My disclaimer: 

For those that asked me to post it on my blog this is the sermon from today. It’s written in a form that helps me to speak it when I’m up front. Sorry about the grammatical errors and weird spacing. And thank you for asking me to start writing again. 

Once a year, faithfully, they would come. A missionary family would show up at church with their children ranging from a couple years older than me, to a couple years younger. Every year they would gather all of the excited Sunday School classes into the church gym and we would watch their slideshow presentation about what life in Africa was like. We saw beautiful pictures of people, wild animals, and heard about their ministry. And of course they always had things for us to touch and pass around from the culture. I looked forward to it every year. But there was NO WAY I was going to be a missionary. I did not want to live like I was camping. Because that is what it is like to be a missionary right? You give up everything from the comfort of home and move to a third world country with disease and famine… and you share about Jesus. At least, that’s what I used to think as a kid….and maybe some as an adult.
Today I want to challenge us to think outside the box of what our church culture has traditionally told us being a missionary is. Ironically, I married an actual “missionary missionary” So for me to be up here talking about this instead of him is odd…but hear me out anyway and you can ask him if I am messed up later.

First of all, the good news is we are already called to be missionaries and we don’t even have to leave this country. Some people are called to leave this country. But not all of us at this time, or we wouldn’t still be sitting here…I mean…Matthew 28:19 is pretty clear.

“Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit”
“All nations” that includes ours.

Wait what?

The very people that are around us everyday? That we….work with? You mean the neighbor that makes me crazy? The mom in the PTA that always tries to get me to sign up for stuff? The person with opposing political views?
Let’s try another verse. Mark 16:15, “And He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.”

I guess the word ALL there means “yes” to the previous set of questions. ALL creation…I don’t pick and choose who I am share the Gospel with…

But really- How stinking exciting is this? YOU! ME! WE! Missionaries!

Still doubtful? John 20:21, “Jesus said to them again, “…as the Father has sent Me, I also send you.”

I know what you are thinking. I think it too. We all do. It’s the FEAR Talking. It sounds like this:

I can’t share the gospel I am: too young, too old, I don’t know the Bible well enough, I wouldn’t know what to say, I am afraid I would say it wrong, I haven’t had my coffee yet… I know these excuses I use them all the time. It’s fear talking. It happened to me just this Wednesday. I’m sharing this story so you hear the excuses, not for the accolades. I want you to hear that you aren’t alone in your fear.

On Wednesday I took my two youngest to the splash park in town. This passage of scripture, Acts 3, was raging in the back of my mind. Over and over the story was rolling around but my thoughts were jumbled. I kept trying to write notes about it while the kids played at the park. I gave up and put my notebook away. It was 5pm and most of the parents who had been watching their kids play on the splash pad were now drying them off and bribing them to leave with dinner. My two decided to go play on the splash pad that only two other kids were now on. As soon as they started to have fun, the water shut off. They looked at me confused….I looked back at them confused. I read the sign behind me to make sure that it wasn’t “closing time”. We were good to go. I started shouting ideas “Run around. Touch the pole. Look for an on off button!” Friends, I know that these parents who had been there all day could hear me. I can yell. No one offered up any ideas…and just as I was about to get up and look around I hear this muffled voice quiet as can be behind me…”step on the red spot” I and turned around as he was saying it louder to my kids, “step on the red spot” and just like that Eli turned it on by stepping on the red spot.. I turned around to thank him and he was gone. Confused I looked over my other shoulder…he had been there all along. Unnoticed in the noise and chaos of a children’s park. He sat in the shade by the bathrooms with his backpack and wagon of what I can only assume to be all of his belongings. I hollered over my shoulder, “Thank you!” and he didn’t look up. I looked away. I should go talk to him. His face is so worn with life. His eyes had a story. I should go and sit down and talk to him. “But I have to watch my kids. He won’t want to talk to me. I don’t want to come off as a goody -goody. I don’t have anything to say. “ So I sat and argued with God for the next fifteen minutes while watching the kids play. Looking over my shoulder to see if he was still there every so often because my argument with God would be totally invalid if the man had just moved on….but he hadn’t . What was I supposed to do? Offer him my one French fry left? My half empty diet coke? That’s all I had with me. I sat there stewing over it. I had twenty bucks in my purse that was in the car. Nope…. I heard it loud and clear. It wasn’t money he was in need of at that moment. Why Lord? What?? And then I heard verse 6 from this passage in Acts in my head. “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I give you.” What else did I have? A chair? My beach towel?

