Dear Siestas,
Last week one of you alerted us to the fact that this special day was quickly approaching. Our minds immediately turned to a dear friend of Living Proof Ministries whose family has been touched by autism. This story is not about recommendations for treatments or medications. It’s a story about a miracle and we hope so much it will bless you today.
Love,
Beth

Today, April 2, is World Autism Awareness Day. This is an unusual day to celebrate, but this is a day my family can rejoice in. I have a wonderful 18-year-old son who has autism and is blessed by God.

When my baby boy was born he was the most unusual baby I had ever seen. He had a cone-shaped head, ears rolled up like a newspaper, a big bruise on his face from the forceps, and he was blue and wrinkly. And he broke my tailbone! But he was just what my husband and I ordered—a baby. We had lost our last two babies in miscarriages. Our son was perfect in our eyes and we felt he could do no wrong

As our baby grew, he did things a little differently—like crawling backwards, for example. He spoke languages unheard of and thought the rest of us understood. He seemed to go off into his own world a lot. At times he seemed not to see or hear, but other times it seemed like he could. By the time he was two, I still had not heard the word “mama.” I was pregnant with his little sister and had extreme morning sickness that lasted the entire pregnancy. We had his hearing and vision tested and everything was normal. Finally, my mother talked us into taking him to the local school district for testing. So my very pregnant self, my husband, and our son went to the testing center. I watched as my two-and-half-year-old baby boy was taken by some sweet ladies to be evaluated. After two-and-half hours, our son was returned to us and we were told we would get the results in a couple of weeks. What! I have to wait longer?

Over the next two weeks we determined that he was fine. He simply learned at his own pace. We just needed to work with him more and everything would be fine. I hate denial!

We went to the meeting with the school district and were bombarded with words we weren’t familiar with. Once we heard the phrase “autistic symptoms,” we never heard another word. We had no clue where to turn or what to do. We were given a mountain of papers to review and read. None of them was in everyday English and they told us to call if we had any questions. What I needed was a translator!

I sent the reports to our wonderful pediatrician and asked what it all meant. A few days later I met with her and she explained that our son had many symptoms of autism. However, the education and medical communities did not like to label children that young. I asked what we should do or where we should go. She suggested that I look at local schools for special children or at the school district’s program. So I began researching everything I could in-between bouts of nausea. (Remember, this was before the internet was in every home.)

I became very angry with God. I could not believe He would allow this to happen to my child. I told God to leave us alone if this was the best He could do. But Jesus never left our side.

Based on what we could afford and what the school district offered, we decided to enroll him in the district’s Preschool for Special Needs when he turned three. Little did I know what a blessing this would be.

Mrs. Trainer was my son’s teacher for three years and Ms. Donna was her faithful assistant. His first class only had 4 students. With the specialists who frequented the classroom, it was often a one-to-one ratio. Mrs. Trainer and Ms. Donna worked with the students and the parents. She taught us how to teach our children, helped us keep dairies of our son’s progress, and encouraged us through hard times. They were sent to us by God, I believe.

Our son did not make much progress at first and it was very frustrating. We began sign language and flash cards to try to develop his language, only to become more frustrated. He was now four years old and had echolalia, which means he repeated everything we said. It was like living with a parrot that mimicked everything he heard. He was not potty trained. And he never called me mommy except when I said it first.

Then God blessed us again. Our son got the worst stomach virus you could ever imagine! It lasted a week and I will spare you the details. Let’s just say I had no furniture or any clothes that weren’t permanently marked. He was given a medication to stop the vomiting and it worked after a week, but little did I know what was about to happen.

We had enrolled our son in a Stay and Play program at a local church so he would be around “normal children.” The week after the virus, his Stay and Play teacher stopped by our house to ask me what medication we had put him on. I told her we had not put him on any medication. She said that he sat during story time! And followed instructions! I drove her crazy asking every detail. I began to watch and pay attention over the next couple of days and I did see improvement.

I called the neurologist and asked what could have caused the changes. He wasn’t sure, but he told me about a medication similar to the anti-nausea medication that we might want to consider. Unfortunately, he said it had long term side effects. I hate these types of decisions. We tried the medication and our son began to communicate at first in sign, and then verbally. He became potty trained! And all those flash cards I used for years? He knew those words and how to use them! He made great progress between four and five. God helped us find what we needed through a virus. Only God could turn something so bad into good. Amen?

