Broken and Unqualified

Several years ago I sat facing Claudia, our women’s minister, with tears welling up, threatening to trickle down my face, making a mess of my mascara. Not a pretty sight to behold. The visit wasn’t what I expected. I had entered with an agenda in mind but received something entirely different.

For a few years, I had been involved in a women’s Bible study called Roof-Crashers, the name based on the Bible story in Luke 5 in which the friends crashed through the roof for the paralytic because they knew Jesus could heal him. I began as a participant, graduated to a table discussion facilitator, and most recently led the Connect team, which was created to provide a welcoming and warm environment for all attending the study. To say that I felt uncomfortable, inadequate and unqualified in these leadership roles is an understatement. Most of the time, I felt like a bunny living at the North Pole. Completely out.of.place.

The words that came from Claudia’s voice, however, were not those that questioned my ability, my talents, or my qualifications. She simply proclaimed, “You have leadership gifts. You are a leader. Will you help lead Roof-Crashers?”

I’d have turned up my hearing aids if I had any. Thoughts pinged in my brain like a pinball machine. What in the world is she talking about? Me, a leader? Me, lead Roof-Crashers, a Bible study of over 100 women? She must have me mixed up with someone else, because I wouldn’t even know what to do!

I would’ve looked around to locate the woman she was talking to, but I knew we were the only two in the office. What do you do with words that bring hope to a dying dream? Words that breathe life into a desire that was buried? Words that infuse soul into a subconsciously held belief that you nixed greater leadership opportunities due to a failed marriage? Let me tell you what happens.

You wake up from the lies the enemy has whispered to you. Oh, it’s not like I thought I was completely washed up or relegated to a bench warmer. It’s just that down deep in my heart, I figured that my failures limited my usability factor. After all, once people saw the big “D” on my sweater, they would fling me to the bin of botched break-ups, where I’d be relegated to behind the scene, second hand roles. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that, but I certainly couldn’t serve in any greater capacity. I imagined whispers behind my back. “Why is she leading when she’s been divorced? If she couldn’t make her marriage work, why should we listen to her? What right does she have to be in this leadership position?”

When Claudia looked at me, however, she didn’t envision my past failure and write me off as unusable. Instead, she perceived that which even I did not see and spoke it into existence like God calling the sun, moon and stars into being. Her voice invited me to take a position that I thought reserved for the faultless and flawless.

Yet, if we look at biblical history, Jesus chose the broken, battered and beaten down to carry His message of unfailing love. Because they experienced His forgiveness and mercy, they were perfect examples to the lost. Who better to tell the message of grace than the woman at the well with five previous husbands and a live in boyfriend, or the woman caught in the act of adultery? Their culture rebuffed and rejected them, but Jesus spoke life-giving words into their souls, and they were filled with hope.

It’s when we recognize our brokenness that Jesus can breathe life into those painful places, and we can be used to spread His light to others who need a resurrection. When we realize that leading anyone is not about reaching a state of perfection, but about God working in and through our messy lives to reach a broken world, we rise up in His strength and power—even when we don’t know what the heck we are doing! 

Our qualification to lead comes from Him calling us to use our broken pieces to summon the shattered to shine in a dark world.

In the middle of your muddled mess, let God renew your soul with His words of life to lead right where you are, right now!

photo credit: pedrosimoes7 via photopin cc

An Ordinary Day

It's Five Minute Friday once again where many of us write for 5 minutes straight...the word is ordinary:

Ready? Go!

Devastating words can turn an ordinary day upside down.

It was an ordinary day, an ordinary trip to Taco Bell for the girls in the office, an ordinary drive back—almost 16 years ago. Until I walked in the door. Until my co-worker said that the pastor wanted to see me. Until I stepped into his office where my husband sat waiting.

Why was he here? What was going on? Thoughts breezed through my head like wind whipping through the trees.

Then the painful, heartbreaking words flew out. Words that flipped an ordinary day into the hardest in a matter of seconds. Words that ripped deep into my soul and made me feel less than, not enough and definitely ugly. Words that overturned my marriage in one instant.

Oh, how I longed to return to an ordinary day.

Stop!

True!

Linking up with Lisa Jo today for Five Minute Friday. The word is 'true'. 

Ready…Set…GO!

“You’ll never be able to make a man happy.”

These words pierced my soul. After twelve years of marriage and two children, he slings these words like David flinging rocks at the giant Goliath. Not good enough. That’s what I hear.

Yet, I know these are not true. I know my God is enthralled with my beauty (Psalm 45:11). He calls me his masterpiece, his workmanship. I’m created for good works. These carelessly thrown words by a man no longer my husband are lies, all lies.

Yes, I know these are not true because the man I’ve been remarried to for over 13 years proves that to me every day.

“I love you,” he says.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m so thankful God brought you into my life.”

Satan wants us to believe lies, to doubt our value, to believe we are insignificant.

