Mother's Day 2020

To be honest I have no idea what I was doing on Mother’s Day a year ago. Though, I am doubtful I will ever forget Mother’s Day of 2020. I think back to what life was like a year ago and how different things are today. Just not exactly how you might think. Yes, life is different. The state is shut down, six feet of separation, masks and gloves in public spaces, life as a nurse. Surely this is momentous. Even still, it won’t be what I remember.

In January of 2019, I began communicating with a friend I had a met a few times while in Honduras. She and her husband had traveled to the United States border, hoping to escape the extreme violence and to give their sons a better life. She kept me updated, when she was able to cross the border*, when she traveled and in July when her current living situation was no longer conducive to three small children.

Drew and I (along with another couple) met via video calls to discuss all the options. In a short time in became clear to us that God had a change of plans for us. Within 48 hours, my daughter, my best friend and I were on our way to Texas, having no idea what to expect. As much anxiety as I was feeling I couldn’t stop from wondering how the anxiety of this small family must be so much more. They were about to travel across country with three people they hardly knew, speaking a different language in a strange place with strange people. Traveling to place where they have this mysterious stuff called snow. We couldn’t be more different. Or so I thought.

We might seem like an unlikely pair. Here we sit, almost twenty years between us, her with dark skin and dark eyes, me with light skin and blue eyes. Her from a third world country, speaking an entirely different language. Me, not knowing but truthfully living quite the privileged life. I never thought once growing up, “I hope I get to go to school this year” or “I hope to have books/pencils/paper at school” or “I hope I don’t need to leave 4^th grade to help support my family” or “I hope I have food or water or really any of life’s basic necessities.” Yes, we may seem like an odd couple.

Ironically it wasn’t how we were different that stood out, instead it was really how similar we were. We are both mothers. We have both been pregnant, we have both had dreams and visions for our children. We both want them to be good people. To love the Lord and love others as God has commanded. We pray our kids stay healthy and if they do get sick we pray that we will have doctors and medicine to make them better. We both want our kids to attend school with the supplies and people to help them learn. We both pray our kids will walk down the street safely and have food to eat. We want the same things.

We both get frustrated. We both have learned to smile when we want to cry. We both enjoy quiet snuggles and loud belly laughs. We both read bedtime stories and say good night prayers. We both hope we are doing a good job. Both of us would do anything for these little people God has entrusted us with.

I would be lying if I said everything was smooth. We have traveled down some language barriers (so many good stories, but I am sworn to secrecy) and navigated through different traditions but honestly there is way more that we share than the stuff that makes us different.

I have traveled to Honduras since and I notice the same thing. A bunch of moms who want the very best for their kids with significantly less resources to make that happen. It doesn’t seem fair really. Why me? But in a different way. These are strong, fierce women who will do whatever it takes to give their kids everything they can. And it humbles me.

This journey. It has taught me. More lessons that I can express in a post. This story unexpectedly took two women who were complete strangers, who at first glance had nothing in common and produced two women who have become family. I am still learning, still understanding. So glad God’s not done with me yet. I have more lessons to learn. This Mother’s Day I am thankful for my roommates, especially the littlest ones for opening my eyes, enlarging my heart and making me a better person.

To all you momma’s (and those doing the tough job of a momma) out there: Keep fighting. Stand firm. Take courage. You can do this. We can do this, together.

Happy Mother’s Day!

* The family is here legally as they seek asylum and this is written with their permission.

Stop the Shame

This is not going to be the typical People Pleaser shaming post.

I was 40 years old before I realized.

It started when I was barely 10 years old. We were at family counseling when the well-intentioned therapist told me “You are the peacemaker” I did not know what it meant but the way she made it sound it was not a good thing. It was my destiny to bring peace to my family and I was not doing a very good job.

As years passed, I began to understand that peacemaker also equated people-pleaser, of which I was the very best. I have confessed many times to my people pleasing ways, vowing never to return only to find myself under the guilt of pleasing people once again. Oh, but did it feel good.

The internet is inundated with negative people pleasing posts, just some of my favorite;

“Why Being a People-Pleaser is Selfish”

“Psychology of a People-Pleaser: Why they Need to Please Everyone”

“Do you Have People-Pleaser Syndrome?”

It is a syndrome? EVERY. SINGLE. ARTICLE. Full of shame and guilt. Can we acknowledge sometimes the internet is depressing?

The wound deepened when I was taking a Nurse Leadership class and we were required to take a Strength Finder’s Quiz. The basic version of the test (which I recommend everyone invest the $19.99 to take or just buy the book) gives you your top 5 strengths. The word Woo was one of the first words I saw when my results popped up on the screen. Woo? What is that? As I read the quick definition, I was disheartened. One of my biggest strengths is people pleasing. Wow, thanks Strength Finder.

Then I read more.

“The genius of your WOO talent involves the impact you can have on other people and the ease with which you can win them over. You have an incredible ability to meet new people and almost magically know what to say in order to draw others out. Other people love the attention you give them and the way that you can affirm a person so quickly. Of course you love the process and the challenge of meeting new people. And people love it when you connect with them. The genius of this talent is that you can not only quickly connect with people but you can be a catalyst in helping people connect with one another. Make no mistake about it, when you enter a crowd the crowd it will be different because you were there. In fact, you have the capacity to transform a crowd of disconnected people into a group and this is no small accomplishment.” @strengthstransform

For the first time in my entire life, I realized people pleasing maybe wasn’t the sin I made it into. For the first time, I realized wanting to make people happy was not the worst trait about me. For the first time, I realized what I thought was my greatest weakness could also be my greatest strength.

I have never really had an “Eat, Pray, Love” aha moment but I guess if I had to pick one, this was it. My quest for self-discovery was revealed in this peculiar little word, Woo.

Like every great strength it can also become a great weakness. Quite frequently I have to ask myself, “Why am I doing this?? And at “What expense?” Am I committing myself to this task because it fulfills my passion and puts wind in my sail? or am I trying to look important or get ___________(insert name) to like me? AND it might put wind in my sail (making others happy, genuinely makes me happy) but at what expense? It might make me happy to say yes to that commitment but will it be at the expense of the people I love most? Will my family and best friends suffer as a result? Because that DEFINITELY will not make me happy in the end (I just can forget in the moment).  I can often over commit myself simply because they are all things I LOVE TO DO and generally they are things that make others happy (aka pleased).

