reunions

I just received an invitation to a reunion for my first hometown in Durango, Colorado.I didn't actually graduate from that high school but I did go to school there until my grade 10 (sophomore) year. I confess that I hyperventilate just thinking about it.

Durango is a beautiful, little town in Colorado. This train left the station every morning on its way up to Silverton. This was our alarm clock.
We moved from Colorado when I was 15.  I highly recommend visiting there. I would love to return for a visit.

I am not sure that the visit will be wrapped up with a reunion however. Now that I am older, I see that the beauty of moving is re-invention. We moved enough that I got to re-do myself a few times. I didn't really like the Colorado me. There were some great memories, and some great people for sure. But yikes! Who wants to remember grade 7? or 8, or 9? I was awkward (I am going to guess we all felt awkward, but I feel I was superior at my awkwardness). I was irritating, and I was so lonely and scared in that season of my life. I really don't even like thinking about it.

I remember a speaker at an assembly saying "these are the best years of your life, I hope you are enjoying them", and I thought "dear God, I want to die"

Even scarier, I see the girl who was my famous bully in those grades on the invitation...I seriously just turned into a 12 year old. Her name has become legend in my mind (I am sure she is nice now, I am sure she wouldn't breathe fire and tell me to meet her at the dirt pit after school)  but still, my insides turn to Jell-O just imagining her stomping up behind me at my locker, or running to catch up with me on my walk home from school. A little shout out to my sister who would show up at just the right times and chase her off.

I think it all started when I wet the bed at a sleepover at the most popular girl in town's house. Yes, I think that was the beginning of the end. I was popular for a few minutes. Popular enough to get invited over to the cute, blond, popular girls house. Dumb bladder. And that was that.

I did have a few friends. Jenny Fitts (now Reynolds)- with her Cyndi Lauper bracelets and perfect frosted pink nails. We had awesome hair and we had each other.  Thank God for music. I hid in the choir and the drama productions once I got into high school.  The people there, I will always be grateful for. But the damage was done - in my own mind anyway. I felt marked by my own stupidity in many ways. It seemed I just didn't know how to say the right thing at the right time.

I think I slept through much of my grade 10 year. I think I missed more school than I attended. My mom must have known something was up with me, but she still let me stay home at least one or two times a week. How I passed, I will never know.

But then, mercifully, our family moved to Spokane, Washington (haven't we lived in beautiful places?). No one knew me, no one knew how my bladder had betrayed me on that fateful night. I got a new start.

I had friends - we were all choir/drama geeks, but it was a big school and there were enough of us to feel the strength in numbers. I loved those two years. So many great friends. I still stuck my foot in my mouth too much, but I had learned a little bit about keeping it zipped so that came in handy.

But even those Spokane reunions.... I don't know. I haven't been. I am such a chicken. What is my problem?

Maybe since I haven't discovered a cure for cancer (and haven't even tried), I feel like I am not worthy to appear. I feel like I look old, and I am not skinny, and I didn't just get back from Hawaii after spending the summer at my lake cabin.

Crazy.

Really, who cares? My current self doesn't.

But my 7th grade self seems to.

And my Senior year (Grade 12 for my Canadians) self seems to.

The good news is, those were not the best years of my life. These are.

These are the best years of my life.

I am married to an awesome man - I mean it, he is so great. He was bullied too - worse than me, and I wish the people who over looked him could see him now. He is the boss, he is a genius, he is favored and blessed. Take that high school success ladder - popularity structure thingy!

I have FOUR kids - and each of them have their own miracle story.

I get to live out my passion to lead and train young adults - and I get paid to do it.

I get the incredible honour of speaking from time to time at Ladies events - and I love every minute of it.

The irony of it all is how much time I spend teaching people diplomacy - the art of knowing what to say and when to say it. Let me tell you, that is its own miracle.

Anyway, I don't think it will be in the budget to pack up our family and trek to Colorado for this reunion. But I am glad for the opportunity to work it through and for the chance to talk to my 12 year old self and tell her that it gets so much better. The best part is, I get to use all of those lessons I learned in so many different ways. The most important being to never overlook a person. Never. You just never know when they are going to turn the whole thing around and become a home-run hitter.

I would love to see my friends from those seasons. I know that time will come. I will remember the good old days with them, and it will be wonderful. In the meantime - I am reconciling with my junior high self and using those lessons to make me a better mom, and a leader of young people. I am grateful. Even for the bullies, they all taught me something.

