Worth

Worth.

Christ saw past the gnarls of my heart and saw I had worth. Worth? Worth is something I have struggled with in the past.

It was 1975, my kindergarten year. My Korean mom, oblivious to the social norms of 5-year-olds in suburban American, bought me red rubber rain boots for school. I remember being delightfully giddy and couldn't wait until the first rain of fall to wear those boots to school.

In came the first fall rain. 

Out came those boots.

Skipping my Cream of Wheat meant more time to jump in puddles at the bus stop. The gray tiled school halls provided ample opportunities for me to twist my heels and relish in the squeaks of my new accessory.

I was so deliriously happy. 

Once in my classroom, I began tracing my letters for the day.

Then I heard the first giggle. Followed by a chorus of several snickers.

I felt the crimson of my boots travel up to my cheeks as I whipped around and saw the boys in the next table pointing and giggling at my footwear.

I looked down and my boots weren't beautiful and shiny anymore. They were ugly. And I hated them. And then the hot tears came rolling down.

I never wore those boots again. That was the beginning of me listening to the lies that my worth was based on what others thought of me. People pleaser is a label with less rough edges and an identity I adopted.

But one day as I had more years under my belt and a relationship with Jesus, I came across some old family pictures. And there were those red, rubber boots. This time they were on my younger brother. Poor guy. Remember...Korean mother.

And we laughed about it. Perspective is everything and by now, I knew my worth is not wrapped up in those discount store boots. Or the words spewed from 5-year-old boys.

Fast forward  and those red rubber boots made an appearance again.

This time as neon lime tennis shoes.

"Mom, they have to be neon. Lime would be great. But neon for sure."

This was my end-the-summer conversation with one of my children regarding new fall attire.

For the love of Doritos, I lived through the 90's. I thought I said goodbye to the era of neon. So I went shopping and found a pair at a discount store. He was thrilled and thanked me profusely. He laid them out and couldn't wait to wear them to co-op.

Within a few weeks in the semester, I noticed he started wearing his old tennis shoes again.
I forgot to say something to him, but then I noticed his neon shoes were not on his feet.

Like, never.

And I suspected something was up.

An one-on-one ride to Sonic Happy Hour revealed the answer to this puzzle. And the familiar knot I felt in the pit of my 5-year-old stomach started welling up again.

 Same story, different child, different shoes.

This time it was because they weren't name-brand. But those details really didn't matter. In essence, it was my Kindergarten story being played out with my child,

Sigh.

When I was younger, the choice was name brand shoes or food. No brainer. Now with my family, we are blessed to not have to make that choice. But I really want my children to learn to see the person, not the label.

So we talked about it.

And talked about it.

We talked about a little five-year-old with red rubber boots and tears down her cheeks.

We talked about being loved by Christ and being loved by family.

And we got honest because I was that five-year-old and asked if he wanted me to go buy those expensive shoes.

My child shook his head and gave me a hug and nothing was mentioned again.

And then I noticed one day that he wore those lime shoes to school.

And then the next day.

But here is the post note, because my Father cares about details. Before his birthday, Dale and I found those name brand shoes for 80% off and we went ahead and bought them as a gift. Now some of you may say, 'tsk, tsk.' But I think there is another layer of lesson to be learned here.

When my son opened his gift, his eyes shone and he hugged those shoes. And I asked him are those the shoes he wanted and he nodded. Beaming. And I reminded him about a God that even cares about the little details.

He knew his worth were not tied up in those shoes.

But maybe, just maybe, he learned something about grace, too.

And just this week I noticed he was wearing his discount neon shoes with his name brand shoes interchangeably.

I smiled.

He got it.

I think one day, this son will have his own story to tell about his neon lime shoes and maybe about his mother's red boots.

There is some comfort in that.

Nothing is wasted by our Father. 

Favorites Friday

This is a total fluff post, but some day I want to look back and see even my fluffy thoughts:).
Here are some of my favorites today...

Favorite Pins....

I love everything about this room, but what I really love are the black and white buffalo checks curtains. I plan to do this in my dining room!

 I love how they used kraft paper for their quote.

 This week, I am on spring break and one of my projects is to organize my kids' memorabilia. Wouldn't this be a precious way to display your child's handwriting?

Favorite Recipe...

This was a family favorite. The picture and recipe (not my handwriting) came from the THM facebook page.

Favorite Tip...

Prep all your veggies for the week and put them in a ziploc bag. I usually do two bags. Then during the week, scoop out what you need to roast with a little coconut oil, garlic powder, salt and pepper

Favorite Read...

I can't put this book down.

Favorite Find...

I love spring and bunnies. Not necessarily ole Peter Cottontail, since we don't do 

bunnies for Easter. But bunnies in general. 

I found this Cottontail Farm sign at TJMaxx this week. Yay!! It is printed on a yummy looking linen type fabric. I am surprised Dale hasn't thrown darts at it since it may remind him of the little cottontail visitor that showed up in our newly planted garden last night;). I whispered to the bunny to hop away before Farmer Dale caught wind of him, but he didn't. Brave (or stupid) little bunny.

Are you lonesome tonight?

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

My mom was a huge Elvis fan. Pre-sad Elvis. (Although was he ever really happy?) As a teenager, I would put my tape recorder next to the speakers of my mom's vinyl recorder player to record his melancholic lyrics. Then I would play them over and over in the quiet of my bedroom. It got me every time.

It still does.:)

That song has been playing in my head the last few days after being triggered by some recent conversations I have had with some friends about loneliness.

During those conversations, it was all that I could do to keep myself from shouting, "You too?" 

I refrained. 
Mom would have been proud.

But truthfully, loneliness has been an unwanted companion with me 

throughout different seasons in my life...

