the Table of Contents or Index.

On the other hand, the prompting of my children to point me towards the light of God is completely spirit-led. No Table of Contents needed. That other stuff will come, but the depth? I'm beginning to see it within them, without their knowing exact bible facts and figures.

I can now see the many lights that God has been planting throughout this experience. He, the Ultimate Light, has also graced me with the light of friendship, the light of encouragement from my children, and the light of confirmation that He has indeed called us to this move.

Light is light. Dim or bright.

Gotta keep my eye on it.

Blinking

I was an avid journal keeper until just after I had children. I enjoyed the process of searching for the perfect blank journal, and then sitting in a coffeehouse every morning with my cup, bagel, and pen in order to hand write my thoughts during restful moments of quiet before heading off to work. I believe I spurred on many Trinity gals to the joys of keeping a journal. I pray that these women have continued the discipline.

I suppose my blog is now my journal. It just feels different - almost too easy. There is something so very immediate about the process of writing electronically as opposed to using a bound blank book and a pen for means of documenting personal reflection and contemplation: The ability to get one's thoughts out so quickly, to reread and edit, the ease of sharing so openly, and having an "audience", to name a few. I can get over the fact that I now have difficulty hand writing my thoughts, as I am genuinely thankful for this new outlet. I also know that if I waited for the moment when the timing would lend itself to returning to keeping a handwritten journal, I would pen absolutely nothing.

That, and, with no Cuppa Jo all of you would be bored.

My opinion on blogging is very different than my opinion about scrap booking. For I am actually planning on having my blog digitally reproduced and bound into hard copy volumes for my children. The handwritten journals they will have to fight over. This is definitely a long range goal, as I have almost 8 years of blogging to cut, paste, and transfer to a site that can reproduce it for me. I call this process, "Beaver To Do List: Number 1 - bind the blogs".

One of my coolest entries during my journal keeping years was when God gifted me with the ability to see his good works "blink by blink". It became my buzz phrase with the college girls I was disciplining at the time. I know we all talk a good talk about seeing God's good works and blessings in our lives, and yet, I was finding that some women, myself included, were overlooking the seemingly tiny good works and blessings that God was doling out, resulting in heavy feelings of discouragement and abandonment. The ability to recognize, and feel, and taste His presence was trumped by the need to see something "big". Thus, His morsels of grace were easily missed, as the tendency to search for and notice only the large visual chunks overshadowed His awesome presence.

However, through writing, I had learned for myself, that I would benefit from a walk with Jesus that gave value to the "blink by blink" moments which even though small, were incredibly powerful and sustaining. And thus, I went on a campaign to promote such thinking in the lives of the students with whom I worked, always challenging them to take a second and third and fourth look at their situations, knowing that by doing so, they too, would find a glimmer of hope and God's hand during blinks.

Recognizing God in "blink by blink" moments:

• Reminds me of God's immediacy in my life down to the millisecond
• Reminds me of His constant communication with me
• Reminds me of His love for me by gifting me with several moments of His embrace throughout my day

And this is why, even today when I am completely weary from having slept maybe one hour last night due to being in the grips of worry, that I still know and can state with confidence, with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength that my God has a road map for me and my family. He's mapped it. I know this. I am thankful that He is using my very own writings from years ago, to remind me of the truths He has built into my life. For while I am looking for the big blessing of the house being sold, I would benefit from noticing, pointing out, and sharing the "blink by blink" moments that he has gathered and showered upon me. Daily.

Recently, during the opening of the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center (right here in Skokie), Elie Wiesel (whose charity lost $15.2 million and his entire life savings to Bernard Madoff) made a quote encouraging us to enjoy the moments of life, rather than the days of life, as life is made up of moments. When I find the actual quote, I'll add it here - as I'm not doing it justice.

So true is this. Both our walks with God, and the dailiness of life are made up of moments (blinks). Perhaps I've gone a bit micro-manager when it comes to walk/running this desert marathon, but if I only keep my eyes on the finish (how much further, its location, what it looks like, when I'll get there, what kind of free food there will be), I will miss the important moments along the way. The cups of water being handed to me for re hydration, the running buddy who can distract me from the physical pain by chatting with me, and the cheers from encouragers and supporters along the path.

Will you join me in seeing God during the "blink by blink" moments of your day?

