#BeautyOnTheInside! A Message to My Middle School Daughter and All Her Friends!

Today I am feeling under the weather and while taking a rest and browsing Facebook, I came across an article that both intrigued me and left me incensed at the same time.  First, I have to warn you, my views are my views, if you don't like them, walk.  I don't care if I seem rude or if your views differ from mine, respect my differences and I will respect yours, nothing you say will change my mind.  Spewing hatred of my views will only make others or myself attack yours and it is a vicious cycle that accomplishes nothing.  

Now that I have posted that disclaimer let me begin, I have a newly teenaged daughter. From the first second she was laid in my arms I have thought she was beautiful.  As she has grown, we have adopted being very open with her about any situation, we do not hide behind closed doors to talk about finances, our irritations or our parenting decisions.  We have taught her to love God, to ask him for guidance and to consider his precepts before making decisions.  I have also been completely honest with my daughter about sex, she talks openly with me when she has a question and I have answered the questions, given every slang word I am privy to and discussed her ideas on the subject.  With that said, here is what I really want to say.

The article that inspired this post was regarding a mother's letter to the middle school girls that told her son he was hot.  Well, I have a letter to my middle school girl too and it has nothing to do with who you thought was cute, but everything to do with how you present yourself.  I am writing this directly to my daughter not some fictitious girl or someone I saw in the great beyond doing something I didn't agree with.  However, if you are out there and no one has bothered to tell you this, by all means, let me be your mama voice for a minute.

My beautiful girl,

From the moment you were laid in my arms I knew that you were going to be a force to be reckoned with, my quiet storm.  Each year that you grew I never paid mind to what you wore, how others looked at you, how others viewed my parenting skills or anything other than keeping you safe and healthy and loved. Something happened around the end of elementary school that I never expected, I noticed men, that is right, MEN, looking you up and down.  You were not dressed provocatively, we had done nothing to make you look older, or painted your face with makeup.  It was then that I realized I had to keep you safe, healthy and loved in a whole different perspective.

When I say you are beautiful it is not measured by your outward appearance.  I see your kind heart, your willingness to help others, your happy go lucky spirit, your ability to adapt to change, your perseverance.  The world will tell you differently, but your soul is the most beautiful thing about you. When a boy says you are beautiful, it may come from a different place, a place of lust and desire for your physical appearance.  It will make you feel powerful, almost invincible, to know you have that effect on someone, however, remember that he doesn't see your soul.  If you have to date, when the time is right and though your dad would rather you wait until you are thirty, look for that boy that loves you with messy hair, mud all over you and laughs along with you even when you look your worst.

You can wear a bikini, a low cut shirt or shorts that leave nothing to the imagination.  The pop stars and the fashion magazines are correct, it will attract whomever you wish it to attract.  You can sashay your hips, puff out your lips, bat your eyelashes and flirt until you fall over, and it will work. Boys will line up to date you, to take you places, buy you things.  As your mom and a girl that felt all these things, though you may call me stupid or crazy, they won't fill your heart with what it ultimately longs for, that feeling of everlasting love. That power you feel over a boy's arousal is only temporary, and without an eternal commitment to only love you, their desire will dissipate if you give yourself away.

More than anything, you do not need a boy or a man to make you more than what you already are. You are strong and brave, you are smart, you are kind, you are so many things on your own they are too numerous to list.  God made men (and boys) to desire a help mate, he made woman out of a man's rib to remind man that a piece of him is missing without that perfect piece to complete him.  This will sound silly, but you are that rib bone for someone God intended just for you.  Every path you take and every decision you make will lead you to that person and those decisions will determine if you are whole or broken when you get there.  As your mom, I hope and pray that you are whole, that you don't get broken by all these stones in your way to womanhood.  I pray you rise above your peers' attitudes that their beauty is validated by lust and desire.  I pray that you realize how awesome you are all on your own, that you come to the realization that sex has nothing to do with how special you are.  I pray for the now boy that will become the man you fall in love with, that he is too dodging all the pitfalls in his path and that his decisions are molding him into something worthy of what an awesome, exquisite creation you are becoming.

In becoming even more awesome you have so much more to do before you are ready to commit to fulfilling someone else's needs.  See the world, graduate high school, graduate college, have fun with your friends, write, draw, paint, run, fly, soar, climb, hike, trek.  Do everything you want to do and then, when all these things would seem better shared with someone else, begin searching for that someone else.  In the process, don't forget that you are still exquisite, worthy of only the best and most perfect love.

