Sacred Spaces

 Five years ago, after contemplating leaving ministry all together, Zach and I made the decision to seek a new church appointment in another conference of the United Methodist Church.  We got offered an appointment in rural Montana, pastoring three small churches. As scary as it was we jumped at the chance to try something new. Within two weeks I had us packed and we loaded a truck, two vehicles and a trailer and began our two day drive north from Alamogordo, New Mexico. Neither of us had been north of Denver so we were going sight unseen to a new adventure.

As I drove, with two kids, a dog, and a fish, each mile that was new to us built the excitement, we eagerly ate up the new vistas that we passed through. I remember driving over the Montana border and taking in a deep breath.  Home. This is our new home. 

We pulled into our new town around sundown. The house had been left unlocked and when we entered we were greeted by an array of local gifts, food, and greetings from our new church. Next door at the church the church administrator was working in the garden, greeting the dogs and us with open arms and excitement. The next few days were busy with unloading, unpacking, and exploring our new home. 

Excitement. Anxiety. Joy. Uncertainty. All that and more but we had made that leap and now it was time to make the most of if.

Our first full weekend there we were given entrance into Glacier National Park so we loaded up the kids and drove up to a part of the park called Two Medicine. There were people there but not overwhelmingly so. We were able to find a parking spot and throughout the day we snacked, hiked, skipped rocks and breathed in the slightly smokey air. For a good while we sat on the beach of Two Medicine Lake and gazed out at the water. It was just what we needed. Later I learned just how meaningful this time was to my husband.  He preached about this day on his first Sunday here in Bozeman.

We left an extremely toxic and unhealthy situation in New Mexico. As I previously stated, Zach was so burned by what was happening in the church that he was sending his resume out to other organizations. He was hurt and exhausted in the worst way. Unknown to me at the time, as he sat by a lake in Montana, listening to the kids play, the birds chirp, and the wind blow, a sense of calm reassurance washed over him. He knew, without a doubt, that we were just where we needed to be.

Zach centering himself at Two Medicine Lake in East Glacier.

Though that time and space holds a certain sacredness for all of us, for me another place tops Two Medicine. Not long after this trip we once again loaded in the car and went to explore our new home. We followed a road past a reservoir and into the mountains. There's a place, not too far in, where you can cross a bridge over a small river. We pulled off and spent a good amount of time playing, sitting, and taking deep breaths of slightly smokey air. 

This place was it for me. This place amongst the trees and by the moving water became integral to my own healing and acceptance of our new existence. This place would be where we took my parents on their one and only trip to Montana to see us. This is where I would watch my mom, weary in both body and soul from fighting cancer, stand and breathe in her own healing breaths. This place would be were Zach would take me whenever I was feeling overburden by life. This is the place we would go to right before we left Montana to move to Wyoming. One last breath.

When we found out we were moving to Bozeman we promised our oldest that we would try our hardest to make a trip back to Choteau so she could spend sometime with her friends. We made that trip this weekend, loading up the camper and making that three hour drive.

It was a lovely day, visiting with old friends, visiting our old haunts, enjoying some of the best ice cream. We then started the short drive up to our favorite little bridge into a small campsite where we quickly parked and set up. Soon we were walking down the hill to sit by the river. I sat with a huge grin on my face, so content watching my silly husband and kids laughing and playing together. I went and stood on the bridge and watched my family enjoying a place so familiar to them. Unexpectedly I became overwhelmed by emotion as all the memories of that place and the feelings attached to it washed over me. 

It amazes me how places, nature in particular can become such sacred, meaningful places as we are living our lives. We have moved around quite a bit, lived in four states, explored and enjoyed many wonderful and beautiful areas, but there is something about this place in particular that was exactly what I needed at a pivotal point in my own growth, and because of that, some place that many may see as insignificant is, to me, holy ground.

There are many wonderful places that can be found all over this great creation. Have you found healing in nature? I'd love to hear about it. As always, thanks for reading.

Most recent trip to my sacred place.

Last trip before we moved.

Soaking up some Montana before leaving.

Introducing my parents to some of our favorite places. It was cold and windy but still so special.

First trip. Smoke filled the air but it didn't bother us.

Hello Blog. It's me, Mikel

 Stress. Joy. Excitement. Uncertainty. Anxiety. Gratefulness. Fear. Exhaustion.

I have been asked often lately how I'm feeling about our most recent move.  I usually answer with something generic like "Oh, it's going as well as can be expected" or "We are getting there." I certainly don't answer truthfully. How could I possibly? Many people get it, to some degree at least.  Many people don't. And some people just don't really care.

Transition. 

As a mother to three and especially as a mother to a teenager in high school I find that I am almost always worrying about something. I constantly second guess my words, my actions, and my decisions, concerned about how they may affect my children both in the present and long term. 

I didn't choose to be married to a clergy person.  I didn't plan to one day be raising pastor kids. I didn't foresee a life that would have me moving my family and all my possessions 7 times in 12 years, calling four different states home.  But, here we are. 

I certainly hope to call this new place home for a long while.  I really hope to see at least two of my children graduate from the same high school. Hope. Not certainty.  That's were the fear comes in. The "what ifs" creep into my thoughts. 

Hope.

We all have things we hope to see, hope to experience, hope not to experience. When you fully understand that there are many tings outside of your control that can shatter that hope in a second, then you experience helplessness. Our lives are controlled by other people.  Our home is owned by an entity. Our income relies on the generosity of others. Our yearly appointment relies on a group of people meeting together to discern who goes to what church. We only have control over our own reactions. I only have control over myself and that's terrifying. How do I make it all ok?

Mourning.

We move once again.  We leave. We say good bye. We start over. We live in disappointment and dashed expectations. We understand we can not control how other people react. We refill pantries and refrigerators.  We navigate new towns. We organize new kitchens. We struggle to find something to feed the children after long days at a new job and unpacking. We come to grips with being far away from family, friends we know, an existence we became used to. We mourn what is no more.  

Joy.

Joy surrounds us in our new adventures. Joy is found in the face of my children as they meet a new friend. Joy is present when I sit and enjoy a cup of coffee from a fun mug in a freshly decorated new house.  Joy is in a welcoming smile from someone who is glad to see you.  Joy is sitting across from my husband as he experiences a new brewery.  Joy is in discovery.