Blink. Even the tiniest of blessings are huge.

My Easter Message: Step Away From the Mike

Easter.

Thank you for this day, Lord.

Salvation, Hope, Light, and Freedom are offered to all through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So, what does the microphone photo have to do with Easter?

I have taken these last two months off from singing with our worship band at church. Second to writing, singing is my mode of communication with God, and yet, since the house going up for sale, I've not been able to muster up the ability to do so. Sundays have been hectic, what with having to leave the house clean and spotless for showings and Open Houses, plus getting the kids ready, as well as myself in order to get out the door early to rehearse. And for as much as I adore singing, God was gently tapping my shoulder to take a breather during this season where I've felt like I've been wearing a whalebone corset. Short of breath, dizzy, tight, and tense.

As the band began today I was absolutely elated to see that the newest female vocalist was stepping up to the mike to fill the gap. I smiled. And then, the woman next to me whispered, "Oh! That is your song."

No. It isn't.

I realize that she was merely being kind - communicating that she would miss us when we moved. I knew her inner monologue. Still, it was never my song, but rather a song that God gave me the grace to sing.

I never set out to take this hiatus and always thought I would just continue singing until we moved, but the break has proven to be good for me. It has forced me to commune with God differently. Even though the communion as of late has mainly consisted of a weakly squeaked prayer containing one word: Help.

It's a good prayer. Solid. Packed with sincerity and not too wordy.

I've not been able to get through worship without crying every week, and no doubt the Lord knew this when He prompted me to lay down the mike. I've needed this time. To sit with George. To minister to Harper. To have the freedom to fall apart in the pew rather than doing so during a song I'm trying to lead.

Today, I was especially moved by the Easter message. It confirmed for me what I've been experiencing over these last two months. For the first time ever, I really identified with Mary, who stricken with grief upon finding the tomb empty, couldn't be moved from this state by either John's belief that Jesus had risen, or the two angels inside the tomb who spoke directly to her heart's concern.

I too have not been able to rise out of the despair I have been feeling despite the incredible wishes and encouraging words from friends and family that God will do a great thing and sell my house. I have heard their words, just as Mary heard from John and the angels, but the words haven't sunk in deeply enough to soften, relax, or remove the weariness and grief I have been feeling.

For, like Mary, I have known all along that until Jesus speaks, I will be immobile.

I found this to be so affirming, for I mistook my emotions as a lack of faith. How surprised was I to realize that:

• I am actually banking solely on Jesus to close the deal. The encouraging words I have received from others have been most appreciated, revealing the support from the body of Christ, and yet, I'm waiting for God to speak. Only then will I be satisfied and refreshed.
  
• Laying down my mike has been necessary. God knew that I would become paralyzed throughout this period. He has taken these last few months to build up a "God and me alone" mentality. Lonely, at times, to be sure, but necessary for my spiritual development, as I frequently err on the side of depending more so on people than Him. I've never doubted saying "no" to singing during this time. I knew I had heard Him tell me to make that choice. This decision was confirmed today.
  

Also like Mary, however, is the realization that while during this moment He spoke directly to her alone, He didn't do so exclusively for her. This time of "God and me alone" will come to a close, and then, I will once again be handed the mike to share what I know to be true.

That Salvation, Hope, Light, and Freedom are offered to all through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Thank you for this day, Lord.

Easter.


Photo by ganatronic

Re Post

A re posting of my blog from Good Friday last year.

Good Friday, 2008. No, it isn't snowing today, as it was last year, but the weather report in my heart is chilly and cloudy with a chance of heavy winds and a torrential downpour. A climate that only Jesus can alter and control.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

First Communion

Two Sunday's ago, Harper and I had the joy of worshipping together in the back pew of our church. Usually, this is difficult, as our sanctuary is very large, and sitting in the back doesn't offer a great visual for children - or adults for that matter. But, we came late, and thus, that's what was available.

She had her worship journal with her, and as has been the habit for several weeks now, we settled into our tradition of writing questions and answers back and forth regarding faith and the service.

This week, however, the written conversation took a big turn as we began a dialogue about sin and why Jesus had to die.

