A few blog posts ago, I penned my journey of faith concerning my oldest coming home for Christmas.  This was the goal.  Yet, in lieu of her sister, Parker, graduating from High School in June 2018, we were not sure how finances would allow for a trip home twice this year.  We laid the request at the feet of a good Father.  We asked for both.  We were settled with His decision.

She's coming home for Christmas.
She's also coming home for Graduation.

Let me say that again:  SHE'S COMING HOME FOR GRADUATION!

We run a nonprofit.  Our salary is graciously supported by private donors.  We have what we need.  We trust God for the rest.  "The rest" this year was in the form of two Boarding passes for Addison to travel from her home in Oklahoma to our home in Vienna.

A Christmas ticket was provided by air miles we had accrued on our credit card and a generous gift.  A Graduation ticket was provided this week ... a generous couple who love my daughter wanted to bless her in this way.

God has me on a journey of faith.  At my age, having walked through many times of waiting for Him to provide what seemed to be the impossible, you think I would have a rock-solid, unwavering, unshakable, deep down, I ain't movin' from this spot kind of faith.  Yet, faith is a living, growing thing that ... grows.  It grows when needs arise.  It isn't reduced by our lack of wondering how it will all work out.  It is only tested to believe - again - for that "thing" that seems too far from our reach but never out of reach from the One who loves us.

A plane ticket today.
Tomorrow it will be something else.

There are other things on the horizon that I know will grow my faith.  That is for another day and another blog.  Stay tuned ... they're big.

But for today, I smile and rest and feel content that God answered another prayer.  My faith has grown.  My girl is packing.  And I am at peace.

Miracle Grow for the Soul!

She's coming home,
Christina

I am a good parent.  I love this person - a lot.  When she is far from me - and that's 90% of my life - I think about her.  When she Facetimes, Skypes or leaves a WhatsApp message I run.  I don't want to miss the opportunity to talk to this girl.  She makes me laugh.  She talks - a lot.  She tells me about her day.  She swoons over "swoon worthy" events.  We giggle.  She listens.  I inject Mom advice when solicited ... and even when not.  She is my first-born.  We've been through a lot together, bless her heart.  She was the child that got the first home haircut that taught me to never cut future children's hair.  She was the child that got the strictest parenting until we realized we needed to chill and trust our children and our parenting.  She was the opener of my heart in places that made room for future children.

I am a good parent.  When this person was delivered into insecure hands of a 27-year-old me, I was smitten.  With my limited resources, I provided everything I could for her.  If it was 2:00 a.m. feedings, she got 2:00 a.m. feedings.  If it was another episode of Barney, she got another episode of Barney.  If it was another push on the swing, another push on the swing is what she got.

As she grew up, so did her needs.  I still wanted the best.  However, my resources were limited.  I couldn't make kids at school not be mean.  I couldn't infuse her brain with information needed for Chemistry tests.  I couldn't soothe a first broken heart.  Limited.  I was oh so limited.  My desire to provide outweighed my ability to provide.

I'm telling you, God is a master teacher.  I can't get away from this theme of "confidence and boldness".  As I'm sitting in my favorite chair by my window that I normally sit and talk to God ... and listen ... Shazam!  I John 5 is flooded with more themes of ... you got it ... CONFIDENCE AND BOLDNESS.

"For every child of God defeats this evil world and we achieve this victory through our faith."  (4)

It's our faith - not the mustering of faith to work up to a certain level and believe enough and do the right things - simply our faith in Christ that is the secret weapon to defeating the evil one.  Faith.  Just faith.

When I believe, that my faith IN Christ and not IN me, is the secret weapon to so many battles ... but especially here with the evil one ... when I'm secure in that ... I can come to Him and act in the middle of crummy circumstances with confidence and boldness.

But wait ... there's more.