Ready for this? Wanting people to be happy is not a bad thing. Actually though. Here is a confession. I have candy on my desk at work because chocolate makes people happy. (well most people, my people) I like when people are happy. I like when someone is having a stressful day, they stop over and get some chocolate and feel better. I (gasp) like that feeling.

I spent my first 40 years fighting against the way God made me, the gifts He has given me. I will spend my next 40 (or however many the good Lord provides) embracing and finding balance in my woo. If you are like me, I hope you can too.

Strengthfinders

A Year in Review

It has been one year since we sold our first Not for Sale shirts. I could hardly believe it when the reminder popped up on my social media timeline. For me this mark in time has significant meaning. One year ago, God turned my world completely upside down.

In June 2018 I was preparing for my third trip to Honduras. I had a better idea of what to expect, I was still nervous, just not the same jitters and anxiousness that the unknown brings. I was excited to re-unite with old friends who were now like family. Which is weird to say because I had only spent 20 physical days with them at most. Funny to reflect on now, the one consistent with a trip to Honduras is that you really never know what to expect.

God has always met me in Honduras. He has taught me lessons so deep and so powerful, I am thankful to have learned them and grateful He trusted me with them. I have experienced grace, I have been convicted by my pride and selfishness, I understand on a new level the importance of gratefulness and I have been reminded of God’s great love for me and those around the world.

That being said, God had never met me in Honduras the way he did June of 2018. Maybe He has never met me that way anywhere. As per our norm we worked and played at our favorite little school in San Pedro Sula, we made food bags and for me I mostly played soccer with the 1^st and 2^nd grade boys. That is the extent of both my soccer and Spanish skills. This particular year we had a side trip to a smaller town a couple of hours away from San Pedro Sula. We were partnering with a Lego League team from a local middle school to bring an actual working water filtration system to provide clean water for a small school and the surrounding community.

I was excited to embrace this new adventure. Turns out the boys there enjoyed playing soccer too. The landscape was different but the people were just as kind and hospitable. The first day, some had heard I was a nurse and asked me to take a look at a couple children struggling with malnutrition, to give advice on nutrition that might lead to growth. The following day a young lady (let’s call her Maria) sat down next to me and my youngest daughter Grace. Turns out they were the same age. She was carrying a baby, it was not uncommon for older siblings to care for younger siblings. With my limited Spanish I offered her a smile and hug, she hugged back and gave a short sad smile. One look into her eyes and I knew she had seen far too much lifetime in her short 14 years. Following our embrace her story was relayed to me. This was not her baby brother, this was her baby son.

Maria’s family had been targeted by human traffickers.  Two years prior, Maria’s parents believed they were sending their then 12-year-old to work at a business in the city. She would earn money for her family. She would have medical care, be fed and sheltered. Sadly, Maria never reached this “business” in the city. Instead she was kidnapped across the border and was prostituted in Guatemala. Maria eventually escaped and thanks to the help of her teacher she returned home with her parents.

She was and is just a baby herself. I just sat in shock holding her sweet baby, silently wondering how this could happen. Later I learned two more pieces of information; 1) The malnourished children brought to me the first day were Maria’s siblings 2) There were several other girls targeted by this same ring, some who have not yet returned.

The rest of the trip happened. It was good. Work was done. God showed up. Lives were touched. My body participated but my mind was still back in that little school room on the hill.

This one thought replayed over in my mind.

When I was a little girl I was abused by my father. If anyone knew. If any of my family or my friends knew, they would have stopped it. They would have protected me. If only they knew.

And now. I knew. I knew what was happening. I knew that parents were being faced with challenges beyond their control. I knew that evil people were taking advantage of that vulnerability. I knew that children were being forced to quit school to work to attempt to help put food on the table. And that vulnerability put these people at risk to be sold into things and places that I still can’t wrap my head around today. I physically witnessed all of these things and then I flew back to my safe and comfortable home.

I came home and I was different. In every. Single. Way. I was so conflicted by so many thoughts. I was heartbroken. I was confused, how could God allow such things? Where does such evil come from? How could I come home and just do life? How could I reconcile the things I had seen? I was angry. I was sad. I was overwhelmed. What could I do? Nothing.

A month of this. A month of asking, searching, trying to make sense of it all. I decided I was not sure what God was doing but I was sure I was going to trust Him. I decided He allowed me to be there for a reason. >>Side Note: People have asked me if God has called me to Honduras. Honestly? I do not know. I guess I just believe God calls you to be wherever you are. God calls you to the waiter at your favorite restaurant. God calls you to the neighbor next door. God calls you to your grieving co-worker. He calls you to the place you are in. And my only desire is to be where God has me today. And God allowed me to be in Yoro in June to see what I saw. That is something I am sure of.

One evening, a month after returning home I was driving home and I was telling God just this. I told Him I did not understand but I would trust Him. I did not know what to do but I wanted Him to do something and I prayed God would let me be part of it. That night as I sat in my dark car alone God whispered to my heart and said “You have allowed me to use your story to bring comfort and healing to others who have experience similar things. Will you allow me to use your story to keep this abuse from happening in the first place?” What an easy question to answer. ABSOLUTELY, YES!

In my studying I came across a group of verses in Romans. I was reminded that it was through the redemption of Christ that we are justified and given grace. Then I read that the word redemption/redeemed was commonly used in biblical times in the slave trade. A person was redeemed from slavery when another person could pay their ransom/debt. I realized that no-one; no child, no boy, no girl, no man, no woman could be for sale because Jesus already paid the price. And thus, NOT FOR SALE was born.

One Thursday night at a church softball game, after returning home from Honduras, a sweet friend asked me how the trip was. I didn’t watch another play of the game. I told her every detail I could remember. Then I told her that I was thinking about selling T-shirts to fund education in Yoro because (in my mind anyway) education seems like a great way to escape poverty. I thought the T-shirt should say “Not for Sale”. She took a long pause and then told me “Well I have a T-shirt press in my basement” and by the time I pulled in my driveway that night she had created and texted me the T-shirt design.

One of the MOST important elements of Not for Sale is the three women in the Yoro community who are passionate about the children and families that reside there. They are passionate in their faith and seek to love God and love others. They are a constant encouragement to me and I pray I am able to bless them half as much as the bless me.