(While the use of medication was a turning point in our son’s story, we believe his progress came from a combination of many things. There is certainly no magic pill to cure autism. Using medication is a personal choice and one that does not work for many autistic children. The side effects can often outweigh the results.)

Our son started going to kindergarten part-time at age five. He was our district’s first all-day-kindergartner the next year. Yes, he went through kindergarten three times—and twice in the same year. He progressed with teachers hand-picked by God and me for the next six years. Don’t get me wrong, I was still mad at God. But God never left my side. How else would I have known what to do?

When the school district told me he would not be able to do this or that, we would just work on it at home or during the summer. We always had tutors and worksheets and projects outside of school. We worked on social issues and developed friendships. My husband and I worked non-stop and our son worked very hard. He always proved everyone wrong. He would exceed what was expected. He had teachers who encouraged him and friends who supported him, but mostly he had a God who loved and watched over him.

When our son was nine, my mother talked me into letting him attend Vacation Bible School at her church. She promised me she would be in the room next to his and would hand-pick the teacher. So, I let him go against my better judgment. God was so sweet to put him in a class with his best friend from school. By the end of that week, his friend and the VBS had taught him all about Jesus. So on a Friday night in June, 2000, my son asked Jesus into his heart on his bunk bed. Then he asked if we could go to church on Sunday. I said we would see. My husband wanted to know what all of this was about. I said, “Don’t worry, he will forget about it by tomorrow.” On Sunday morning, early in the morning, my son insisted and insisted and insisted we go to my parents’ church so he could walk the aisle and make his profession of faith. We went (again, against my better judgment) and at the end of the service my son pulled—and I do mean pulled—me down the aisle. That day my husband was saved as well. I was so angry at God for coming back into my home, I was crying. Everyone thought I was crying for joy. No, I wanted nothing to do with this! I was mad!

We went home and my husband asked what we should do now. And I told him either we do it all the way or not at all. So we began doing it all the way the best way we knew how and I worked through my anger with God.

The way Jesus worked his way back into our home was so sweet. We still had hard times and many joyful times as well. But God never left our side. This year my son will graduate from high school and attend college in the fall. We consider him completely healed by God and believe God has a glorious plan for the rest of his life. We cannot wait for it to unfold. We believe God has a perfect plan for each person He created. I pray that you will seek out the path God has for you and follow Jesus no matter where it leads, because sometimes what seems like a bad thing might be a blessing in disguise.

I ask that you lift up prayers today for all families that have children with special needs, but please say a little extra prayer for those with autism. May God bless you.

Siestas, we would love to fill up our comments with prayers for these families today. Our friend has a very tender heart for the mothers who may read this who have worked so hard, remained faithful to God, and have seen little or no progress from their autistic children. She shared with me her heartache for these parents who have such a difficult life. Please help us encourage these sisters with your prayers. Thank you ladies!

Hey, my wonderful Word-memorizing Siestas! I am so excited about your response to our celebration event next January! We got some great enthusiasm back from you. I’m looking as forward to it as anything on my entire year’s calendar. (If you aren’t up to speed on it, see the March 15th post.) Amanda and I met up the other day to leave one of our cars in a parking lot and ride together to evening church. Since Annabeth is too young to be exposed to that many people and hadn’t yet had her first round of shots, I’ve been hanging out with her and Amanda on Sunday mornings while the boys go to church, then she and I have been going to the 6:30 PM service. When I jumped in the car with her, she said, “Have you been waiting on me long?” “Nope,” I said, “And anyway, it gave me a chance to work on my Scriptures. I want to qualify for the celebration event!” She laughed and said, “I do, too! And I need to get with it!” She’s got a pretty good excuse for being a tad behind on her memory work.

Don’t think for a second I’m not working hard on these Scriptures, too, Young Ladies. What we’re doing together is not easy for any of us. Memorizing this much and this often takes a tremendous effort. It also takes discipline and, to be lovingly frank, self-discipline is not highly valued in our Western world. It’s part of what can make our popular breed of Christianity so sloppy and, at times, so void of power. I’m not being cynical. There are fabulous things happening in the Body of Christ today. I just want to encourage you that this is one of those things. Stick with it! We’d be hard pressed to overemphasize the importance of Scripture memory.

