God is in the details

God is in the little stuff. He is in the big stuff too. Pretty much, God is in every moment, if we will just open our eyes to see Him.

Two weeks ago I was preparing to go to New Orleans on a mission trip with my chuch. We bussed down there Wednesday morning, got there that night, and spread a little of God's love on the way. I also got the call that Kathy had gone to be with Jesus on that ride. God knew I would need that group of people at that exact moment to help me through. It was a most amazing experience to have perfect strangers loving me like they had known me their whole lives. Anyway, while we were in New Orleans we did a myriad of things, but my favorite part was meeting and loving the homeless that were living right across the street from City Hall. These people were amazing! Most that I talked to were not homeless before Katrina, but the rising cost of rent kept them on the streets, even if by chance they still had a job. But the heart of these people could only be matched by the heart of the team that was there to love them. We couldn't help but focus in on our new friends. We just wanted to love them and help them any way we could.

The best part of the entire mission is that we have not let it end! One man, Fraser, we were able to bus up to Missouri for a job up there. Now we are on a "Free Willie" quest. There was a man named Willie who actually led us to City Hall and is the reason we met all our new friends. Now we are trying to get Willie up to OKC and get him on his feet up here. Another family that was on the street has gotten the help they need to get off the streets. God didn't want our mission to end just because we came home, and we are listening to His call. It is the most amazing thing I have ever had the honor to take part in (other than my family), and the thing of it is, that we as Christ-followers are all meant to live like this. Helping those around us to feel God's love and power and grace. It is what we are all called to do, to live in reckless abandon for HIM.

God was in every detail of that trip and what has become of it. God is in every detail of my life, from where I was when I got the call, to Derron's recital, to who I met at the bookstore tonight. God is in everything. From the movies that my pastor chose for his sermon series, to the next series after this one, "If you only had 30 days to live." If I choose to believe that God is in every detail, then I know my life isn't left to chance. And better yet, I am not in charge.

Every moment with my children is a blessing. Every moment with my husband is an amazing blessing. Every minute I am here on this earth I want to be doing something that is meaningful for the purpose and the Glory of God. If God is in the details, then that is where I want to be too.

db

I went to a concert tonight. The artist was Derron Bell, and his instrument was the marimba. He was a roommate of mine back in college, and I hadn't seen him since he sang and played at our wedding. To say that God made a way for me to be there is an understatement. I didn't have a sitter for the kids until yesterday, and then today her dog died and I didn't think I would get to go. I tried a last resort (only because I had used them so much lately and I didn't want to be overkill), and they said they would gladly take the kids.

The music he played was so healing for me. It was wonderful to see him again, and more wonderful to hear him play. He is so gifted, and to watch him is to see music in motion. As I sat next to Russell I felt my spirit lift, one song at a time. I could honestly listen to Derron play all day long. Then as he got ready to play his last song on the program, memories started flooding back. The last song was "Time in a Bottle", and it was one that we sang and listened to a lot when we were roommates. Not only is Derron the most talented percussionist I have ever heard, but I also like to listen to him sing. Imagine my pure delight when he began to play and then to SING this last song. I don't know why it was so healing for me, but it was. I guess that is part of what music is supposed to do.

Anyway, I know it is still one day at a time for me, but I also know that this evening was God's special gift to me to help me on my journey. Thank you Derron for sharing your gift. Thank you God for giving Derron his gift to share.

I was truely blessed!

Black hair and other dealings

I dyed my hair tonight. It looks black, but we will see after a couple of washings. Why? you ask. When I was up in Washington to attend Kathy's funeral, I had so many people tell me I looked like Kathy. Never while she was living did anyone every tell us we looked alike. But know that she is gone I got it at least 5 or 6 times. Not that this is a bad thing, I thought she was beautiful. But now every time I look in the mirror I think of what she looked like on her wedding day, and I can't look in the mirror any more. I didn't say it makes sense, but there you have it. I didn't take my sleeping pill early enough tonight, so I didn't take it at all. Who knows how long I will be up. I don't think I am doing very well with dealing with her death. More than anything I want to spend as much time with my husband and kids as possible. At the same time I can't really grieve and be responsible for a household. It isn't working out too well for me. My husband asked me if I was depressed. It doesn't feel the same as when I had post-partum, so I would say no. But I do feel like I am pushing a lot of what I am feeling deep down just so I can do day to day life. Why do we as Americans feel like the grieving process should be over as soon as we bury someone? God didn't make us to grieve that quickly. But for now I just keep filling my time with playing or cleaning. If this keeps up for much longer I will have the cleanest house in the neighborhood, and most of my neighbors have housecleaners! I just don't hurt when I keep busy. I think it was a good thing when I was pouring myself into the people of New Orleans, but now I am avoiding feeling the hurt. At least I can label it, right?
Maybe this is how I am supposed to move on. By writing. Who knows.

My beginnings

So my life began under some cloudy skies. My brother had just gotten out of the hospital after a battle with Spinal Meningitis. He lost his hearing, but he was lucky. He could have lost his life. So then I was born. I would say I had a pretty good childhood. I was definitly daddy's girl, which made sense later. I was a kid that could usually be found up a tree. I loved to read and I would get lost in the story lines. I still do that these days. I was a pretty good kid, and usually stayed out of trouble. There was some craziness that went on in my house, but we survived it.
When I was 15 my dad got a job that moved us from my lifelong home in Beaverton, Oregon all the way to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. To say I was not happy would be an understatement. I cried and screamed and begged for a way to stay. What did I need cowboy hats and farms for? I had what I wanted in Oregon.

Of course, we do not always need what we want. The move to Oklahoma was the best thing that ever happened to me. I found a church that I liked, though I was the only one in my family to go. It seemed that a church in Oregon had hurt the rest of my family, and so they chose to let the mistakes of people come between them and a relationship with God. I began to feel at odds with the rest of my family. I was bullheaded and didn't know how to share God's love with them. I judged them and got frustrated when they judged me. I handled it very poorly, but I know that God has forgiven me for that, even if they haven't.

When we first moved, my mom began to look for ways for me to meet people. She did really try to take care of me. One thing she found for me was an an audition for a gospel choir called The Ambassador Choir. When I went to the audition, they took no time in telling me that anyone under 18 auditioned for the children's choir. I said that was fine as long as I got to sing. So they let me audition. When I finished singing, they asked me to wait out in the hall. After about 2 minutes, they asked me back into the room. Then they asked if I would like to join the choir. Not the kids choir, the adult choir. I was thrilled. I was only 15. I ended up being the youngest by 5 years. I was a little shocked when I walked into the first rehearsal. One glance told me I was one of 3 white people in the 100 person choir. But I had found my new home. Those people loved me like I was their own kid. Being in that choir was one of the best experiences in my whole life. Being in that choir led me right into the path of my future husband!

My cousin, Kathy

So I decided to start a blog because of my cousin. On July 17, 2007, Kathy sang once again only this time it was while she was fishing with our grandpa up in heaven. She led a tough life and she battled hard for the last 7 years so that her kids would know her. She was not just an inspiration to her family, but to people all over the world.
Kathy kept a blog for a part of her journey. Her life ended at the age of 35. Which drove home the fact that none of us know how long we will be here. Should my life be long or short, I want to keep a log of even silly day to day things.
So, inspired by Kathy, this is what I have. I hope to write at least a few times a week. I love to write down my thoughts, but a normal journal won't work for me. I have what looks like arthritis that has attacked my whole body, so writing by hand hurts too much. Typing is still an option for me, for which I am very grateful.
I must go put the kids down for naps now, but will write again soon to kind of catch up on what has happened in the last 29 years.