"And we are confident that he hears whenever we ask for anything that pleases him.  And since we know he hears us whne we make our request, we also know that hat will give us what we ask for."  (14-15)

My confidence can be firmly rooted in the truth of what God's Word says:  He hears me.  Admit it, we don't often think that He does, right?  So let's just agree that the Bible makes it very plain that He does hear us.  So when that doubt comes, planted by the evil one, just determine now that it is a lie.  Move on.  God hears you.

What pleases Him?  I used to freak out about that one.  What if I ask for a new car and that doesn't please Him.  If I need a new car, I'm gonna ask.  If I want a new car to show off to my neighbor ... I may need to rethink my motives.  He's my Father.  I'm His child.  If I'm in a relationship with Him where I know Him and recognize His voice, I'm going to know what pleases Him.  And if I don't, because I don't trust my own motives, I'll ask Him.

And then, we when ask, he wants to give us what we ask for.  Why is this so hard for us to believe much less act on?  I've got two theories:

1.  We didn't have earthly Fathers who gave us good things.
2.  We asked God for something He didn't provide.

I get it.  I've been there.

But I'm not going to stay there.  When I get tripped up on what the Bible says to be true and what I've experienced in my own life, often there is a discrepancy.  The fault doesn't lie in the Bible.  The fault lies in my experience and what it told me to be the truth.

This morning, when I scratched my head trying to figure it all out, God reminded me of my Addison.  She wants to come home for Christmas.  This is normal.  We save our $ and buy her a ticket once a year to bring that girl home for the holidays.  However, this year, there's a snafu.  Parker will be graduating from High school in June.  Addison would like to come home for both, but we talked and used human logic and determined that she would need to choose which time to come home.

I am a parent with limited resources.  I want to bring her home both times.  I want to have her near us for this pleases me.  But when I look at my ability to provide for two international flights, sadly, I am unable to deliver.

You see, my Addison is my child.  I pay close attention to her needs ... and her wants.  I know her and what makes her happy and want to provide the best.  And that's when I smile because God is teaching me that I am like that sweet Addison ... and He ... like me, that good parent.

When I think about all the ways I love my Addison, and try to put into my human brain the infinity of an eternal God and how He loves me, I am undone.  To think that He would run to grab His phone when I Factime makes me melt.  To think that He smiles when I continue to talk - a lot - makes me weak in the knees.  To think that He loves me in comparable terms to how I, a small and incapable human by contrast to Him, love my sweet Addison, I am ... speechless.

Yet, He is a parent with unlimited resources.  He is capable of providing all that I ask.  He is not only capable but also willing and desires for me to ask with confidence and boldness trusting in His ability, not my worthiness.

Lessons I'm still learning.

And by the way, through a series of spectacular events, we decided we were going to ask God with confidence and boldness to provide for two trips home this year.

Expecting plane tickets,
Christina

The circle of life is a strange thing.  Any first - child, goodbye, death, move - brings with them emotions that are dreaded but not experienced as real until they unfolded in whatever "first" life event you experience.

When our oldest child left home for the first time, I thought I would crumble.  The build up to the goodbye was the worst.  I harbored feelings:

• "What is this going to feel like, this leaving of a child from our home?"
• "What is to become of her trying to do life on her own?"
• "What is to become of her siblings trying to live life without her?"

And when I wasn't imagining what feelings would emerge I was feeling emotions:

• this is the last First time I will pack her lunch
• this is the last First time I will watch her play volleyball
• this is the last First time she'll sleep in her childhood bed

She left our home four years ago.  I survived.  Her siblings survived.  It wasn't without tears and longing ... but we all got through it.  And now we are gearing up for another departure among us.

Parker is living out her last year of high school and preparing to fly the coop!  Just as with Addison, we mark her events as the "last" Firsts.

• Last first day of school
• Last first volleyball game
• Last first Fall break

This time it's easier.  We know - sort of - what to expect.  We know emotions will come and pass.  We know that we will all survive.  We know that life goes on and God is real in the middle of the last Firsts and we ... move forward.

I find myself getting "homesick" for the days when my girls were little.  There was something so sweet about the tracing of little hands to make Thanksgiving Turkey's, the packing of lunches that included love notes, and the tucking in of little bodies under warm covers.