Thanks to the very generous support of too many people to count, the little school has electricity and a bathroom. A group of women have started an education program to learn a trade. They are learning to sew and commercially cook. We have dreams of adding on a classroom (ensuring an education beyond 6^th grade), we dream of financing micro-loans for women to start their own businesses, we have dreams of empowering families and personally I dream there will not be ONE MORE SINGLE CHILD sold or tricked into human trafficking.

Truth-I often feel overwhelmed, I feel intimidated, I second guess myself, I get embarrassed, I think about what others think, I question if God can use me despite my brokenness.

This is what I have learned: God is actually using my BROKENESS. In fact, it is where He does His best work. When He asked if He could use my story I didn’t really understand what He meant but I see now that the journey He has walked beside me on has produced dependence on Him, empathy for others, deep love for children (especially the most vulnerable ones) and a lot of brokenness. And God is using that very same brokenness (He uses our weakness to show His strength) which has produced the person I am (the good, bad and ugly) and THAT is the person He wants to use. I still don’t completely understand but I am trusting Him. Funny that the things I have hated most about myself (both portions of my journey and characteristics of myself) seem to be the things He consistently wants to use. It is a continual reminder this journey is not about me. It is not about my short-comings. It is about Him and His great, unconditional love. Yes it is.

As for me…..

I am just a nurse who literally has THE MOST AMAZING PEOPLE and I sell T-shirts to whoever will let me with the hope I might be just one small sliver to ending human trafficking once and for all.

BECAUSE People are NOT FOR SALE.

Keeping Kids Safe(r)

Dear Friends,

I am neither a pediatrician nor a psychologist. I am just a girl who has been molested. I am a person who deeply desires to see all children grow up in a safe and healthy environment. Here are some thoughts from someone who has been there.

Steps to Keeping Kids Safe

Teach your kids correct anatomical terms

Use the words “vagina” and “penis”.  It teaches them not to be embarrassed. It gives children the ability to communicate clearly about their body and does not give room for miscommunication or misunderstanding.

Explain that those body parts are private

Don’t give exceptions. They are private areas and no one should ask to look at or touch them period. If or when the time comes that a doctor needs to look at or touch those areas they will explain (if they are any kind of professional at all) what they are doing and why it is okay for them to be doing so.

Empower your child to have control over their own body

Yes they have private areas but that doesn’t mean the rest of their body is up for grabs. Allow your child to decide if they want to hug or show affection to another person. Telling a child that no one should touch them in an uncomfortable way and then forcing that same child to hug someone sends a mixed message.   Instead of saying “Give grandma a hug” try asking “Grandma is leaving would you like to give her a hug?” It conveys the message that their body belongs to them and they can choose what they are comfortable with. If they say no, encourage a secret handshake or fist bump.  If you are with another child ASK if it is okay for you to hug them or embrace them. Give them space to say no without shame.

Be vigilant!

There have been several articles floating around that suggest saying no to sleepovers. I have no disagreement with this philosophy; however do NOT assume that having no sleepovers equals safety. Many of the people I talk to say that their abuse happened during the day, often in a house full of people. A good friend of mine told me that her uncle fondled her at holiday times. He would tell her to sit on his lap and with everyone sitting there he would touch her and no one suspected a thing. Abuse can happen anytime, anywhere by anyone. Listen to your gut and do not assume any one step (including the ones listed here) will guarantee safety.

Do not assume “I would know.”

This might be one of the biggest mistakes. You may not know. Often the places or people you feel the safest with may actually be the most dangerous. Places where people care for children; scouts, church, schools become risky because of our false sense of security. This does not mean we live in fear or never participate in things we just need to be vigilant, ask questions and be present. Perpetrators are smart and look for vulnerability. When news of my dad came out no one could believe it, he was loved by everyone. One family friend told me he was the “very last person” she would ever expect.

Keep the lines of communication WIDE open

These conversations can be uncomfortable (geez these words are uncomfortable for me to write) but do not let that stop you from having them. When there are stories in the news I talk to my kids about them in an age appropriate manner. Recently there was a man in the news who assaulted his teenage daughter’s friend. I used that as an opportunity to talk to my older daughters about why I am so fussy about the places they hang out even though they are 17 and 20.

Do not forget the boys

Recent research shows that 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused before age 18. As hard as it is for girls to come forward the stigma for boys is much, much worse. We need to remember that boys can become victims too.

Lastly if you become aware of abuse that happens to your child. Believe them! Tell them at least 100 times it is not their fault and DO something.  They will remember forever what steps you took and how you took them.

You might feel that these tips steal away your child’s innocence. I supposed there might be some truth to that. It saddens me that this is the world in which we live. I wish it wasn’t. Let me promise you though, I know this one thing firsthand, if your child becomes the victim of sexual abuse the innocence that will be lost is immeasurable.

Love,

Lisa & Sally (my mom)

It's Been a While.....

I am going to painfully honest. Mostly because it takes way too much energy to fake anything else.

I used to think this thing of faith was something of beauty, a destination you reach and a gorgeous place in which you live. If it were a painting it would be this sort of masterpiece. One that rests on the wall, that people buy tickets just to have a glimpse. The radiance so heavenly one would stand in awe. This is what I used to think.

Instead I have to come to this place and faith is not a place, not a destination, not a singular thing. Not static, not still, not simple and most definitely not always beautiful. It could be just me. My faith seems to be constantly evolving, messy, often glorious, and just as often challenging, occasionally still, sometimes overwhelming, a deep and long journey with a beginning and no real end.

I want to wrap faith up in a package of simply believing, trusting and living. It is simpler that way. Each time I think I have things figured out, I feel comfortable with my own explanation, life happens and I learn that I still have so much I do not understand.

May 27^th I received a phone call that one of my daughters was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital and my other daughter was on her way via helicopter. There had been an accident. The rest was a blur. My husband drove. I begged God for His mercy. My daughter was in a helicopter I knew what this meant, I could lose her. In my lifetime of memories I cannot recall ever being so scared. I sat in my seat inconsolable. My husband (an amazing man of great faith) told me to trust God, that He was with them. This is one of the only things I remember distinctly saying “God is with all kinds of people during really bad things.”

Fortunately, my girls were okay. They had injuries that could be fixed and the important stuff was intact.

I know how lucky we were. I recognize how many other parents do not get the same outcome. Everyone kept telling me how God was watching them and how He spared them. I was and am so grateful. But I am also confused. If God was with them and saved them, why? And why doesn’t He do that for everyone? And why, in that moment couldn’t I believe that? Was this a test of faith and if so, had I failed?