God, on the other hand, counteracts all of those lies when He calls us His treasures. Believe it, sister!

Stop!

The timer gonged, so the official 5 minutes of writing stopped. However, my thoughts continue to ruminate about this broken, painful time in my life.

Truth:

God brings beauty from ashes.

God has given me two beautiful children from a failed marriage.

God continues to work his forgiveness in me. It’s a Long.Hard.Process!

God gives me grace and compassion for others who are broken by life.

God is present in every storm.

God is able to do immeasurably more than I can think or imagine.

God restores what the enemy steals—joy, peace, life.

God is faithful when others betray us.

What I Want My Daughters to Know

I’m blessed with three amazing children, two of them daughters. While one is well on her way to life outside our home, one still remains in the nest. My hope is that I have taught and am teaching them these concepts. Some have been pulled from Lisa-Jo Baker’s blog; others are original.

1.       Jesus loves every single inch of you, inside and out. No.Matter.What!

2.       Who you are is more important than what you do.

3.       You bring more joy to my life than you can possibly comprehend.

4.       Nothing you tell me can make me stop loving you.

5.       No matter what you go through in life, God is always with you.

6.       Laugh a LOT.

7.       Forgive. Bitterness only hurts you.

8.       Put others first; yourself last.

9.       Chocolate is a necessity.

10.   Your body is yours. A delicious gift to be shared with your husband. I promise it’s worth waiting to unwrap together.

11.   Marriage is an act of courage, commitment and sacrifice. It’s also the most fun you’ll ever have with your best friend.

12.   Be the friend you wish you had.

13.   Real life is always better than online.

14.   I’m more interested in your growth than your happiness.

15.   We need each other.

16.   There’s no such thing as perfect.

17.   Always eat ice cream!

18.   Beauty is a state of mind, not a state of body.

19.   You can’t control what others think about you. Let it go.

20.   Honesty and truth are better than deception and lies.

21.   Home is not where we live but who we love.

22.   Sometimes we just need to cry.

23.   The best way never to worry about anyone gossiping about you is never to gossip about anybody.

24.   You can always come home.

25.   You’ll always be my baby girl.

This is not an exhaustive list of everything I desire to teach my girls. It’s such an immense job to tackle in this world that counteracts and undermines good values. And, where I’ve failed in so many areas, I pray that God fills in all the gaps!

What would you add to this list?

Break the Rules?

I’m a die-hard rule-follower who married a man who doesn’t read instruction manuals let alone follow rules religiously. Sometimes a little bitty conflict erupts due to this discrepancy between us.

A few years ago, Tony and I stayed the night in a small town in Indiana. Construction workers were remodeling an old hotel in French Lick, and Tony wanted to see the progress. As we drove down the street, we encountered one of those “danger, do not enter” signs. Tony ignored it and kept driving.

“Wait! We can’t drive down here. Didn’t you see that sign?” I asked.

“Sure, but it’s ok. No one’s going to stop us!”

“Yeah, but we are breaking the rules. We aren’t supposed to drive beyond the sign! Turn around!” I’m panicking, looking around for the swarm of police that are surely waiting around the bend to arrest us.

“It’s fine, Annette. Nothing’s going to happen.” Tony keeps driving towards the palatial hotel ahead.

“Turn around, Tony. We are NOT supposed to be here!” I’m waiting for someone to pounce on us like a cat on a mouse. A gargantuan hotel rises before us, but I can’t appreciate it; I’m too concerned about the trouble we are about to face.

“Wow! Look at that hotel. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure. Can we get out of here before someone finds us?”

My risk-taking, adventurous, non-rule follower turns around with a sigh and drives away, my panic ruining the experience. It turns out that we weren’t arrested nor were we mauled by the construction mafia. No one even seemed to care that we took a drive down a do not enter lane. Just this uptight, bossy firstborn!

I struggle with this extreme bent in other ways as well. Frequently, I carry this over to my relationship with God in the form of a checklist. Read my Bible—check. Pray—check. Journal—check. The problem with this is two-fold. If I miss reading Scripture one day, I heap guilt on myself. On the other hand, when I consistently read, journal and pray, I puff with pride. Crossing the Bible off my checklist, following the “rules,” becomes the goal instead of growing in my relationship. When I trade in the rules for a relationship, I’m released from duty and drudgery to love and freedom.  God desires me to experience all that He has for me out of love not law, desire not duty, passion not pressure.

In my little adventure with Tony, I missed enjoying the beauty of the old, restored hotel because I was too focused on the rules. And while rules are absolutely vital to smooth running households, schools, communities and governments, maybe it’s okay to—every once in awhile—enjoy the moment. Love, not my list, should draw me to my Creator.