I had kindness. I could show him respect and kindness. Just like Peter had the capacity to do what Jesus could do in Acts 3, I had the capacity to show respect and be kind the way Jesus would have.

I called the kids over and got them dried off. Anxiety started to build up in my chest. I am protective of my kids…what if this doesn’t go well? We packed up our stuff and I led the kids over to him. They didn’t even ask me where we were going and why were going away from the truck instead of towards it. I just said, “Sir, would you like some bottled water?” He looked up and didn’t say anything. He just looked into my eyes. But… he didn’t say no. So we went to the truck and brought him back two bottles of water. My son apologized for it being warm said as he handed him the two bottles. The man moved his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He took the water and nodded at me. I told him to have a good day and he nodded again. My kids skipped off to the truck and asked if we could bring him back cereal. As we drove off I kept thinking- it took me twenty minutes to show kindness to this man. That’s all I was being asked to give him. Kindness. It took my kids zero seconds to show him kindness. They didn’t ask me why, they didn’t comment about his appearance….his life…or even brag about it to their brother when we picked him up. It was a natural response for them. Because kids don’t have the FEAR of doing it wrong, saying it wrong…or talking to someone who looks different than us. They just DO kindness.

Why am I not more like a child? When did my childlike faith leave me? When did we adults become so consumed with fear, that showing respect and kindness to someone who isn’t like us is a rarity in these situations? Or even a chore? Why do we think we don’t have something to offer? What in the world makes me think I get to pick and choose when I share the love of Christ with others? Shouldn’t it be always? Not when I feel like it? Isn’t every person made in the image of God? Don’t they all deserve my respect and kindness?

In today’s lesson verses 12-16 it’s clear that the people around Peter were shocked at what they had seen. He redirected them to the fact that it wasn’t by his own power but by the power that comes from Jesus. Sometimes we don’t feel like we have anything to give when we see someone who could use some help. I know that most of us are not likely going to heal someone with a physical aliment. I know that not all of us have extra financial resources to help someone monetarily. But maybe we can do something else that we know Jesus would do. Because it’s not always about money, or physical need is it? Although it might appear so initially. What we see on the outside is a result of something on the inside.

I keep thinking about the people we see on the corners every day that are begging for money -there is even something we can do for them. Yes….I know, I know…..Maybe some of them are drug users. Maybe some of them are scammers. Maybe some of them are not homeless at all. Maybe some of them live in their car. Maybe some of them are war vets? We don’t know their exact situation but I am pretty sure no one writes on their kindergarten “When I grow up” poster “I want to be a beggar.” No…something happened in that person’s life to change their course. Something changed. That person on that corner is in need of something that we can offer. It might be a smile or a wave. It could just be a little respect or a little less judgment. I know it’s hard because we are human. But it’s not our job to judge what someone needs. Our job is not to figure out what someone deserves. Our job is to lift the fallen, to restore the broken, and to heal the hurting. That’s all.

Our mission as missionaries isn’t to hurry up and change everyone to Christians, we don’t have that power anyway do we? Our mission is to meet people where they are at, so that they can hear and feel our love for Christ and that door can be opened What does that even mean? To meet someone where they are at?
I read this recently,

“ People are where they are- despite our desire for them to be further along, more evolved, more fun, closer to our level, less intimidating, more reliable, easier to access, or simply more like us.

If you take the desire for someone to be different out of the equation you can meet them where they are. You can meet them in the real moment. You can meet them in their despair or their magnificence.
And when you truly meet them, with no wishing for something different to wedge you apart, you’ll know what to do. You will have the compassion to be calming, the humility to be reverent, or the wisdom to walk away.” (daniellelaporte.com)

Their despair or their magnificence…. Meet them there… so powerful!

Did you know the number one way people feel loved is to be listened to? What if the next time I saw that man at the park I sat next to him and asked him a simple question. “How are you today?” I wonder when the last time someone asked him that was? I wonder if the last time someone asked him that – if they listened. I wonder how long it has been since someone met him where he was at, without judgment, and listened. I read a sign once that stuck with me. You’ve probably heard this before. It said, “Preach the Gospel and if necessary use words.” What if I preached the Gospel to him by listening? What if I was better at that in my own home and family? What would happen if I took an extra five minutes at bedtime to listen instead of hurry the kids to bed because I am about to lose my mind? What if the next time I was at the grocery store I asked the checker, “How are you” and listened?