Honestly, I still do not have the answers to all of my questions. I do not know why some parents cry with relief and others cry with grief. I just don’t.

I sent my friend a text that night. I was disappointed with myself. She reminded me I was human and tragedy happens. I hadn’t failed. I had persevered. It was not pass/fail and I was not being graded.

Life has gotten more serious since May 27^th. Time is more valuable. People are indispensable. Stuff is… well stuff. Life is a moment in time and eternity is forever.

Faith is easy when I am happy. Faith is precious when it finds balance with both joy and sorrow. For me, I will pick precious over easy Every. Single. Time.

“Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand” -Ara Stanphil

You Have Been Warned

Consider this your warning. If you ask me how my trip is it will most likely include the following things. Tears, photos, videos, stories (and a LOT of them) laughs and most likely a desperate plea to sponsor one of the many beautiful children in San Pedro Sula so they may attend school. Also please understand I recognize to fit in the social norms the answer to this question should only take 1-2 minutes but honestly prepare for hours, it will definitely take hours. I am in LOVE with Honduras.

There. Consider yourself warned.

That being said I am sure there will be many Honduran blog posts as I am only beginning to process through the wide myriad of emotions and experiences that happened in those ten days. But there was this ONE experience I simply must share.

When we arrived in Honduras I was simply ill prepared for the welcome we would receive there. Our church (not me personally) has supported a little school in San Pedro Sula for years and the people there are so grateful. SO GRATEFUL. When we walked through the doors of the school on our first day in Honduras there was an incredible crowd of people who cheered, loved and welcomed us with open arms (quite literally). They sat us at a head table.

It was raised up with a tent over us. We were given the best seats (again quite literally) in the house. Families, children, moms, dads, grandmas, grandpas, aunts uncles, friends all came up to greet us there. They took photos with us. I did not even know them and they wanted my photo with their loved one. Within minutes they delivered cold drinks which included the most delicious Coca-Colas. The tents were strung with lights it was literally one of the most beautiful sights I had laid my eyes on. (I am such a sucker for twinkle lights) We were then delivered HUGE plates of food. More food than I could eat in the ten days I would be there. It was all traditional Honduran food prepared especially for their “American brothers and sisters in Christ”. We sat and shared food and friendship which included drinks from a coconut. (by the way in my opinion coconut milk is way overrated and really not milk at all) It wasn’t long and the program began. The most talented amazing artists enthralled us with their traditional dances, poetry readings and even the most impressive mime I have ever seen which also starred Tim from our group and you can definitely say we saw a side of Tim none of us ever knew existed. Friends it was so beautiful and so amazing.

 So why was my heart feeling so broken? Why did I have this huge lump in my throat that prevented me from talking or even swallowing.

I saw all that was prepared before me and all I kept thinking was how unworthy I was. Why this big to do? I did not deserve this banquet set before me. Tears stream down my face even now as I recall the moment. What had I done? I flew on an airplane, which for the most part even my trip had been paid for by other hard working people. I did not deserve any of this.

 I am such a visual person. And I think this is such a cool thing about God. He knows us each so personally that He knows how to reveal Himself to each of us. He knows our triggers and how to get through to us. (even those of us who are harder to reach than others)

For many, many years I have known that “God loves me.” I know it. I teach it. I sit with little preschoolers once a month and I point to them and use their name and say “God loves Miles. God loves Greta. God loves _______.” I know this. In my head.

As I stared down at my plate of food not sure I could stand all this for one more second and God whispered to me “I love you like this Lisa.” Yes God I know. You love me. “No Lisa. Just like this. I wait for your arrival, I cheer you on. I welcome you with open arms. I seat you at my table. You are my precious child and I give you the best. Your hard work did not earn you a place at this table, all your good things fill me with joy but that is not why you are here. Your mistakes and failures they can’t remove your VIP status either, you did not earn your ticket Lisa, instead my son paid your cost. You are here simply because I love you.”

People the tears just started to flow and pretty much continued for the rest of the trip. I am loved not because I am perfect or because I have logged hours in a pew. Nope, simply because I am His child. My mind cannot even begin to understand this but the image of the Hondurans pure unadulterated unmerited love for me will never leave me.

Friends, God loves you. Seriously He loves you. He has prepared a table for you. He awaits your arrival with open arms. He will hug and kiss you. The food he has set for you will never run out. You have done nothing to deserve it nor nothing to remove you from it. As a parent waits for their child, He waits for you. All because He loves you.

To My Pre-Autism Self:

Recently I had to bring my son in to have his testing done again. (testing for autism) As he and I sat chatting in the waiting room I noticed a mom in the waiting room with a very young son. She was filling out piles and piles of papers and had notebooks which I am sure were full of questions. She hardly looked up when we walked in she was so focused. Her son though he noticed us, staring at us he yelled “Mom, I don’t like those people and I don’t want them to look at me.”  He definitely said it loud enough for us to hear. I knew in a moment he was having similar testing done too. She had a look of determination on her face and a hint of fear in her eyes. I knew that look all too well. Sitting there I remembered like yesterday what it was like to sit in that chair, filling out evaluations, over-analyzing each question and reviewing my own list of questions and demands. I wanted so badly to hug her tight and tell her what I knew. But that would have been awkward and weird, even for me. It did however make me think about what I would tell my pre-autism self. There are so many things I wish someone would have told me. Below is just a few of the things that would have been helpful to know.

Dear Pre-Autism Self,

I know right now life feels out of control and hard to understand. So…

Take a deep breath. Do this often. Pray. A lot.

Feel what you feel. Feel relief if you are relieved. If you need to laugh, laugh. Do not for a minute feel guilty for feeling what you feel. It is okay to feel angry, to feel frustrated, to feel betrayed. Let tears fall as they may. If you feel as though you have experienced a loss give yourself permission to grieve. Just do not live there too long. For if you do you will miss so much joy and beauty. You will never find out how strong you are and how good God is. There are so many gifts in the journey, you don’t want to overlook them.

Do not be afraid of the label. Do not let the word autism hold you or your son back. Do not let it put limits on or define him. In the same sense do not be afraid to talk about it with him. He will adapt to your definition of autism. (He hasn’t seen Rain Man) If you act like autism is limiting and tragic he will believe he is incomplete and a mistake. If you teach him he is loved and has purpose, he will believe you.

