Baby Grands and Oreo Turkeys

One of my greatest joys at this season in my life, is the time I get to spend with the grands. My little gang of three keep me on my toes spiritually, physically and emotionally. Challenging me daily with a unique wit, wisdom and faith that is often found in members of the pint size set. They prove time and again that out of the mouths of babes God will be known and praised.

The fall and winter after my daughters death, a large part of me wanted to hunker down, stay indoors and hide from everyone in hopes that I could ignore the annual parade of holidays until it passed.

The one-two celebratory combo of Thanksgiving and Christmas held some of the sweetest and most cherished memories of times spent with my girl. Lauren was a self proclaimed homebody, who loved her family and revelled in all occasions that brought the family together.

I made the silly assumption that because we were so recently bereaved, no one would expect the usual Thanksgiving fair. Those who usually graced our tables would make other plans to spend their days in more joyful surroundings, with brighter spirited people.

I could not have been more wrong.

This family of mine barraged me with request for all their favorite dishes, I had parties inviting themselves to dinner as well as their latest love interest. We were to have a crowd.



What was wrong with these people?



Despite my intentions to sit out that inaugural year, my family had other ideas.

With help from my dear husband along with emails and phone calls from in laws and outlaws we assembled a menu, filled the cupboards and prepared for the pending celebration.


My family had high expectations and good intentions-committing to do everything they could to make this festival of thanks go smoothly and with little effort on my part. There were many promises of what would be done and how they would help, promises that ultimately were broken as most fell into their normal holiday habits that included watching lots of football, Christmas movies and naps by the fire.


But not the wee folk.


Seems my baby grand girls would have no part in my boycotting the holidays. My girls begged to know what we would be having and how they could help put on this party.

From decorating the house to baking pies my two K's hijacked every plan I made to sit the season out, instead setting a course for a holiday wrapped in true thanks.

At just over 2 1/2 years old, these two little sprites were formidable.

It was Thanksgiving by golly!

They knew what to expect if we were doing this holiday up right and they were tenacious enough to keep me from collapsing on my memories and shutting the whole thing down.



To that end, these two girls were on me all the time: my kitchen, my bedroom, my bathroom, my world. From early in the morning to late at night they seemed determined to miss nothing.



With my two little sous chefs and Paw Paw in tow, we went about preparing a Thanksgiving feast.

We measured, stirred, whipped and baked.

The girls wash dishes, shucked corn and deviled some eggs.

We read volume's of thanksgiving books, played lots of birdie in the nest

all when we weren't

swinging and sliding all over our backyard and everyone else's.

My crew painted, colored and had all manner of tea parties that effectively filled every

dark corner of our big ole house with waves of love, laughter and other reminders of how much we truly had cause to give thanks for.

Those two girls wore themselves out with it all...they were so determined to be thankful!

By the time we actually sat down for dinner that year my heart overflowed and I dared to mention the unmentionable...the empty chair....

Lauren.

As with many families we traditionally take time to share something we are grateful for before going to God in prayer.

I was first to take a turn.


I thanked my loved ones for putting out all the effort, changing their plans and pushing so hard to be there in a home that no one in their right mind would want to be in - the home of a dead girl and her grieving family.

What kind of fun could that be?

Where's a cause to celebrate and give thanks?

Yet they came, made me stay, face my loss and ultimately blessed me so. It was a bittersweet day of thanks.

What a family I have!

I am blessed and abundantly so!

This year, no one will be traveling over the river and through the woods to this Maw Maw's house. It is not our turn to prepare their feast.

Instead, we prepare for a party of five.


Baby grand and I have been busy creating menu's, writing grocery list and making decorations including place card holders made of Oreo turkeys all while anticipating the baking of our first pumpkin pie this season.

For this I am thankful.


My son and daughter in love are expecting again...a miracle in itself as Elizabeth has unique medical anomalies that have kept her from successfully carrying 3 other pregnancies to term, so we lift them up in prayer and praise God.


For this I am thankful.


Same precious daughter in love gave her heart to Christ earlier this year and has been waiting to be baptized here in Georgia. Lord willing, Elizabeth will take this next step of faith when the family comes to stay throughout Christmas and New Years.

For this I am so thankful.


Little Man K has been living with his Mama full time for almost 3 months now, they seem to be getting along well.


