Wisdom From a Five-Year-Old

My oldest daughter, Jenna, is a talker and very imaginative. She probably asks me three hundred questions a day. Although I know this is wonderful and that I should be proud of her natural curiosity, it can be tiresome. 

Sunday, on our way to church Jenna asked me, "Where is Daddy's home?" I was annoyed at first because I knew she knew the answer. Yet, I was somewhat amused, thinking maybe she thought Daddy lived at his workplace. So, I inquired what she meant and she repeated the same question. I then asked somewhat sarcastically, "Jenna, where is your home?" She laughed and replied, "I know where my home is, silly. Where is Daddy's home?" Finally as a last resort, I pressed,"Do you mean where Daddy lived before he met Mommy?" "Yes! Yes! That's what I mean," she shouted, with enthusiastic relief that I finally understood what exactly she was asking. 

After talking about each of the places her daddy lived, she thought for a moment then said, "God puts together puzzles of us, doesn't he?" 

"You're exactly right," I said. "Our lives are just like puzzles. God places each of the pieces of our lives together in just the right spot at just the right time. Sometimes, we mess up the puzzle or somebody comes along and kicks it back into pieces. But, God will always fix the puzzle. He'll pick up the pieces and he'll put them back together."

Lest I become too proud of my little mini sermon, Jenna interrupted me and shouted, "Look, Mommy, at that plane in the sky!"

If the Lord would text, I'm sure He would send me a big, fat LOL.

Despite her short attention span, my sweet daughter was on to something that day. 

Our lives are made up different parts of a divine puzzle. Just when we think we've got our lives all figured out and neatly arranged, it will fall to pieces. But God promises, no matter what our lives look like or how broken we become, we can "be confident of this, that he who began a good work (puzzle) in us will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Phil 1:6).


Lord, thank you for my children, from whom I can learn so much. Thank you for fitting all the pieces of my life together according to your will. Forgive me when I mess up and help me to trust that you know what is best for me in your perfect timing. In Jesus' name, Amen.   



  

    

Three Tweets Thursday II

I think every mom would agree that you learn very quickly after your babies become toddlers and mobile that nothing they do or say should surprise you. Even after knowing that fact, my children continue to shock me. 

Today, I wanted to share a few of the surprising things I've dealt with as a mom. I can look back now with laughter, but at the time I was calling my mother, whispering little prayers like "God, help me", and "Googling" to see if anyone else had been through the same drama. By the way, it does make you feel better to google because it is true,"there is nothing new under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 1:9).

1. When toddlers get away from you, it's surprising how quickly they can get themselves into trouble and make a mess. When Jenna was little we lived in a very small house, so I knew where she was and what she was doing most of the time. 

One day she got very quiet, which is never good at that age, so I went looking for her. I found her in my bathroom with the doors to the cabinet under the sink open. She had gotten into some of my old make-up and had opened up some red lipstick. Jenna then proceeded to color the floor, the bathroom rug, and herself. It must have been the all day wear kind of lipstick, because it didn't want to come off easily. Of course, I had to mop the floor and scrub her in the bath. But, even though I've washed the rug more than a few times, it still has the stain. I've actually grown rather fond of the stain now, and it makes me smile.

2. Similarly, Carissa, my then twenty-month-old, found some Vaseline sitting on Jenna's night stand. For whatever reason, she thought this was like shampoo, and completely doused her hair in this gooey glop. She must have gone around the room after this, because I discovered Vaseline on almost every surface, including the carpet. 

Well, let me tell you, Vaseline is a force to be reckoned with. If the United States ever needed a new tactic on attacking terrorists, I would highly recommend they drop large Vaseline bombs right on top of cities.

I put Carissa straight in the bath and I probably washed her hair fifty times, to no avail. Vaseline and water is like oil and water. One website suggested baby powder and that just made a paste. Someone else suggested Dawn dish washing liquid and that didn't work either. We even tried baby oil, which compounded the problem, and by this time, Carissa had four different products in her little white hair and it was sticking straight up on top of her head. 

We soon discovered there was nothing we could do, so she had the wet look for about a week until the oil finally soaked into her scalp. The carpet was finally cleaned two weeks ago and the stain is now gone.

3. Last night we were out to dinner and I found a penny lying on the ground. I gave it to Jenna and we were both happy she was going to put it in her piggy bank. When we got home, she walked in before me then turned around with her hand on her throat and a terrified look on her face. She had swallowed the penny and it was stuck in her throat. 

I panicked a little, not ever having heard of such a thing happening. My husband, Jason, told her it was okay and got her some water, which helped the penny go down into her stomach. She was in tears, saying "My penny, my penny." He settled her down and told her it would just come out the other end. I was shocked at his calmness, until he informed me that he had once swallowed a quarter. Go figure.   