Do not fear autism. Right now you think it is a life sentence but it is not. It will make things hard at times and honestly there will be moments you did not know your heart could hurt so much but in those same moments you will experience joy in the pain, strength in the adversity. You will advocate, you will educate, you will negotiate.  You will be wrong. You will make mistakes. You will try things and they won’t work but don’t let it stop you. Keep trying because one day it will work. And on that day, it will all me worth it.

Rely on your support system. Be real and let others help when you need it. That is not a sign of weakness but of strength. People are going to have a lot of opinions. I mean A. LOT. Listen. Remember most often people mean well. For those who don’t? Ignore them. Avoid the haters and cling to those who love you. You will meet so many amazing people who are on a similar journey as you, EMBRACE them. They will become your army, your family, your people.

You are not his parent on accident. It was planned. You were picked for him. He for you. Despite this you will feel ill equipped. Do not let that get you down. There will be times when you are not enough but there will never be a time when you and God are not enough. He will give you just what you need when you need it.

Love deeply. Live Fully. Enjoy the moment (even the hard ones). Hold on it is going to be an amazing ride!

You can do this!

Lisa

P.S. Your son is pretty much a rock star. He is caring and kind, full of compassion and a great sense of humor. And when a little kid makes it clear he does not want anyone to look at him in the doctor’s office, Ben will purposefully find a seat on the other side of the room and quietly whisper “Don’t take it personally mom he is probably just having a bad day.”

 

Divorce in the Church?????

“The rate of those divorced inside the church is the same as outside.” Tell me…Is this such a bad thing?

 Now before you stop reading and defriend me, go with me for a just a second will you? A couple years ago this statistic caused a lot of upheaval in the church. Since the church should look different from the world… right??? Here is the trouble with that thought at least from my perspective.  **

If 50% of the population divorced and we are reaching out to our world do you suppose our congregations might consist of those who are divorced? If they don’t might we be missing something? Do we create an atmosphere where the broken find healing? Where grace and mercy is abundantly distributed?

Shouldn’t the church be a place for the broken and hurting? When Jesus was asked why he chose to hang out with “sinners” he quickly answered them  “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5:31) The question might be who is a sinner?

I am divorced. I am also a Christian woman who loves Jesus all the way to my toes. I have often felt the sting of judgment and shame, certain I must be wearing a shiny letter D to identify myself. My friend (who is also divorced) and I recently were comparing how many times we have been told by those inside the church “God hates divorce.” I won since I have been divorced longer, more people have had the opportunity to educate me. Can I just tell you? I know. I know He hates divorce. I do too. Divorce hurts. It a tool of Satan to rip apart families and inflict pain on all those involved. Not only the immediate parties either but extended families and beyond.  Yes God hates divorce. He hates to see His children hurting and broken.  So no I do not want to see one more family torn apart by divorce.

But… it happens. Even Godly, Christian men and women get divorced. People who love Jesus get divorced for a whole slew of reasons. Some God has identified as justified and others not so much. I will not even attempt to touch the topic of justified and unjustified reasons for divorce.  I am here to simply say we are hurting.  We understand God hates divorce. We know we have made mistakes and trust me we have experienced regret. For many of our dreams have been broken and our hopes shattered.

So… Wouldn’t church be a good place for us?

Please hear me. This is about so much more than divorce.

If 15% of the population struggles with alcoholism I do hope our churches reflect this number. I pray alcoholics and drug addicts find solace in Jesus. If 0.5% of our women turn to prostitution I pray they find unconditional love in the arms of our Father.  If 50% of the men and women in our church are divorced I pray they find grace and forgiveness on the inside of our church walls.

I have to be honest here- churches that are clean, pretty and full of perfect people scare me. I much prefer a church that consists of messy and broken people who practice honesty, unconditional love and make it a habit to display forgiveness and mercy to one another.

Let us encourage each other, turn and heal from our mistakes, be better people. Hold one another accountable and love each other. Let us not focus on where we have been but instead where we are going. Then when others see us they will see something different from the world. Something more. Something better.

Romans 5:8 but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

** Yes I get that we do not want people in the church getting divorced. Hopefully church can be a place of healing for families.

My Most Powerful Parenting Lesson Yet May Have Just Come From "I Love Lucy"

I never know what to get my mom for Christmas or birthday or any gift giving holiday. She has everything she needs and when you ask her what she wants you never get a straight answer. The typical sappy "You are gift enough honey" is the usual reply. This last Christmas I became acutely aware that life in our house had been crazy chaos. Yes, even more crazy chaos than usual. As a result I had not been able to spend much quality time with my mom. Considering this I decided to give her play tickets to see "I Love Lucy" on stage. The benefit was two-fold. My mom has always loved "Lucy" and for me I would get some much needed time with mom.

Us making complete fools of ourselves

Our seats were not the best. Honestly we sat in the last possible row of seats but my mom reassured me that she had her contacts in so it was "all good." As we sat laughing and enjoying a great theater production this feeling started to well up inside of me. I was taken back to 35 years ago when my brothers would leave for school in the morning and mom and I would lay on the couch and laugh till our bellies hurt as Lucy would stomp grapes and stuff her face with chocolates. Ricky would yell "Lucy" and I would try to mimic his exotic accent. These are some of the best times of my entire life. We would snuggle and cuddle and in those moments I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was loved.

I started thinking about the fact that some of my most meaningful moments consisted of my mom and I laying on a couch watching a thirty minute sitcom. I consider all the things my mom did for me over the years. She volunteered at my school, she sat on the soccer board (which if you knew my mom you would know how hilarious that is), she brought me and my friends places, she took me swimming and shopping. We have many wonderful memories together but some of the best took place on the couch with Lucy.

As I stared out into the dark theater my eyes filled with tears. I constantly feel so much pressure to be the best mom. Not better than another, just the best mom for my kids. I volunteer but then feel guilt when another field trip arises and I am not able to attend. I plan parties and purchase tickets to the next best thing the trouble is there is always the next best thing. I often feel that I am letting them down when I am not able to live up to my own expectations. And then it occurs to me...

Could my most meaningful mom moments be snuggling with Grace watching Love It or List It? Could I be making a bigger impact when I stop with my over-committing and stop and watch The Bachelor with my 17 year old? (no judgement please) Or just maybe even sitting with Ben while he explains to me for zillionth time how Yu Gi Oh is played?

Could I have complicated this whole motherhood thing?