Life Unexpected.

Each day we start anew. We try to find comfort in the chaos. We live, we love, we sleep, we clean, we do copious amounts of laundry. It's normal. A new normal. 

We put a smile on our face and excitement in the voice because the younger humans in our house need it. Make it home. Make it ok. Give them hope. I can't let myself be weighed down by the to-dos, the uncertainty, the socializing when all my introverted heart wants to do is stay home and read a book. 

I cant control other people. I cant control how my children feel about things. I cant control much about this life, but I can control how I feel and react. 

Thanks for reading. Thank you for the prayers. Thank you for being a part of our lives even when we don't always see you.

Traditions, new and old.

 As many of you know, my dear mother passed away from cancer on December 5, 2019.  I wrote in my previous post about my struggles with my emotions this past year.  I have been open in my mourning, knowing that many try to keep those feelings to themselves.  In my sharing I have heard many stories of shared experiences from others.  Many of you have joined me in voicing your own grief, whether you lost a loved one recently or years ago.  It's beautiful to be able to share that with you.  

A friend recently made a post about having to form new traditions in the absence of a loved one, especially if so many of your holiday traditions centered around the one you lost.  How very true.  This is the second Christmas without my mom, and I haven't a clue what new traditions will emerge.

My mom loved Christmas.  LOVED it.  She collected ornaments and had so many Christmas decorations that yearly she would have to decide on a theme, knowing not everything could come out of storage.  One of my last precious memories of her, if you'll indulge me in penning it to paper, is decorating her Christmas tree.  Last year I flew from Montana to Texas because mom was once again in the hospital.  Cancer had spread to the liver.  We knew time was running out.  The week before Thanksgiving I broached the idea of going ahead and decorating for Christmas.  Mom was hesitant at first, it's against the rules after all (her rules, not mine), but she quickly came around to the idea.  After all, if it raised her spirits but a bit it was well worth it.  I put up the skinny little tree that she had downsized to years ago and then brought out the many tubs of ornaments.  Every year when we were children, mom would take my sister and me to Hallmark and we would all pick out an ornament.  For a few years we continued the tradition with our spouses and children.  Mom still would buy herself a new Hallmark ornament every year.  So, as I opened up these tubs with mom looking on, I asked which ornaments would she like me to put up.  We sorted through them and before we knew it, both of us were in tears.  There were so many emotions, so many memories tied to not only the ornaments, but also to the practice of decorating.

We took a break and sat and cried together and I gratefully got the opportunity to thank mom for instilling such a love of the holidays in me.  So many traditions she began with us that I now do with my own family.  Her legacy carries on.

Today I decided to do my baking.  Nothing worked well for me.  Cookies I've baked hundreds of times failed to turn out like they should.  I let the temperature of the candy I was making get away from me and scalded myself when it boiled up.  Another batch of cookies I let burn.  And through it all, all I could think about was my mom.  Cooking was another part of our holiday tradition.  Fudge and candy, tea cakes, cookies, sausage balls.  We would set the menu and then cook together, each of us doing our own thing.  Talking when we had something to say but being comfortable in our silence too.  Cooking today, making recipes that I once made in her kitchen, in her company, of course nothing went right.  A big piece was missing.

I remember sitting at my Granny's kitchen table, watching as she cooked.  I quietly observed as she bustled around, as my sister and cousins ran around playing, as my mom and aunts did their parts to get a family meal on the table.  Soon, she was giving me little jobs to do.  When my mom started taking over the family dinners, I made Granny's fruit salad.  I made, and still do make, her butterscotch roll.  Those pieces of her are still here.

So, just as with my precious grandmother, I know mom is still here with me.  I know that she will be a part of the holidays for the rest of my days.  No, it's not even close to the same.  Yes, it hurts and springs on you in the simplest of moments, that loss.  New traditions will also emerge as we try to figure out how to do life with out her.  It hasn't felt like Christmas this year.  Part of that is Covid.  Part of that is a new town.  Mostly its missing my mom.  I have done my best to "fake it" this year, mostly for the kids sake, but I'm going to be honest my friends, there is no part of me that has any Christmas spirit.  I've worn the silly sweaters, listened to the music, watched the movies, sang the carols, decorated, baked, wrapped and shopped, but I still feel a bit scrooge-like.  And you know what?  That's okay.  It's okay to not be okay.  It's okay to not want to celebrate this year.  It's okay to be sad, and missing someone.  It's okay.  

This post has been for me.  If you can relate, I'm sorry, but I also understand.  As another friend once said to me, it's a crummy club to be a member of, but at least you're not alone.  May your holiday season be just what you need it to be, and if it's not, then that's okay too.

The skinny tree sporting the ornaments we finally decided on.

                                               The older tree, after a fun day of decorating.

Reflections

 It's been so long since I sat myself down to write something that I almost don't know where to begin.  I imagine most people forgot I even had a "blog" (is it even considered a blog anymore if you haven't written in it for years?).  There have been moments throughout the past few years that I thought to myself that I should sit down and pen those thoughts to paper, so to speak, but have either lacked the discipline, motivation, or thought that some things were better left unsaid.  So here I find myself, not knowing for sure what has made this moment any different than before. 

I read over my last blog post, in which I discussed our big move to Montana, and all the emotions that went with that transition.  Now, here I am again, months after another move, this time to Wyoming, having experienced many of the same emotions, only now coupled with this year being, well, it being 2020 (you guys feel me).  

This morning I have spent time working on my calendar.  Every year I create a calendar on Shutterfly with all our favorite photos from the year before.  I will hang it in my kitchen and use it almost as a journal, recording important, and not so important, moments that happen.  I always get nostalgic when I am looking through all the photos I have taken but this year I felt something akin to sadness.  Why?

Just a couple weeks ago I was having a conversation about this year with someone.  She made a comment that was something like,"I haven't done a thing this year!"  Of course we did acknowledge the big election which was...something. And, of course, I understand what she was saying, many people didn't have a lot of activity happen.  Most of us dutifully stayed at home, we quarantined, we refrained from travel.  However, that doesn't mean things didn't happen to you.