I have been honest with you and told you that dad and I had our fair share of mistakes on our path to each other.  We were not immune to those same feelings you will and are experiencing.  Life after making those decisions was hard.  Your dad and I both came to our relationship broken, and instead of being whole, we had pieces missing and repairs to be made.  I don't doubt that we were meant for each other, that we are the completion of each other, but I do wonder what greater things we would have accomplished if we came together whole and unbroken by the world.  I hope that by navigating that path before you, I can help you to choose to come to a relationship whole.

On your mission to becoming you, the urge to chase boys or be noticed will arise, fight the urge to lower your standards and instead wait patiently for that perfect person instead of the person right now.  They will just take a little piece of you with them and they won't even realize how special having that is.  Stand tall on your own and, when the time is right, be ready to stand next to someone that treasures all the pieces of you, good and bad.

The God we believe in sees our future, to the end of our days, he knows your struggles, he loves you unconditonally.  Seek God and he will lead you exactly where you need to be.  Love God because his love is everlasting, never ending and beyond even death.  He will lift you when you feel down, he will help you be strong when you feel weak, he will make you feel beautiful when the whole world makes you feel horrible.  It says in Psalms that you are beautifully and wonderfully made, that God knit you together, he knows every part of you because he created you.  Who better to help us with ourselves than our Creator?  

You are treasured unconditionally by someone greater than any person on the earth, even the mom and dad that love you more than all others.  God knows the number of hairs on your head, let any boy know that if he loves you how you deserve to be loved he can start counting the hairs on your head, because God loves you enough to already know.  If you find a boy that is willing to do that you might have found the right one, if not, don't sell yourself short by giving anything up to a second string nobody.

And lastly, I love you more than life itself.  I would step in front of any danger you face to protect you.  If you make a mistake, if you make the wrong choice, if you need help out of a hole, I will be there with my super mom cape on ready for battle.  Don't ever think you are alone or beyond my help or that your mom/dad will not help you.  I LOVE YOU!


Now, before I end this very long post, I have to say something to that mom coming from another mother of a middle school GIRL.  Those girls weren't intentionally trying to be a stumbling block to your son.  Most likely they were boy crazy girls that were not raised the same way you are choosing to raise your son.  I would never bash the way someone else was raised, only suggest to my own child that it isn't how they were raised to act.  A valuable lesson can be learned by your son in that situation, perhaps he needed only to thank them for the compliment.  No need to invite them to his beach towel or frolic with them in the pool, but a simple acknowledgement of respect and that he appreciated the compliment but isn't interested instead of a snide "like I care" might have squashed the situation.  It was no matter that they were in bikinis or a burka, as my mom always said, men can find a curve in a flour sack.  Just teach your boys, as some of us are teaching our girl,s to be respectful and courteous of each other and leave it at that, a lot of children these days are not coming from the same place as your son.  Or feel free to use the "counting the hairs on my head" thing, it is under no copyright (insert winky face).  Oh, and don't check my Facebook, I am getting ready to post a duck faced selfie with a #duckfacedselfie #beautyontheinside #dontneedyourapproval!

Shine Bright, Little Light!

In my dad's office are two old mason jars, one contains several wooden tops from his childhood, and one contains his marbles.  This was always a joke between us because when he would take out these well loved toys he would tell me if he ever lost his marbles I could find them in this jar.

When he showed me these relics from his childhood, he would take out his tops, wind the string around the top and tell me stories of the good old days.  He would gather the colorful marbles in his hand and show me the most beaten up of the bunch.  This was his favorite "shooter" marble, even with all the stories I had no idea what purpose this served or how important it was.  A "shooter" is responsible for beating all the other players "shooters" and taking them as a prize.  During these moments, dad would tell a story about an intense game of a childhood friend with a sought after "shooter" that he won by using the well played with champion marble he was showing to me.

Dad's love of the game didn't end there, he loved playing dominoes, wahoo, and cards.  As children we didn't have the latest gaming system, IPad, laptop, massive screen television or any other mind numbing electronic devices, but we did have board games.  I remember playing with my family, with the boys living in our home and friends of the family.  We would sit around laughing, talking and enjoying each other's company.  There were snacks and drinks and checking Facebook or watching YouTube wasn't even an option.  We found enjoyment in laughing with each other, getting caught up in friendly competition and learning new things about each other.