Please Lord in my busyness and attempts to be the "best mom" please don't let me miss it. Do not let me spend another moment comparing Pinterest parties or committing to things that will only result in more frazzled stress. Slow me down, remind me to rest and see what you have placed right smack dab in front of me. 

Thank you Lucy and thank you Mom. I love you.

7 Ways Youth Group Saved My Life

The church has been under quite a bit of fire lately. In a culture that has sadly come to pair church with judgment, hypocrisy, lies, greed and abuse I thought it would be especially timely to explain how it is that a youth group (well the whole church really) saved my life. I was an angry teen with the weight of the whole world on my shoulders. I was on the hunt for revenge against my father, against my teachers, against the whole world really. That is until a bunch of imperfect people crazy in love with Jesus stepped in and saved my life.
7 Ways Youth Group Saved My LIFE!

Just one of the many.....

7) These people were REAL! Teenagers can see right through phoniness. These people never tried to pretend to be something they were not. The never once acted like they had all the answers. They made mistakes and apologized, they got sad and happy, found joy and knew how to genuinely love one another. They never tried to be something they were not to gain my friendship instead they were real and honest. (mostly honest, see below for the one disclaimer)

6) They looked for the best in me. Encouraged me, built me up, supported me. I (as most teenagers) suffered from poor self esteem and wanted desperately to be liked/valued. I remember when I was first asked to help with VBS (Vacation Bible School) to help with the children. They trusted me, they saw something in me and built that up. They would point out my strengths and remind me of my talents. I was even asked to play my saxophone. People please listen I was TERRIBLE. I never made it out of last chair. Yet there they would have me in the front as "special music." It was special alright. And afterwords I promise every member of the church would come up and tell me how beautiful it was and how much they enjoyed it. Okay so maybe they were not always honest.

5) They paid for me. Yep they did. They paid for camp, retreats and even employed me to clean bathrooms to help me pay for mission trips. Many gave sacrificially even when I was too young and selfish to understand that kind of giving. They gave meaning to "Put your money where your mouth is." They did not just speak it but they did it.

4) They did life with me. One mom of young children would invite me over since I lived close. She would feed her kids, do laundry, watch Sesame Street and LISTEN. She would listen to my ideas, to my thoughts. She NEVER made me feel like I was a bother. She told me her door was always open and it WAS! Other families would invite me over for movie nights and pancake breakfast. No it was not flashy and hip (yes I know using the word hip is not hip anymore) it was however meaningful and made a difference it my life.

3) They did not judge me. (but did hold me accountable) Often I said words that were not appropriate church words. (I was a rebellious 14 year old give me a break) I lied. I broke things.I laughed hysterically in the middle of a prayer when my Clearly Canadian (remember those?) blew up all over me and my best friend.  I once painted my initials with those of a boy I liked on the side of the church building. Yes. I did. Are you understanding the saints these people were? I am positive I would not have liked me. I am positive it would have taken a miracle from God for me to have the kind of patience these amazing people had with me. But they did it. They found ways of letting me know that did not like my behavior but they loved me anyway. I did have to clean the side of the church but last time I was there if you squinted a little you could still make out the pale white letters. I eventually learned appropriate language. I also learned there was no need to lie when people loved you just as you were.
2) Did not let age stop them. The grandmas and grandpas were role models to me. The moms and dads supported me. The single, the married, the honeymooners they all spent time with me. One of the older ladies in the church (whom I love, love, love) did the special programs in church and she always included me and made sure I could participate. She would tell me after everything I did (sing, play the saxophone, read verses) "Lisa you were just lovely." I smile today as I hear her sweet words replaying in my head. A simple statement I was so desperate to hear. I was lovely.

1) They never ever gave up on me. If you were sitting next to me you as I type this you would see the tears rolling down my face. They never quit on me. I was sassy and bratty. They had every right in the world to say "I have had enough. She is not my problem." But they didn't. When I was most un-loveable they put their arm around my and pulled me closer. I guess if I imagine Jesus in a youth group it is exactly what I see him doing. Loving the un-loveable.

It was not flashy or attention getting. I do not think any of those people received an award or trophy for what they did. (though I am pretty sure when they get to Heaven they will have earned quite a few gems in their crowns) Most of the time I am guessing it was not pretty but instead incredibly messy and dirty. It is not quick or easy instead in was an investment. And now I have children of my own and often they are messy, sassy and oh boy have I earned a few gems of my own. Our kids have their own group of wonderfully imperfect people who love Jesus all the way to their toes. People who love them, forgive them, do life with them, support them. I am grateful and thankful for all who invest in the lives of teenagers. For those of you who do....
Thank you. Thank you with all my heart. Keep doing what you are doing. Keep it up even when you think all hope is lost. You are changing lives. And even more that that? You (with God's graciousness) are saving lives, people. You are saving LIVES!

Our kids cheerleaders!

Faith's "graduation"

Celebrating Ben's Birthday!

Just a label? Yea right....

"It is just a label, right?" her glistening eyes asked. I had asked myself the same question hundreds of times. This sweet mom was checking her beautiful daughter in for the first time to children's church. Her glance drifted cautiously between her daughter and my eyes as she explained her daughter's diagnoses.

When my son was in second grade I asked to put learning disability as his primary daignosis and autism as his secondary diagnosis on his education record. They were not supposed to do this but for me (not for Ben) they made an exception. I explained I did not want Ben to be labeled. I did not want people to make assumptions. I wanted Ben to get a fair shake. More than that I did not want Ben to be autistic.

Autism. It made my heart hurt. To this day it makes me a little weak in the knees. BUT I have changed a lot since then.  Autism seemed so big and so scary but living with it for a while I have learned to appreciate the gifts autism has brought me. I have the very best teacher in autism. Autism has helped me to become a more compassionate, more empathetic human being. When I consider the person I was before autism she was actually kind of ugly, not in the outside beauty kind of way but in the inside where beauty really counts kind of way.

More importantly though..... while I have come to understand more about autism one thing I know for sure is AUTISM does NOT equal Ben. No more than anxiety equals me or depression equals you.