Whew! I have chosen a HARD one this time! It came up in my Scripture reading one morning last week and I fell in love with it. I think it will bless so many of you to read it even if you don’t choose to memorize it. Here goes:

God’s love is meteoric, His loyalty astronomic, His purpose titanic, His verdicts oceanic. Yet in His largeness nothing gets lost; Not a man, not a mouse, slips through the cracks. How exquisite Your love, O God! Psalm 36:5-7a, The Message

Here’s this week’s tip: When I have a really challenging verse to memorize like this one, I read it over and over (please revisit our RENEW acrostic video-lesson from January if it’s been a while) then, if it invites various images, I sit back and visualize it. I deliberately begin associating pictures with various words and phrases. This is what I did, for instance, years ago when I memorized Psalm 1. It opens with “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers.” I pictured a man walking, standing, and sitting in that order over and over and, to this day, I can say it from memory based on those visuals.

On this selection, Psalm 36:5-7a, I can picture a huge meteor for God’s love and the starry hosts for His infinite loyalty, an unsinkable Titanic for His purpose, and an ocean with a consistent tide for His verdicts. All of those things speak to me about His largeness so that part of the text comes next naturally. The words “man” and “mouse” begin with the same letters so that helps me remember them. The conclusion is joyously appropriate: “How exquisite Your love, O God!” That’s why I had to tag on the first half of verse 7. I wanted to respond with the psalmist to those enormous attributes of my God.

Somebody may be thinking, “Good grief! I didn’t want to have to think about it that much!” But, you see, that’s the BEAUTY of it! We could be thinking how ticked we are at somebody. We could be thinking how tempted we are toward somebody. We could be thinking how dissatisfied we are with something. We could be thinking AGAIN about what so-and-so had the gall to say to us. I am never more prone to mental defeat than when I just allow my mind to wander anywhere and to anything. I’m by no means suggesting that we never allow our minds to rest. Of course we do. I’m saying that when, in that state of rest and idleness, our thoughts begin to go left toward something destructive, we need a pretty fail-safe way to switch gears. I know no better way than to immediately start letting some verses scroll through my head. That’s what it means to take thoughts captive to the knowledge of Christ and that’s how we tear down everything that exalts itself against Him.

I’m also prone to mental defeat when the enemy has pitched me a great opportunity to obsess about something or to give way to fear and stress. Each of these represents perfect moments to turn to my Scripture memory. There are tons of things we COULD think about today but we have the power in Jesus’ Name to choose the things that edify our spirits and renew our minds. Remember, every defeat and every victory takes place on the battlefield of the mind before it erupts in the exterior life. Listen, Darling Things, we don’t have to let every mental struggle turn into a stronghold. We can successfully cut things off at the pass. And this is one huge way we do it.

OK, Sisters! Let’s hear your selections! Remember to list your name (first is fine), your city, and your verse and translation. I cannot adequately express how thankful I am to serve you. You are a very important part of my ministry life and I think about you every day.

To God’s great glory!

I love you,

Beth

What I mean by the not so faint of heart is that this blog is lengthy.  So, please, my dear Siestas, don’t get ticked at me and tell me how long it is.  If you aren’t interested in reading a long post, just skip to the latter half of the blog and you’ll get the basic drift.  I just got my April 2009 Christianity Today in the mail and the title “He Talked to Us on the Road: The Surprising Rewards of Christian Travel” (written by Ted Olsen) immediately caught my eye.  Let me tell you, Ted Olsen works it in this staunch article.  He had my mind going about a million different directions. 

The beginning of the cover story begins with a quote by Martin Luther in the year 1520 “All pilgrimages should be done away with…For there is no good in them, no commandment, but countless causes of sin and of contempt of God’s commandments.  These pilgrimages are the reason for there being so many beggars, who commit numberless villainies.” (qtd. on page 23).  In typical Luther fashion, he states his opinion in the most absolute form possible, but it is significant that he relents a little bit by then going on to say, as Olsen points out: “I say this not because pilgrimages are bad but because they are ill-advised at the time” (24). 

 Just in case you are type-a… Dictionary.com (since we are all about the world wide web in the blogsphere) defines a pilgrimage as “a journey, especially a long one, made to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion”.

