The most beautiful thing I have ever seen...

Junkie to Jesus Follower

Lunatic to Lover of God

Rebel to Restored

Sick with Sin to Saturated with Salvation...


It's all about Redemption.


I've said it a hundred times, and I will say it a thousand more... Redemption is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I can't even begin to comprehend that the Creator of EVERYTHING would care enough to make a way for me to be right with Him. That He would give up his most precious creation ever, His only Son, for me to have hope and healing and life forever...

I think sometimes as people we walk into a church or a group of other people and we compare our insides to everyone else's outsides.

It's a game you can never win.

I picture a woman on a church stage singing with the worship band. She walked into church that morning with a nice looking husband and a couple of older kids. They sit up near the front and are friendly with the people around them. The pastor greets them with familiarity when he arrives at their row. They seem to have been a part of this congregation forever, they have friends at every turn and are involved in several ministries....

What people don't know is that the woman is a survivor of severe abuse. That she used to be a drug addict, struggled with suicidal thoughts and depression since childhood, battled eating disorders and insecurities, and really only came to know her true identity in Jesus in her mid thirties.

They have no idea that her husband was in bondage to crippling sin for most of his adult life, that he went through a divorce that made him wish he were dead, and that his business that flourished for several decades has barely had a pulse for over a year.

No.

They see the redemptive work of Jesus. The love and joy that only come from His touch on a life that has been reduced to ashes.

They see Grace.

I know this couple so well because the woman and her husband are us. My husband and I.

I see other examples of the Lord's awesome redemption frequently in other people's lives and I am always tempted to write about them. But today during the Sunday morning message the Pastor said this, "When we are blessed we should do two things: First we should thank the Lord for the blessing and next we should ask him how we can share the blessing with others."

Now, I know that we are blessed to be a blessing, that's something I believe wholeheartedly, but this impacted me in a whole new way. Having attended one of the most beautiful weddings I have ever been a witness to last evening, redemption was fresh on my heart. The bride is a dear friend of mine and her story of redemption is nothing short of a miracle. The Lord pulled out all the stops to bless the wedding of she and her husband. His grace was tangible in the air and the work of the Cross was declared in such an amazing way.

It was Redemption at it's most precious, most beautiful.

The Lord brought to mind my own redemption story and the story of my husband. It is a huge blessing for sure to be free of so many chains that bound us both for so long. It is something that should be shared. His redemptive work goes on and on, reaching into areas that we weren't even aware of. He is thorough, patient, and kind.

I used to be one of those people that would walk into an event and compare my insides to everyone's outsides. I was miserable. I couldn't ever make up for my assumed deficits. I always left feeling more insecure and inferior than I had when I came.

The problem?

I didn't really know who I was.

I had bought the lie, FOR MY WHOLE LIFE, that my circumstances... my choices... my appearance... the things I had survived... my family or lack of it, defined me. It's an impossible burden to bear, a maddening mirage to try and chase. The idea that anything we do, or that can be done to us, defines us... is just that: A lie.

If we are in Christ, then we are absolutely and utterly defined by who He is and what He does.

The circumstance of the Cross defines me. His patient endurance of unimaginable abuse defines me.  His choice to die the death of a criminal in my place defines me. His appearing after being laid in the tomb defines me.  His Love, and the Love of the Father defines me.

I am Holy because He is Holy.
I am Loved because He is Love.
I am spotless because of His precious blood.

I am redeemed because He is my Redeemer.

I hope there never comes a day when I am not utterly awestruck by the beauty and miracle of redemption.

It would mean not recognizing the fingerprints of the Redeemer Himself.


"...who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion... "
 Psalm 103:4

Forever Grateful ~

Learning to Stay...

Have you ever spent time with a dog that's been in a shelter for a while?

So long that maybe he doesn't know his name anymore, doesn't want to touch his food, doesn't look you in the eye?

I have.

I used to work in a shelter. A no-kill shelter, which meant that we often had animals that were nearing permanent residency.

When I first walked into the shelter I remember recognizing the body posture of an animal who had given up. The slow breathing, head hung low, dry nosed resolve to never leave. To never trust again. The loss of hope.