If we stopped to listen more than we stopped to talk, I think things might begin a change in not just the people we minister to, but in ourselves as well. Meet them where they are at….and if necessary use words.

I think that some of the things we are challenged to do in our own little “world” as a missionaries can be scary. They are uncomfortable. I know I don’t like feeling uncomfortable, most people don’t. But I think that’s the point isn’t it? It’s about walking where we don’t want to go…where we feel uncomfortable, pushing our boundaries so we can grow? Sharing the Gospel in practical ways that people can actually hear and feel it?

Acts 3 is about passing on the ministry of the spirit. And I would challenge us to remember that we are all called to do just that. Pass it on to people by meeting them where they are at, even when it makes us uncomfortable. Especially when it makes us uncomfortable. Forget the excuses that FEAR gives us and be bold in our faith. Bold in our knowledge that all we really need to do is love and care about others the way we want someone to love and care about us.
I know I said we don’t have to leave the country to be missionaries…but we do possibly have to leave our comfort zone. To quote Winnie the pooh, “You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”
J.

October the 14th is a confusing day for me. I don’t dread it. I just know it’s coming. As soon as the leaves start to change and the air is crisp my senses know what time of year it is. I used to associate that with the birth of my first-born, and I loved that. But now it has changed into something else. It’s like this demon I wrestle with all year-long rears its ugly head on this date. For some dates of people passing bring a lot of anxiety or depression. It doesn’t do that with me. It just messes with my head until what I know is real and true comes to the surface again. Things that cause me to be that work in progress I am always talking about. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I do want to remember. Things I wish never happened. Things I cannot change. Sharing the reality is healing but also scary. You may not like what you read and that’s okay, because I don’t tend to like some of the things I write about.

I don’t mourn for the mother I had. I mourn for myself, for that little three-year old me that still lives here inside of me. I mourn for my sister and my grandma. I mourn for a once little boy who things could have been so different for. I mourn for the mother I always imagined she could be and would often pretend she was. But that’s where the sadness ends and the confusion, frustration, and sometimes anger takes over. She became so much more hurtful and angry and misguided that last two years of her life or more, that those are the memories burned into my brain. Trying to find a good one is like trying to squeeze milk out of a lemon.

So this is a day that I have to do alone.  It’s not a day I can explain to people how I feel. Certain memories that have come forward this week are hard. I struggle in my sleep and my awake time with memories. Some she is alive still and some I am in the airport on my way to her services. I am on that stupid escalator and the wall to my right is brightly colored and there are people in a hurry trying to get to their plane and I can feel myself slipping from reality. I can’t feel my legs. I have to tell them to move. I feel raw. I feel like people can see right through me. I am scared. I am scared that because of her lies and confusion in the end that no one in my family will welcome me except my sister. I am scared for my physical well-being as well as my emotional. I am an orphan. I have no home to go home to. The home where my childhood things are, is not my home. These are some of the memories that take my breath away and cause me to grasp the kitchen counter and take deep breaths so I don’t have a panic attack in front of the kids. They are so powerful, like they were yesterday.

There were unexpected blessings that week as well. My aunt and uncle, stepping in and taking the role my father should have taken for my sister and I. Guiding us through the days and keeping us from feeling like we didn’t belong. Friends both new and old sending me messages of support and prayers. Even if I didn’t respond they gave me strength. My grandma being proud of what I was wearing (if you know her, you know why this is a big deal). Adults from my childhood reintroducing themselves to me and the warmth I would feel when they talked to me. My sisters friends who still think of me as the little sister, caring for me. These are the memories I cherish. The ones that made me feel God’s presence in that moment.