Some of the best Biblical discussions I ever had with my dad and my family came at these times when we sat around a table, drinking coffee and throwing out our ideas and letting dad either back them up or dispute them with scripture.  He knew most of his scripture reference by heart, his passion for God's Word shining through.  Many times, as we grew older, these moments were limited to holidays and I guess that is why as we count down the days to Christmas I become reminiscent of those days.

In preparing for the Christmas holiday, I have spoken to many people about their struggle to provide a great Christmas for their kids.  I have shared with many people that I never remembered the gifts I received at Christmas as a child, except the pajamas and robe from Grandma Jen filled with Milk Duds candies each year.  My parents were raising four children of their own and providing for at least three others at the same time so presents were usually fulfillment of a need not a want.  It will surprise some that my family does not exchange gifts, except for the kids.  I have begun to explain to my youngest that Santa is just a man that God gave the provision to bring gifts to children and that Santa is sharing these gifts with children to remind them of the greatest gift God gave us, His son, Jesus. One of my favorite memories, that I hope to continue this year, is hearing my dad read the story of Christ's birth in his deep voice and sharing God's love with us each holiday.  My favorite part of his reading was Luke 2:10-14, 'And the angel said unto them, Fear not" for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.  And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'

I share all these memories from my family to ask a question I posed on Facebook, 'If you put up a manger instead of a tree, would the gifts you give be the same?'  I know we want everyone to feel the magic of Christmas, but I think that the tree I will fill with material things will never measure up to the gifts I can give my children to fill a manger.

Many of you, like me, have filled your trees with gifts for your children and your entire family, however, I ask that this year you pay special attention to the gift God gave you in the innocent faces of those children.  Give the children in your life the gift of your presence not your presents. Create memories out of immaterial things not material things.  Play games, drink hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream, go look at lights in your pajamas, drop off blessing bags to the homeless, give lovies to children in a battered women's shelter, embrace the lonely.  Fill a manger with compassion, kindness, giving, love and joy.  I leave you with this and my new motto, "Shine bright, little light" because if each one of us shines bright with one little light  we become as numerous as the stars in the sky, and who can ignore the heavens?

A Tale of Two Dads

Today, my intention was to memorialize my father, to share another memory of him, to open another part of his life to my readers.  One might say this "went off the rails" as I began to write.  Today, my heart tells me I must share memories of another father dear to my heart.

Almost 17 years ago, I walked into a local restaurant with my best friend to be greeted by a familiar face, one I must admit I admired when I was in high school.  I had no idea how life changing that meal would become, because on that day I met the love of my life.  To think that only two weeks prior to that meal, I had a deep conversation with God declaring I was done with relationships until God put the right person in my path.  Sometimes it takes us giving up on something to allow God to open our eyes to what we really need.

I have shared before that I experienced a very abusive relationship during my high school years, and though I will never expand on it over such an open network, an allusion to it is necessary.  To put it simply, I was broken, broken beyond repair if you would have asked me directly.  I met Jeff merely two months after I had very seriously considered taking my own life.  I didn't think I had anything left to give to another person, I was irreparable.  Isn't it in these moments that we see God's light most clearly?  I say this because after our first date, July 10, I had another conversation with God.  I needed a sign, something to tell me where this was headed.  Two weeks later I got my answer, a heartfelt conversation led to the admission that marriage was our future together.  As evidenced by my previous statements, this was not on my radar.  

That day, seventeen years ago, God gave me one of my most precious gifts.  He gave me a strong man, a man that would stand up for me.  When many others failed to be there for me, he held me when I cried and was ready to defend me at any cost.  Jeff is a valiant protector of both myself and our children. He is patient beyond measure, especially to a wife who is not know for the same virtue. Where I am hot headed and quick to anger, he is my balance. Our life together has not come without it's disappointments, but there have been very few that we have not faced and been able to overcome together.

There are four significant moments in our married life that stand out to me.  First, that day on a beach in Coronado when he vowed to love me forever with deep sincerity in his eyes.  I will never feel as cherished as I did in that moment.  Secondly, was upon the birth of our daughter.  Watching him standing there, holding her tiny body so gently spoke to my soul.  Thirdly, when our son was born, the look of pride on his face.  The way his face lit up with each birth and still does when he spends time with the kids is priceless.  Lastly, and most important to me, the way he held me in his arms the day my daddy passed away and held in his own tears so that he could comfort me speaks of what a wonderful man I celebrate.