So far, we are here: Luther says there is nothing good in a pilgrimage, not because a pilgrimage is in itself a bad thing, but because within his own historical context they were more than unhelpful, for they even led some to sin.  I just want to get off track and paint a picture for you a little bit- Luther was faced with serious stuff.  For instance, he was dealing with the likes of Johann Tetzel who was arguably the most “brilliant” seller of indulgences.  Some might argue that he would fit quite well in our modern-day American economic system.  Tetzel had systematic programs to lure people into buying indulgences and these programs often incorporated relics- for example, the bones of various saints or martyrs.  These relics were collected and believed by the masses to be salvifically efficacious- like they could release souls from purgatory, or at least limit the horrific sentence.  Carter Lindberg in The European Reformations, explains well how serious the situation was in Luther’s time: “The very effort of late medieval theology and pastoral practice to provide security only led an insecure world to more insecurity and uncertainty about salvation…The Christian’s life of pilgrimage toward the heavenly city was increasingly perceived, literally and not just theologically, as an economy of salvation…This theology, however, enhanced the crisis because it threw people back upon their own resources.  That is, no matter how grace-assisted their good works, the burden of proof for these works feel back upon the performers, the more sensitive of whom began asking how they could know if they had done their best” (Lindberg, 60).  I think Lindberg paints the picture well.  Let me summarize this: Common folk, like you and me, who knew how jacked up they really were began to feel relieved that someone out there could help them on what seemed to be an impossibly harsh spiritual quest.  So when Tetzel and others like him would offer the means of salvation through various relics, they were overwhelmingly grateful.

Martin Luther who was a professor in Wittenberg went to a church whose Prince (Frederick the Wise) had gathered within it one of the largest relic collections in the area, supposedly 19,000 pieces- for example, there were apparently pieces of the burning bush… milk from Mary (um…that is so so gross)… all the way to a piece from Jesus’ very crib (see Carter Lindberg, The European Reformations, 61).  Interestingly enough, Prince Frederick the Wise forbid Johann Tetzel to enter Wittenberg with all of his relics and indulgences because Frederick with his own tail on the line “did not want competition for his own relic collection with its associated indulgences” (The European Reformations, 75).  But, the really astonishing part is that “Luther’s parishioners overcame this inconvenience by going out to Tetzel” (Lindberg, 75). 

Well, of course, Luther was horrified when his parishioners returned and said they no longer needed confession, penance, and the mass because now they had tickets to heaven (Lindberg, 75).   Now, this is a serious pastoral dilemma.  Especially if you’re one of the few people in the world at the time who could actually read Greek and Hebrew, and therefore knew these behaviors were out of the bounds of Scripture.  What was all the more sickening was that most of the people who bought these indulgences were peasants who didn’t have the money to spare in the first place.  These supposed tickets to heaven often took advantage of the poorest.  At the end of the day, Luther simply despised the thought of a person trying to attain salvation through various human strategies- whether these strategies were pilgrimages, indulgences, etc. So you get the point…Luther was obviously justified in his day for being opposed to pilgrimage…but now I am being redundant and annoying.    

But now back to the article in Christianity Today– Olsen switches the focus from Luther’s own historical situation to our modern horizon.  He says simply but powerfully, “The time has changed.”  So often we have a hard time understanding that what is right for one generation of Christians may not necessarily be right for another.  For example, the earliest Christians worshipped in the Synagogue.  But, that doesn’t mean that we should leave our churches and head to our local synagogues.  In the same vein, what was right for the peasants in Wittenberg is not necessarily right for all of us, because, as Olsen said, the time has changed.  I think this is why Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to guide us in wisdom and knowledge.  But moving right along.  Olsen quotes Luther scholar Graham Tomlin saying, “It’s been possible after several centuries to disentangle pilgrimage from the works righteousness that Luther so disapproved of, so that now Protestants can go on pilgrimages –though most often, they don’t call them that- without any sense that they are earning God’s favor for doing so,” (24).  Graham Tomlin (not Chris Tomlin!) says that for most people, the pilgrimages are like study tours or holidays with a spiritual dimension (24).  But pilgrims are not mere ‘tourists’ but set off with the intention to experience the divine. And I LOVE what Olsen goes on to say: “Fewer pilgrims today travel in order to escape punishment for their sins, but the temptation to spiritual pride on such journey is strong as ever.  Religious travel has thrown a kind of spiritual trump card on the table.  An eagerness for such distinction misses how manufactured the quest for “authentic” spiritual experience on the road can be, or how transformative an organized excursion can become” (25).