Without sharing the exact contents of this discussion, as it is her journal after all, it became clear to me that Harper does indeed have a fundamental belief in Jesus as the Son of God. Savior. As Lord? Well, I believe this belief only grows with time - the act of following Him completely with heart, soul, mind, and strength - one's whole being.

So, as communion was served that morning, Harper became frustrated when the plate wasn't offered to her.

In what can only be described as a stage whisper she said, "Mom! I believe! I believe!"

She was emphatic.

At that moment I realized that I could not see inside her heart. I could not be the judge of this statement, for we had just completed pages of Q&A about God's love for her and the ultimate sacrifice made by Jesus in order that she may spend eternity with God in heaven. I had even shared with her how the act of communion was a symbol of Jesus giving his body and blood for her.

Thus, I summoned over an elder and friend, Ray Carmichael, and shared in whispers that this would be Harper's first time taking communion.

"Harper, this is the body of Christ. Broken for you."

I helped her to answer with, "Thanks be to God."

As the juice was passed, I made sure that it was offered to my daughter.

At first, I was saddened that George was missing this very important step in Harper's spiritual development, and yet I also knew that he wouldn't have wanted us to pass up the moment just because he wasn't present.

I realize that this is just the beginning for Harper. Having taken enough courses in seminary to now be of the belief that there isn't necessarily a "sinner's prayer" or just one "moment of belief", I know that this act of faith is a first step down a long road of her faith journey.

I am thankful that God allowed me to share this special moment with her, for I too have a memory of my first communion. It is certainly not as special. What do I remember? My partner (as I took my first communion in the Catholic Church dressed as a bride and partnered with a boy in a tux) going the wrong way after taking the Host.

He blew the blocking.

And that's my memory.

Hopefully, Harper will have a different memory of her first communion. No dress. No veil. No partner. Just Jesus. And her. And Mom. Back pew.

Together.

Lamentations 3: 22-24

Lamentations 3: 22-24 (New Living Bible)

²² The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
²³ Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
²⁴ I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”

I was pleasantly awaken this morning by, nope, not George, but Harper with a hot cup of morning joe in her hand (interestingly enough in my "No Whining" mug). It was early. Earlier than usual for her to even be up. She was dressed.

I heard Zane up as well. He was still in pj's, but had apparently discarded his nighttime pull-up, having changed into clean underwear on his own, and had already eaten breakfast.

Zane entered with a cheerful, "Good morning, Mommy. I am the Captain of Coffee and Harper is my helper. She made it."

It was true.

As George recounts it, the kids woke very early. George was already up when Harper came downstairs dressed and eagerly offering to make breakfast for everyone.

"Dad, I got breakfast. You can go walk the dog."

She heated up Zane's pancakes (we make a huge stack at the beginning of the week and freeze them), and popped some bagels in the toaster while George walked the dog down to 7-11 to pick up some coffee. He returned home to see Harper serving Zane his breakfast.

She then got the coffee going, properly doctored the morning elixir, and delivered it to me.

It wasn't even 7:30.

George said he was so overwhelmed by the actions and countenance of Harper and Zane this morning that he walked the dog in tears. We are blessed beyond measure. We know this.

We. Absolutely. Know. This.

The remainder of the morning included:

• Secretly watching Zane attempt to make his bed
• Harper telling me to step away from her dirty clothes as SHE would bring them to the hamper
• A snuggle-fest with George and Zane on the bed during which Zane used all his "love talk" to woo me
• Harper helping me make the bed
• And many other "blinks" of God's goodness that I am unable to even recount, as there seemed to be such a multitude of "mercy moments" buzzing and whizzing through the climate of our home at such a high rate of speed that I couldn't possibly get them all recorded
  

It is Friday. Better know as "Joline has the entire morning to herself" day. It is 9:30. I am relishing the mercies God poured out this morning, am looking forward to a salon visit for a new sassy, snappy do, am surrounded by an incredibly clean and easily kept home (after weeks of doing so, it becomes a habit), and am breathing a bit more freely this morning.

God can use anyone to minister.

Thanks, Lord, for using my children.

Additional thought . . . after experiencing this incredible morning, I thought it would be interesting to go back in time. Here is my post from April 3, 2008. Quite a different morning this year.

Gifts Fit for a King

The wise men brought him spices and perfumes.

Just last night during our Advent reading, Zane shared, "I would like to give Jesus the gift of my love."