Thankfully, my dad was able to develop a deep relationship with Jeff.  There were many times throughout our dating relationship that Jeff sat with my dad just carrying on conversation.  I hold on to those memories dearly, because Jeff had the chance to learn from my dad.  We joke that dad's first words of wisdom to Jeff were "never forget your anniversary."  However, he taught us so much more.  He taught me how to love my husband, and taught my husband how to love me.  He showed us through how he loved my mother and how he loved others.  Many memories of my father bring tears to my eyes, but there are two pictures my mother has that make me weep.  The first is of my daughter as a tiny little girl, the picture taken from the back, with her little hand in my father's large one just taking a walk.  The last is a close up of my son being held by his papa, dad's eyes gleaming with happiness and a smile on my little one's face.  Both do not show my dad's physical strength, but the strength in which his love for his family shone through his eyes.

There are many similarities I see in my husband that I also saw in my father.  So, today, I could reminisce about my dad, but I choose to celebrate the life of another man I love.

Thank you, love, for having the strength to love a broken girl.  You showed me in my worst hours what true love meant.  Your sincerity, your loyalty, your humor and the laughter we share together are some of my most treasured possessions.  The gentle but fierce love you have for our children shows what a wonderful man you truly are.  You are home to me.  You have been my rock when I needed something to lean on, when I thought the world would cave under me.  You give our children a strong foundation to build their lives on, a character to model themselves after.  I am proud to call you my husband and your children are proud to call you "Dad."  Your light shines to all who know you.  Dad was so proud of you, he reminded me frequently what a good man you are.  Thank you for loving my dad as much as I do.  Thank you for all the times you sacrificed so I could spend more time with him.  I will forever be grateful for those sacrifices you made to give me those moments with him, and for wrapping me up in your arms when some of those times were tough to handle.  You will forever be my love, infinity times infinity.

Letting Go

I know it has been practically eons since I have harbored a moment to grace this page with the written word, but today, with my heart overwhelmed with a reminiscent spirit, I ask of my readers a moment to be a sappy, doting mommy.

Today, my dear daughter is absent having a grand time with her aunts in a late celebration of her birthday.  In her absence, I have begun a much needed purge of old clothing and broken or forgotten toys laid to rest in her room.  With earphones in and some good country power ballads playing, I began the daunting task of weeding through the outgrown clothing hiding in her closet. This is where the sappy, doting part begins.   

First, Reading Bee ribbons, remind me of a very proud moment and a mark of achievement.  Next, an Asian kimono brought from China to an excited little girl who has loved sushi as long as she could hold a spoon.  Further in, a tutu worn by a little princess in a modeling show where I still remember how her blue eyes shone bright.  As I remove some of these items and begin considering the need to create a memory chest, I begin sorting through the new, the frilly party dress she wore to her first dance, her taste in clothes bending more towards that of a teen instead of that little pig-tailed, blue-eyed baby girl.  Pictures don't do justice to what you feel as these items are packed away, folded into a box, almost as if closing a door on a part of not only her life, but also on my own.  I fold a t-shirt from her favorite university, the one she has known she wanted to attend as far back as I can remember and I see into her future. 

This year she has come to realize that not all who say they are your friends truly act it.  She has decided boys are not quite as icky as they once were.  She has realized society's pressures that she be beautiful, not just smart and brave.  We have walked through tears and disappointments as well as triumphs and accomplishments.  Through all of this, with our conversations that more often take on serious tones instead of the silly giggle sessions of the past, I realize that she is growing up.

This is when I recognize we are at the beginning of a winding path I am charged with walking her down, one that when the end is reached I will let her go.  I am not so short sided that I did not know this day would arrive, but the speed in which it did has left me reeling.  I am dizzied by how quickly the baby I felt so unqualified to mother I now feel incapable of walking down this road.  My heart fills with a happy sadness, if that is even possible, when I walk both the path of the past and the path that lays ahead.  I pray God gives me the strength to lift her up, grace to guide her and wisdom to direct her path.

A few days ago, we received what I believe to be my Father's way of foreshadowing the events of my life to come.  Ironically, it was my daughter who discovered this baby bird, not quite through shedding it's feathery down and just bursting through bright Blue Jay wings.