Have you ever noticed this phenomenon?  It’s like in the movie Mona Lisa Smile when they are horrified that Julia Roberts’ character claims to be a professor of art even though she has never seen the Sistine Chapel.  We see this often in our own worlds as well- if a Christian hasn’t been to Jerusalem then he or she has a two-dimensional vision of the biblical text while those who have had this privilege may as well be wearing three-dimensional Scripture goggles.  I wish they could just bring us all a pair home, ya know? It would be a heck of a lot cheaper.  Well, even though this appears to be an annoying contemporary struggle we sometimes encounter…it shouldn’t keep us from setting out on ‘pilgrimage’, for as Olsen says, “We are not just minds created to soak up knowledge.  We are bodies that stand in one place at a time, seeing and feeling our surroundings” (26). 

This article bring us the best of both worlds, for it elevates the significance and rewards of Christian travel while also stressing the importance of our homes and local churches, which are equally as holy.  Graham Tomlin says: “Pilgrimages, just like Christian conferences, can also lead to disparagement of the local in favor of the big and global.  But if they lead to rediscovery of Jesus, the incarnate Word, they can lead to a renewed appreciation of the ordinary people and places that make up real live churches.  At least, well-led pilgrimages, and conferences can do that” (29). I just love that.  Believe me, I am a huge conference fan.  I have been to Moody’s Founder’s Week conferences, Passion conferences and even Living Proof Live conferences and gone out with revitalized energy for God more times than I can count.  There is just something so wonderfully overwhelming about worshipping with a vast gathering of believers.  I think that is the point- conferences are great when they stimulate fresh passion for Christ and then cause us each to go back to our local communities and churches with a renewed fervor but NOT when they make us unhappy and dissatisfied with our local churches.  The same goes for pilgrimages.  We don’t go to the island of Patmos to see where John penned the book of Revelation to get a spiritual fix so that we come back home where we are bored with our little town and church up the road.  We go for a unique spiritual experience that will enhance the life and community to which we are journeying back.

Olsen’s essay goes out with a serious bang, for he says: “Those who best journey today may not be those who are talking about their trips to Jerusalem, or to Iona, or to Santiago…They are probably those who talk about living and ministering in Overland Park or Beacon Hill.  Those who are thinking about the space they inhabit as holy land.  Those who have returned from Emmaus and understand that God doesn’t only meet us on the road.  Theirs is the God who said, “I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them.” A God who travels.  And a God who dwells.  A God who has made the whole world his holy land because he has made his people a holy people.”  (29)

One of the reasons this article resonated with me is because I went on a spiritual pilgrimage the summer of 2004 when I was at Moody Bible Institute (which we indeed called a “study tour”) with the aim of tracing the European Reformers.  It was life changing for me.  We studied the English Reformation in England, the German/Lutheran Reformation in Wittenberg, Calvin’s Reformation in Geneva, and the Swiss Reformation begun by Zwingli in Zurich and the Anabaptist Reformations thereafter, and then we ended with the Catholic Counter-Reformation taught straight from Vatican Square.  That trip was supposed to be all about me learning about church history- and I did- but more significantly, it was during that trip that I felt turmoil in my heart over a relationship I was in.  An engagement, actually.  Surely enough, we broke up the day I returned from the trip.  I had barely even gotten off the plane.  The Lord, rich in mercy, and slowly but surely, through several various awe-inspiring moments during the course of that trip, planted courage in my heart to prepare mentally for the end of a relationship that I knew was going to be one of the most excruciating emotional seasons of my life. 

Another equally life-changing moment for me on that trip took place in a little church outside of Berlin.  A small church was hosting us for a few days before we traveled elsewhere and we stayed right there on the church property.  And when I say small, I mean, like I think there were thirty to fifty people in the church.  The church in Germany, at least generally speaking, is persecuted socially.  Not physically, buy socially.  Christians really aren’t super cool in Germany.  Kids apparently don’t sport the WWJD bracelets there in hopes to obtain positive attention.  The particular church we were staying with was struggling emotionally and financially but they showed us hospitality that I have rarely experienced in the States.  They invited us to join in a worship service with them and I will never forget one of the songs that we sang.  It was “Shine, Jesus, Shine” by Graham Kendrick.  You’ve probably heard it before.  The chorus goes like this: 

Shine, Jesus, shine


Fill this land with the Father’s glory


Blaze, Spirit, blaze


Set our hearts on fire


Flow, river, flow


Flood the nations with grace and mercy


Send forth your word


Lord, and let there be light.