As I looked over my year in picture form, starting with January, I noticed many things.  I had literally no pictures for the month of January.  For one short moment I questioned this.  How can I have no pictures? Me? Then it hit,  I was in mourning.  I don't know that I could tell you anything that happened that month.  I remember going to therapy once a week, and that's about it.  February was better, we took the kids skiing and being in the outdoors, even in the snowy cold, did (and still does) wonders for my soul.  Spring came and with it so did COVID and the shutdown.  We tried our best to make the best of this new reality we were living.  We powered through at-home learning, played outside when weather permitted, did our best to celebrate three birthdays in the most meaningful ways we could, and spent a lot of time as a family.  Man, it was hard.  In the midst of all that, we also learned we were moving.

Moving was NOT on our radar.  It was scary, and sad, and frustrating, and exciting all at the same time.  We had to buy a house!  We had to buy a house a state away in the middle of a pandemic!  We had to say our goodbyes, pack, and try to get in as much of Montana as we could, in the midst of a pandemic.  I wouldn't recommend it.  Once more, as with every move we have made, we had to face the hurt and pain of being immediately "removed" from peoples lives.  We had people immediately unfriend us on facebook, others just ignored us if we say them in public.  Others were much more upfront, and told us how angry they were, and still others, said they were angry but understood.  Even now, months later, I mourn those relationships.  It's never easy to move.  All of our moves have been difficult, but as I looked at the pictures, capturing our last moments in Montana, I grieve all over again.  Zach and I both have found that we call Montana "home."  I also grieve what we had, the memories we made, the adventures we went on.  It's another byproduct of this year, our adventures have all but screeched to a halt.  Those activities we did, the places we visited during our time in Montana were meaningful for a number of reasons.  They helped us heal from a bad situation in New Mexico.  They helped distract us from not being able to help out with our families in Texas.  They gave us moments of clarity and cleansing when the world became too much to bear.

Now, I don't want you to think the move was all bad.  It hasn't been.  Wyoming has its own beauty and we have lots of plans to get out and adventure more when the world calms down.  The church here has been very welcoming, even with all that is working against us.  The kids love their schools and have found ways to get involved and fit in.  We love our new home and the fact that it is ours. We have found joy here in many ways.  

But still, sadness hits today.  I know I'm not alone in mourning what once was.  I think it's okay to have those emotions, especially this year.  I am grateful for each of you, for allowing me to process through those feelings.  So often we force ourselves to push through, without proper reflection and commiserating. Im a big believer in feeling your emotions and then choosing not to dwell in the bad ones.  This year has been harder in practice, I've lost my mother, I've lost my home, I've lost relationships, but I know I am not alone.  This year has be wrought with divisions, arguments, political strife, death, illness, anger and so much more.  I hope that for many of us will come to realize that if nothing else, we are not alone in our many emotions. 

Now, I will pack up that sadness and lay it down.  I'm going to find joy and excitement in what is to come for us.  I will find hope in the unknown and peace in the knowing that we are never, ever alone.

Thanks for reading.

Greetings from Big Sky Country

It's been a long while since I last wrote and it's been almost as long since we moved across country to our new home in Montana.  So much about our lives have changed in such a short amount of time, that the abruptness of our new life has stunned me into a writer's block. 

I've been struck at how quickly life can change.  It's never easy.  Thankfully, this new path we are on, we feel 100% called to, called to Montana, called to this place, called to this new ministry.  That belief has made things easier. 

We love this new home.  It's different here, and not in a bad way.  So much of what I have longed for can be found in this small, charming town.  I finally feel like my kids are able to enjoy aspects of my childhood that I thought they'd forever miss out on.  The kids have settled in nicely, enjoying school, making friends, getting involved in activities.   It feels...settled.

It hasn't been completely easy.  We are a long way off from anything that used to be familiar.  There was a time that I would expect to see someone I knew when I went to a local store, only to be reminded that I didn't know anyone for thousands of miles.  That's a very lonely feeling.  There were many days where I lingered at our new house, unpacking boxes, settling our belongings, and would be overcome with homesickness.  If only I could have gone "home" for a weekend, I thought, just a couple of days with loved ones...

It's been six months since our rushed move north.  We have experienced so much.  We saw two new states that none of us had seen before.  We drove into a new town, up to a new house, that we had only seen in a few pictures.  We experienced the loneliness of not seeing family for many months.  We have seen scenes from this country that take your breath away with it's grandness and beauty, experiencing nature in a new and amazing way.  We have lived through the worst winter (and still not over we hear) that we have ever imagined.  We have made many new relationships, been embraced by three church congregations in three different towns.  We have also lost friends we thought we had, people from previous churches who refused to even say goodbye to us before we left town.  We have experienced the heart ache of being misunderstood.  We have seen the confusion in our children's eyes as they struggled to understand why there were being discarded.

It's never easy. 

Being in this profession, and living this life, we expect challenges.  We know change will be coming around the bend.  We know, never to get too comfortable.  We also know that this is a life with great reward.

For know we can say, we are home.  We are where we belong.  We know this part of our path is true, and good, and exactly where we are supposed to be.  We know who loves us, and we know Him who loves us most.  It may never be easy, but it is definitely worth it. 

We are living our adventure. 

Journey Together

A few years ago, when Zach was finalizing his decision to become a Pastor in the United Methodist Church, and going through the steps to make that decision a reality, we had lunch with a, at the time, dear friend.  It was during this lunch that I was told by this friend that I was not cut out to be a Pastor's wife.  I was told that I could very likely hinder my husband's ministry unless I chose to change who I was.  This conversation, which was less a conversation and more an attack (in my honest opinion), left me feeling many things.  Anger, indignation, betrayal, and, most of all, insecurity.  It was the last thing I needed to hear at this point in our lives.  We had already accepted a job at a new church, in a new town, things were already in motion, there was no going back now.

I returned home from that lunch and promptly cried buckets of tears.  Zach and I discussed, at length, whether or not we thought this friend was correct in his assessment of me.  My dear husband reassured me repeatedly that I would not hinder his career in anyway, which, I'll admit, I only half believed.  I didn't choose this life.  I married a man who was going to school for business.  When we got married we both only worked part time at the church, helping with the youth.  There was a time when Zach worked full-time in sales, both of us thinking that this was his future.  I never would have thought that God would call him into full time ministry.