I think this is a perfect gift for the God who has everything.

Harper also had a gift for God. It was a little different.

"I will give God the gift of questions. I've got a few!"

I immediately asked her if she would share what she wanted to ask Him.

"Ok, I'll tell you, but you can't answer. He needs to answer. How is it that he gets up there 'on high'?"

We're thinking of having a "Question Notebook" handy for her to jot these questions down from time to time.

Love and questions.

Wrap 'em up and check God's name off the gift list! He's not getting socks this year!

Silent Night

Our family, like many, has an Advent tradition of gathering together to read various stories, scriptures, and devotions every night during the month of December. It is true that the kids like to rush through this portion of our tradition to get to the second:

The Advent Box

which holds, behind each tiny door, a chocolate coin, or Santa, or tiny toy (which used to thrill Harper who now comments, "Why are all my toys made in China?"), or a slip of paper with a note that says, "The ban on TV watching on school nights has been lifted for the Charlie Brown Christmas Special!" and "This certificate gives the bearer one Itune download!". I try to be creative.

It was easy to find 24 tiny gifts when Harper was into rock collecting.

Zane? Chocolate. Shoot, I could fill every one of his compartments with 1 chocolate chip. He'd be ecstatic.

Harper, on the other hand, is a bit more difficult now. Someday, I'll fill her box with charms for a bracelet, as I attempted to do so last year, only to find that the interest wasn't there on her part. The Advent Box forces me to be very mindful of their personalities. It makes me stop and think about my children - their likes (Zane=chocolate) and their dislikes (Harper=chocolate). In doing so, it also reminds me of their love language.

Zane's love language is hot chocolate.

Harper's love language is not a charm bracelet. It's time. Quality time.

During our reading time last night, I pulled out a book about how the beloved Christmas carol, Silent Night, came to be. The book was long. Well, not long as in chapter-book-long, but rather, long in topic. I just didn't think it would capture or keep her interest. Whether she enjoyed the story or not, I did know that she would remain throughout the entire reading as long as it meant that the two of us got to stuff ourselves, side by side, into the same reading chair in the living room. Time together.

We read through the entire story, and upon reaching the last page, we found the very music to Silent Night.

"Sing it, Mommy."

Ok, this is the kid who tells me that I can only sing with the band at church. Not in the kitchen, not in the bathroom, and certainly not in the car or God forbid in front of her friends. Sing? Did I hear her right?

So, I began. As I started the second verse she asked me where I was in the music. I showed her and continued.

And then it happened.

Suddenly, on the third verse, my solo became a duet WITH MY DAUGHTER! It was one of those moments where I just had to hold it together or lose the moment. While the words of the song were coming out of my mouth, the words in my head were saying, "Don't make a big deal out of this or she will stop singing!"

She has never sung with me. EVER.

Ok, the kids may want to rush to the Advent Box portion of our yearly tradition. But not on this night.

Not on this night.

This night was calm, bright, tender, mild, heavenly, peaceful, and silent, accept for Mother and Child lightly singing the last verse of this beautiful and simple carol.

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth "

Wow'd By Reconciliation: It IS Possible

Simply put, we, as Christians, are CALLED to be different. We are CALLED to be in this world, but not "of" this world. We are CALLED to treat others as we would want to be treated. CALLED.

Sometimes I fail to answer.

Reconciliation IS possible. Jesus did not just speak to it, he lived it. And died for it. His forgiveness is not conditional.

Sometimes I make it conditional.

You've read over the last few weeks how I have struggled. I am not perfect. Today, I was able to have a conversation with my "trans guy" in response to a comment he left on my blog. I didn't simply comment back. I called him. Immediately. During our phone conversation, I thanked him for his apology and shared how Jesus has been working in my life to reveal to me how our auto drama is less about the actual car, and more about the need for humans to work alongside one another towards reconciliation in matters that, for lack of a better word, suck.

Big Picture vs. Little Picture.

Ultimately, it's not about the car. It's about people.

In the future I will make every attempt to wield my blogging power for good.

I've had a good, strong cup of Reconciliation Blend this morning.

Enjoy a cup on me.

The following Comment has been re-posted with permission

Cuppa Jo.