Moving forward requires moving on from what was to a new place that has its own advantages.  I will always treasure the "little" days.  But I am learning to always welcome the new days.  And ...  in this particular season with Parker ... I'm embracing the "last" Firsts.

Hold on tightly ... and loosely ... for the days slip of out fingers faster than you think,
Christina

It was good.  Oh - my heart - it was good.

It's normal again.

That girl of mine has started school, her job, her life apart from mine ... and that's as it should be.  The tears that poured down my face creating puddles around my feet are gone.  The ache of wanting to be near her is in it's right place.  Normal life has resumed.

We are back to 7 hours time difference, random pictures and messages on "What's App", experiencing each other's life after the other has lived it ... all what we've come to know as "normal".

What I'm left with is an almost holy awareness that times spent submerssed with the ones you love is sacred.  Had my home address been in the same area code as hers, the time she spent home for her Christmas break may not have been so ... sacred.  That's my gift ... this long distance creates in all of us a knowing to savor, hold tightly, submerge ourselves in the fleeting moments that we get to be close enough to touch each other.

Off to my normal life ... and to send a long-distance text to that girl of mine,
christina

Addison sarcastically commented when I snapped this photo of her on the Ubahn that she could see me using this photo on a blog when she was gone.  Well, she was right!  Here it is ... Addie!

There is a popular phrase roaming around the Internet on Pinterest and Face Book that says:  "Don't cry because it's over.  Rejoice that it happened in the first place."   I'm not heeding the anonymous authors' advice. I'm crying because it's over.  I need to cry because it's over.  It's healthy to cry because it's over.

Today, as that grown up girl of mine headed out the door to catch her plane to fly to another continent that she calls "home", I cried because it was over.  I've cried all throughout the day ... because it's over.

I keep asking myself why I am crying and then I remember her sweet face as she woke up every morning stumbling into whatever room I was in, leaning over and giving me a kiss on the cheek.  I am gonna miss that face - or ...

I cry when I see her PJ's laying in the empty drawer ... ones she left behind for the next visit ...whenever that might be.  She told me they were "granny" PJ's and we laughed over the fact that every time they were washed, the bottoms kept getting shorter and shorter.  I am gonna miss that cute little laugh - or ...

I cry when I hear the songs she downloaded on my playlist on my computer.  We'd listen to these songs as we played a perpetual game of Backgammon.  I'd hear her precious voice harmonize to everything from Jack Johnson to Sons and Daughters.  I am gonna miss her harmony.

Despite the tears that have trickled in random cycles throughout the day down my face and soiled my makeup way too many counts to count, I'm also rejoicing that it happened in the first place!!  I'm rejoicing that my grown up girl was home for 5 weeks ... occupying the same air that I breathed ... drinking from her favorite coffee cup ... sleeping on pallets on the floor with her sisters ... giving out fashion advice to her poor ol' Mom ... riding in the same Ubahn and making silly faces across the aisle ... going with me to the grocery store because she can ... staying up late to watch a movie ... just ... being ... together.  Together in the same space.  Priceless.

It is more and more evident that I have joined the ranks of others ... those parents who parent from far away ... less involved in the day to day events of their children ... because their children are adults ... operating on their own ... and needing little from us ... us the parents ... who serve another role.

This parting is tough.  This parting makes me want to run home to my own parents, hug their necks, and tell them I now know how it feels.  This parting makes me ever so thankful for another place and time that is to come ... this place being prepared for me and others like me ... who have put their lives record into the hands of an Almighty God.  This parting makes me long for this place of no more parting ... ever.

This hurting will soften.  Tomorrow another week will unfold.  I will dig into the "normal" and long-distance phones calls with my girl will replace the daily conversations.  I may shed the occasional tear at the thought of a past memory ... but more often I will rejoice at the relationship that has moved into a new phase.

For all who've gone before me ... Oh, how I respect the road you've traveled.  For all who have yet to walk this road ... bless you.

singing my membership card,
christina

Parker's killer serve!