For me, after reflecting back on my week, it was as if God sent a note floating through the Heavens that said, "Here begins the path of letting go, time to give your little blue bird her wings."  I hope my dad gives God a nudge to go easy on me here, because as this little bird found it's wings and flew into the sky, my little bird is losing her downy feathers and replacing them with strong wings of blue, readying herself for what lies in the future beyond.  

This summer will mark a significant time that we spend together.  She will have many firsts packed into the next three months and the years to come and nothing I do will stop her from growing or time from ticking by.  What I pray is that God gives me pockets of time in which I can create concrete memories, strengthen her wings with loving arms, give her warm memories to allude to when life gets her feathers wet.    

Today, I begin a different kind of "letting go."  Though there is some sadness, it is wrought with joy, the joy of seeing your baby grow.  Our future will be dotted with new memories, as Barbies are slowly replaced with nail polish and makeup, scooters with cars, glitter with diamonds, our futures will be filled with new memories, those of graduations, first loves, universities, marriages. 

I have experienced the loss that is wrought with overwhelming grief and, though sad, the joy of seeing your little sprout growing into a beautiful flower is beyond measure.  So, I begin the memory chest, and as these years begin to pass I will add to it until it is full, as my heart is full and runs over with tears of joy.

I Didn't Fall Off the Face of the Earth!

Okay, so first, I'm back!  The last few weeks I have been attacking a kitchen remodel and was not able to add this to my juggling act, especially since we did most of the remodel ourselves!  Just wanted to drop a quick note to those who check in on me from time to time and those of you who follow me to let you know I haven't given up on writing and I hope to have a new post up this Monday!

Love to all,

Steph

Casting With Care

One hot summer my dad decided to take some of his charges to a local pond to do some fishing.  The eager tomboy-ish side of myself begged to go along.  I was forever attempting to insert myself within the tasks my dad had planned.  Caring for and raising four children of his own and at least three others was not an easy task and our time with him was limited.  Therefore, no matter how much I wanted to scrunch up my nose at the long, squirmy worms or the nasty smelling stink bait, I rose to the occasion, grabbed a fishing pole and headed to the pond.  After baiting my own hook and learning the basic mechanics, I was on my way.  I will interject here that I am a bit impatient.  Okay, a lot impatient. My dad must have had God on his shoulder because I imagine my antics made any fish in the immediate vicinity find a way out of the pond.  But, I will never forget how proud I was or the pat I got on the back from my dad when I reeled in that four inch long perch!  I was so proud of my accomplishment I was determined that my catch was going to be scaled and gutted and prepared for dinner.

Funny enough, this leads me to a Bible story I have heard a number of times.  During Jesus' time on the earth, He was speaking to a rather large crowd of people.  His disciples must have dropped the ball, because no one thought to hire a caterer or even bring a picnic basket and the disciples were wrought with worry over how they would feed this large group of people.  We aren't talking about fifty of their closest friends, this was a conference size crowd of five thousand.  Christ, in His infinite wisdom, instructed the disciples to spread out and seek out any food that might be available.  Out of that mass of five thousand, the disciples came back with five loaves of bread and two fishes.  I don't know about you, but when food at any party I throw gets even halfway empty, I get concerned.  I cannot imagine what was going through these guys minds staring at that meager offering.  Christ, however, blessed the food, and they began to break the bread and serve the fish, only to find that all five thousand were fed to capacity, not a rumbling belly in the house.  

Have any of you out there ever worried?  I know I have.  I have been laid off, unemployed, pregnant and wondering how we would be able to buy groceries each week.  I have put a whole paycheck in the bank to find it still didn't bring the balance back into the positive.  In those moments, those are when the true blessings showed up.  When I said a prayer through tears, and something showed up on my doorstep, I knew from where it came. There was no question that whatever kindness I received in those moments where beautifully wrapped gifts complete with perfect bows from God.  None of those boxes contained the total of that week's lottery, or a new luxury automobile, or a key to a new home with no mortgage.  But they were from God, and at that moment, they were more precious that any of those things.