Let's all have a reunion in heaven. I don't think there are any lockers to get shoved into there.

protect your process

I don't know if we made this term up or not - but a couple of years ago we started saying that people were inside processors, or outside processors.

I am an outside processor - let me explain. It will only sound strange to you if you are an inside processor, but sometimes I don't actually know what I think until I start talking about it. 

Shawn is an inside processor. This means that he thinks and thinks and thinks and thinks about what he wants to say, how he wants to say it, and he will not say it until he feels that he has narrowed down all of the non-essentials to a clean train of thought. 

I am sure you can tell that the opportunities for offence and misunderstanding are limitless. In our marriage, I have learned to say things like "I am saying this stronger than it probably will be, but I am really frustrated about blah, blah, blah..."  or he will say "I need time to think". 

One of the main problems with outside processors is that they (we) feel that they have to talk and talk until we get to a solution. Sometimes to anyone who will listen, sometimes our stuff becomes our facebook status or a blog or a ranting session over coffee. You can see that this could become problematic. 

A very wise friend once told me "once words have left your mouth, you relinquish the right to determine what happens to them." There are phrases that sometimes I wish I was not accountable for, this is one of them. It is truth. I need to respond to it. 

Or, maybe you have heard the story of the pastor who took his church gossip to the top of a hill, handed her a feather pillow, cut it open and shook the feathers into the wind. Once the pillow was empty, he told the woman to go and pick up all the feathers. 

It would be impossible. It is also impossible to collect our words spoken in haste, in frustration, in anger, in judgement or gossip.  

Here comes the scriptures: 

Proverbs 10:19

When there are many words, transgression is unavoidable,

But he who restrains his lips is wise.

James 3:2-6

Indeed, we all make many mistakes. For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way.

We can make a large horse go wherever we want by means of a small bit in its mouth.  And a small rudder makes a huge ship turn wherever the pilot chooses to go, even though the winds are strong. In the same way, the tongue is a small thing that makes grand speeches.But a tiny spark can set a great forest on fire.  And the tongue is a flame of fire. It is a whole world of wickedness, corrupting your entire body. It can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself.

I heard a great definition of gossip: if you are not a part of the solution, you should not be a part of the conversation. 

So here is the challenge for me - I am an outside processor. I need to talk to someone sometimes before I talk to another someone that is actually part of the problem. And this is the point of this whole topic for me: that person that I talk things through with needs to be chosen carefully. First, I should probably pray. When I get to a road block, I may need to hash it out with someone. This person needs to be a parent, my husband, a leader. 

This person should not be: my friends who will agree with me and take on my frustration, my children who are not prepared to hear this information and it will surely change the way they see the people involved, or eager people ready to hear information that could make them feel important. 

I need people who will walk me to a solution, thankfully my husband is great at this. I need people who will not just agree with me and get mad or hurt too. These people are worth their weight in gold. 

The thing is, we all go through very personal things. It is important that these personal things stay in a small circle of people who know me and will encourage me, but also challenge me if I am going off the rails.

The thing is, it is not always negative. Sometimes we just need to tighten our circle because we need to reduce confusion. 

I was talking to a friend recently about infertility. EVERYONE has an opinion about infertility. They say the craziest things..."Oh if you just relax and stop obsessing about getting pregnant, you will" Well, thank you, that clears it all up. 

Greif is another one. I have been through deep grief, but heres the deal... it is unlike anyone else's grief. When someone is sick, when someone has lost someone they loved, they are hurting, they are confused and they need lots of support. We need to be careful with the words we speak when someone is so vulnerable. Sometimes they just need someone to sit there, without a word, just so they know that they are not alone. 

My good friend lost her baby last week. She was 17 weeks into her pregnancy. She had to go through labor and birth that beautiful boy. 

My friend is hurting. My friend needs help with her kids, maybe copious amounts of cookies or popcorn. What she doesn't need is for someone to say "Well, at least you have two other kids". 

I think that I have digressed. 

My point is that we are supposed to guard our hearts:

Proverbs 4:23

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. 

I feel the pain of the outside processors - I am one. But if you are at the beginning of your life, let me save you some heartache:

Surround yourself with smart, honest people who will love you enough to tell you that you are wrong, or are willing to sit down until you work through to your solution without taking on your problems or offences. 

If you are in a personal process - like grief or infertility, or waiting for a relationship - be careful with the amount of people to bring into your inner circle. Too much talking  could lead to debilitating insecurity, confusion or fear. God loves you, He loves your process and He wants to teach you through the challenges you are going through. You need to hear from Him. Anything that brings confusion is not from Him. Even your closest people cannot hear from God for you. You need to get your marching orders from Him - THEN you can talk to people who love you and will echo what He has said.  