Libby tagged along and appointed herself as Ms. Howard's Assistant Coach!

The "good game" hand thing!

The Champions!!

There are bags to unpack, furniture to rearrange, shelves to dust, papers to file, feet to drain, phones to buy, internet to hook up, girls to prepare for school … but this morning I just sit.  I’m home.
 

At 27, I was a Mom for the first time.  The first time of anything is unique, isn't it?  It's wrapped with excitement and fear and a bit of freak out and tied in a pretty bow of anticipation.  These were all the feelings captured in my heart upon the first look of my Addison.  I was the chosen one. I was the one she would call Mother.

Now, 19 years later, this is the first time I am a mother to an adult.  This time, too, is wrapped with excitement and fear and a bit of freak out and tied in a pretty box of anticipation.  This little baby has now sprouted wings, along with personality and drive and vision and plans and smarts and looks and a car ... and now a boyfriend.  This person who captured my heart then has now occupied a place within me that can not be explained - only another Mother would understand!  Growing into our adult relationship, I'm discovering the unspeakable joy of having my daughter as my ... friend.

Last night as she chose to celebrate her birthday a day late - to make room for graduation celebrations of others - I just watched her.  She oohed and awed over the finger foods I made for diner, enjoying her favorite little morsels as if they were imports from another land.  I watched as she thanked her sisters for their gifts of jewelry - as she giggled at how each piece looked just like her and thrilled at how well her younger siblings knew her.  I fought back tears and gut producing laughter as the "Mama Mia" soundtrack played and the 3 beauties that I call daughters sat around the table singing every song lyric with passion - and with full comprehension - at the top of their feminine voices. (We've done something right as parents!)

It's these things that I still hide in my heart.  The way her voice sounds when she thanks me for making her favorite cookie cake, the way her eyes sparkle as she sings, the way her body awkwardly dances to the soundtrack.  These are the beautiful things.  These are the things that when I was chosen to be her Mother, were destined to be the things that gave me such unspeakable joy, tears or words can't explain.

Addison.  This is for you.

• Realizing this is not a holiday for most of my friends.  While I’m bobbing about looking for pecans, no one else realizes what day it is.
• Pie plates are worth their weight in gold!  I’ve used tart pans and Pyrex lids for pie plates because they just don’t exist here.
• Canned pumpkin is non-existent.  You’ve got to do it home-style … by roasting a pumpkin and pureeing it. 
• Pecans are rare … and expensive. Sweet potatoes are becoming more available, but usually only 1 grocery store carries them in their imported food area.  You can find them at Asian shops.
• Cranberries, too, are becoming more of a hot commodity.  This year I only paid 2.99 euro a bag.
• Unless you are an employee of the U.N. and have access to their international commissary, you cannot find a real live turkey.  You can find geese … but rarely … if ever, can you find a real live turkey.  I just buy turkey breasts.

My Addison is turning a chapter.  In 10 months, this chapter of her life will close as she eagerly turns the page on a brand new one.  My job:  prepare her to finish well ... and begin fresh!

This week, I took 2 days to spend with her ... just she and I.  I booked a room at a great little hotel (JUFA) outside of the city about an hour.  It was in the middle of nowhere in wine country.  The one grocery store in the town closed at 12:00 noon.  The one saving grace was a pool that guests in our hotel could go to for free.  And we did.

As we sat in the sun, our faces toward one another ... we just talked.  I brought a book on prayer and I would read a little, out loud.  Then, when we got too hot, we'd get into the pool.  She jumped off the diving board and I cheered her on ... just like when she was 7 years old.  We both went down the slide (of death ... the ladders were so steep I got woozy from the climb and what appeared to be a leisurely pace turned out to be a death trap!) and laughed out loud at the experience.

When we had enough, we went back to the room.  We ended up taking a nap.  I woke up first and had to just stare at the young woman that used to be my little girl in the bed next to me. 