Since that afternoon three years ago, I have met many Pastor spouses.  Each one has taught me that there is no one way to live this life.  Each one is different in personality, in gifts, in weaknesses.  Each one has a different opinion of their role in the church and in the ministry of their pastor spouse.  I've been told by more experienced spouses that I have permission to choose my own path.  True, not everyone in the church we are sent to will like me, not everyone will agree with my chosen path, regardless of what it is.  You simply can not please everyone all of the time.

Still, with this knowledge and with these great mentors in my own life, the insecurity persists.  I have not been able to rid myself of the voice of that friend, hearing it in the back of my mind each and every day.  There have been moments, times of despair and uncertainty, that I lament "I am not cut out for this life!"  I cry out to God,"How could Zach be so obviously called to ministry, to being a Pastor, and I am not called to go with him?!"  These moments occur more often than I would like to admit.

However, last week I was able to go to the Annual Conference of the New Mexico United Methodist Churches.  This was my first time at Conference and I quite enjoyed it, despite the long business sessions.  There was a special speaker at Conference, Pastor Jorge Acevedo, who said quite a few things that was life giving to me.  One such thing was, "Comparison is not of the devil, it is the devil."  I would imagine that all of us are guilty of comparing ourselves with others.  It doesn't usually lead to anything good.  Pastor Acevedo had many good things to say, particularly at the Ordination Service.  I found myself getting inspired, inspired to do ministry.  Inspired to do ministry with my husband, excited and emotional, thinking of the day when he will finally be ordained.  Then, like a light turning on, sitting in that service, it occurred to me.  I am called to this life.  Sure, my calling looks nothing like Zach's, and it looks nothing like the spouses of other Pastor's, but it's a calling all the same.  I know I help Zach do ministry when I am at home with the kids feeling useless.  I help when he can go where he needs to go, do what he needs to do, and he knows that I have things handled at home.  I help when I support him unconditionally, when he knows I am willing to go with him wherever his ministry takes him.  I must stand firm in the faith that God has called all of us, in some fashion, and I must not be tempted to compare my calling with others.  I also must remember that as we continue along our paths, the view will change but the destination is unwavering.

I can not promise that I will not have moments of insecurity, of doubt, of worry, moments where I compare myself with someone else.  I can not promise that everyone will like me or agree with my choices.  I can only continue on the best that I know how, hand in hand with my husband, in the full and comforting embrace of our Father, enveloped in the unending and unwavering grace that is offered to us all.

May I please offer a plea to all my church going friends, laity and clergy both, to stop comparing, but to love one another, encourage and uphold the calling in one another, even if it looks different that what we expect or desire?  Thank you for reading.  It means more to me than you know.

You do You

I have a confession to make.  I am addicted to podcasts.  Guys, it's serious.  I don't know why I waited so long, but I fell for them and fell hard. I don't watch tv hardly at all anymore and my time on social media sites have decreased considerably. I listen to a variety of podcasts, mostly true crime (don't judge), and a few comedy.  One I really enjoy and put on when I need a laugh is called the Dollop.  It's an American History podcast that takes a story or a person from history, both distant and not too distant, and breaks it down into a laughter filled hour or so.  I wouldn't recommend this podcast if you are thin skinned or if you can't handle listening to views that may not necessarily match up to your own or are sensitive to bad language.  I love it though and I've learned quite a bit.

One great thing about listening to podcasts is I can put in my earbuds, turn on an episode, and get things done.  I've found I'm much more productive.  Today was a day that I needed to both laugh and get stuff done so I turned on The Dollop and got busy.  Interestingly enough, one of the topics spoke to something that has been on my heart lately.

So the topic was a silly one, titled Straw Hat Riot (episode 129 for you Rubes), and basically it spoke about a time that people were so concerned that men not wear their straw hats passed a specified date, that they would literally take and destroy said hat if one was caught wearing it.  It became a real issue, people were arrested and injured because of a hat. One of the hosts of the podcasts (and I paraphrase because language) said, "Why do people care what other people are doing so much?"

That's what's been laying on my heart lately.  Why do people care what other people do so much?  Maybe I've mellowed with age, or maybe I've encountered enough people who are different than what I grew up with, or maybe it's life experiences, who knows, but honestly folks, I don't care very much what other people choose to do if it doesn't harm anyone.  For instance, how many posts have you seen regarding fashion and you just can't wrap your mind around why someone would choose to wear it?  Or, perhaps you can't stand a certain celebrity, and cant fathom why someone would look up to them.  How many times have you glanced at the comments of that cute puppy video you shared and saw commentors who somehow found something negative to say about it.  Even those recipe videos some of us love (guilty) will have comments along the lines of "Why would anyone eat this" or "wow, this cake is really ugly, who would want it?"

Whatever it is, so many people feel the need to take a stance on the silliest of issues, becoming keyboard warriors against anyone who would dare be different.  I'm here to tell you, I DON'T CARE!  I don't care what you wear, how much makeup you wear, how your hair is done, what shows, music, books you like.  I don't care if you prefer a certain type of vehicle or type of pet, if you can't stand a certain type of food or hobby.  I don't care if you are a Baptist or a Methodist, if you prefer one type of worship music over another.  I don't feel the need to turn everyone I meet into Mikel clones, who believe in the exact same way I do.  Let me enjoy the things I enjoy, and I'll be glad to return the favor.

Try as you might, you will not find anyone who agrees one hundred percent with you in any given topic, be it politics, religion, current events, how you raise your family, or how you live your life.  That's OK.  I've learned so much from people who think differently than me.  There is so much negativity in this world, why add to it?  Why bring misery to yourself and others over insignificant things?  Why, when there are so many real issues going on today that are much more deserving of our concern and attention?

Friends, there is so much darkness in our lives, in our world, why can't we all choose to stop finding issue with our neighbors, stop adding to the negativity, and instead bring much needed light and love into our lives and into the lives of those we encounter, even if it's just with strangers on the internet.  It's okay to have differing ideas about things.  It's okay to not like everything we see.  However, ask yourself, would this negative thought benefit anyone else?  Is it worth my time to comment about something I don't like or think is silly?  Are my negative comments online or in person the witness I want to give?