This doesn't happen to every animal in a shelter situation by far, but when it does it is utterly gut-wrenching.

Dogs by nature are so unconditionally loving, so forgiving, so resilient that when they give up it is only because they have been pushed to their limit.

I could instantly relate to these dogs, and cats, that I worked with. It would take patient persistence to bring them back to the possibility of trusting a human again. I had had my fair share of experiences that lent to not trusting humans and that gave me a radar that some people just don't have. The compassion and commitment that it takes to woo one of these sweet creatures back to the place of trusting taught me volumes about the love of Jesus toward his wounded children.

He really does use everything...

Once you get past the barriers to trust there is a long road to being able to obedience train these animals.

Trust is fragile, yet it is essential to obedience training.

I had a rescued terrier once that I took months to trust train. Everywhere I went he went with me. I actually had his leash looped through my belt loop... he wasn't thrilled to say the least. He had been the dog that would act like he didn't understand English, only to find out months later that he knew tons of commands. He was also the dog that would leave me "presents" that he made his-very-own-self in precise intervals the entire length of my closet floor when I had upset him by telling him no.

But I knew that he was also the dog who had been raised since he was a pup by a service man and his wife only to be dumped when the husband was overseas and the wife decided to leave. He then had been shuffled from family to family in hopes that someone would have time for him and found himself in a laundry room for 12 hours each day with a temporary family who really did have the best intentions but realized they didn't have the time to care for him properly.

That's where I came in.

Boy howdy did that dog know how to ignore with precision.

The first moment I took his leash and spoke to him he didn't even turn his head my way... I spoke his name again and he responded by promptly walking over to the nearest stationary item and marking it with his signature scent.

 Oh me. 

I knew I was in for a challenge, but I also had had the sense that this challenge had my name on it from the first moment I saw the information about this dog. So, I put him in the kennel that came with him and headed back to my house.

I had done trust training in shelter settings in the past, but never to the extent that this dog required and never in my own home. Strapped to my side; he got up when I got up, he laid down when I laid down. He even went in the restroom with me and stood by my side while I cooked dinner or folded laundry.

It was an all day, every day experience that lasted months.

Then one evening as we were all sitting around reading by candle light he did something that shocked me.

He jumped up on the couch and one by one he went to each family member, stood on our laps, and licked one of our cheeks while slowly wagging his tail.

Trust.

It had come.

He finally knew that we were not going to just arbitrarily dump him or lock him away in some room for all his active hours every day. He knew he was safe.

The hardest command I ever taught him was Stay.

Terriers by nature are easily distracted. They love to chase small animals and thirst for the hunt once they catch a scent or sight in on one. Squirrels were not helpful in my endeavors, or birds, or butterflies, or snarky fence-balancing cats.

But he got it.

Lots of treats, and much praise was a big encouragement. That and an extra long leash...

The side-by-side tethering was one tool that worked wonders for this dog that had lost his faith in humanity. Another is the Gentle Leader. It looks a bit like a muzzle but isn't really a muzzle at all. We have a rescued dog currently that was taken from his mother much too young and wasallowed to be  mishandled by very young children. These cicrumstances led him to become very nervous on a near constant basis and to have fearful aggression tendencies on certain rare occasions.

The Gentle Leader reminds him that we are RIGHT THERE. The gentle pressure on his muzzle mimics the pressure from a mother to a pup and lessens his anxiety considerably. It is a wonderful tool of help for him, and an essential one for us to be able to integrate him into situations that would normally be overwhelming to him.

The lessons I have learned from working at the shelter and from owning my own pets are innumerable. They serve as a mirror to show me the Lord's training in my own life.

He is patient.

He doesn't take me anywhere that He Himself isn't willing to go.

He is liberal with treats.

He understands why trust is hard sometimes.

And it is possible to learn to stay...


~ In Honor of Tobias Longbottom, Louie the Meatball, and all the other furry blessings that have graced our lives.

Compared to What?

I received some news today that carried with it a certain amount of stress.

The news wasn't altogether shocking, but it was unwelcome for sure.