I won't disclose all of the details that took place over the last 2 days ... they were to simple and sweet to be public.  What I will share is this ... she's ready.  She's ready to take the next step.  She doesn't know it, but she is.  Every moment that I nursed a skinned knee, wiped a dirty face, offered unwanted help in Algebra, or suggested a different necklace seems to be just water under some proverbial bridge.  All those simple, everyday moments are now the beacons of light that shine in my memory.  Someone should have told me to record everyone of them, not just the "big" stuff.

I wanted to "mark" this phase of her life before life got too busy.  I wanted to speak blessing and courage into her life before her last school year ends.  I wanted to created a moment ... perhaps even a holy moment ... that she could look back on and remember.  I wanted our 2 days to make an impact ... to carry weight ... to set some stones down in the ground as a memorial.

It was just 2 days ... 2 very simple, lazy, non-planned days.  I spoke what I wanted to say.  I heard what she wanted to say.  We sat in silence and enjoyed each other. 

Having kids is a weird thing.  You get your "marching orders", those things that you think you need to do, need to say, need to be ... and then you run with it.  After 2 days of hearing her precious heart, it was those things that I did, said or was ... that were random or just part of "normal" life that impacted her the most.  And, at the end of the day ... it's the random, everyday things that I cherish the most in her.  And, when it's all said and done ... it's the random, everyday things that I will miss the most.

I'm no rain cloud.  I'm not counting down the days.  I'm just soaking them all up and in and breathing them in deeply.  These are sweet days ... the sweetest days I know. 

Sitting down for awhile,
Christina

A birthday is such a great time to reflect. My oldest daughter, the one who will be CEO of something, be the one to organize my Nursing Home arrangements, and was born with wings to fly far from home celebrates another year tomorrow. So … I reflect.

If she, Addison, were not my daughter, I would want to be her friend. She is a faithful friend. She doesn’t give up on people. She sees the best in them, putting up with a lot … sometimes too much and gets her heart hurt. But, she’s faithful. I believe she desires her friends to see love from a greater source … her source. I would be her friend.


If she, Addison, were not my daughter, I would want her to be my sister. She is a committed sister. Opting to have Libby sleep in her bed with her and watch a movie until they fall asleep together takes commitment. Taking precious Parker out to coffee so they can catch up on life, knowing soon and very soon those coffee dates will be few and far between … all spells commitment to me. She truly loves her sisters. (Yes, they fight. Yes, they get on her nerves. Yes, she can be bossy and they mumble impolite words beneath their breath. However, at the end of the day … they remain committed.) I would be her sister.



Next year at this time, I will be preparing to send my little one off to give those wings of hers a try. Right now, I can’t think of that moment … for tears grip my eyes and some unknown hurt that is too painful to bear holds my heart captive. That will have to wait. Those emotions will have to remain far in the future. I can’t unwrap those now … and I don’t have to.



For now, I wait for her to come home from dinner out with friends. This, I know, is preparation for what my future holds.


I love this girl. I have been changed by this girl. I can’t imagine my life without her. I can’t imagine her life … without me.



Addison Kate Elledge … I love you … deeply, profoundly … forever.

I don’t have a tale to tell this week.

My anxiety episode was, to my great surprise, a short one. What I anticipated being a time of recuperating ended up being a really productive week.

This week, I was able to have lunch with an Austrian friend. Her biggest burden in life being the strain of being a full-time working Mom and feeling like a part-time effective Mom. I get that.

Last night, I spent an evening preparing 9 high school girls for the Prom. Partnering with precious Parker for hair and make-up for all (should I mention that 5 of them spent the night and we did a big breakfast for the sleeping beauties?) they left our house looking like the masterpieces they truly are!



After working her long fingers to the bone and using every ounce of creative energy she had in making the Prom girls fabulous, I took Parker to dinner. We ate at an Italian cafe and sat outside and talked. Afterwards, she took me to a new yogurt place … yummo! We found a great people-watching place and sat downtown watching all the tourists, trying to pick out their root of origin.