May your days be filled with goodness and may we all be the light in a world filled with darkness.

Peace in Chaos

If you are a reader of this blog, you probably know that Christmas is a favorite time of year for us.  I have written many a blog post over this season, the traditions we have, the joy we find in celebrating.  However, in true transparency, I must share that finding joy in the holiday season has not always been easy.

Last year, for example, was such a challenge.  It was the first year that we weren't with family for Christmas Eve.  It was also the first year that Zach had to work on Christmas Eve.  I really struggled with finding balance for our family with all the obligations we had.  I had a list a mile long of things I wanted to do as a family, activities and memory makers for our children.  I was so consumed with making Christmas as memorable as possible for our family, I was sucking the joy out of the entire season.  I broke one day, when all my well thought out plans went awry.  I was so focused on my ideas of what Christmas could and should be, that I forgot to even consider what my family wanted and needed out of this time of advent.

This year I vowed to not allow that to happen again.  However, now I find myself, two weeks from Christmas, and not at all in the holiday spirit.  Something is missing and I haven't quite been able to put my finger on what it is.

I smile to myself just now, reflecting on the ways God speaks to us.

Many of my friends and family know that my husband, the incorrigible Zach Bechtold, has a podcast with his good friend, Matt Franks, known as the Bearded Theologians.  Again, in true transparency, I admit that I am not a faithful listener to this podcast. (Sorry guys)  It's not because of anything other than I live with Zach and I listen to him all the time.  I mean, I have to hear his sermon twice on Sundays.  I love the guy and think he has thought provoking things to say, usually, but putting on their podcast isn't usually at the top of my to do list.  Today, however, in the midst of dealing with finishing Christmas shopping and tending to two sick and pitiful children, I pulled up a couple of podcasts and gave them a listen.

God finds ways to speak to us, even using our husbands.

The podcast I listened to came from last week and was about peace.  Finding peace. Finding peace within our self and through the gift of Jesus Christ.  There is no amount of decorating, baking, caroling, gifting, or cups of hot chocolate that can bring peace to this time of chaos and busyness.  Peace comes from one place, God, and we are responsible for allowing that peace to work in our own lives.  When we welcome peace into our own lives, that peace will be poured out into everything we do.  The chores of Christmas will become joyful, and that joy will seep into all that we do.

Welcome the peace.  Encourage others to find peace.  Take joy in the quiet times, realizing that we need those moments to hear what God is calling us to be, in that moment, and in the days to come.  Listen to who God is calling you to bring joy, happiness, and peace during the season of highs and lows.  Take the time to remember what is truly important, during this Christmas holiday and throughout the new year.

May peace be with you.

Take a listen to the Bearded Theologians podcast on peace below or at the Bearded Theologian website, where you can catch all their content: https://beardedtheologians.com

and give them a follow on facebook here:
https://www.facebook.com/BeardedTheologians/?fref=ts

Christmas Traditions

It's that time again!  Christmas season has begun.  My Christmas countdown gives us 27 days to go.

As we work to prepare for this holiday, I have been giving a lot of thought towards traditions.  Christmas traditions have always meant so much to me.  Each little act that my family would do would help get me into the Christmas spirit.  There were some traditions from my childhood that I couldn't wait to continue on with my family.  One of these is decorating the tree.  We crank out the Christmas songs, fight with the strands of lights, wondering why only half the strand is working, the kids fight over who gets to put up the Christmas star, and we pull out the ornaments, remembering where and when we got each one, as we take turns hanging them on the tree.  Each year we let the kids pick out new ornaments for the tree.  We also try to get a new ornament from our travels.

I love seeing other people's Christmas trees.  Each family does this in a different way.  Some are like my family, you have a collection of mismatched ornaments that are meaningful in some way to you.  Some families have a tree theme, maybe you have many trees, all with different themes.  Some people have beautifully put together trees with ribbons and balls.  It's all wonderful, no matter how you choose to decorate.

One thing that I didn't anticipate in my youth was that as we get older, as new people are added into the mix, and as things change, traditions will need to be changed as well.  I don't fear change, generally, but messing with my traditions is something different all together.

This year marks the first time in my entire life that I am not sitting at my parents for Christmas dinner.  Our little family of five will be by ourselves this Christmas day and I don't even know what to do.  I tell the kids that we will develop new traditions, a new way of doing Christmas, but as of right now I do not know what that looks like.  I do know, as I have learned from experience, that I can not force new traditions on my kids.  There will be things we do, that I feel like the kids should love, but really I'm doing it more for me than them.

So, help me out friends!  What are somethings that your family does, or has done, that you love, that really put you in the spirit of Christmas?  How have you handled change to your Christmas routine?  How have you explained those changes to your children?

This holiday season will be full of change, full of memories, and full of new experiences, of that I am sure.

I'll leave you with a few pictures of our ornament collection.

Nativity star from Vatican City

Zach and mine's first ornament and Ryann's first ornament.

Penguin family I got when I knew our family was complete.

I love our little handmade ornaments!

I had a picture ornament made this year.  I love how it's nestled between
Iron Man and a bell from the Polar Express!

Zach and I received this little tree on our first Christmas as a married couple.  Zach's grandmother gave it to us as a gift and it has fit perfectly in every home we have shared together, 6 houses!

Growing pains

I'd like to tell you a story.  Before I begin, however, let me give you some background information.

We have been living in our new town, with Zach serving at his new church since the end of June.  In that time, there has been lots of changes and upheaval for our family.  Finding a routine for the kids and I to get in to has been a challenge, and continues to be more than four months into this new life.  Sundays have proven to be the most challenging part of finding our new normal.  There are three services that Zach must be at.  He leaves our house often before 7:00 on Sunday mornings.  Two services are held at one church, one right after the other, with the third being held at another church, in another town, more than twenty minutes away.  What is a preacher's wife and family to do?  Most weeks I try to make it to two of those services, one in each church, though there are times that I just don't have it in me to sit through two services with my three kids so I choose one.  Then of course, there's always the one service, the earliest one, that I have only been to a few times.