Two of the most powerful memories I have are perhaps the memories that finally convinced me that my sister and I, flawed as we may be, did not imagine things we were told we imagined. The first was when we walked into the church and the funeral director started talking to me and telling me we that weren’t allowed to sit with the family. I smiled and told him I understood, thanked him for his help, and promised to sit on the other side. During that conversation my aunt and cousin from my dad’s side started walking towards me. I could see them out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t know what to expect.  I turned and looked at them and they smiled and embraced me. They took a risk. They showed us love and grace. It was humbling and powerful, and something I will never forget. It was that act of kindness that got me through the rest of the day. The second was when I went to sit in our designated spot in the sanctuary for the service. I thought it would be just us. It wasn’t. My mom’s side of the family sat with us. My grandma, aunt and uncle, and cousins. We all sat together and I belonged. After years of being told how much we were hated by everyone, it was deeply healing to realize the stories weren’t true and also devastating to realize I couldn’t recognize truth from lie anymore.

Why, why after four years do I still feel the need to write about this? Because I was left with so many unanswered questions. I look for pieces to puzzles, reasons for things that happened or didn’t happen. It is healing to write about things that have changed me. I don’t struggle everyday, but I choose to write about important days like this because maybe someone who reads it won’t feel alone in their journey to healing. Maybe I have to write it so that a certain person who reads it knows that there is nothing wrong with them. Maybe, just maybe, that person who needs to read this will hear me say that their circumstances don’t make them who they are. How they grow from it does. Be a work in progress and use that muck you have been through to motivate you to be who you want to be. Who God wants you to be. Look for the unexpected blessings that come from every hard moment.

*** update*** I’m back to using my college degree as of last year, but it takes nothing away from the three years I was home with my kids.
I remember when they called my name at college graduation. I was so proud of myself. I had beat so many odds that were stacked against me and had overcome many statistics that said I wouldn’t get a college degree. I couldn’t wait to go out into the world and start an amazing career doing what God had called me to do. It was a moment in time I will never forget. Being called into ministry of any kind is not easy. Working in a church is not easy. Following God’s will is not always easy. I did it though. Every time I was led into another direction I did it. I have only held positions that are considered a ministry of some form. My jobs have had me working with all different ages of kids in a Christian setting each time. That never seemed odd to people who knew me. As I look back on the last three years I am struck by how many people are confused by what I do now.

“So, what is it you do again? Are you just doing that jewelry thing?”

I get asked this frequently. I get it. I get why those who know me get confused by this. Unless they take the time to dig deeper. My brain is bigger than jewelry. My heart is for serving Jesus. So why sales? And why this jewelry gig? And where is my pink car? (We don’t really have pink cars, but people ask me that.)

Let me start with the ministry I am in. I am in the field of working with women. I am blessed enough to witness the power of what a little social time with friends can do for women like us,  from all walks of life. I am invited into women’s homes to help them do something fun for themselves. We all know what a woman’s life is like these days. She is an exhausted SAHM who is just really wanting to talk to someone who doesn’t require a diaper change. She is a working mom who is burning the candle at both ends and could use a night where no one is expecting anything from her. She is a woman who is beautiful beyond belief but doesn’t think so, because someone told her she wasn’t. She is a woman who doesn’t have the most supportive loving husband and lights up when her friends tell her she looks great in a necklace. She is the woman who loves fashion and will do anything for a new accessory. She is the woman who will use any excuse to hang out with her girlfriends. She is you. She is me.

Last night I received a text from someone who said this, “Something as simple as a CL necklace has truly made me feel beautiful in more than one way. Good night sweet friend.” It was a reminder to me that this “jewelry thing” isn’t about the jewelry. It’s about how women feel when they empower each other. It’s about how much women need each other. I am part of a large network of women all across the country who do what I do, who are making a difference in their lives and the lives of their families. I get to walk alongside some of the smartest entrepreneurs I have ever met. They have become some of my best friends. I wouldn’t hesitate to call any of them should I need a friend, a prayer, or advice. Some of them do this full-time like me, some use it as supplemental income. Some do it for the fun. Whatever the reason I am so glad to know them. They have blessed me in ways I didn’t know I needed to be blessed. I have an amazing team of women that I coach and train that have become my friends and are a gift to me. This is my ministry. To love, care, and support other women in whatever ways they need it.

Why did I choose this? Because the three in the picture below deserve to have a mom who is not stressed out by her boss. They deserve a mom who can drop everything and come down to their school if needed. They deserve a mom who can build her schedule around them. They deserve to have the mom I always wanted and dreamed of being. I am a work in progress and these three are helping me get there. My husband deserves to have a happy wife who can drag him on all expense paid vacations to exotic places! Working for myself can be hard, but so worth it in so many ways.