I heard the words, took a deep breath, and then began to pray and feel the myriad of emotions that come at stressful times, all at once.

It wasn't pretty.

My body doesn't seem to know what to do with stress. My head tries to give instructions, my heart believes all the right stuff, but my body.... well, it just doesn't listen.

And life? It just keeps going.

House cleaning, dog feeding, football practice chauffeuring, teenage parenting, they all still demand the same amount of attention.

Don't they know that my world just changed and my body's freaking out??

I found myself in a local grocery store a bit dizzy.

Not fun.

My husband and I had been in communication all day, texting some... talking some... and we decided to go to our parents for prayer and discussion, (always a good idea in our case), praying with them helped and I left a bit lighter than when I arrived.

But it didn't last long. Am I human or what?

I climbed back on that roller coaster of  emotions and began to feel pretty ill again. I asked to drive down some scenic roads instead of the usual ways home, so we did. No relief. I bought some coconut chocolate ice cream. No relief. I tried to think about the positive aspects of this news. No relief. I talked about how I was feeling with my husband. No relief.

I was miserable.

I felt mislead. Disappointed. Lied to in a way. I felt angry and sad and ridiculous for feeling all this stuff.

At home I gravitated toward normal comforts... prayer, pups, comfy couch. I chatted with a few trusted gals online.... and kept praying.

Then I asked the Lord for a new perspective....

...AND BOOM.

He changed it alrighty.

I had opened a tab that held links to all kinds of  good stuff on another blog I frequent, but I had never returned to look at the links... much less click on them and really take them in.

The Lord immediately drew my attention to one link and it was as if he moved the mouse over the link and clicked it for me. As the page opened I saw two people in hospital chairs hooked up to IV's. I recognized the body types... Cancer.

The photo journal that followed was pictures of the author's parents who had been both diagnosed at the same time with stage 4 cancer. He with pancreatic, she with breast cancer.... again.

I held my breath.

This has been a week of breathless moments for sure.... watching my middle son who not so long ago had five and a half hour cardiac surgery walk onto the field for his first high school football practice in our town... reading the news of a fellow home school mama of four precious little children whose 31 year old daddy and sole provider was killed by a hit and run driver... hearing our news that changes our world some... and then this.

These beautiful people married 34 years facing the meth-infused demon called Stage Four Cancer.

The photos were not incredibly recent, the husband had lost his battle with pancreatic cancer, but they are incredibly perspective altering.

I can't really help the way my damaged auto-immune disease ridden body reacts to stress, but I can choose how I filter it. What my attitude will be. Where I turn for wisdom and support. Who I trust. I have choices about how I handle the things that I didn't choose. The things I focus on and the way I react are mine to claim.

I looked at one of the photos and soaked in the smile of the wife as the husband did a funky dance move to get her to grin.... Her resolute and regal expression as she was being fitted for a new wig... Taking turns driving to treatments while the other slept in the back seat...

But the one that really got me, even beyond the photo of her mastectomy scar, was the one of their embrace. She so bald and thin, he bearing scars from countless treatments.... holding each other come what may. I'm not sure what the mood was, or the moment that spurred the photographer to capture it... but it caught me. I gazed at it a long while appreciating their willingness to share the heartbreaking intimacy of such commitment and compassion in the face of such a relentless enemy.

My shoulders softened. My breathing slowed. The permanent wrinkle between my eyebrows got a little less etched.... and I looked again at our news...

It's hard news for us sure, but COMPARED TO WHAT?

I asked and I received.

Maybe you did too.


See the photo journal here>>> http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/17/cancer-family_n_4455720.html


Help the mom with her 4 sweet kids here (her husband did really just die yesterday) >>> http://www.gofundme.com/dbo2mw


Proverbs 3:5-6
James 1:27

Jesus be all you need and so much more.....

This Godless Place...

That's what I thought to myself I as walked the campus of our local High School.

It was the first football practice of the year and I was waiting to hand off my son's mouth guard as he ran onto the field. I found myself standing near a bunch of sturdy high school guys putting on their cleats for about 5 minutes, and by the time I left I felt like maybe some Q-Tips and bleach were in order for my ears...