And I sat weeping in the back of the church.  That little church sang that song like the eschaton was coming the very next day.  Like the time was really near.  It was just so pure and urgent.  And I couldn’t stop crying.  I had to excuse myself. I’ve only ever told one person this story.  But here I am on a blog, about to tell all of you.  This is why- because a small group of us snobby students, the intellectual types who would actually pay gobs of money to trace the European Reformations during our summer break, had just been mocking this very song a few days before.  I am not exaggerating any of this; we were mocking that very song “Shine, Jesus, Shine” by Graham Kendrick.  We were making comments about the lack of substance in the song and how catchy it was, and I don’t mean in a good way. I mean in a bad and processed cheese kind of way.  Why? Because apparently we thought we were the sophisticated intellectual types with ears fit only for the lofty hymns and complex choral traditions that flow out of the hallowed halls of Westminster Cathedral.  I mean we had in fact sat in on Evensong at that stately cathedral just days before, but never mind that most of us were well under twenty-two years old and had zero idea what were talking about, right?

Let me tell you.  That song, “Shine, Jesus, Shine” brings tears to my eyes and chills up my spine every single time I hear it.  That little church in Germany meant what they were singing.  They needed Jesus to shine in their land and they needed the Spirit to blaze and at that moment that little church in Germany spoke louder to me than all the other enormous world-renowned churches that we had visited.  I had spoken careless words and engaged in pompous banter and the Lord kindly chastised this child of His in a way she would never forget.  He made that ‘cheesy’ song come alive and dance with the depth and glory of a symphony.  Calvin’s Church, St. Peter’s Basilica, Canterbury Cathedral, etc…well, I’m glad I saw them, but none of carved an entirely new contour on my heart like that little church outside Berlin.

Well before I say Hasta Luego, Siestas, just a couple more things:

First, check out the article by Ted Olsen in Christianity Today some time soon.  Even though I didn’t attempt to summarize his article, I do admit that I did not even come close to capturing the entirety of his message. My blog is faux, so go get the real thing.

Second, I want some feedback on some of your travel experiences…is there a place where you experienced God’s presence in a unique and lasting way?  A moment you have pondered in your heart until this very day?  Talk to me, I want to hear about it.  And if you haven’t been able to travel enough to satisfy you, where would you like to go?  Is there a place with specific spiritual significance that you would like to set out…if you could?

Be blessed,

Melissa  

P.S. The picture above is random, I know, but it actually really reminds me of my trip to Europe and all the amazing church art and stained glass we saw. 

Hi Siestas! Several people have suggested that we do Esther for our Siesta Summer Bible Study. I’ve added a poll to our sidebar to see how many of you have already taken it. Would you mind taking a second to give us your answer? The poll will expire in a few days.

Also, I’m excited to tell you that our LPM web site is getting a much needed makeover very soon. My hero, Curtis Jones, is working on that project. (Picture me looking very relieved.) And we have changes in the works for our blog, too. Yeah! Will you pray for us as we go through this process? I will speak for myself and say that I need God to make me much smarter than I am when it comes to all of this. Thanks, sisters! We want to serve you with excellence!

We’ve been asked a few times lately what in the world G.P. means. (Beth says it in the Esther videos.) G.P. stands for God’s Property, which is from Kirk Franklin’s song “Stomp.” It’s an LPM favorite. God’s Property is actually the name of the choir that partnered with him on that song. This is not great quality, but here’s the video for you. Enjoy!

Glory, glory!

When I was a teenager, I would look at the other kids at church and think I had absolutely nothing in common with them. They must all love being there every Sunday and Wednesday and never fight their parents about going. They must never wish they could do all the things their friends at school were doing. They must never sit on the row and be insecure because they weren’t sure if their church friends were going to talk to them that day. They must have it all together.

There was even one day in Sunday school in 10th grade when we divided into stations to talk about issues teenagers faced. I went to the station on peer pressure and to my absolute shock, I was the only one! That further reinforced my belief that I alone was being pulled in by the undertow. Over time, with no one I felt I could relate to on the shore, I gave in to the strong current.

What grieves me now is that other kids were going through some of the same stuff I was, at least to an extent, but no one was talking about it. I didn’t know. Many of us felt isolated in our secret struggles, whatever they might have been. Late in my senior year (which was the low point for me), I was at a party with some friends and a girl from my church was there. I didn’t know her very well at the time. She told my boyfriend to spill some dirt on me because it was killing her to think I could be so perfect. Are you kidding me? Partly because of who my mom was, and partly because it’s in our nature to think everyone else has it altogether but us, she had this very, very false perception that I didn’t struggle.