For this and so much more I am thankful and ever







Now it's your turn, please share.

How has God blessed you and what is your testimony of thanks?

This post is a part of the Thanksgiving feast at L.L. Barkat’s Seedlings in Stone. Join us at the table. When you do, drop a comment by L.L.’s blog to let her know. L.L. will link to you in the Thanksgiving Celebration post (and Christianity Today and High Calling Blogs will link back to said post, so their readers can check out the full celebration).

Breakin Free!

I've spent the last 4 days in Nawlins being part of the re-taping of Beth Mo ores 'Breaking Free' Bible study.

As I've said before this book and study have had much significance for me personally as I was introduced to the teachings of Beth Moore and this study specifically, just a few short months after my daughter's death.

I have shared some of the details of this journey God led me through that brought me out of bondage, but not necessarily the timing of this re-taping and the friends I've been blessed to share it with. That in mind, here's the rest of the story.

The bare bones of my testimony are that I’ve occupied all manner of pit from birth on. It has taken nearly half a century and supernatural intervention that began

after the death of my youngest child just over 3 years ago before I finally started realizing the truth of my existence.

Through divine manipulation, God brought the radical teachings of Beth Moore into my life. This proved to be a catalyst that drove me deeper into the Word and a relationship with God the likes of which I had never fully known before.

Prior to my Lauren’s home going, I lived and believed myself to be a 'Pity Child of God'. After accepting Christ in my heart as a child of 10, I was passionate to spread the Word. Yet the pit relentlessly drew me back, making sure I knew what I was and where I came from. My upbringing caused me to view my Heavenly Father in a very brutal way.

Unwittingly I felt God was always looking to catch me messing up and just like I knew parents to be…would rightly come down on me with everything He had. Despite these lies I viewed as truths, I attempted to ‘be’ good enough to deserve the love of my Father. Of course with every failure, I knew I was moments from destruction and God yanking me outta here because I was such a poor example of Christianity. HIS children would never fall so far, so hard and as sinfully as I did.

My bias’s to the contrary, God never let me go, never stopped loving me and never gave up on me, never. I am overwhelmed with gratefulness and humbled beyond measure that He loves me like He does. Truly only a God like You!!

After my daughter’s sudden death, I was certain God had ripped her out of here because I had never lived up to what He had planned for my life.

Though I know now it was a lie straight from the pits of hell, I spent some long hard months struggling to make any kind of sense of it all….more often than not just believing I was not good enough to deserve any better. Now it seemed my children would suffer for my wickedness.

Within 8 weeks of Lauren’s death, I was asked to take custody of my 2 year old granddaughter, as her mother (my eldest daughter) was making dangerous life choices.

What was God thinking? How could I be of any possible use to this tiny, precious but shattered toddler? What a pair we made...the both of us…walking wounded. Lord what ARE You thinking?

He knew better of course….doesn’t He always?

Late one morning in the deserts of Arizona, a woman I met that very week mentioned the name Beth Moore , Breaking Free and gave a line or two of her testimony.

Nancy Vandewater, my angel in the desert

In those moments, through her passing comments God flooded my hurting heart with the most amazing sweetness of His true all encompassing love for me.

The hope that I clung to during the most trying days of my life proved more well founded than anything I could ever imagine. My faith…though oh so weak at times, was rewarded beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined!

Did God ever show up with so much fanfare, grace, love, peace and eventually…joy…real Joy!

Did I tell you about the JOY?

Yes, joy truly comes in the morning and most brilliantly after our deepest and darkest of nights!

Due to a series of horrific events that led to our little Grand baby being raised by us, it became very apparent my 2 ½ year old granddaughter had experienced some monumental trauma.

My husband and I found ourselves engulfed in a battle for this little girl’s life, spirit and very soul. This grand little girl was walking in a pit of fear and terror most adults will never know, and she was not even 3 years old.

Having personally reaped huge rewards for believing and praying Gods Word as a result of reading Breaking Free, the Lord led me to surround this toddler of mine with scripture specifically designed to address the devastation the enemy was bent on destroying her with.

I found CD’s of musical Scripture verses with topics on fear, bravery, sadness, anger, love, friendship. These were played everywhere we went day and night, throughout the house, in the car and in her bed; she slept while Gods Word played on.