Call me sheltered, Bubble-Girl, or whatever... but I was taken back by the use of a certain word like a Valley Girl of the 80's would have used 'like' or 'totally'.

I tried not to show the effect the word was having on me in my facial expression, not so easy for a billboard face like me, and once I had successfully handed off the mouth guard to my son I began my long walk back to the van.

"Wow, the language in this Godless place...." I thought to myself.

... and the Lord caught me up short.

He spoke to my heart and said to me, "There is no such thing as a Godless place. I AM EVERYWHERE."

I stopped mid-stride and nodded my head in agreement. I apologized to the Lord for my erroneous thought, and began to walk again.

"There is no such thing as a Godless place." I said it out loud. I said it to whoever or whatever was listening.

You'd think I would have a firm grip on that truth by now. I have certainly had my fair share of foul mouthed years, behavior and choices that would make any decent moral person cringe, and circumstances that could have definitely been labeled 'Godless'.

But I've known for quite a long time now that He has always been there. Always.

There has never been a moment without Him. Not one millisecond since the moment I was conceived, and part of me really wants to believe that He was there long before even that.

So I stopped being shocked and I prayed for those guys. Well, I started with THOSE guys and then I prayed for the whole team... the whole school... all the young people I know and love... even those I don't. I know that in my years of running full speed ahead in to walls made of all kinds of things there were people praying for me. I am beyond grateful for that now.

I know the power of prayer and the efficacy of praying for God's will. I also know that it is absolutely God's will that every single young person, every single older person, EVERY SINGLE PERSON... would know and truly believe that He loves them beyond what any words could possibly say.

And that is exactly what I prayed for THOSE guys. That they would come to know the awesome, powerful, all mighty Love of Jesus in a life changing way. As I sat on the hill above our team I felt the Lord move my heart for the generations coming up in a whole new way. I have never had a good experience with public high school myself, or with my children thus far. I'm a home school mom, and I love it. But when the Lord made it loud and clear that His call on my son's life included public high school and football my husband and I bowed our knee to Him, and we walk forward into this adventure/battle field knowing that the God of Angel Armies is truly at our side.

My experience with teens these last many summers has given me a love for them that I just didn't see coming. I have a burden to pray for them and love on them that is immeasurable. I admittedly am not used to harsh language or blatantly rebellious behavior anymore, but I see now that those things are just an instant call to pray. What an honor!!

So pray for us on this journey please. I obviously will need it. But also join me in praying for our youth. Every time you're out and you hear a harsh word, or you see an obvious attitude, let it be an instant prompt to pray. Our kids need it now more than ever.

Thank you Lord for using the darkest things to remind us to shine your light, to bless where there is cursing, to smile into the frown, to love where there is pain.

Thank you Jesus for always being here. Always.

Second Star to the Right and Straight On 'Til Morning.....

Deep Breath.

Okay.

Anyone who knows me very well knows that Peter Pan is my favorite fictional story/movie of all time. In fact, Tink is my nickname to some very special people in my life. I have always loved the idea of a possible place where you can re-invent yourself, where pirates become manageable to a degree, and clapping brings your loved ones back to life.

Mermaids in lagoons.... Friendly Native allies..... Secret tree house hideaway..... and Pixie Dust?
Sign me up for sure!

I sat on my small back porch last night with a heart ache that wouldn't budge no matter how much clapping I could have mustered.

Just a short while earlier we had the most stunning heat lightning streaking across the sky, the likes of which would have had even old Hook shaking in his boots. I could imagine Peter perched atop our house with his sword raised to the sky just daring the lightning to a duel....

.... and in my mind's eye, the face on Peter was the face of Robin Williams.

Something about a grown-up Peter Pan who had forgotten his true identity really hit me like a brick the first time I ever watched Hook. Lots of things about that particular slant on Peter Pan found a special place in my heart, and I was instantly engaged.

The baby in the pram who had accidentally been separated from his mother by a storm... The kind Pixie who rescued that baby and took him someplace far away from the dirty city streets where she found him... The longing in the eyes of the young Peter as he felt, more than remembered, a need for home, for family, for love.