What you are going through is valuable. YOU are valuable. Your brain is meant to be a peaceful place where joy, kindness and faith are jumping up to handle life's issues. 

I don't have many regrets. I know I am forgiven, but if I could do some things over, I would be more careful with my process. So, I will write it here in hopes that I can save someone from wasting words or inviting trouble by using their mouth without restraint. 

Three cheers for wisdom, and lessons learned, even if it was the hard way from time to time. 

The Shower that I Used to Know

You know, I like a hot shower as much as the next gal. There is nothing like a shower to help wake you up in the morning, get you going, and feel ready for your day. However, my showers are a whole new experience these days.

Take today for instance: it is Saturday, I am done making/having breakfast with the family, it is time to get the day going so I clear my shower plans with my husband - he will be on duty for this 10 minute event. I get the all clear, I pick out my clothes for the morning: clothes that I can clean in, get food on when the girls "help me" make lunch, as well as something the boys can spit on because that is just going to happen. Jeans and layered T-shirts, check.

I am in the shower, I hear Emma. She is outside the door. In moments I am sure she will be inside the door. It is not like I don't lock the door, I do. But, thanks to my last blog (about Emma's love for keys), and my thoughtful sister, she now has keys that look just like mine and they are perfect for unlocking bathroom doors. 3...2...1..."Hi Mommy".

"Hi babe, Mommy is having a shower right now and I need some privacy."

"Ok, Mom." She shuts the door.

She is still inside. Apparently "privacy" doesn't apply to her.

Bang! Alina has arrived on her pink, ride on, princess car. "Hi Mommy"

"Hey everyone" (Where is daddy????)

"Ok, Ladies!" (There he is) "Mommy needs some privacy" and he hustles them out. I finish. I scramble to get dressed before the next appearance. I am sweating to beat the mob, I am going to need another shower. I barricade the door with the vanity drawer. I hear Alina outside the door, keys in hand. Rattle, rattle. No luck. I hear the pink car...CRASH. My barricade worked (successful smile to myself in the mirror - oh yeah, that's how I roll).

I am dressed - keys are still rattling so I open the door a little and Alina comes falling into the bathroom.

"Hi mommy, Me opened the door for you".

"Thanks honey".

Add this to the list of real estate that is given up when one has toddlers/small children.

We were visiting with some friends recently, and the dad was lamenting about his wife's inability to keep the kids out of the bathroom while she was doing her business. "I do not have one memory of my mother going to the bathroom! My children are going to be scarred for life. I come home from work and it is like they are having story time around the toilet".

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO US???

Dear Lord, we are going mad.

We don't sleep.

I told Emma yesterday that I get very cranky when she comes in first thing in the morning and makes demands of me and whines. So this morning at 6:15, I have a very perky toddler jumping beside my bed saying (so sweetly, but LOUDLY) "Moooommmmmy! I am hungry, and I want to watch something and I want to lay on the bed beside you and eat my snack and I need milk, my legs hurt and Alina woke me up.....Mommy, you are not waking up, I am hungry"

It is like a stun gun got shot right at my head. And my inner coach is telling me not to yell and scar my child for life, so I just lay there and try to think of a gentle response. So, I poke Shawn and pray he will have pity on my paralyzed self.

Instead, Samuel wakes up. So we are both on duty now. The day has started, we are off to the races. I need a hot shower.


wait a minute....

The Keri Harvey Way

There are many times that I wonder how Shawn does it. He is a quiet, alone time, kind of person. Before he married me he spent lots of time rollerblading, reading, programming computers, going to musicals and shows (which came in handy when I came on the scene) etc...he has many invisible boxes that you wouldn't really notice until you tromp through them.

That is where I come in (not to mention our 4 children).

I realized this again the other day when he was doing the dishes. He was looking out into our backyard, then I saw him kind of squint and lean forward like he was looking for something. I didn't have to look, I knew exactly what was catching his eye.

It was lettuce.

It was the lettuce I threw out there earlier in the week. I was aiming for the com-poster in the far corner of the yard, but I am a horrible aim so it landed on the deck. Actually the lettuce landed on the deck on the second throw, the first throw hit the roof of the patio and bounced back to hit my head.