And, one of the things I’ve been doing a lot of in preparation for the closing of the school library for the summer is reading. I finally finished reading a very thought-provoking book called Soul Survivor by Philip Yancey. He takes a look at 13 people who have most influenced his spiritual journey. I won’t try to paraphrase what he says, instead let me insert a portion of his own words from the epilogue:

As I review the list in total, I see flawed, not perfect, people. Several of them a psychiatrist would probably diagnose as unstable. Each one had longings that went unfulfilled, dream that never entered reality. I learn from them how to handle my own longings. Soren Kierkegaard said, “With the help of the thorn in my foot, I spring higher than anyone with sound feet.” Some of the people profiled in this collection demonstrate that proverb as well.

One of the things that I may end up doing as my “summer project” is to head the suggestion of making a list of those people who have shaped my life for the better, and try to figure out why.

Ironically enough, I believe that at the top of my list will not be a person, but a thing … called Anxiety … that has shaped my life for the better. Funny, how at the first of this week, I stared into the all too familiar eyes of this thing I’ve lived with for so long, not desiring it’s company. However, its stay was short, too short to be anything less than a major miracle, an act of healing, and a supernatural intervention from a loving God who has authority over all things … even anxiety!

Every story needs a good setting. This story takes place in our neighborhood. While my Chris and precious Parker were in Bratislava for a basketball tournament today, Libby, Addison and I took a bike ride. Now, push aside your concept of what that might look like in your corner of the world. In my corner, it's dodging traffic, other bikers, pedestrians, dogs, street protesters and the occational scooter. In fact, just take a gander at these photos that Addison took(yes, she snapped them while on her bike)to jump-start your imagination:


Sweet Libby and I got too pooped to peddle and had to push our bikes up the first hill just a few blocks from our house.


We passed the Votiv Kirche as we rode through Sigmond Frued Park.


This impressive structure is Heldenplatz. This was the very site in which Hitler gave his Anschluss address to Austria in 1938.


Addison needed to pass off the camera, so we made the switch across from the Vienna Opera House.


I'm not sure if you can tell from this photo, but we ran into a legal demonstration. We are still not sure what the protesters where shouting and protesting. However, the police were out in full force!


After riding for a while, and quite frankly being a bit stressed out by the traffic, people, protestors etc ... we sat by the Donau Kanal. They have fabulous street art work spray painted on the walls. We took the opportunity to play "Look at me! I'm in a photo shoot with my really serious facial expressions" and took the following photos!



However, the best part of the day ... and the inspiration for this blog ... was the fishermen. These guys fascinated me! First of all, today was one of the nicest, sunniest days we've had this "Spring". That means that out of the 1.8 million residents in Vienna, about 1.2 million were out and about! Where we live, there are plenty of biking and walking trails aligning themselves with the Donau Kanal. For city dwellers, we pack the park in an effort to get in touch with the great outdoors. Private it is not. However, it's outside and there is sun and air and the experience makes you feel you have achieved some level of nature, despite the constant rumble of traffic and subways!

Another thing about my city, people are polished. They are well put together. If they jog, they wear proper jogging attire. If they bike for sport, they wear ... you guessed it ... proper biking attire. If they are strolling with their infants, they push the proper stroller and have the proper stroller gadgets. No one stands out, because everyone confirms to what is "proper" for the activity.

That's why my little fishermen fascinated me. They stood out. In an ocean of proper people engaging in proper pasttimes, they were ... fishing.


They came with fishing poles, a radio, bunches of bait, a little grill to warm up coffee, a net, and a hammer thing ... which to our horror ... Mr. Fisherman used to hit the head of the fish he caught to put him out of his misery ... and added much to ours (misery that is!). Libby was put out by his "cruelty". Her words were: "Now whenever I see a fisherman, I'm going to think of a bad person." I, trying to correct her sterotype, offer the suggestion that fishermen aren't bad. They simply catch fish. She then continues her argument by saying, "Why anyone would want to kill a fish like that ... one of God's creations ... is beyond me." End of discussion.