Let me tell you about Ben. He is kind and thoughtful. One time in Target I was exhausted from working all day and walked past a worker who accidentally dumped a bunch of movies on the ground I honestly did not even see her. Ben did, he slammed the cart to a hault, reprimanded me for not stopping and smiled as he picked up every last movie for her. He sees things. Things I don't. He is loyal, he knows how hard it is to make a friend so when he has one he will go to the ends of the earth for them. I know very few people who are so loyal. He is funny, not just giggle, giggle funny but hilarious makes me want to wet my pants funny. He is a hard worker because in his life many of what might seem like simple tasks to you and me have required hard work. He knows nothing else. He is quirky and sometimes embarrassingly honest but he has taught me how to let go of the haters (Dear Mean Mom in Arby's, I hope your son, the one you just spanked when he "acted like that" does not grow up to be a harsh, judgmental, opinionated person like his mother. Love, me) and appreciate my blessings, for which I have many.

A label has a place. It may HELP to explain something or draw a hazy picture. It can teach and educate. It can provide services or raise money but it does not ever equate a person.

So sweet little momma I long to hug you and remind you, yes it is just a label, no it does not encompass your beautiful little girl. She is a daughter to the King. She was created in His image with a purpose and a plan. No mistakes and no accidents. She is wonderfully and fearfully made.

Dum-Dums and other tough stuff

A Dum Dum sucker.  Yes that is what my ten year old daughter wanted to be for Halloween.  Of all my kids she has the oddest costume requests. One year she was the mouse (from When You Give a Mouse a Cookie) and can’t forget the year of the guinea pig. (Especially thankful for my neighbor Staci that year!) I want to be clear here I am much more a “Pinterest Fail” mom than an actual “Pinterest” mom. I try. I sincerely do. They say 3 simple steps and make it look so easy, I do not know what my problem is but rarely ever does it even come close. I have to be honest though is has never really bothered me. It just is not me. I have accepted that and been fortunate to have some of the very best friend/Pinterest moms who fill in for me when needed.

Recently though I have begun to wonder about my mom skills. I am not sure if it is having a new job, increasing expectations (from both myself and others), added stress, aging kids (which of course = aging mom) whatever it is, it has gotten me down. So yesterday (Halloween) when Grace casually noticed “My costumes never look the way I picture them.” I was ready to break down in tears. Another let down. Another failure.  Another time I did not deliver. Yes I am probably being over-dramatic but please someone out there admit you have had the same thoughts at least once?

It is hard being a mom. I mean it is beautiful and lovely and wonderful and sometimes it is really, really hard. Why don’t mom books tell you that? Why don’t they start out with “You can read this book but there will come a time when there is nothing in this book or any book  that will give you the answer you are looking for.”  Because being a MOM is sometimes incredibly hard. When you can’t fix things or change the situation. When you can’t will your child into the spot on the team or get them a role in the play. Or more seriously you can’t take away an addiction or make them choose what is right. And yea, yea I know failure can be good. It builds character. They learn compassion, perseverance and hard work. Some rejection is  helpful, even necessary. In your mind you know it is good but they forget to tell you that it literally feels like someone is ripping your heart out. It is not that you want your child to have everything they ever desired or never have to work for something, it is just that you did not know that you were going to feel so much pain.

Wow I could seriously just end the post right here. Because it is how I feel. Being a mom is hard. And often I am not enough. No matter how hard I try. I can’t take away every tear or even design the perfect costume.

 

Last night as I was pitying myself and my terrible day when I heard a silent whisper. “My grace is enough.” What? “My grace is enough.” Honestly you know what I wanted to hear? “You are a great mom. Your kids are lucky to have you. You are the mom of the year.”  But seriously, it is true. We will never be enough. Never. We will never be every single thing our kids need us to be. Why? Because then they would have no need for God. I do my best. I try hard. And sometimes I still disappoint, I still fail. It is in the moment I am grateful “His grace is enough.”

My sweet little Dum-Dum :)

Prologue: Before bed Drew and I were laughing at how bad the Dum-Dum costume turned out. Seriously friends Gracie and I spent hours and hours writing out “Dum-Dums” and drawing really bad apples.  I spent way too much money  on fabric markers, cotton, fabric, etc… (with which I could have bought a pretty spectacular Elsa costume) and she looked like a very messed up little ghost. While I laid there contemplating my newest flop Drew says “You know what she told me while we were trick or treating? How she loves that you always make the best costumes. Lisa she went on and on about how much fun she had creating it with you and planning for next year.” Wait, what? She did? Grace said that? My heart swelled a little.  Maybe just maybe I am not a complete failure.

I am so flawed, so far from perfect. Good thing for me though, His grace is enough.

5 Things Moms/Dads (this mom anyway) of Special Kids Love to Hear

As promised with slight delay.....

5 things that are mostly* safe to say to parent of kids with special needs

 

1) "I can see you love your son/daughter very much."

I cannot begin to tell you many, many things I have done wrong as a parent of a special kid. (well all my kids honestly) In every case though even when it was clearly wrong I did it out of love for my son. You might not agree with decisions that another parent might make but it goes a long way to recognize the love they have for their child.

2) "Everything eventually will be okay."

In nursing school we learned this is false assurance and you should NEVER ever say this. In the special needs world however, it is justified. As a special mom often all I can see is the problem right in front of me I can become hyper-focused. It is good to be reminded that this (whatever this is) will likely pass. As a Christian mom I am reminded that God is in control, God loves my son and everything EVENTUALLY will be okay. Having patience is key.

3) Compliment their special kid. 

You need to understand as special parents we go to meetings (hours and hours of meetings) where we are told all the ways our kids are different, where they don't measure up, their weaknesses, their struggles and how much help they need. I cannot emphasize enough how powerful a compliment is. One time (in a particularly rough season) a friend came up to me and pointed out "Look how Ben is standing there. He is being so patient and waiting so calmly." I was over the moon, it made my whole week simply because someone pointed out how well Ben stood! A positive word travels a long way.

4) "How can I best support you?"

The power in these words. Those who have spoke these words to me were the ones I knew were in it for the long haul. These were not words of judgment and criticism. Instead these are words that communicate "I am with you. The good, the bad I am here." Friends who have asked me this question have become life long family to me. People whose presence is priceless to me.

5) Nothing. This is expressed in two ways

       A) The nothing where you are just present. You are a listening ear. You do not offer suggestions or advice simply a listening ear, a hug and maybe some tissues. Not everything has an answer.
       B) The nothing that completely ignores what just happened. The nothing that communicates "I did not just see that total meltdown" or "I did not hear a thing". There are times when we need to pretend (even for just a bit)  that whatever happened did not happen. This could be followed up with (what would be a perfect number 6) "Why don't we go have a glass of wine."