Her words haunted me for the next year. I felt so bad that she had the wrong idea and that I had allowed the masquerade to persist. Eventually, the guilt got to me and I invited this friend to meet me for lunch. During our time together I was finally able to take off the mask. At that point I was a freshman in college and the Lord was delivering me out of the pit I had been in. Thankfully, I was also able to share the work He was currently doing in my life.

That friend was one of the first people I ever shared those struggles with. It was not easy for me, but it felt so good to be real with her. It marked a turning point in my life toward authenticity. I’ve found that it does me no good to surround myself with pretenders and it does others no good for me to be a pretender.

Two weeks ago Curtis and I were at a very low place in our parenting experience. Jackson’s behavior had brought us to our knees and we felt hopeless. Annabeth was at my parents’ house and we were driving in the car with him to Wednesday night church. Both of us were in tears because we were so frustrated. I asked Curt if this is how it was going to be for the next 15 years – us hating ourselves because we feel like failures and not even recognizing who we’d become. Neither one of us wakes up in the morning hoping we can spend the whole day disciplining our three-year-old, you know? We were seriously at our wits end.

Curt, trying to console me a bit, told me that his best friend had recently asked him how things were going with our two. Curt had told him that things were fine. His friend’s reply was, “Thank God. If you’d told me things were good, I don’t know what I would have done.” Our friends are also in the trenches with their newborn and their two-year-old son. What if Curt had told him everything was great even though it wasn’t? All four of us would have felt alone and like failures.

That night after Bible study, our Sunday school teacher and his wife summoned all the couples from our class over to a table. In tears, he shared a struggle they were having with their three-year-old daughter. They were at their wits end. They felt hopeless. Like failures. He literally said they wondered if this is how it was going to be for the next 15 years.

So we’re not the only ones? We’re not the only ones!

Curt raised his hand and said, “Us too!”

We were able to spend some time praying for one another. I can’t tell you how encouraged Curtis and I felt. We had walked into church that night in despair and we left with hope.

You know what’s crazy? That very night we saw a change in our son. And since then, his heart has been a little softer and a little quicker to respond to discipline. We saw the hand of God move in our situation – from our friends’ vulnerability that let us know we weren’t alone to our kid’s softened heart.

People need us to be real. Of course, I don’t mean “real” to the point that we’re trying to shock others with our sin nature. We don’t need to let it all hang out. I have struck out many times on this. We must be Spirit-filled to walk the fine line.

When we’re authentic, two things happen. One, we encourage others who are struggling in the same way. And two, we allow ourselves to be encouraged by others who have been there.

I was once an incredibly self-righteous person. I was proud of being good. Then God let me eat it and I saw what was really in my heart. There was nothing good there. I learned to surrender my weak self to Jesus every single day and let Him change my heart. If I stopped doing that, I’d turn right back into my old self. That is the scariest thought ever. The stakes are especially high now that I’m a wife and a mother. So I no longer care to portray a false sense of goodness or perfection. I want to show others that He is good and He has is all together. He can take a heart that craves sin and make it thirst for righteousness. He can take a Failure and make her a Victor. He can take our struggles and turn them into strengths. That’s what He’s done for me, what He’s doing for me, and what He’ll keep doing for me until He takes me home.

For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. (2 Corinthians 4:5-7)

I have just had the onion rings of my life. OF MY LIFE. Actually, they came with Keith’s order (a side of beef, ground and shaped into something resembling a Goliath-burger). I wouldn’t have dared order onion rings for myself but what you eat off somebody else’s plate is cancelled out calorically by the exertion you use to reach across the table. No brainer.

Actually I didn’t want to stop and eat. I was anxious to get on home to AJ and the babies and just wanted to get something to-go and eat it in the truck. Keith said, “Lizabeth, there’s some kind of award-winning little cafe in Junction that I been dying to try ever since we got some land this direction. Whataya say we get a bite there?” I pouted half a second then felt my stomach growl. “Are you sure you’re not talking about a barbeque joint? Junction can do some barbeque. For the life of me, Honey, I’m trying to picture an award-winning cafe there.” He swore (not the bad-language kind) and declared. Even knew what side of the road it was on.