In Psalms 55:22 KJV, it says, "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee: He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved."  When that little girl stood there hopping from one foot to the other with a fishing pole in her had, I am sure it was far from the idea of a relaxing day of fishing my dad had planned.  And, I am sure that those disciples felt their hearts drop in their chests when they discovered no one had thought of food.  There are things that come to your mind that bring worry, doubt, fear and uncertainty and you are at a conundrum as to what the solution will be.  I take heart in what Christ tells us in Matthew 6:24-5 NIV, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?  And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?  So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’  For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.  But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

There is no need to worry, fret, doubt, we only need to trust in God for our needs.  Will He test our strength, our will, our perseverance, our diligence, absolutely!  As any good parent would, He will put us through the ringer if it means bringing us to the blessing He has in store for us. I am sure our God, that dearly loves us, has moments when He wishes he could turn away from our sin, but instead He lovingly redirects us to the path to where we will be richly blessed, we only have to accept his guidance.   As my dad likely wished to cast his cares away behind a fishing pole, but was richly blessed upon seeing my broad smile as I caught my first fish or the disciples' fears were relieved when five thousand stomachs were filled, so I wish that on your weariest day, God leaves a precious blessing wrapped in gold and tied with loveliness to cast your cares away and redirect you to His love.

Racing for Gold

Gasping for air, legs cramping, body depleted, a marathon runner falls short of the finish line.  She pulls herself up again and races once again to her goal, limping that last short distance.  I was witness to a spectacle such as this, one year as I watched the Summer Olympics on television.  It amazed me the feats a body could be pushed to if only the mind didn't give up on the goal.  There is an old Chinese proverb that says, "Fall down seven times, get up eight."  Isn't that truly the secret?

I was once a treadmill track star.  No, seriously, I am no athlete. I wouldn't even bother to call myself a treadmill track star.  I honestly hate to sweat, I know I live in Texas, I should be immune. However, the beginning of a new year many years ago, spurred my desire to make a resolution and "get healthy." I found a good deal on a treadmill and decided I could exercise night or day to get in shape.  I don't know what spurred the decision, but my dad decided to do the same.  It wasn't long until a pseudo competition ensued.  I would finish my time on the treadmill and my dad would casually ask, "How long were you on the treadmill?"  I would answer and later, he would let me know that he had kept up. Back then I was determined to race faster than my dad, I never knew I would be the one trying to keep up.

Many times I feel like I am running this race we call life like I showed up to a marathon in lead boots and my underwear, with two hours of sleep trying to shove the last bit of bagel in my mouth as the starting gun blasts. What I mean is, dad had a purpose, and I did not.  I was running away from fear and anger and running towards whatever I could grasp.  You can understand, we all run away from or towards something.  Sometimes we are running away from a bad decision, bad relationship, bad friendship, bad habit and sometimes we are running towards fortune, accolades, acceptance. But aren't we supposed to be running a race much more important than any of these?

This week my sister lost a dear friend after a long battle with cancer.  Twilla lived up to her name, she had sparkle.  I remember the first time I met her and her feisty, sweet spirit bubbled over from her soul.  I did not have the pleasure of knowing her well, but I know that as I mourned my father's death she allowed my son her phone to watch cartoons.  I also know that she walked my sister through some very dark times of her life.  I know by the testaments of the people's lives she touched that she was running towards God. It brings pain to my heart that those who loved her dearly will have to wait for Heaven to see her again, but she finished her race, and what a race it was.  Dear woman of faith this verse is for you, 2 Timothy 4:7-8 NIV, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."  You may have never known, but many years ago, when your friendship with my sister was new, I gained from you a gift.  Not a material gift, but a day out with you and my sister when you would have never known I needed to feel acceptance, you embraced me, reeled me in with that spirit everyone spoke of, and I saw Christ in you.

This sweet sister in Christ and my dad gave me clarity to something I have avoided for a long time, something I feel led to share with you.  Many patients that received that word "terminal" begin preparing for their end, you hear terms like bucket list and last wishes.  Patients and their families do the things they always "meant to do," they say the things they always meant to say.  These frail beings push themselves to complete these last things on their list, as if they are that marathon runner.  They fall down, they grow weary, but they persevere to the finish.

What race am I running?  Am I running God's race?  In my walk with Christ, I feel I am in a last place position for treadmill track star.  If I had my earthly father, I wish I could sit and ask him his fitness plan to run a better race for Christ. Thanks, Dad, I needed this verse, Isaiah 40:28-31 NIV, "Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." All we have to do is lean on God, He will carry us over the finish line, He will be our water boy, our strength, our hope.