First of all, I'd like to sincerely apologize for the experience you are having with your car. It sounds terrible. In our daily business we strive to provide our customers with the best quality and service. Unfortunately, on occasion, for one reason or another, we fall short of that goal. Believe me, I personally spend many hours lamenting over situations such as these. But they do happen sometimes none the less. Ultimately, all we can do is everything in our power to rectify the situation and do our best to make amends. Rest assured that we are working diligently to get your car back to you with the transmission in perfect working order.

Upon return of your car we will also be giving you a $200.00 Target gift certificate to show our appreciation for allowing us to serve you. This is not something we do only for someone with a blog page, but for any customer who is not 100% satisfied with our company.

Furthermore, although cooler line hoses only break on rare occasions,and we do visually inspect them, we are currently implementing a program to more closely examine every line and replace any hose that shows even a minute sign of wear to avoid any future problems. It is my belief that the Internet and blogs such as yours can only help to improve relationships between businesses and their customers. I do not fear this technology, I embrace it.

I only wish that we had been aware of your situation sooner, and for that I am truly sorry.If you have any questions or if there is anything more we can do for you at all please do not hesitate to call us at 888-808-1066 and ask for Joe.

Thank you,

Gator Transmissions

The "Trans Guys"

Alpha One Taxi: When You Absolutely, Positively, Have To Be There In 25 Minutes

Thanks to our mechanic!

Thanks for holding on to our car for 9 whopping weeks in order to overhaul the transmission and replace our engine. Thanks for then realizing that you hadn't ordered the correct engine for our car. And thanks for making us sweat while removing our engine to repair the head gaskets as we waited anxiously to find out if the engine was even damaged. Thanks for the news that the engine was fine and for keeping the car for yet another weekend so that you could "drive it Saturday to make sure all was well". Thanks.

Thanks for being the main reason that we came so close to missing Justin's first and only Illinois concert date on Corbin Bleu's tour due to OUR CAR BREAKING DOWN IN LOMBARD.

It was God who made sure that we didn't lose ALL THE TRANSMISSION FLUID while on busy 294 and whatever exit we took that was full of construction, toll booths, and traffic. Our true and non-sarcastic thanks and praise go only to the Lord, who must have pushed our car past all that heavy traffic to the entrance of a Popeye's Chicken before I smelled the problem, felt the problem, and then experienced fuming anger as I realized that the car wasn't moving another inch.

George pushed the car into a parking space. Hood up. Transmission fluid everywhere. Transmission fluid seeping out of the car.

My heart broke. Broke. I heard myself whimper, "Is it over?"

George replied with a confident, "No!"

I exited the car and immediately called Justin, who I couldn't reach, (duh), as he was prepping to go on stage in 45 minutes.

We tried to hold it together for the kids. We called people to pray. We tried to keep the goal in mind: getting to the concert. I spotted a Midas Muffler and told George to run there as I thought they would have a listing for Taxi's.

Alpha One Taxi and Livery Inc. (630-549-3009), whose advertisement states, "We are there when you need us", came our rescue as I shared with Andreas, the owner and our driver, why getting to the Dupage County Fair by 7:00 was of the utmost importance. He hauled like any good taxi driver, even going through store parking lots when the traffic was backed up due to a freight train that decided to push my boiling point. He charged my cell phone for me during the ride, which I promptly forgot in his van. He drove BACK to our parked car after the concert to give us the cell phone AND called a towing company which he knew took AAA and credit cards.

Only AAA had already scheduled a towing company which took credit cards. Or so we thought. Surprise! While AAA insured us the company took credit, this was not the case, and thus, the tow truck driver had to take George to the ATM before dropping off the car. Elvis of Esco's Towing was really great. Guatemalan and a Christian. So George and he had a great discussion about coffee, Jesus, and Justin on the ride home. Elvis now wants me to coach his kids. Oh, Elvis. How about some Mary Kay instead?

So, thanks to our mechanic for a great night!

Yes, I got to see Justin. He was fantastic. Sure, we had to lug our car seats into the venue, barely had a moment to take it all in, missed talking to Justin at the "meet and greet" afterwards because we were figuring out the next leg of our trip, (with Justin's Dad, Avi, leading the way in rounding up New Trier kids to get us wherever we needed to go) and, thus, I didn't even see Justin standing 10 feet away from me signing t-shirts and cd's, but we were there.