Now, on to the story and the purpose of this post:

Not too long ago the kids and I got up to go to the earliest service, the one we have only been to on occasion.  I sat in the front, with the three kids.  I tried to smile at those around me and most people wouldn't even meet my eye.  That's okay, it's early, most of these people have no clue who I am.  The kids are tired, cranky, hot and uncomfortable.  The youngest one is crawling all over me, fidgeting to stay awake, but really wanting to go to sleep.  We make it to the end of the service and I work on gathering the water bottles, church bag, my purse, and loose bulletins.  An older woman walks up to us, she's the first one to talk to us since we walked in the front door.  She goes right up to Noah, who has been upset because of something his sister did or said, and asks him why he didn't stand during the last song, saying, "Is there something wrong with you?"

Noah immediately backs away from her, this stranger whom he has never met.  My six year old has no idea how to respond to this question and chooses to say nothing instead.  The lady glances at me for the first time, asks if its our first visit here and then offers the kids some candy.  I left flabbergasted.  I managed to make it to my car before I broke down into tears.  I went home depressed and feeling like I am the worst mom alive, the worst preacher's wife, a failure.

Now, I understand that I am a sensitive person.  I also admit to reading into things, intentions that weren't ever there.  However, I also know that had I been a visitor I would never go back to that church because of how my kids and I were treated, because of how a few people made me feel, whatever their true intentions were.

I know a lot of my readers are church goers, many of you are leaders in your congregation.  I am begging you to think about how you treat young families, visitors, and anyone else.  Think about how you go about greeting people, how you handle those people who may be "doing it wrong."

I have written before about having kids in church (you can see those here and here).  It's hard, whether you have one or five.  We are trying to teach our kid how to behave in an environment that is often unforgiving of mistakes or missteps.  Our kids are expected to sit quietly, to understand the traditions and routines, to be still, and to be happy.  How are they expected to learn anything without messing up on occasion?

Let me tell you another story:

Another Sunday, and another service finds us once again sitting on the front row, belongings strewn about, but this time we are in another sanctuary, surrounded by different people.  My kids are happy and this creates a new set of challenges.  They want to play, they want to talk, they want to run up and give their daddy a hug.  Ryann, the three year old wants to dance to the music.  Her dress has a twirly skirt and that's amazing and doesn't everyone want to see?  I am exhausted, and frustrated, and once again feeling like I'm failing.  The end of the service comes and I try to gather my wits and belongings without crumbling.  An older woman comes up to me.  Great. Here we go again.  She puts a hand on my arm and says, "I want you to know that we love seeing your kids up here.  I know it can be frustrating for you, but we love it. You are doing a good job of handling them by yourself."

Friends, this is love.  This is what will bring people back, bring people into a relationship.  There was no judgement, just encouragement.

Being a parent is hard.  Being a parent who tries to bring their family to church is hard.  Young families today have so much vying for their attention and time.  Often both parents work full time jobs and Sundays may be the only time for families to spend together.  For them to come spend an hour or more at church is an achievement in itself.  It means they are there because they want to be, whatever reason that may be.  They will often want to keep their family together during that hour of worship, for good reason.  However, there's a good chance that their younger ones are still learning about what church is, and how to behave.  Their parents are likely still learning about how to best handle their little ones while figuring everything out.  Be kind. Be encouraging.  Be helpful.  Love.  Think about your words before you offer any kind of observation or "helpful" advice.  Think about how your words, whatever their intention, may sound to an overwhelmed mother or father.  Think about how your criticisms may sound to that visitor, who doesn't understand or know about "how we do things."  If we expect to have a church in thirty years, we need to practice loving and encouraging more, and criticizing less.

Thoughts? I'd love to hear from you.

Weakness into Perfection

Weakness.  It seems like "weakness" has become a dirty word.  I don't know, maybe it's always been that way, maybe it's human nature to not allow anyone to see that we have weaknesses, that we are not perfect.

Perfection.  What is perfection?  As a Christian I have been taught that we must always strive for perfection, to live our lives in a way that is "Christ like."  If we are to live as Christ lived, then we must work towards perfection, for Christ was perfection embodied.  But guys, Christ showed weakness.  He doubted, he struggled, he had moments of anger and deep sorrow.  He didn't hide these moments of weakness from the world, from his closest friends, they are instead, well documented, and guess what? He's still perfect.

Why then, do we attempt to hide our weaknesses from the world?  Why do we try to hide our weaknesses from ourselves?  Only when we truly admit to ourselves that we are not perfect, that we struggle, that we need help, that we aren't always who we know we should be, can we really grow, grow towards true perfection.

It's easy to put on a strong face for a couple of hours, those moments we need to be the super version of ourselves.  It's easy to sit behind a computer and write, hitting that delete button when that version of ourselves that we don't want others to see makes an appearance.  It's easy to hide ourselves away when we are feeling weak so that no one has to see that part of us.  It's easy, but is it right?

Maybe I'm in the minority but I long for transparent and authentic relationships.  I need to be around people who have weaknesses and who we can journey together, through the valleys and the mountaintops.  I need people in my life who understand weakness and who are willing to share those moments with me so that I can overcome my own.  Who doesn't need people like that?

Christ is and has always been transparent and authentic.  He also knows our weaknesses and desires to walk beside us as we struggle.  If we aren't being honest with ourselves as to where and when we need help, are we allowing God to work through us and heal us at the same time?

Love yourself, warts and all.  Don't hide away when your soul is crying out for help, crying out in despair.  Don't keep that part of yourself from everyone else.  Who knows, God could use those moments of yourself, those moments you hate and hide away, those pieces of you that seem weak, to change another's life.

God is amazing.  His people are amazing.  We are capable of so much, but only if we are honest with who we are.  Only in that honesty can our true potential be realized.

I heard a quote recently and I'll try to get it right here: "Who we are is God's gift to us.  Who we become is our gift to God."

Who are you going to become?  And how are you going to get there?

'Cause He's My Best Friend...

Today, Zach and I celebrate eleven years of marriage.  We are celebrating separately today because Zach is out of town and wont be back until tomorrow.  This week I have been reflecting over the last eleven years of married life and the two years that lead up to our wedding and would like to share some of those reflections with you, if you'll indulge me.