            

Finding My Wings Part Two

The summer I walked onto the grounds of a Christian camp for teens, I had no idea I was going to be exposed to things I had never seen. I was oblivious that my life was going to dramatically change.This is a photo of me around the time I went to camp.

Ironically, the theme of the camp was "a man called Jesus..." I began to get answers about who Jesus really was and, for the first time, I remember feeling intrigued. The more I learned about Jesus, the more I understood that he didn't care what I looked like on the outside or how well I followed a set of rules;which was therapy for my middle school awkwardness. No, quite the opposite. He, in fact, had no expectations of me. Jesus just wanted to love me and pour out his grace on me if only I would accept this gift from him. 

The camp challenged us physically during the day and our devotions dug deeper than the stories I had learned in Sunday School as a young girl. We were taught focus, determination, and trust. It caused us to exert not only our  bodily muscles, but also our spiritual muscles.

My favorite part was praise and worship at night. We would go to a picnic-like shelter, lined with wooden pews instead of picnic tables, called the "Arbor". A band that had guys with long hair, wearing jeans and skater shoes, would rock out under the stars. I would wear t-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops with my hair pulled back in a messy bun for these informal worship times. 

People would clap and raise their hands in praise to their King. Some were at the altar on their knees, faces planted in the mulch, bowing down in reverence to their Maker. Others were speaking in tongues and "falling out", overcome with the Holy Spirit. I imagined this to be similar to what worship was like in Heaven. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. We were engulfed by the still darkness and sparkling lights. It was us and the heavens above and we were on display for God and all the heavenly hosts to see. 

I must admit I was a little uncomfortable at the beginning of the week. If you've never seen this type of worship, it can be a little startling. But, then, as the week progressed, I couldn't help but feel the weight of God's presence under the Arbor. I slowly began to join in and gradually let my guard down. I no longer stood still. I began to listen to the words I was singing and feel the beat of the music; swaying my hips and lifting my hands. As I started to feel more at ease, it was as if someone started tearing down those misconceptions I had held for so long about what church should look like. I no longer needed a list of all the reasons I should follow Jesus. I just knew I wanted to because I was being drawn to him. I felt so filled I could burst.

One night, I felt a churning feeling in my chest; a heaviness. Before I new what was happening, I lifted my hands. Immediately, I realized my weakness in comparison to God's greatness. It was an overcoming feeling I had never felt before and I was awestruck. At that moment, all my inhibitions were crushed to smithereens and my worries pressed down. Suddenly, I was headed toward the altar. Strangely, it didn't feel like I was the one walking. I felt like I was being carried. 

That night I surrendered and accepted Jesus's gift of eternal life. I wasn't schooled biblically or even sure I had all the answers, but I couldn't deny what I experienced that hot, July evening under the stars.

The Arbor was arguably one of the most important places I will visit this side of Heaven. I still have my camp t-shirt. 

Vastly different from what I experienced as a young child, I walked away from camp that summer with a different view on "church".  

I learned that church is not a set of rules or a country club. I didn't need to wear a dress or look and act a certain way. I didn't need to try to work hard at being "Christiany". I didn't need to know how to speak the "right" way, pray the "right" way, or read the "right" version of the bible.

I learned, a church is (or should be) a place or a people of love and acceptance. A place where people of all different races and ethnicities, backgrounds and pasts, personalities and sexualities can come and feel the love of Jesus, who was and is a friend of sinners. Church is a place where we can admit our brokenness without judgement and "carry each other's burdens" (Gal 6:2). A place where we can gather together no matter how different we are, with one thing in common; that we can worship our Creator, who "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Ps 139:14) each one of us, with all our hearts.

The truth is, we all have different preferences and styles when it comes to the way we worship. I've never met two pastors alike or two churches alike. And, that's wonderful, because God made every one of so unique. There is nothing wrong with the conservative traditions of the church in which I grew up. As a child, I just didn't think there was any other "way". 

My argument is, that we not hold on so unswervingly to our traditions that we can't open our minds and our churches to welcome the preferences of people who may not have grown up in the church, or who are a younger generation in desperate need of the gospel to make it through their daily struggles.

Will you stop striving to act more "Christiany" and start living in His grace? Will you began to look inward at your own relationship with Christ, instead of being critical of what other Christians are doing? 



Please contact me at caraymail@gmail.com, for further discussion. What is "church" for you? Please read "Finding My Wings Part One", the first part of this two-part series.   