Lo and behold. We pulled up in a diagonal parking space outside a restaurant called “Isaacks” (hear that really loud. It was a Texas-size sign. One of our Siestas, Holly, just reminded me of the best part of the signage: underneath the name in bold letters is “Air-conditioned.” A make-or-breaker in Texas.) Clearly the restaurant has been there since Abraham courted Sarai and probably wooed her right there at the soda bar. That was before the Law when Abraham didn’t have to worry about kosher. Because I don’t think it’s kosher. I don’t know for sure. You can bet your last dollar it still has its original charm though. I didn’t see a single sign of a remodel in at least 50 years. Why fix somethin’ that ain’t broke? That’s what my Papaw used to ask.

Sho –nuff. (Also my Papaw) Right there at the check-out counter hanging just above the jumbo jar of super bubble was the plaque: “Texas Monthly: The 40 Best Small-town Cafes 2008.” I was beside myself. I do love me some culture about better than anybody you know. I knew we were in for a treat.

“Help yourself,” chirped Miss Helen, waving us to any spot we liked. She’s been waiting tables there since 1967. Yes, of course, I asked. Are you kidding me? You know how much I love all manner of women. And I’ve just got to say, the woman could still wear a mean pair of blue jeans. I told her so. Even tucked in her shirt. She was sassy. It was one of those kinds of restaurants with a lot of taxidermy on the wall. I wouldn’t have been a big surprised if Miss Helen shot ‘em and stuffed ‘em herself.

She handed us a couple of large, tri-fold menus with the heavy clear plastic covers so the proprietor can change out the menu when he has a special. Only I don’t think they’ve done much changing-out in a while. But let me be clear: some things don’t need changing.

Like Isaacks.

I got the Mexican dinner. Miss Helen said they made their chili gravy from scratch. That did it. I slapped the thing shut and handed it back like a woman who knew what she wanted. Keith first had a mind to get chicken fried chicken since Miss Helen told us it was one of the local favorites. I couldn’t have been happier. Knew I’d get to share. Then at the very last split-second, he threw a curve ball. “The hamburger and the onion rings.” Miss Helen jotted it down, nodded, and scurried into the kitchen for a refill of tea.

I was baffled. “You got a hamburger?”

“Yep.”

“Instead of their famous chicken fried chicken?”

“Yep.”

“Are you out of your mind? Or watching your figure?”

“They batter their own onion rings here. Homemade it says.”

And I am telling you as I live and breathe that, fifteen minutes later when Miss Helen emerged from the kitchen, it was like a beam of light from Heaven shone all around that 9-inch-high plate of golden battered, deep-fried onion rings. It was a sight to behold. I nearly put my hand over my heart. I think my eyes watered. Never, I said N-E-V-E-R, IN ALL MY LIFE have I ever tasted an onion ring that good.

The onion rings of my life.

I’ll be dadgum.

Surely you don’t think that could wait till I get home.

Come on and tell me the best kept little café-secret in your neck of the woods. Keith and I are road warriors, remember? We go WAY out of our way for a darn good meal.

While my kids are taking siestas, I wanted to give you some new pictures of Annabeth at six weeks old. I just figured out how to get them to sleep at the same time and I’m a new woman. Praise the Lord.

I took these first three earlier today since she was looking so cute in her first little Polo dress. It’s a little big on her still, but that’s okay because baby clothes only truly fit for a day. Daddy came home for lunch to watch a little March Madness and he was very taken with his littlest girl in her pink dress.

Sister was slightly more tolerant of Big Pink Bear this time.

She started smiling about a week ago. We get a few more each day.

These were after her Tuesday night Bible study debut.

This is what happens when daddies help fold the laundry. Little boy undies end up on someone’s pretty little head.

Yes, I did just post 10 pictures of my baby on this blog. Sorry. I have a sickness and it is called motherhood.

A few days ago Jackson was giving Annabeth some kisses on her head. I told him that right now her hair is short like his, but since she’s a girl, one day she’ll have long hair. He said, “Oh. Big! Big hair! High!” Apparently, he gets it.

Part One

The Life of a Ministers Wife – part 1 from stephen proctor on Vimeo.

Part Two

The Life of a Ministers Wife – part 2 from stephen proctor on Vimeo.

Part Three

The Life of a Ministers Wife – part 3 from stephen proctor on Vimeo.

Many thanks to Stephen Proctor for these videos and to Rich Kalonick for our recap video. Thank you for serving us with your gifts!

LPL Minsters’ Wives Nashville TN from Rich Kalonick on Vimeo.