Anniversary picture from last year.

Zach and I met at church.  A friend from my McMurry days was working as Youth Director at my home church when I moved back to Plainview.  It was a difficult time in my life and I was feeling very lost and alone.  Tyson, my McM pal, invited me to come help out with the youth group.  I debated whether or not to go because, well, I was scared.  Teenagers? Scary! But, I was lonely enough that I went.  I met Zach that first night.  He was so young and weird, he came and sat beside me right away and made me feel welcome.  He's gifted like that.

Just a couple of kids, working with some kids.

The next year had us working together and forming a friendship.  I never really thought about dating him, he was so young, we would never be more than just friends.  However, as the months went on, and as we continued in ministry together, I saw more in him.  We didn't always agree but he always listened to me.  He was very immature but I saw growth.  We didn't have a lot in common, but we always had fun together.  Finally, I decided to let the age difference not be an issue and we started dating on July 4, 2004.

Our dating life had some up and downs but within a few months I knew he was it for me.  I was done looking for Mr. Right,I had found him in Zach.  We talked about marriage for months before he finally popped the question a year into dating on July 4, 2005.  He took me for a picnic lunch at the place we first met, the church, and asked me to marry him.  It was perfect.

Our first "couple" pic

Not getting any younger we decided to not have a long engagement and set our wedding date for only two months away, before Zach got far into his semester of school.  It was a stressful two months but our wedding was wonderful.  So many friends and family came to help us celebrate.  We had a very simple ceremony, again, in the place we met, followed by a cookout at my aunt and uncles house.  It was just what I wanted and I am so grateful for the hard work our families put in to help us carry it off.

We didn't have a ton of money so we honeymooned in Santa Fe for a couple of days before we had to return to work and school.  So begins married life.

Hanging out in Santa Fe with my 20 year old husband.

That first year of marriage was so hard.  We were trying to figure out what being married really meant.  We had to learn to put each other first, above everyone else.  We had to learn to communicate.  I'll be honest, there were moments that first year that I thought about calling it quits.  There were moments that we almost let our differences break us.

First Christmas as a married couple.

A couple of weeks after our fist anniversary I became pregnant with Zoe.  With that pregnancy came even more obstacles we had to cross.  Money, house, jobs, church, family, so many things that could have gotten in the way had we let it.  I prayed constantly that the Lord would prepare Zach to be a dad, worried that at just 22 he wouldn't want the job.  We were still working at figuring things out as a couple, would we be able to figure things out as parents?

He's the best dad.

It wasn't easy, but we figured it out.  We went the next year after Zoe was born, fumbling along best we could.  Things were hard and again, I had doubts.  The turning point happened one Sunday in May a year after Zoe was born.  I found myself in our bedroom, alone and fuming about something Zach had done.  I was angry and hurt and couldn't believe he was just going to let me be angry and hurt alone.  Do you know what I did?  I sucked it up, got out of bed, and calmly as I could, I confronted Zach.  I told him that I was hurt and why I was mad.  We talked about it.  I discovered that he wasn't aware of the transgression that had so upset me.  He apologized and we talked for hours after that.  I learned in that moment, that if I wanted to have a marriage with him that I had to humble myself and communicate my feelings to him instead of allowing them to build up and fester inside of me.  That was a game changer.

Since then many things have happened in our lives, many bad, so much more great.  We have grown together, built a family together, and continued in ministry together.  Zach, this kid I thought was too young for me, has taught me so much.  He's taught me to love baseball, to love generously (although he's still way better at it), to trust always, and to forgive earnestly.  We still have hard times, moments that we struggle through, moments of doubt, but because we are able to continue to enter into conversation together, to share those feelings, we have been able to persevere.

Eleven years.  It's not a huge amount, but, I know, without a doubt it will continue.  We have a lifetime ahead of us, and I am certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that we will share it together.  You see, even though I know it wont always be easy, it is so worth it to put in the hard work to ensure we have as healthy a relationship as possible.  I know that our kids will grow up believing in true love, because we have shown them what that looks like.

It looks like this.

What a friend...

I'm sitting at the dining room table, catching up on some work and trying to savor my cup of coffee.  There's no school today and I am steeling myself for the inevitable nonstop bickering between my kids.  The two oldest are up, playing in Noah's room until they migrate into their playroom.  I hear Noah, frustrated with the drawing activity on his Leapster, proclaim, "Zoe! I'm trying to draw you a Zebra but I just cant do it!"  You see, little brother knows his sister's favorite animal has always been a Zebra.  He's trying so hard to do something nice for her.  Zoe, with patience that would rival most adults, responds like this,"That's okay.  Maybe you should try to draw something you know how to draw, like a dog.  You draw great dogs."  Just like that, Noah's frustration melts away.

I marvel at the relationship my kids have with one another.  They bicker so much.  They yell, fight, sometimes hit (always an "accident" of course), and make one another cry more than any two people I know.   However, they also comfort, soothe, encourage, and support one another in ways that warm this mom's heart.  The picture below is one of my all time favorites.  I had been trying to get a good picture of the kids in their Fourth of July outfits.  Zoe was not feeling it.  She was upset and frustrated about something I obviously didn't understand.  Noah probably didn't understand either.  However, his reaction to his sister was different than that of an aggravated mother.  He grabbed her in a huge, genuine hug, and her reaction was just picture perfect.  With that act, that love he showed her, Noah was able to turn the day around for all of us.

Our church is in the middle of a sermon series on friendship so I've been thinking a lot about what makes a good friend.  Honestly folks, good friends are hard to come by.  There aren't always very many people with whom we feel completely comfortable around.  People that take us as we are, "wart's and all" and love us unconditionally.  People who are honest and loving at the same time.

Zach and I understand that the path we've chosen in life, being a pastor in the United Methodist Church, means that we will move probably more often than we will like.  I worry sometimes about how this lifestyle will affect our children.  Seeing moments like I witnessed this morning, my kids truly being each other's best friends, eases my heart somewhat.  I think we would all consider ourselves blessed indeed to have a friend like they have found in one another.

May we also take the time to consider, "How have I been a friend to someone lately."  What act of genuine love and support have you shown to someone recently?  I know I could take a lesson from my kids today.