Now, while I am easily amused ... the hitting over the head of sad fish was not the fascinating part. The fascinating part were the onlookers!


At first it was just this scooter Man that began to take an interest in Mr. Fisherman. Then, when it became apparent that Mr. Fisherman was gonna reel in a big one ... others gathered. At one point, joggers had to jog off the trail because so many bystanders had stopped to pay homage to Mr. Fisherman and his plight.

Mr. Fisherman was so out of the normal. He didn't have all the right stuff ... nor the proper equipment. Yet, he entertained the masses today.

He didn't have a gimic. He didn't have a shtick. He had no song and dance. He was simply taking advantage of the nice sunny day like everyone else. He was doing something he obviously enjoyed. He didn't care if he measured up the unwritten rules around him. He was himself, casting all cares and need to conform out the proverbial window.

Engage with me your own imagination and sense of wonder. What would that look like for you? Interesting question ... one I think I'll ponder a while. Makes you think. What kind of impact could I make ... if I didn't care how I made the impact ... I just got out there ... enjoyed what I do and did what I was meant to do. Hmmm ... let the wheels start spinning and the modern day parable unwrap in your own story.

In the meantime, I think I may go out and buy myself a fishing rod.

My girl Addison and my precious Parker are both playing basketball. They are adorable. They are the kind of girls that I looked at when I was their age and thought …

“Wow … I wish I could look as cute as they do in my basketball uniform!”

Don’t feel sorry for me. I have the pictures to prove my wish was validated.


However, they would never even presume to think they are “all that”. Their tender and sensitive hearts don’t seem to focus on how cute they look in their uniforms like their very insecure and overly sensitive mother did at their age. They are somehow settled. They are girls, don’t get me wrong. They have bad hair days and nothing looks good on me days … but more often than not those days are the exception, not the rule.


Why?

Because, I am a terrific mother.

Ok, I wondered how long you would ponder that until you realized I was totally joking!

Seriously, I believe it’s the power of words … God’s Word. Lately I feel like God has wanted to show me something new about Jesus. He has me reading in the Gospels right now. In Matthew, I began seeing Jesus as this confrontational action hero. He had such boldness (not to be confused with rudeness) to confront the religious leaders … speak truth … and tell them things that they were clearly missing the point about. For example, one time Jesus tells them they lack two things:

1. They lack knowing the scriptures.
2. They lack knowing the power of God.

He says that if they knew those two things, they wouldn’t have bothered asking him the questions they did.

You go, Jesus. That’s the way to pin them down, call it like it is, expose their religious hypocrisy! Then, as I step off the cheering pedestal I have climbed on, I hear that all too familiar voice whisper something in my heart … that place only I can recognize the tender discipline of my friend, Jesus. I hear him asking me to evaluate how much I know the scriptures … and then … if I did … how much am I seeing the power of God as a result of my belief in His word!

Shazam! I start this line of thinking that goes like this. If I know, really know God’s Word, then I’m gonna believe it in daily life, in normal circumstances, in crisis, in heartache, in joy … and if I believe God’s Word … then I’m gonna begin to see evidence of His power.

This is a picture that paints this concept very simplistically, but that’s how I roll. Simple.
This week, I had to book airline tickets. I found a great deal from a “cheap” internet website. I’m excited I got such a good deal and book the tickets. Within hours I get a notice from my credit card company saying the recent attempt at purchasing airline tickets is banned for suspicious activity. My planning little self gets stressed. Now what …

If I know what God’s Word says “be anxious for nothing, but in prayer and supplication and thanksgiving make your requests known to God, then the peace of God will overcome you” then I have a choice to make.

1. Either get over myself, quit worrying about not finding a good deal, and pray, asking God to help me and give me wisdom.
2. Worry. Stress. Freak out.

I did both. I won’t lie. However, after I choose the inappropriate alternative, I checked back into my head and heart and remembered the new thing Jesus had shown me. How would I experience God’s peace and the power if I continued to freak out?