We were there with his family, all his friends, and new fan's. Thank God that all of Glencoe, and almost every kid I'd ever coached was is attendance, as we needed them at that moment, just as they've needed me over the years. Marcie, Justin's mom, loaded us up with a t-shirt and 4 CD's. Another Mom bought the kids glow necklaces. The McDonough's drove us back to the car and then took me and the kids home. I even met the Artistic Director of Writer's Theater in Glencoe who gave me his card and told me to call him for tickets to A Lion in Winter, which just happens to be one of George's favorite plays.

But the best part was when I opened Justin's CD to read the liner notes:

Joline, 13 years! I can't begin to express what you mean to me, and I wouldn't be who I am on stage or off without your years of direction.

And then, the floodgates opened. Every emotion I'd been holding in throughout the evening burst open. It was then that I realized that while I had physically attended the concert, a piece of me had missed it.

We spoke around midnight. I could hear excitement and fun in the background. The gist went something like this.

"Joline! Where were you! I didn't see you!"

"You didn't get my message, did you? You were brilliant!"

I told him what had happened.

"Are you ok? Did Harper and Zane like it? Oh no, my cell phone is dying. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Ok. Have fun!"

That's ok if he doesn't. He sounded like he was having an incredible time. It was just good to talk to him and insure him that I was indeed there. I wouldn't have missed it. I couldn't have missed it. I will relish in the fact that while my brain was tied up in the events of the evening, I was still in attendance, row H, watching 13 years of coaching sing and dance across a stage in front of adoring fans.

$22 cab fare and a well deserved $10 tip. $3.00 pretzel. $3.00 corndog. $4.00 for root beers. $6.00 for ice cream. $10.00 Corbin Blue "dogtag" necklace for Harper. $3.00 tip (and a Justin Stein CD) to Andreas for returning with my phone. $70 tow.

Seeing Justin in his ultimate element.

Priceless.

Well, If Your Pastor Suggests It . . .

This caption is a bit misleading. We tried something a little different tonight, which, in the future, could actually entice the kids to hit the hay with a bit less of a struggle. I wouldn't necessarily call it stupid, as the idea was actually shared with us by our Pastor who also used this trick with his kids when they were younger. And I certainly wouldn't call him stupid.

Ok, now that we've gotten that out of the way . . . the part where I announce that I don't think my Pastor is stupid . . . we can get on with it.

Tonight, we implemented PAJAMA RIDE!

What is it you ask? Ha! That was the same thing the kids were yelling through their giggles as we rushed them into the car, shoeless and in their pajamas, after startling them out of their bedrooms at 9:30 tonight while making a New Year's racket with wooden spoons on stainless steel saucepans as we joyfully hooted and hollered, "Wake up! It's PAJAMA RIDE time. Everyone out of bed! Get in the car! WHOOOOO!"

Zane popped up in his crib, beaming, as George entered his room, "Daddy! You are waking me up? What are we doing?"

Harper flew open her door and just stared at us with those huge eyes of hers while her mouth hung open in disbelief.

After all the enthusiasm of rushing them down the stairs and outside to the car, we had to pause while the genius that I returned inside to locate the car key . . . but after this little stumble, all went smoothly.

Come on, it was our first time. We're still working out the kinks.

They laughed through their questions as to where we were going, and why we were out so late, and what PAJAMA RIDE was. We just kept yelling, "It's PAJAMA TIME! WHOOOOOOO!"

And then we pulled up to McDonald's, ordered them vanilla shakes and small fries, and became the best parents on the planet for at least 30 minutes.

Harper responded with her usual, "This is crazy! You two are crazy heads! This is awesome!"

Zane just kept saying that he wanted to always have PAJAMA RIDE time, which seems about right as the kid would live in pajamas if he could. Seriously, pajamas are his very favorite choice of clothing. Today alone he wore three different pairs.

Upon returning home, Harper and I sat on her bed, sharing fries, while taking turns asking each other secret questions. The particulars of those questions and answers will remain between me and my girl. Sorry.

As I tucked her in, we kissed and hugged and then she threw herself into my lap. Actually threw herself into my lap for a bear hug. She then asked when we would have our next PAJAMA RIDE.