           

   

                     

      

Three Tweets Thursdays

I've decided to start "Three Tweets Thursdays", and, no, I'm not referring to tweeting on Twitter. Three Tweets Thursdays, will be "tweets" from my little birds, here in my wren's nest. I'm doing this in hopes to capture some of those darndest things kids say and do. I think you'll kind of like it.

Our poor cat, Sir Purr, gets terrorized on a regular basis. People often comment about what a good cat he is. If they only knew all that he's been through, they would understand, he's gotten used to just about anything.

1. One morning, before taking Jenna to school, I found Sir Purr covered in bows. Unmoved, he just sat there and let her continue to fill his fur.

2. Carissa, almost daily points to Sir Purr's tail and says, "eeewwww, look at  Sir Purr's booty." Sometimes she'll even grab him by the tail, swing his tail around and sing, "shake your booty, shake your booty." How she knows this song and how to shake her booty at two years old, is a mystery. My husband blames me for teaching her this while he's at work. Yes, honey, we have booty shaking lessons each morning after breakfast.

3. Jenna: "My teacher told me it's not 'butt' or 'booty'. It's 'bottom'." Oops!  

Finding My Wings Part One

I've gone to church almost my whole life. Growing up in the bible belt and in a small Southern town, I didn't know many people who didn't go to church every Sunday. My mother would dress me in my Sunday best; a neatly ironed dress with a perfectly tied bow in the back and matching tights, complete with curled hair and a coordinating bow to top it all off. 

  

The church we attended was Baptist and formal. The pastor always wore a suit and stood behind a podium and never moved. Although I'm sure he had a great message, the preacher's voice would regularly put me to sleep sitting straight up and my head would fall to my chest, then bobble around. No one even dared to utter an "Amen." The choir would wear matching robes and often put on stellar performances. There were women in the choir who would put any opera singer to shame. I would stare at the stained glass windows, ready for them to shatter, and wonder why on earth anyone thought that singing in that high of a register and so loudly sounded pleasant.    

Church was just something we did. A part of our lives. I never got excited about it, but I never disliked going either.

As an adolescent and early teen, I pondered what asking Jesus to be my Savior would mean. Frankly, I was a little frightened about being dunked under water in front of an entire congregation. I didn't like the way I looked wet and I was mortified that I would be asked to recite words to let the congregation know of my decision. I would often weigh the risk of embarrassment of being baptized against the risk of embarrassment that I wasn't participating in communion. Sadly, I would determine that I could at least pretend that I was chewing when the preacher said, "take, eat, this is my body."

Church for me was a set of traditions and rules that had to be followed. I thought I had to look the part. Inside, though, I didn't feel so "Christiany". My narrow perspective only allowed me to see Christians one way. If this was what church was about, I wasn't thrilled about conforming to that way of life. 

I knew the Resurrection story. I thought that Jesus lived and died on a cross for our sins, and I believed what my parents and teachers told me to be true. Yet, somehow, I knew there had to be more to following Jesus than just words spoken or belief in stories. My decision was going to have to be based upon something deeper, if I was going to commit my life to truly follow Him. 

My friends who decided as children to follow Jesus, may have been okay with their half hearted decision, but I needed something more. I needed to be pursued. Awestruck. Who was this man called Jesus? And, moreover, why should I be motivated to obey his leading? 

Something happened when I was thirteen, though, that not only changed my perspective, but also changed my life and the way I viewed "church."

The summer before my eighth grade year, a friend invited me to a campground for a week. It was a Christian camp for teenagers and I agreed to go. I thought we would learn about Noah's Ark or Jonah and the Whale, do a craft, and call it a day. But, boy was I wrong!

Read part two of "Finding My Wings", scheduled to post week of June 16, to hear about my life-changing experience. To receive weekly posts in your inbox, enter your email address in the box "follow by email" located in the top, left corner of my blog. 

            

       

The Wren Family

When I first met my husband, Jason, we were both dating other people. In fact one of the first times I ever met him, we were on a double date, but not with each other. We quickly became friends. I thought he was funny, charming, and one of the nicest guys I had ever met. I loved how I could just be myself around him. Neither one of the relationships we were in lasted, so he decided to ask me out. Reluctantly, I agreed. I didn't want to ruin the friendship because I new if it didn't work out, our friendship may not last either. Nevertheless, I took the risk and I'm so glad I did. I get to wake up every day with my best friend.

Jason had a son, Hunter, who was nine years old when I met him. They are like "two peas in a pod." They are huge fans of the Tampa Bay Rays and the Carolina Panthers. Hunter is soon to be fifteen years old, almost driving, and taller than me now. He is a wonderful teenager and a great baseball player. Although he lives ten hours away, he is loved and adored very much.