Baby girl would wake early and sit with her Maw Maw in the dark morning hours. We shared quiet time, prayed, and read devotions loaded with even more scripture. Both of us just immersed ourselves in our Father and His Word!

One evening after reading bedtime stories, saying prayers and playing more scripture set to music, I fell asleep beside my granddaughter. Shortly thereafter this precocious waif began shaking me and calling out that I wake up.

“Maw Maw, wake up, it’s important! Wake up Maw Maw, I’ve got to tell you something….it’s important Maw Maw!” she was so excited.

Once I lifted my head, she grabbed me and began spouting how the monsters were gone, they could not hurt her anymore, God had not given her a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

"Maw Maw, the monsters are gone and can’t hurt me! Maw Maw the monsters can’t hurt me! God did not give me a spirit of fear!”

With the biggest smiles on our faces we hugged, we danced, we laughed, we celebrated and when we finally settled down, we prayed and praised as that little girl drifted off into a most peaceful sleep.

There’s more.

That Sunday, after picking up my granddaughter from her Sunday school class, she and I began looking and discussing the artwork she’d created that day in class. In her pile of lesson sheets and memory verses was a large, bright and beautifully colored painting.

“What is this?” I asked , “ What can you tell me about it?”

“Well, there’s the monsters-right there in that box and they can’t hurt me anymore. And over here’s the cross of Jesus”

“And this? That’s me, and I’m blowing all these bubbles, because I’m so happy”

The monsters are in the large green box, that big green blob next to the Orange 'cross of Jesus' and then there is all the blue bubbles...precious!

I was stunned and ecstatic. Simple profound truths so beautifully made known to this child were embraced, believed and owned by her with total abandon.

Just so you know, the child had never seen the diagrams in my Breaking Free Book and yet that Sunday, she unmistakably illustrated the freedom she was now experiencing by covering God’s truths over the enemy’s lies.

Hallelujah! Praise Jesus!

At 3 ½ years of age, my granddaughter broke free!

With You Lord ALL things are possible!

Her life has never been the same!

Almost a year later, my granddaughter asked Jesus to be her Savior and was baptized soon after.

Our little grand girl is 5 years old now. Recently she was in to see her doctor and I had a conference with her teacher as well.

The same doctor, who reluctantly pronounced unavoidable severe psychological damage, could do nothing but praise the amazing condition of this child’s mental and emotional health and overall well being. She was not the same child the Doc knew.

Her teacher -unaware of the child's history, was startled at the news. In both instances these professionals had nothing but high praise for what a normal, loving, caring, well adjusted little girl we had. Both teacher and Doctor kept trying to credit my husband and I with our granddaughter’s incredible state of mind, body and soul. We want no part in that.

We boldly give God all the credit, all the glory and all praise for the miracle in our grandchild’s life.

Were it not for Him, His Word, Grace and Love all hope would be gone and our baby grand would be just another statistic.

This little girl and her Maw Maw are walking testaments of what Gods Love and saving grace can do for any life if we are courageous enough to do the hard thing and face our giants.

Back in May, Lifeway made 300 tickets available for purchase to attend the re-taping of Breaking Free. I was blessed to be able to purchase tickets. I have been even more blessed to be sharing this adventure with 2 very sweet friends of mine,

Jenny Hope Williams and Nancy Vandewater, my desert angel.

I feel like I have come full circle in my journey to break free.

For all of this and oh so much moore, I am so grateful in Georgia.

Come along side and pick up a corner

I feel the need to expand on somethings posted at

Heart to Heart

Let's talk about Friends

The kind that are willing to come along side us and pick up a corner of our cot during those times life has us paralyzed.

This account from Mark 2:1-5 really resonates with me.

" When He entered Capernaum again after some days, it was reported that He was at home.

So many people gathered together that there was no more room, not even in the doorway, and He was speaking the message to them.

Then they came to Him bringing a paralytic, carried by four men.

Since they were not able to bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above where He was.

And when they had broken through, they lowered the stretcher on which the paralytic was lying.

Seeing their faith, Jesus told the paralytic,

"Son, your sins are forgiven." Mark 2: 1-5

Here's a few more details in Luke 5:18-19

"Just then some men came, carrying on a stretcher a man who was paralyzed. They tried to bring him in and set him down before Him.