*Disclaimer- "mostly" if ever you are questioning what you should  say refer to number 5. 

5 Things You Should Never Say

There are some things that should just never be said. Being a mom of a child with special needs I have had many comments made to me most of which were meant to be encouraging, informational or helpful but unintentionally have been hurtful, judgmental and demeaning. So I decided to make a list of the Top 5 Things to Never Say to a Mom (Dad) of a Special Kid.

5) "He/She seems just like ________________" 
(Sheldon from Big Bang Theory, Max from Parenthood, Joe Blow from down the street, you fill in the blank) What you may see as a simple observation or even compliment may not transfer the same. When Ben was first diagnosed a well intended friend compared Ben to another child we both knew. The child was a little older and diagnosed with significant disabilities. While it was true that they had many similar traits (more than I had the courage to admit at the time) all I could do was over-analyze why/how my son resembled (and more importantly did not resemble) the other child. There is really nothing about this kind of statement that is helpful. It is best to let the parent determine when/which qualities mirror those of another.

4) "What is wrong with him/her?"
This should be obvious but you wouldn't believe the number of people who have asked me. It is just wrong. Don't ask it. For any reason. EVER!!!

3) "What is his/her prognosis?"
For oh so many reasons. Mainly though.... this question scares the crap out of us. For most us we are living a day at a time and thinking about the future too deeply will likely cause us to sweat, hyperventilate and break out in hives. The reality? For the most part we do not know the future, (which is terrifying) honestly even the best doctors will not attempt to predict outcomes. We already obsess over the "What ifs" without having to rehash them with everyone we meet. If you need more clarification see What will Ben need to know?

2) Anything that begins with a negative statement. 
More times than I wish I have heard "He talks weird. What's wrong with him?" This is the deadly duo. Two consecutive "nevers" in a row. Say this to the wrong person at the end of her (his) rope and you will likely need to duck. Once a person begins with a negative, my ears shut off and I hear little of what they are trying to say to me.

And drum-roll please.........

1) "You should ______" or "You shouldn't ______"
Please never, ever begin a sentence with these two words. I do not care if you were once a special education teacher, if your grandson has a disability, if you are the gluten free guru or even a parent of a special needs child yourself do not say it. Just don't. These two words carry more shame and guilt than any other two words in the dictionary. No-one, I repeat NO-ONE wants to hear "You should have done blah, blah, blah" Unless you are me (and you are not) please do not direct me on what I SHOULD/SHOULDN'T be doing.

For the most part I have an awesome support system consisting of family, church family, friends, teachers and random strangers. If you develop a relationship with that special mom (or dad) you will likely find out what you need/want to know in time and eventually even offer solicited advice. Just wait until the time is right. Till then watch for the next edition....
What Every Mom (Dad) of a Special Kid Wants to Hear! (or at least this mom anyway)

Silence is…. Quiet

Or golden but that depends on who you ask. The last 10 days my oldest kids have been on a mission trip to Alabama. A few years ago my friend went on a fast while her daughter went on a mission trip as a reminder to pray for her daughter whenever she felt a twinge of hunger. I really like my food and I knew fasting from food would likely only make me crabby and less apt to pray. A spiritual level I have yet to attain I guess. Instead I thought I would turn off my radio. I spend a lot of time in my car and I thought that would be a good time to reflect and hold my kids up in prayer. Did I mention I spend a LOT of time in the car and I also REALLY like my music. 

For an extroverted (ENFP if you are a Myers-Brigg fan) girl like me, quiet is neither desired or enjoyable. I like people, parties, friends, conversation, music, basically noise. I enjoy noise. Having a conversation with me is easy I rarely ever experience that “awkward silence” people speak of. I fill it with thoughts, dreams, words, oh and music. I like music. A LOT. 

The first things were good. I felt very “spiritual”. I talked to God a lot. I prayed for each person on the mission trip team. I prayed for my husband. I prayed for my family, my extended family. I prayed for my patients.  I prayed for the cashier at Arby’s (she seemed to need it #crabby). I prayed for the people in the cars next to me, who looked at me funny. (probably because I appeared to be fully animatedly talking to no one) I prayed for my friends, for my church, for my pastor, for my neighbors, for my dog. Yes my dog. This all pretty much got me through Day 1. And then I started singing. Mostly the only songs I know word for word are hymns. I guess all the years of doing nursing home services paid off. I know every word to those hymns, even the 7^th and 8^th verses. At that point I am sure God was tempted to come to me in a burning bush and beg that I turn back on the radio. (If you have ever heard me sing you would understand. But He had to hang in there because He had more to teach me. Poor God. Some of us take A LOT longer than others) I sang and I sang. Day 3 came and there it was… “The Awkward Silence” I could lose myself in my thoughts for a bit but then the silence would return. AND IT WAS QUIET.  Day 4 a funny thing happened. Me who never wins ANYTHING won a raffle. Guess what I won????? A BASKET FULL OF CD’s. No I am not kidding. Either God was testing me or begging me I can’t tell which. A couple more days of praying, some singing and awkward silence happened. 

So quiet in here

About Day 7 I noticed that I didn’t dread the silence so much. In fact I rather looked forward to the broken prayers and off key “How Great Thou Art.” I also experienced something else. A presence. A quiet presence riding along with me. In the quiet, I began to discuss with God the people I love. Not just a list of wants or asking God to mold the person in a way I see fit but to really stop and listen. I teach and I know that prayer is a two way street but the honest truth I am so stinking bad at listening. I often go without answers to my prayers because I do not stick around long enough to hear them. It breaks my heart and excites me all at once.  What have I missed? What do I have to look forward to? 

Another lesson learned in my experiment/fast? NOT ONE person noticed the radio was never on. Not my husband, not my friends (love you Janet), not my children. NO ONE. So what happened instead? We talked! I listened. I enjoyed my people. 

Honestly, tomorrow I cannot wait to listen to my CD’s. I cannot wait to let Meredith Andrews lead me in praise and worship but…. I will hold to what God has taught me. I will shut up once in a while. I will (try) to listen more.  I will not wait for the next mission trip to be quiet.  A new trend maybe? Like #MCM (Man Crush Monday) or #TBT (Throw Back Thursday) we could have #TOT (Turn off Tuesday) or not…. lol

Thankfully God is not finished with me yet “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6