About a year after I met Jason, I became pregnant with our first child together. Yes, before we were married. But, that's another story for another time. I had my first daughter, Jenna. Having a baby rocked my world. I decided there was no way I could go back to work, so I decided to stay at home with Jenna, and I have never gone back. She is five now, and one of the reasons I've decided to follow the Lord wholeheartedly. She can't sit still, loves books, is not a "girly girl", extremely imaginative, and reserved most of the time. When she was born, I got to experience unconditional love for the first time.

Before Jenna was two, Jason and I got engaged. Then, shortly after her second birthday, I found out I was pregnant again. We decided to go ahead and make our commitment to each other official and got married on a whim, July 31, 2010. It was a very small ceremony, with a few friends and family who could make it on such short notice. We have yet to take our honeymoon because we've been kind of busy raising kids. That's what happens when you do everything backward.

Less than a year later we welcomed our second daughter, Carissa. She's my two-year-old towhead and calls herself "Crissy Roo". She's been attached to me since birth. As an infant, the only place she would sleep is on my chest or in my arms. Carissa likes playing dress up, wearing dresses, and playing with baby dolls. "Girly girl" to the core! She's so cute that, while disciplining her, I have to turn my head to keep from laughing. I never thought I could love another child as much as my first, but God has a beautiful way with making you love deeply in different ways.

Finally, there's our black Persian cat, Sir Purr. His father was an award-winning show cat, but Sir Purr isn't the least bit pretentious. In fact, he's lost all pride and is often seen wearing pink bows and Tinker Bell necklaces. He has even been spotted wearing Dora the Explorer underwear. Sir Purr doesn't like going out outside, and if he does, he will run  for the door if even a bird chirps. The girls will tease him and chase him, but he doesn't care. He loves them anyway. Especially Jenna. 

I'm so proud of my family and feel blessed beyond belief to be a wife and mother to them. We weren't established the traditional way and we've been through a lot to get to where we are today, but that makes me all the more appreciative for what God has done in our lives. 

We may look like we have it all together now, but the truth is, no family is perfect. Maybe you don't like your earthly family. Maybe growing up was full of disappointment and heartache for you. Even though we can't choose our earthly families, we do have a choice to be a member of a different family. God's family. I promise if you make that choice, He can erase those disappointments and provide healing and rest for your aching heart. Your Creator, your Heavenly Father is inviting you. All you have to do is RSVP yes. 

For more information on how to become a part of the family of God, contact me at caraymail@gmail.com.

   

Come Fly With Me

When baby birds first learn to fly, parent birds will keep the fledgling's food a little further from the nest each feeding. If a young bird wants the nourishment, they must figure out a way to get to the food. Most of the time this takes many hard falls to the ground or falls to a different branch. The bird must then hop back to the nest for safety. The process repeats itself for each feeding thereafter and, eventually, baby birds will discover their wings, fall less and less, and finally learn to fly.

Learning to fly is an extremely arduous task. It has been compared to human jogging times ten!1

I think our lives are very much like baby birds learning to fly. 

You see, we all have a longing in our souls to find nourishment.We try all kinds of things to try to find that pleasure or to try to fill that empty space. Usually, whatever we find only brings satisfaction temporarily and we experience that same longing again. 

What is awesome is that we have a heavenly Father, much like a fledgling's parent. Our heavenly Father holds the nourishment to fill that empty space. He wants us to take a chance, move away from our nest of comfort, and seek Him. Seek our Father for that life-giving food. 

This blog was created in part to carry you on my journey of learning to spread my wings and fly in dependence upon God to fill me. Just like like a baby bird learning, my struggles in learning to seek Him are difficult. I will often fall down, realize my need for help, get back up and start over. Sometimes to do the very same thing I just did.

But what I do know is that I'm growing. It gets easier and easier the more I practice trusting Him. God promises,"and those who seek me find me. My fruit is better than fine gold." (Prv 8:17,19)

If you happen upon my blog, hopefully I can inspire you or at least make you smile.You will get to hear some about my little birds who are living in my nest and our everyday life on Wren's Way. 

Let's do life together and learn not only to fly, but also to "put our hope in the Lord, and soar on wings like eagles." (Is 40:31). Then, one day when our Father calls us home we can say like the old gospel song,

     I'll fly away, Oh Glory

     I'll fly away;

    When I die Hallelujah, by and by

    I'll fly away.2

You, like me, were made to soar. Come fly with me.

1 Author unknown, "How do Birds Learn How to Fly?," wisegeek.org (accessed May 30, 2013), adapted.
2 Brumley, Albert E., "I'll Fly Away," bluegrasslyrics.com (accessed May 30, 2013), adapted.
All scripture quotations are from the New International Version.