"Harps, you will never know. It could happen in 10 minutes for all you know. But, you'll never know if you don't go to bed. That's the key to unlocking the surprise."

D*&^! I AM GOOD!

So, thanks, Pastor Dave. And feel free to send more stupid parenting tricks our way. For if a PAJAMA RIDE falls into the category of a stupid parenting trick, then I say, "Stupid is as stupid does."

I'm with you, Dave.

Oh, and you should know that we also like what you teach us about Jesus.

And that most certainly isn't stupid. In fact, I happen to think that Jesus had a really fun time on the PAJAMA RIDE. Although it wasn't His first. He's been on these before, with your family.

We'll be honored to carry on the tradition.

Good Friday Forecast

Heavy Snow/Wind. High of 32. Low of 28.
Day: Snowy and windy. Snow will become heavy at times this afternoon. Thunder possible. Temps nearly steady in the low to mid 30s. Winds E at 20 to 30 mph. Snow accumulating 4 to 6 inches.

Night: Snow this evening will transition to snow showers late. Low 28F. Winds NE at 20 to 30 mph. Chance of snow 70%. Snow accumulating 2 to 4 inches.

Matthew 27:45
At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock.

Matthew 27: 51
The earth shook, rocks split apart.

Mark 15:33
At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock.

Luke 23:44-45
By this time it was noon, and a darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock. The light from the sun was gone.

Ok, so the weather also wasn't so great the day Jesus died.

What am I complaining about?

Easter: Zane's Account

One of my most memorable Easter moments as a mother, was when Harper recounted the story of the Crucifixion as she had "heard" it on an animated video. In her 3 year old mind, she was sure that the narrator was saying:

"And so it was, that Jesus died on the cross, between two feet."

Well, now it's Zane's turn to recount the events. Here are just a few comments that he shared from our readings about the Crucifixion and Resurrection:

"Jesus died. But He will come back alive so that He can come over on Easter."
(anyone want to come to our place in costume?)

"Jesus died on the cross. When he became undead, He was another Jesus."
(hmmmm. Night of the Living Jesus?)

It's hard to explain to a three year old that the, um, "undead" Jesus is the same as the one who died on the cross. His response to this was:

"Oh. Ok. Now He stands on clouds."

So, we're not quite there yet in terms of understanding.

I often wonder if we even truely understand it as adults.

Coffee: God's Proof That He Loves Us

I am one of those people who can drink coffee all hours of the day. I am also one of those people who really enjoys the taste of coffee. Yes, I'll admit that in the morning, I indulge in my creamy cup because I do need the wake up jolt. In fact, we're now in the practice of setting the coffee maker to wake before us so that when we finally get out of bed we are greeted with the morning aroma of steamy joe eager to be poured. This is quite nice.

And yet, even though I do use this nectar to wake me, this is not the only reason for my love affair with coffee. For I do, indeed, love the taste.

So, around this time of year in the Christian calendar, Lent arrives, beckoning us to "give up" or "refrain" from something in our lives. As Christ sacrificed for us, we too, attempt to follow His lead by sacrificing the time and thought and energy we would actually give to this action or object, for the purpose of prayer and reflection and focus upon Him.

I guess I've never really understood the practice of giving something up for Lent, as I've never met someone, who after refraining from an action or object during Lent actually chose to make it a life change. Admittedly, I find the idea of knowingly giving something up for Lent with the intention of taking it back after Easter quite foreign. Now, perhaps experiencing a "life change" is not even the reason or true intention of Lent. Maybe I just have it wrong. I'm just wired to believe that if I am going to be devoted to the process of removing something from my life for 40 days, there should be a desire for this time of abstinence to be one which is actually transforming past the 40 day mark. For example, is it truely sacrifice if I'm merely counting down the days until I can eat sugar or chocolate again? I just don't find that authentic or really that sacrificial.

Now, if I am indeed replacing the time and energy I devote to my indulgence in sugar or chocolate with a time of prayer and reflection, then sure, this practice, this discipline, is one of value.

The issue here, could be, that I've just never experienced a true time of reflection during Lent. Nor do I know many who have actually embraced Lent as more than a time to just haphazardly say, "I'm giving up ________ for Lent." without further discussion.

I guess I just don't like to do things half-arsed.