Blessings to you and yours, thanks for reading.

FAQs, Bechtold style

Zach and I recently returned from a wonderful trip to celebrate our 10 year anniversary that will happen in September.  We have dubbed it our "tiniversary" since tin is the traditional gift for 10 years.  We have received alot of questions from friends and strangers about this trip that I thought I would address here.

1.  How could you afford to do this trip?  Or, the more common but less of a question: "Must be nice to be able to afford it."  Since Zach and I have been married we have only taken a handful of vacations.  Nearly all have been baseball related and the longest one we took was for three days.  We usually stay in questionable hotel accommodations and we watch every penny we spend.  Since we started planning our honeymoon, which was to Santa Fe, we agreed that for our ten year anniversary we would try and do something big.  So, about two years ago, we started planning.  We put back nearly every extra dollar we received, either through an unexpected job, or money we received at Christmas and birthdays.  In September we officially booked the cruise and we were able to make payments.  Our flights, which we also booked early, we used our tax refund to purchase.  That, coupled with my incredible "cheapness" enabled us to be able to afford this wonderful trip.  It wasn't luck, it was work and conscious effort on our parts to make sacrifices to be able to afford it.

2.  How could you leave your kids for that long?  It was hard, trust me.  I am grateful to have a wonderful set of in-laws who were able to watch our kids for that long.  There were many moments during our trip that I was racked with guilt and worry for leaving my kids.  We were also unable to be in contact with them much which made it harder.  However, with everything that our daily lives encompass: school, work, church, kids, family, etc., we needed this time together.  I loved the moments and experiences we were able to share together, Zach and I.  So many memories were made that are priceless.  Also, for someone like me, who has never been out of the country, I treasured this experience with travel.  I was able to check many things off my bucket list that at times, I was quite emotional about it.  I kept thinking, what if we had kept putting this trip off, to when we thought it was "more convenient" and maybe missed having this experience at all?

3.  What was your favorite part of the trip?  This is a tough one.  I asked Zach this question and he said that his was visiting Vatican City, more specifically St. Peter's Basilica.  He said, "It's amazing to think I'm standing on the same ground where many Popes have walked.  Where Peter was crucified."

There's Zach's feet, in the purple chucks, standing where the Pope has walked.

No doubt about it, that is cool.  As for the Basilica, no words can describe the beauty of that place.  You walk in and your jaw drops.  You think you know what to expect, but you just cant.

Seriously.

For me, it's hard to pin down the best moment.  Rome was awesome.  Malta and Sicily were amazingly beautiful.  I got to walk on the beach in Corsica.  The ship was lovely, the service was perfect, and the food divine.  What's not to love?

4.  What was your least favorite part of the trip?  Hands down it would be trying to find the hotel in Barcelona.  Here's a tip, don't try to save money when trying to get around a place like Barcelona, just go for the cab.  We went with a bus then the metro. Never again.  Taxi all the way.

5.  What cruise line did you go with?  We went with Royal Caribbean and I would highly recommend it.  We were on the Vision of the Seas which isn't a huge ship but large nonetheless.  The service was impeccable and we seriously have no complaints about anything about the ship.  

I mean, two desserts each!  What's not to love??

6.  Would you do it again? YES.  In fact, we would do this exact same cruise again.  There's so much to see in this world and a day at each of the ports was simply not enough.  The only thing we would change is we would like some friends or family to go with us and share the experience.  Not to mention, sometime our "selfies" were a little difficult to pull off and some willing hands to help us out with pictures would be nice.

See what I mean, that bleached out part behind us is the Trevi Fountain.

I'm going to begin now to save those dollars.  Who wants to join us?

Sunset view from the ship.

Taking control

As any mother of more than one child can attest to, your kids arguing with one another can be a major issue in your household.  If my oldest two children are in the same place for more than a minute, they are arguing.  Mostly it stems from my seven year old believing she knows everything and my four year old saying things just to make her mad.  I am constantly reminding Zoe that she cant control what others do, she can only control her reaction.  In frustration I'll lament,  "Why can't you just let it go?"  Obviously the sky isn't green, he's just saying that because he knows it makes her mad.  That's what little brothers do.  She has to be right, she has to set him straight, and the arguing continues until there are tears or I step in to separate them.

It's easy to get my mom voice and lecture my children about letting go of the little things and taking control of our own reactions.  It comes naturally to me to sit my daughter down and remind her that being right isn't the most important thing we can do.  When it comes to living what I teach, that's another matter.

I've been slapped by the realization that I have let certain people steal my joy.  I has hit with daunting clarity recently at a Bible Study that I have held on to criticisms I have received in the past, in some cases, the distant past, and it has colored the perception I have of myself and my ability to do certain things.  I have allowed those negative people and thoughts to define a part of who I am, or, at the very least, of who I think I am.  I have let my desire to be right in some instances damage my relationships with certain people.  I have done that, no body else. 

With new insight comes a new challenge.   How do I let go of years of hanging on to my bitterness?  How do I truly forgive, down in my heart, where it counts?  How do I refuse to let other people define me?

Friends, I honestly don't know, but I'm working on it.  Something that has helped me in ways I would never of guessed is to intentionally focus on the good in others.  I'm talking, everyone I come into contact with.  I try to think of something I admire about that person with every encounter.  By seeing something positive in other people, I'm more easily able to see the positive things within myself.  By focusing on a person's good quality, I'm less likely to get annoyed by the little things.  By trying to enjoy the presence of those I come into contact with, I find it easier to put myself into their shoes, to understand why they may say or do hurtful things.  By doing each of these things, I find it easier, in most cases, to voice my opinion without major conflict arising over differences.

My family, with Zach's guidance, has made a mantra of "Love God, Love others, reach out."  I remind my children that when we show love to others, especially those who annoy us or hurt us, we are truly showing love to God.  It's so hard sometimes, and sometimes it's even harder to love ourselves.  

I can not control others.  I can only control myself.  It's a daily challenge, one that I fail at constantly, but I pray daily to see change.  I pray that by through my actions, I am teaching my children what it means to LOVE, and that I someday, I can honestly say that I practice what I preach.

 I would love to hear from you on this topic.