So that’s what I do. I work from my home office. I work to be a better mom. I work to be a better wife. I work to empower women.

I don’t even know where to start. I haven’t posted since my trip to see my grandma. That was in July I think. It’s been a busy summer. I don’t think I can do this summer justice but let me at least give you some bullet points:

• Travelled to CA for my Cookie Lee Fashion week. AMAZING TIME. LOVE this company
• Travelled to AZ for DSWA coaching school for my business AMAZING
• Earned my trip to Jamaica, still working on hubbies
• Had company from Spain
• Boys started 5th and 3rd grade
• Daughter started ALL DAY kindergarten
• I had trouble adjusting to my girl not being with me all day
• I hate spider season
• Second son has struggled with adjusting to school, almost there now
• My grandma has had hip surgery and sounds great when I talk to her on the phone
• In-laws were here for a week
• One of my dearest friends from college was in town, it’s been eight years, and we had coffee
• My oldest is going to start trumpet tomorrow and already plays cello
• It’s getting cold here, and rainy, and I hate that

There. We are all caught up – just in time for some posts that really have been weighing on my mind. It’s almost October. When did fall arrive?

I’m writing this post on the note application on my phone because I have so many words in my head and heart I have to get it out. We are on a mission today. It is important. It is a last minute trip that I felt couldn’t wait. My five year old and I are traveling to visit my grandma several states away, and as parenting goes…she got motion sick on our first flight. She projectile vomited about thirty minutes after we landed while we were on our way to our next gate. The elevator doors opened and people on the other side of the door watched in horror and quickly stepped back. There was no garbage or anything so I let her just puke on the floor over and over again. I had to stop and change her clothes in the middle of the hallway in front of everyone. I used baby wipes that I had with me to wipe her down. I then schlepped my very heavy carry on, my heavy purse, her back pack, and the car seat to our gate with her weak sick little self walking next to me. The next gate was down and elevator, through a long, long hall, and up the escalator. A shoe shine man gave us his last bag for her soiled clothing and her next incident if need be. We arrived at an airport help station and asked for more bags, and were able to get two more so the clothes could be wrapped up and tucked into an overflowing bag. When we arrived at the gate after about a twenty minute walk, the airlines had changed the gate to…wait for it…the gate right next to the one we just got off. The airline attendant was of no help, and she could have cared less how sick my little one was. My daughter, sick again, got cleaned back up and committed to the journey back. It took three sit down to rest stops to get to where we started. We were both exhausted and wondering at that point if we were going to be stuck in a city we had no need to be in. When we finally got to our gate, a full hour or more after we had originally left it, she collapsed in a chair and fell asleep. So there I was sitting on the floor wondering- do I ask a stranger to watch my kid so I can buy her Dramamine and water or do I wake her up and haul our crap across the way again? Both options sucked, so I decided to do nothing. I sent out messages asking for prayer, and texted my husband to tell him they might not let us on the plane. I tried to call him and talk but she got sick so I had to get off the phone. She threw up again and the lady across from me said, “Can I help you? Can I go get you something?” I swear to God I want her as my best friend. She was so motherly and kind. She bought Dramamine and found ginger ale. She went and got me a coffee and refused to buy one for herself with my money. When our plane came in she arranged for my girl and I to load the plane first. She carried the puked on back pack onto the plane so I could help my sick baby and carry our bags. I asked for her business card because she was traveling for work. She said it wasn’t necessary. And I am sitting here in the very back of the plane, with daughter’s puked on stinky feet across my lap, thinking- “I don’t even know your name!” I know she has two sons. The youngest just graduated from high school and they went on a cruise. That’s all I know. Or is it?

I know that she took one look at my sick girl and her exhausted mama and she was inclined to help. I know she has a kind and giving heart. I know she was the hands and feet of Jesus for me today. I know I will never forget her kindness. Dozens of people walked past us today, and likely didn’t even see us. They didn’t see a mom struggling to carry what felt like the weight of the world while feeling awful for making her sick baby walk. How often do I walk past someone struggling with their burdens and not see them? See them for who they really are and what they are going through? And really- when do I have the time in my own chaotic life of working and raising kids to slow down to notice?

Lord, Help me to notice…help me to shut out the crazy things in this life just enough to pay attention to what is going on around me…