So, IF I were to take up a Lenten practice, what would I sacrifice with the intent that I would actually make a long term change that would positively affect my relationship with the Lord, my family, and my community?

Coffee?

Nope.

I'd just take that back afterwards. My point.

How about: Watching less TV in the evenings? Yes. Getting to bed earlier? Yes. Rising earlier? Yes. These are the three areas of my life where a long term change would be of great benefit to my relationship with the Lord, my husband, my children, and my health.

These are areas where I NEED the Lord's help and strength.

These are areas where I NEED the Lord's discipline.

These are areas where I NEED the Lord's power.

These are the areas that I can not win a power struggle with myself. I NEED God's movement in my life on these.

Others may NEED God's movement for diet, nutrition, shopping, attitude while driving, whatever. My intention is not to cheapen anyone's Lenten experience.

My intention is to take a deeper look at WHY we choose what we choose to "give up" and to acknowledge that the practice of Lenten abstinence can, and should, be a time for us to experience the Lord's renewal for the long haul as He remolds and rehshapes us through our sacrificial actions and choices.

Most importantly, however, is our need to give up something for which we lack the power to give up on our own, but rather NEED the Lord's intimate intervention. It is something for which our reliance upon ourselves is shattered, and thus, turns our eyes to Jesus.

This is no short term task.

Am I a short-termer or a long-hauler?

I want to be a long-hauler.

Someone better pour me another cup of coffee.

A Swift Kick In the Snowpants

I reread my blog from last night, and while it is an honest portrayal of how I'm currently feeling, I realized that it communicated someone void of hope. I, on the waaaay other hand, am NOT void of hope. This is where things take a dramatic turn with regards to how I choose to respond and handle the difficulties of life. For I may wallow for a moment, but then due to my faith, I get up. Time and time again. I just get up. Sometimes that's all you can do. Stand up. At least I can do that. God can then move me forward. He did that today.

Read on.

As a believer in God, I do NOT for a moment believe that He has abandoned walking with us through this season. I haven't once questioned Him about why Harper is the way she is. (I'm not saying it isn't ok to question, I'm just saying that I haven't.) While my writings may sound as if I am depleted all all the hope within me, the truth is, I am not. The feelings of fatigue and frustration are most definitely present, but the TRUTH of God's presence is the anchor onto which I cling.

Today, I got a swift butt-kickin'.

She doesn't realized that she gave me a swift butt-kickin', but indeed, Kim Klamm did indeed do just that.

The foot she used was the Word of God. I can't say it hurt. But it did sting a bit and managed to propel me forward and knock a bit more sense into me.

Her text today: Psalm 139. I have to admit, there are certain scriptures that I tend to ignore because they seem so overused, over taught, and over dramatized. This is one of them. "Oh, I am so fearfully and wonderfully made!"

Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all about a zillion times.However, today, I realized that I am not treating Harper or speaking about her as if I believe she is a unique design crafted by God - she is the work of His hands. God sees all of us as unique designs in which there are no mistakes. And while I do feel a great pride in both of my children, I don't think I've been communicating how beautiful I see Harper to be. Her Artist crafted such a brilliant, creative, enthusiastic, engaging, curious, thoughtful, empathetic, person when He formed her, and I would be well to share that with her. She is not a work of art for which I can take credit. God knit both of my treasures and has entrusted me to love and nuture and protect these precious pieces with His leading and His guiding and His strength.

I marvel when I look at her.I want her to marvel in who God has made her to be. What is Harper's perspective of herself?

I wonder if I've been secretly hoping that Harper's design would change. And it is this thought that triggers the question: Whose design for Harper am I desiring?

Mine. The facade of a socially well adjusted child who is competely adaptable in all situations and enjoys and excells in academic, physical, and creative extra-curricular activities. I could go on an on, but quite frankly (butt kick), I'm describing (butt kick) a robot (butt kick).

I do love her the way she is. Forgive me for being "that" Mom, but I have a really cool kid. My inner drive is based on a desire that she will learn to love herself and build confidence (not vanity) about who she is, and who she will become. It is the outer drive, the application of this inner drive, that I need to flesh out.

So, know that while I struggle, my deepest desire is that she would truly know her Artist and that she is, indeed, a work of art. And while God may be needing to do some restorations right now, she is still a rare, unique, one of a kind design.

Priceless.