I emailed the rather complicated response from the German travel agent to my Austrian friend. She quickly helped me ratify the situation, cancel the tickets, and clear everything up. It was simple.

I saw God’s power. The power wasn’t the uncomplicated end result. The power was that in my tendency to freak out … there was an “Ah ha” moment and the cycle stopped. Ladies and gentleman that is a miracle and the very power of God!

Now, back to my adorable basketball playing girls who look so good in their uniforms. From the beginning of their cute little lives, they have heard God’s Word about them. They have heard and learned the verse in Ephesians that says they are a masterpiece, created to do good works. If you hear something long enough you believe it! Their confidence comes from knowing who they are … masterpieces! Their confidence doesn’t come in how good they look in their basketball uniforms! That’s the power of God!


These cuties will have struggles to come in their lives. They are gonna have to make a decision just like their Momma did about the tickets. The only way they are gonna make it through life is to know God’s Word … and see His power when they choose to act on it. Good advice from a good Father.

Judging from the title, you might think me a mother who plays favorites. However, it just happens to be the week of Addison's (big gulp as I let the reality set in) ... 16th Birthday! Last Tuesday, May 24, my Addie turned a corner. As I'm left holding memories of diapers and hair bows, she moves toward ending a high school career and pressing on toward her future.

It’s funny how time passes. I love the movie “Simon Burch”. It would not be wise for me to watch it in my melancholy mood; I’d sob uncontrollably and probably eat too much chocolate. However, as I meander through this stage in Addison’s life, there is a line in the movie that stands out as a focal point. The main character, Joe Wentworth, loses his mother by death. He says …

When someone you love dies, you don't lose them all at once. You lose them in pieces over time, like how the mail stops coming.

Now, I’m not comparing the loss of my daughters “girlhood” and pilgrimage into young adulthood as a death, but I do feel the concept of loss is still the same. My Chris and I didn’t lose the little girl all at once. I look at Addison, my kind hearted, determined, head strong, focused, academic, chatty Addison and wonder where the little girl went. When did I stop telling her to comb her hair after she bathed? When did she stop coming to me at night when she had a bad dream? When was the last time I picked her up and carried her because her legs were too tired? When did she stop saying she wanted to marry her Daddy? When did she quite wearing pink everything? When did she not want me to buy the bubble gum flavored toothpaste? When did she stop asking me to buy her a “treat” at the store? When did she quit looking under her pillow to see what the tooth fairy left? Where did all the time go?

She is our first, this Addison Kate Elledge. The first child must suffer the experimental, trial and error parenting styles of those who gave birth to her. Looking back, you bet your boots there are things I would do differently. However, there are also things that I wouldn’t change for all the 4.95 cheap custom jewelry in H & M! I remember peaking in on her and my Chris at bedtime. I would see that big man of mine cuddle that tiny soul as if she were the only person on the planet. He’d sing love songs in her ears, stroke hair that grew only on one side of her tiny head, and pray prayers of blessing and hope and prosperity over her little soul that didn’t even know her Creator yet.

I also remember times that this tiny 3 year old person and I would do our weekly grocery shopping. I’d place her in the shopping cart and she would hold my list. I’d give her a pen to “mark off” the things Mommy put in the cart. If she was a “good helper”, I’d let her pick out something that had way too much sugar in it or an insane amount of red dye. She’d be thrilled by her choice and I’d say a silent prayer over her health.

I love this Addison girl. I love that she has grown into somebody I like. I like that she thinks about the world in a way that makes her believe she has a part to play in its progress. I like the way she makes people feels included. I like that she takes risks and does spontaneous things … sometimes. I like that she loves to organize her notebooks. I like that she likes to hang out with me … sometimes. I like that she sleeps with her sisters and they giggle at night. I like that she see’s qualities in her Dad that she wants a future mate to posses. I like … ok I love that she loves coffee and enjoys a Starbucks date every now and then.

So, here’s to my Addison and her new journey. The road ahead only leads toward more independence, more self-made decisions, and less of me … and that’s OK. I have my memories … and that credit card!

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