I tried to explain that I wanted to do my part for the environment, but I couldn't take the time right then to take the lettuce to the com-poster (I have four small children you know, lots can happen in a small amount of time) so I threw it. When he looked at me with "those eyes" I shrugged and said "it's good for the soil". " IT IS NOT ON THE SOIL, IT IS ON THE DECK!" Details, details.

The head shake that follows these conversations is not new to me.

Emma is in a key phase, meaning she wants mine. She likes to pretend she is going shopping, etc... so she needs my keys to drive there. So I hand them over. Usually she is quite responsible and puts them in predictable places like her microwave in her play kitchen or her grocery cart, but last week she put them into one of her 2,000 purses and for the life of me I could not find them. I would ask her and she would say "they are in my purse", "which one?" I ask. Total silence. She doesn't remember. I couldn't find my keys for a week that time.

Then Shawn won't let me have his. The nerve. He thinks I should just say no to her. Silly man with such impractical solutions.

Emma also likes to sleep on our floor at night. Not every night, but when she does come, she needs to have her pink princess couch placed as close to me as possible with her brown pillow and big brown blanket, then her piggy and then her blanket. All of these components must be in place before she will go back to sleep.  I know it must sound crazy if your kids, or your future kids in your mind sleep through the night on a regular basis, but she has bad dreams and sometimes we don't think very clear in the middle of the night.  Anyway, I think Shawn is ready to burn that pink couch. The other night, in his delirium he muttered something along the lines of "Why did you go get the couch? Leave it in her room. One of these days I am going to burn that couch. I am going to get a lighter and burn that pink, princess couch while she stands there and watches it go up in flames. I am going to burn the couch, this time I am not kidding..."

I think I am providing lots of opportunities to build character, he should be grateful. I think it is my contribution to society.

I have a long and glorious history of building character in people's lives. Ask my sister.

When we were younger, I would do something bad during the day, such as spray furniture polish into the freezer to make it smell better. At night, I would lay awake dreaming that I had poisoned my mom because I saw her use the ice covered with Old English. So in my tormented state I would jump on my sister's bed at 2:00 AM to tell her that I was pretty sure I had killed our mother.

This was not too uncommon. My parents would be gone 10-15 minutes longer than I thought they should be and in my imagination they had been abducted, or killed in a car accident. So I would convince my sister to call the police and make a report. One time, the police were actually in our living room when my parents finally decided to come home - the police officer just looked at them and said "Where have you been???". Exactly, that is what I wanted to know! Visiting at the grocery store with old friends? A likely story, you need to call home if you are going to be late. This is common knowledge.

I have managed to survive these many years due in part to the Shawn's and Jamie's (my sister) of this world. They follow behind me, go in front of me and send disclaimers of all sorts that to be my friend is to enter at your own risk - so, here is my shout out to those of you who have patiently laughed at my craziness and protected me from the neighborhood kids that I yell at when I am still asleep (see earlier post about sleepwalking). Shawn still says he is going to put a safety lock on the front door way up high so I can't reach it in the middle of the night.

So, to all of you "systems" people out there, you can pray a little prayer for my husband tonight and maybe every day from here on out. You may want to hug your spouses a little tighter and thank God that you don't have lettuce on your deck this winter, that will stay there now until we brush it off in the spring.

He may have wished they went into a little more detail when they said "for better or for worse". But you are stuck with me now babe, thanks for not throwing me out with the lettuce.

candlesticks

I have seen the new version of Les Miserables twice now. I have to say that it was terribly uncomfortable both times. My heart was raw by the time it was over. The actors were so vulnerable in their singing, in their emoting, in their storytelling. It didn't help that every significant child featured looked like my Alina - big, blue eyes and blond hair. So much pain, hunger, waste. Yet so much beauty, redemption and hope. If you haven't seen the movie, play or read the book, consider this your spoiler alert.

I am a sucker for stories like these. Living and dying for a cause that is bigger than me, etc.. I was so stirred especially by the ending. (Who wasn't moved by the ending?) Don't we all want to be surrounded by those whom we have touched in our lifetime when that lifetime is coming to a close?

But In the end, it all boils down to the candlesticks. The priest who buys Valjean's soul with his act of mercy - he claims his life for God, and it works. The scene where Valjean decides to start again ended up being one of my favourite scenes of the movie. His papers - the statement given to him by the system, that declared him dangerous and a criminal - ripped up, thrown off the side of the mountain all to show that this man could begin again. I sure don't want to sound trite by pointing out the obvious metaphors in this movie, but they are so powerful and such a good reminder to each of us.

We get to start again. No matter what.