Since they could not find a way to bring him in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on the stretcher through the roof tiles into the middle of the crowd before Jesus."

Shortly after Jesus commanded the paralytic to " get up, take your mat and go home." and he did just that.

I am struck by many things, consider the following:

Where might this fellow have been were it not for the faithful four?

Were it not for the belief of this mans friends, how different might his life could have been?

Would the paralyzed man ever made any progress toward recovery?


There have been quite a few times recently, where I can say with great certainty that were it not for a few faithful friends, I would be as crippled as any paralytic....hopelessly dwelling in the deepest pits of despair.


I have been abundantly blessed to have key people in my life these last 3 years who picked me up when I could not move, prayed for me when my mouth was bound and flat out melted my frozen heart due to the loving power of Jesus Christ radiating from them.


Most don't live anywhere near Georgia, many did not even know me until after my girls death. All but a couple have even the remotest idea of what bereaving a child is all about.


Yet they were faithful.


They willingly carried me along and lay me at the Masters feet.


Unlike the men of Capernaum, their mission was not finished once they had me there. No, my family and I continue to be cared for and loved on by some of the sweetest most humble souls I have ever had the pleasure to know.


There are a lot of hurting people out there...some near...some not. Deliberate prayer, encouragement by way of a phone call here, a card, letter or email there...especially after the initial crisis has passed. That's when it is needed most.


The greatest gift we could give is to be a part of someones faithful few.

Oh what a mission field...and one that effects us all.

Friendship:
In this way we may best represent the body of Christ...in word and deed, giving our mighty God all the glory!

thoughtful and tender

Don't know about the rest of you, but regarding this bloggin thing...boy, does it give me pause at times.

Reason?

Authenticity.

For whatever reason, what's pecked out on this keyboard better ring true or it's not being posted.

Not for me anyway.

Little or big things, makes no difference...if I type it out, it's gotta be genuine and from my heart.
So right now, at a very late hour when I should be catchin some Z's I am struggling to finish up a post for Heart to Heart.

The struggle?

The average subject matter on this blog ranges from

"Pancake Saturdays" to "Cardboard Testimonies".

That's about as intense as it gets.

Over there?

Much more revealing, thoughtful and tender as discussions are of a very delicate nature.

Again...don't know about ya'll, but when I'm writing about the deeper matters of my journey's, I pretty much travel back in time.

Consequently, the realities of then are as near as the next memory I put to keyboard. Sometimes I feel as though I am one syllable from sliding back into my firmer but more troubled skin of then.

Once there I see, smell, hear, feel and touch everything all over again.

In order to be of any use, this is exactly how it needs to be...honest recollections .

Course that's just my opinion, I could be wrong.

That said, during the course of avoiding my post, this evening I found a wonderful video I just gotta share.

Very appropriate and here's why.

As I reflect back through the seasons of my life the pain, trials, heartaches and loss I've experienced, one thing has been constant throughout it all.

I never lost my praise...never.

For that, I am most Grateful.

Enjoy!

Raining down Blessings

As I keep the precious souls being effect by Monsieur Ike in my prayers, I am reminded of an incredible blessing God bestowed on me with one of Ike's predecessors.

Almost 2 weeks ago my sweet husband took the family to the beaches of San Destin during Kyra's first school break. That Sunday, vacation or not, I was up early grabbed my Bible, devotions and cup a Joe then headed for the beach.

The gulf waves were on the rise as the effects of Gustaf were already being felt. I was virtually alone except for some surfers here and there, shell gathers, occasional joggers, and various hotel staff setting up loungers and umbrellas for the day.

It was good! Very, very GOOD!

I could not have been more blessed...or so I thought.

As I sat immersed in the Word simultaneously sending up prayer and praise a crowd converged on the beach.

My savored solitude with God was suddenly disturbed by a mass of humanity that came seemingly out of nowhere.

My first concerns were that something was wrong. Was there a surfer or swimmer caught up in these bustling morning waters? Someone hurt or drowning?

As the crowd kept growing I gave up trying to ignore the activity and headed to where the action was.

As I moved through the crowd, I saw a good half dozen people in black wet suits standing in the ocean, as the rough morning waves beat upon their backs.

Before long others were headed out to meet them.

I leaned into some of the other witnesses and ask what was going on.

"Baptisms. There are 40 people being Baptized here today."