I have felt lonely in the noise-filled busyness of my family of seven. And in the silence on the back pew of a church. It has slinked up beside me in a crowded room. And has sat next to me on my computer chair as I stared at my facebook newsfeed.

With my different life seasons, the wind of loneliness has breathed down my neck and enveloped me with its whispers...

You are not good enough, 
not funny enough, 
not smart enough, 
not pretty enough, 
not skinny enough, 
not interesting enough,
not enough...

Have you heard them, too? 

But may I tell you something I have been learning?

Those are BIG. FAT. LIES. from the enemy.

You are enough.

I am enough.

Because He is enough.

Believing, owning and trusting that Truth has quieted the winds of loneliness to an occasional unwanted breeze. And I am slowly learning to listen more closely to His voice that drowns out those breezes of lies.

This is what I feel God is teaching me in those lonely gaps:

1. Call on Him.

The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. Psalm 145:18

I get it. I so get it.

I have wished that phone would ring. Or that text will come. I have prayed that God would lay it on someone's heart to reach out to me. I have been there.

I struggle with brokenness. I have real heart needs and a desire for long conversations with lots of breadth with girlfriends who will take the time to listen to my long answer of how I am doing.

But here is the truth. Sometimes that call or text doesn't happen. And I have learned to be okay with that.

I have learned that God wants me to call on Him first. He will stay for the long answers. He will never change his focus or interrupt you or be in a hurry. He will listen. He will be that Friend.

2. I am convinced God does not desire us to feel lonely.

Yes, He wants us to turn to Him when we are lonely, but He is also the author of community. The threaded theme of friendship is woven all through the Bible...Jonathan and David; Elijah and Elisha; Jesus and his disciples; Paul, Priscilla and Aquila...

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down,  one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls  and has no one to help them up.

 Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

3. Look around. 

It is easy for me to fold into myself. To pull back. But if  I would stop and look around, and really listen, I would see there are a lot of lonely people. I find that so perplexing with facebook and twitter and snapchat and all those social media outlets that I can't figure out.

I think our default is to pull back and isolate ourselves. It is too risky to be vulnerable. And you have to be vulnerable to have a true, real, meaningful friendship.

You have to be intentional. And that takes time and investment. And that is just plumb hard sometimes.

4. Be a Gatherer.

Someone once labeled me as a Gatherer. I don't know if I was supposed to take that as a compliment. In a way, it was wrapped up in a package of rebuke.

But when it once stung, I now embrace.

All of us has heard, be the friend you want to have. This may mean being vulnerable and sticking ourselves out there. Instead of waiting to be invited, be the gatherer. Go first. Create a community. An open community with no qualifications. And do this without expecting to be gathered. I learned that most people want to get together and visit and be heard, but being the one inviting may not be in their comfort zone. And you have to be okay with that knowledge. We are all at different seasons.

Along those lines,  I read a post about someone deciding they were going to incorporate "52 Lunches" in their year. That meant they were going to have lunch with one person, every week for a year.

I like that idea. I like that idea a lot.

What are you doing for lunch next week?:)

Small

“Do not despise these small beginnings, 

for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” 

(Zechariah 4:10 NLT)

These past few days I have felt small.  Very small.

Small as I saw images of fellow brothers-in-Christ singing praises before they saw Jesus face-to-face.

Small as I saw pictures of babies with their umbilical cords cut too short left in a box to be rescued by an Asian man half way across the world.

Small as I listened to a friend struggling in a situation with one of her parents who is fighting for her life.

Small.

And I am over here, ironing my clothes and I feel myself shrinking in my thoughts. And I feel helpless. Teeny, tiny.

Infinitesimal.

My heart aches and I begin praying to a big God.

Who is Infinite.

And He sees my smallness.

And I read in His Word how He honors the small things.
And sees the person who feels small.

And I think He takes my small things and uses them to create 

big, beautiful eternal things.

And lots of small things can add up to be lots of big things.
And maybe there is a big lesson to be learned in being faithful in the small things.
So I begin laying my small things at His feet.

And I don't despise being so small anymore.

Don't look for big things, just do small things with great love....

The smaller the thing, the greater must be our love.  --Mother Teresa

Traditions

Dale and I grew up together and one of the first memories I have of his mother's house is how she always decorated for the seasons. I remembering walking through her living room to the kitchen, always anticipating the rotating table arrangement...a paper mache Santa...an Easter basket...a Valentine tree... 

It is a memory I carried into my marriage and 

try to recreate for my family.

Valentine's Day is one of my favorite holidays. I love the red (of course) and the hearts and the love that floats around:). 

In past years, we left 'love deposits' in each others' mailboxes during the month. I wrote about one particular memory here.

Do you decorate for the holidays?

A New Chapter

My mommy retired.

I remember when she got the job at the hospital.

I remember what I felt like knowing that she wouldn't be home anymore on the weekends (because she was assigned to the weekend shift).

I remember watching my two little brothers alone and refereeing fights and cooking omelets for dinner and being scared when storms came and trying to protect them.

I remember how hard my mommy worked and how tired she would be after a twelve hour shift. How she still made sure the clothes were washed and the meals were cooked and the house was picked up.

It has been hard for me to watch her still work as hard in her later years.Things have had to go on the wayside. Housecleaning and grandchildren's school plays and weekend volleyball matches and making sure daddy eats right.

She has paid her dues. She has finished her job well. She is done with that chapter in her life.

And I am happy for her.

I pray she will enjoy this next season of housecleaning and school plays and volleyball games and making sure my daddy eats well.

I think it will be a full-time job:).

 (We surprised her with celebratory cake and ice cream amidst protests that she hadn't even combed her hair. She is still beautiful to me.)