I can still see the transformation from stressed-out to ready-to-crow. The relentless and brutal training and retraining in hopes of remembering how to fly.

And that incredible moment where the feast became visible..... then BANGERANG!!

Self-proclaimed tomboy, mother of 3 sons and 2 very strong girls, I enjoyed every second... I do even still.

Sweet old Wendy with her faith in the Nightlights, Toodles with his misplaced marbles, and Liza with her explosive giggles and grizzly bear hugs.

It's a happy place for me. It's been a happy place for my kids.

Robin Williams was able to bring Peter to life in a way that I don't believe anyone else could. He had that ability to become the character so seamlessly. When he was terrified of flying I believed him. When he was angry about the financial deal that fell through I believed him. When he barked his demands at Hook to have his children back I believed him. And when he found himself out in the rigging unable to save them, I believed him too.

I know there must have been people in Robin's private life who believed in him. I know that he wanted to be free of his addictions and illness by the evidence of him having reached out for help so many times. I know that he was gifted in ways that so many people ever dream of, and that he battled a darkness that wore him so thin he apparently felt he couldn't wage war one more day.

I come from a family where suicide has left a permanent crater in our family tree. Like lightning hitting the bark of an already weak Redwood, the shape of the tree (if it survives at all) is forever changed.  I have heard stories of the event since I was small. They haunted me in my adolescence and at the same time wormed their way into my mind as a possible solution to the deep pain I experienced in those years.

I am a survivor of attempted suicide.

I understand the despair that grips you until you feel as if you can't move forward one more inch. I know the thoughts that come like incessant pitch dripping on your windshield day after month after year and nothing you try will take it off. I have felt the brick wall at the end of every substance or habit I tried to use to escape the pain and feel any kind of normal. I know the struggle of grappling with genetic predispositions that push you toward the edge and disable any possible coping mechanisms. I have battled health issues that effect emotional well being and survived side effects of a prescription drug that began to take me apart at a cellular level, literally.

Mental health issues are alive and real. They aren't something to be taken lightly. They also aren't something that can be dealt with as an isolated symptom. Mental health is part of a complete picture. The issues are: Spiritual, Chemical, Biological, Physical, Nutritional, Medical, and Relational. Mental Health cannot be addressed on it's own. It must be seen as part of a whole. Our bodies were made to work as one unit, our brains are directly effected by our diet, our habits, our circumstances, and our beliefs.

I have finally found relief  from the plague of depression and anxiety that followed me for so many years. I am humbled and grateful beyond any words that the Lord has led me in a path that finds me in a wide open place of freedom in Him and of health that I didn't really believe I could have.

But I remember the battle, bear the scars of the attacks, can still remember the tightness and despair... and my heart aches for Robin Williams and all those who loved him.

In that moment on my porch last night I prayed for his family and friends. I prayed for anyone I know of that is struggling with depression or addiction. The heaviness was as tangible as the electricity in the atmosphere around our house and the forest behind. The storm had left the wilderness silent, not even a tweet or cricket could be heard. I imagined silence in Heaven when a soul has forever stopped searching for Hope. I closed my eyes and let my head hang just breathing in and out... and then the rain came.

Not a sprinkle, not a shower. Big, wet, heavy drops. The kind that would soak you in  30 seconds if you stood in it.

I let it wash over me fully knowing that Jesus understands sorrow and I mourned the loss of this father. This husband. This funny, passionate man that has touched my heart in such a whimsically personal way.

If you struggle with depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts please reach out, please tell someone. If you have reached out and what you're doing to cope isn't working, TRY SOMETHING ELSE. There is a way out. There is ALWAYS Hope. Jesus will never give up on you, never. He is our Ultimate Peter flying to our rescue, battling the evil Hook, and setting us free....

If you need resources please message me, or comment below. I will do my best to help.

There is no shame in needing help.

You are never too far.

There is always a way home.

RUN HOME Jack. RUN HOME.

I love you all because I have been so very loved.

~Tink

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255