No matter what people say, no matter how much time has passed, no matter how badly we have behaved, we all get another chance, and another chance and another chance.

And yet there is Javert, and in his own words he decides that it is either Valjean, or himself. They cannot co-exist. In the end grace wins out.

It seems to me that these two trains of thought are timeless. These two approaches even to Christianity are the crux of most struggles that people have with our faith. I have heard the arguments from the ones who would lean toward  the Javert worldview - Law first, only Law, man must know that they are sinners and it is our job to tell them.

And I know the Valjean types, saved by mercy, totally aware of their unworthiness, completely grateful and determined to give back the love they were freely given, desperate for others to experience the freedom they know.

I pray to be the second.

My husband is always good at telling the story of GK Chesterton who said that children didn't need to be told that there is a bogeyman - they need to know that there is a hero who can slay him.

In the core of our hearts we know that we are desperately bankrupt, and hopelessly flawed. You can't convince me that we don't. What we need to know is that there is a Saviour who is bigger than the biggest messes we find ourselves in.

And we need to know that when we are ready to meet Him, His arms are open wide to embrace our broken hearts.

These mended hearts are the ones who will change the world.

It is the life that is filled with grace that is inviting, intriguing, unexplainable. Grace changes us so deeply - it has no stone to throw. It is a life ready to give a 1,000 chances because they know that they have been given that many if not more.

I think of our times and how history will tell our story. So many arguments about what kinds of guns we should or shouldn't allow, raising the debt ceiling, Democrats, Republicans, Bi-Partisan, no partisan...on and on it goes. What will be the legacy of our lifetime?

I just can't help but wonder what would happen if the world around us saw grace filled Christians living out their grace-filled lives daily? It would be a total game changer. I know it would be, because Les Miserables has been a blockbuster for decades.

I suppose for me I needed to be reminded that one life can make a difference. One story of redemption can jump over the lines of belief systems and bring us a message of hope and purpose. We all relate, because I imagine we all want to have the same story - My life mattered, my pain was made beautiful, my sacrifices made a difference for at least one other life.

"To love another person is to see the face of God"

Amazing.

attitude

You have heard it, I have heard it, but it bears repeating:

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life.

Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home.
The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude... I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.
And so it is with you... we are in charge of our attitudes."

Thank you Chuck Swindoll for one of the best summaries of attitude ever written. 

I think we all need to walk in empathy for others. We listen, we try to understand, we grow with people  and we lead. We do our best to guide, and not DRAG people through life's process. What we cannot control is how they will perceive us, and how they will respond to our voice. 

Add that to the list, the very loooonnnngg list of things I cannot control. I will name a few (feel free to add your own) I cannot control my husband, my children, my reputation, or how people perceive me. I cannot control how people will treat me, or how they will treat the words I speak to them; meaning they can choose to twist those words and make them into something completely different than I intended. 

I cannot control the weather, or another person's health, or the choices they make or don't make to take care of themselves. I cannot control the economy or the government...shall I go on? 

I have one card that I can play. I can play this card every time: 

my attitude (my outlook, my response when things do not go my way.) 

In case we need a refresher on how strong our inner toddler is, maybe we should be filmed the next time some one cuts us off in line, or speaks rudely to us in a store, or the worst...when someone in authority over us says "no" or "do it this way, not that way". 

You could come hang out at my house if you forgot what that looks like in its purest form. I get yelled at, the tantrums fly...I am sure you can imagine. Even then, do you know who is the only one with the power to calm themselves down? The toddler. So, I leave her in her room to stomp and storm, but she is clear...it is her job to turn that bad attitude around. Until she does, she is not fit for public. So, in her room she stays. 

Now, we are much more refined. No throwing or stomping (most of the time). 

But what about our hearts? Do we fuss and fume and find people who will tell us we are right and reinforce or offence with so and so? 

What do our tantrums sound like? Usually gossip and criticism. Throw in some whining and complaining and there! We have ourselves a good, old fashioned grown up temper tantrum. 

No one likes it when their will is crossed. I haven't met anyone anyway. But I have met, and I try to be like this, those who have learned the value of not getting their way. They have bent to another person's wisdom, and learned to humble themselves instead of demanding their own way. 

Do we say "I am sorry"? Do we say "I was wrong"? 

There are times when I need to walk myself to a quiet place and grab myself by the back of the neck and say "Listen up Keri Ann Harvey! You stop complaining and fussing! You grow up and respond like a redeemed woman of God" 

It is not comfortable, but what is the alternative? 