Seems it had been planned for that evening, but with hurricane weather concerns they moved it up to morning...this particular morning.

At my home church, we have a lot of Baptisms and I never fail to be deeply moved as each soul makes this public statement of faith. I find myself compelled to cover each one in prayer while praising God for His grace and mercy....Baptisms never fail to send me to another level of rejoicing!!

And there on that beach, that morning God just rained down blessings as only He can, allowing me the honor of witnessing this particular glorious event.

As I stood there weeping struggling to snap photos (way too good not to share!) my heart about to bust out of my chest....Oh the glory! Oh the testimony! God just blew me away!!

I went to the beach to meet Him and boy did HE show up!

Isn't He good?

as Mandy says, "Don't Live there, do something!"

Cheryl of Probaugh's Blog is guest hosting for MandyThompson.com and her series on "Everyday Doers". The series will run through the month of September and promises to generate all manner of challenges and questions. Please take time and be a part of this dialogue, you will not be disappointed.

Now I:

Reiterate Mandy's call to action,

“Don’t live there, do something!”

This mornings questions prompted the following thoughts:

I am a very private person.

Historically, I have kept to myself and my little family, in the belief there was nothing I had to offer that God would possibly use. Too much of a mess and not churchy enough.

I have kept a journal since I was a young girl; most were intimate conversations with God that brought me through some of the most difficult seasons of my life. I will always be grateful for the teachers who promoted this habit in my early years.

It has taken the death of my youngest child over 3 years ago to light a fire under me that will not be put out. At the same time I was given the awesome responsibility of parenting 2 of my eldest daughters children.

As if that was not enough, I reluctantly, but obediently began putting myself out there in other ways, thrusting my hand and heart to just about anyone I encounter, all the while asking God to put people in my path that I might encourage and share His good news with.

This behavior bares no resemblance to my former safe self.

Traveling through the darkest seasons of my life, God has given me a passion and boldness to spend whatever time and resources I have left to let His light shine. I shutter to think someone might crossed my path and ultimately face God at judgement, someone whom I failed to share the message of Jesus Christ with. Ooooo!

I struggled about a year ago trying to know exactly what God's purpose was for my life. Once I laid down my thoughts, beliefs and designs on how He might use me, I found myself regularly challenged to be a part of things I would have naturally run from.
Daily I am directed to face things that get out of my comfort zone and do stuff I previously believed were best left to other…more gifted members of the body of Christ.

Try as I might to limit myself based on my circumstance, God keeps redefining who I think I am…growing and stretching me in ways I would never dream.

I have learned, unlike the general consensus, to say: yes, not no, to be open to change, not set in my ways and in all ways and things put Him first. Wow, have the blessings flowed!

This blogging thing…authentic blogging, is challenging and painful at times. But beyond any of the doubts that try to hamper me, I am certain this is the time and a medium I’m to be a part of. Until He directs me differently, this is one of the places I will be shining His light.

Today's Questions:

"What is God calling you to do today? And more importantly how will you respond? "

What is God calling me to do today? To share my testimony, encourage, write and maybe...teach? Eeeeech!?%!

Encouragement is definitely one of my gifts, and comes like breathing to me. I’m amazed that for many, they would rather hold back encouragement to others out of some fear of diminishing themselves or worse, cause another to get ‘the big head’…it doesn't add up to me,

Sharing my testimony is difficult, whether written or verbal, so often I write about it or finish speaking believing what I uttered was completely unintelligible, only to hear from others how blessed they were. That’s when I know beyond any doubt…this is God! Thank you Jesus for translating the abundance that spills from my heart.


How will I respond? I see no choice here. I must follow His lead, look to Him daily not me, putting one foot in front of the other with confidence that He has the plan, He will provide the knowledge, and He will raise me up when I don’t see or understand what He has in mind. At fifty years old, what a thrilling ride to be on! I plan to hang in there as long as God wills it!

Another Challenge

Okay, don't know about ya'll, but the Cardboard testimonies just stuck with me all day. The question I kept asking my wordy self...what would my testimony be if all I had was one piece of cardboard, regular size...not a refrigerator box?

Here it is.

Shattered, broken, mostly dead
Redeemed, Esteemed and fully alive in Christ!

So I challenge you: What would your cardboard testimony be?

Can't wait to hear back from you!