A child who is never crossed is what? 

Spoiled, of course. 

An teenager or adult who is never crossed is entitlement driven. We demand that people treat us a certain way before we will listen to them. 

I just don't believe this is the way of wisdom. 

Proverbs 6:6 

Take a lesson from the ants, you lazybones.
   Learn from their ways and become wise!

I am not calling anyone lazy, but I love the heart of Solomon who would learn from something as small as an ant. 

This is the truth: We can learn from ANYTHING if our hearts are bent to learn. We can also resist learning by demanding that everything comes in predictable packages that we find appropriate. 

I know that in the end, others will be judged for how they treated me. But - I will be judged for my response to all of it. I will be the one who benefits if I set my heart, my attitude, and my response to humble myself and learn life's hard lessons. 

This means I declare war on gossip, whining, complaining, self pity and criticism and I open my heart and hands wide to say "teach me, I am willing to learn." 

That 10% of life that happens to us can be a rough ride sometimes - but how I respond determines how the rest of my 90% turns out. 

what if

It started with a conversation. I was talking to a new friend in October. She lost her son to cancer a few years ago and she said "I did not think I could do life without this boy". I came home and hugged my baby boys tight and prayed that I would never have to walk out that particular heartache.

Then I went to see Lincoln - such a good movie by the way - there was a scene with a battlefield, you know, the typical battlefield scene, bodies stacked on top of each other, smoke rising from piles of who knows what? And it hit me, those were someone's sons. They were someone's fathers, and brothers. They were a mommy's baby once. I am sure this seems obvious, and I am sure that I have thought that before, but this time I have baby boys. Those could be MY babies. That could be my story...

Then the shooting in Newtown - I couldn't stop thinking of those families, about that whole town. What was their Christmas like? They will never hold their babies again. They will never see them get married, they will never go to another Christmas concert for that child, and on it goes.. Unspeakable, senseless, horrible reality they are living in right now.

We were in a bookstore the other day and I saw a title "When God asked for my Isaac", I didn't even want to look at it, but I did. Sure enough, it was about a story of a mother who lost her baby Isaac. And I have an Isaac....

So, yes, a little melodramatic so far but stay with me.

I realized by the time that I set that book back on the shelf that I had been letting a little hamster run on a wheel in the back of my mind. I realized that I have been worrying that something could happen to my kids.

We have fought long and hard for these little lives. I  hit my knees until they had bruises on them begging God for these children. Now that we have them, what would happen if something happened? What would I do? How would I survive?

I hate worry, but it sneaks up on me and it rumbles around for awhile before the back of my mind thoughts become the front of my mind thoughts and I realize I am starting to foster not just worry, but actual fear.  And the worry almost always starts with "what if". What if something happens to Shawn? What if something happened to one of the kids? What if our finances fall though? What if that person thinks that about me? What if I let these people down? What if? what if? what if?

And to this I say - What if?

What if those things happen?

Will I walk away from God? Will I bury myself in bitterness and self-pity? Will I close shop and stop letting people into my life?

I cannot.

I pray that I would have the fortitude to press into the pain and let the pain remind me that there is more to this life than the life we are living.

 that this is not the end.

One thing I know. This life is not the end. There will be a reunion. There will be a greater day. We who believe in Christ will go to a place where there is no more sorrow, no more pain, no more tears.

I know loss. I know heartache and grief. It is exhausting and difficult. But for grace -  until you are there, you can't know the grace that carries you through impossible storms.

Without it, it is impossible to survive and grow through it and to come out stronger on the other side. But with grace, we come out of that dark tunnel of disappointment, heartache and sorrow with beauty, strength, patience, courage and a host of lessons that we can offer to others who need a friend in their moment of suffering.

I dream of heaven. I cannot wait to hold my mom again. I ache for the beauty of worship that never ends.

But I am here, on earth. Destined to walk out God's dream for my life.

My assignment is to untether myself from the magnetic pull to find ultimate fulfillment in this life, and to remember that this is not my forever home. This must have been what was in the heart of the psalmist when they asked "Death, where is your sting?"

I pray that this is how families in Newtown Connecticut are finding their way through the unspeakable grief they are facing.

Today my assignment is to raise, with open hands, these beautiful children that giggle and bring me so much joy. I must not live with fear, but with laughter and boldness.

Forgive me for making the first post of the new year a little somber - but I just needed to get that out of me.

The best is yet to come. No matter how it comes.

With a smile to my future, I welcome you 2013.