A Horrible Habit

Recently, my husband and I were enjoying lunch at Chili’s with our daughter Maddie. I was wearing my “Gripes Be Gone” bracelet which I created in my “Married to Me” study. These highly sophisticated pieces of elastic string containing three beads symbolize my husband and me with God in the center. Each time I complained, whined or griped, I snapped the bracelet against my wrist, a stinging reminder of my lack of self-control. Our waitress’ chatter was a little over the top. After making a cutting remark to Tony about it, I looked down at my bracelet and snapped it.

Tony asked, “What’s that?” Reluctantly, I explained my lovely new jewelry piece. He laughed knowing the impossibility of this device to take captive my complaints. He asked to borrow my bracelet. Wrapping it around 3 fingers, he stated, “This booth has a really bad odor,” and snapped it. I laughed. Whether Tony was attempting to identify with my dilemma or poke fun, the reality is that a bracelet isn’t capable of delivering me from caustic complaining.

Many of us have developed bad habits that have been deemed acceptable among Christian women. We gripe about our husbands, our children, our jobs and our busyness. We complain about slow service, critique sermons and criticize a person’s clothes or imperfect parenting. Philippians 2:14-15 states, “Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure…” 

That little word, “everything,” is tripping me up, how about you?! God wants me to use my words to bless, to encourage, to lift up others. James 3:10-11 says, “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My (sisters), this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?” If we are to be a blessing to others in our homes and our community, we must use our words wisely. We have a choice: we can shut our mouths when we don’t have anything good to say or snap bracelets leaving marks on our wrists and in other’s hearts. Let’s be different than the culture in which we live!

Lying Out of Love

I’ve been lying profusely for the last 6 months. Deceit and duplicity have been my modus operandi, and it’s about killed me. Still, the end does justify the means occasionally, right? And, in this case, my siblings and I collaborated together in an effort to conceal a surprise 50^th anniversary party for my parents. We felt compelled to go to confession for our sin, only we aren’t Catholic.

Since October, we’ve been consorting for this big day, hoping that our parents would remain clueless until the event. Though the official anniversary date is March 24, we planned the party for April knowing they’d never expect it. Sure enough, disappointment donned for mom as she realized that ‘alas, no one was planning a family thing.’ She was a trooper, however, and attempted to sound happy with a short trip to Victoria, Canada with the love of her life for 50 years. But, we knew better. We knew she really desired a shindig with friends and family, party favors and program, catering and cake. After all, her picture is in the dictionary under the word “party.”

So, we planned, plotted and prepared via email, text and voice over a distance of 2250 miles. Since none of us live in Olympia, Washington where my parents live, we schemed with a close friend of the family who became our liaison and partner in crime. Somehow in all the scurrying and sneaking, no one slipped the surprise occasion, which is a miracle itself.

In order to insure our parents would be at the right place at the right time, my brother-in-law faked a “repair” trip to work on some coffee machines in Olympia and asked them to meet for lunch on party day. The day before the event, I flew from Bloomington to Seattle, staying at my brother’s house an hour from party central.  The morning of, we descended on the room in full force, transforming it with glittering ribbon, white tablecloths and golden balloons.

Unfortunately, the elegance of the room would be discounted by the entertainment prepared for the event. We elected to perform in typical Weston fashion, which involved a homemade skit and songs poking fun in the nicest of ways. After all, this is what we Weston’s do. An occasion of any kind is fodder for us to roast our family members like a pig over a spit. Thus, one must be thick-skinned and hard-shelled, like an army vehicle. Anyone who marries into the family must practically sign a pre-nup agreeing “to endure skits and/or songs on various momentous occasions which poke fun, laugh at or ridicule your personality.” It sounds more horrifying than it is. In my dad’s case, it usually involves mile high boxes of Kleenex razzing his sentimental weepy side during Hallmark movies or Little House on the Prairie.  In my situation, it normally involves some sort of reference to my multitude of blond moments. However, our performances are produced in love, and in our sick Weston humor, we understand this.  

As the clock ticked closer to the marked time, excitement grew like birds clamoring around a feeder. A few guests arrived, and then…the guests of honor arrived.  Ten minutes early.  Unwelcome early. And, this too is typical for mom and dad. We should have known they would arrive unfashionably early. Yet, even though most of the guests arrived after they did, they were stunned, surprised, shocked. They finally noticed me, daughter from Indiana, from more than halfway across the United States standing in front of them, and they were almost speechless. “How did you get here?” they asked.

“Plane, you know. Yesterday.” I had purposely called mom the day before, giving her my phony plans for the weekend, throwing her off track, just in case. Now, I was standing in front of my parents, thankful their hearts seemed to be healthy. Today’s surprise wasn’t going to necessitate a trip to the E.R. for heart attacks.

Mom and dad’s faces conveyed the adage “a picture is worth a thousand words.” Their faces truly said it all…joy, smiles, love. I’m not sure that I’ve ever anticipated an event so much in my life thus far. The excitement of going to Disneyland can’t begin to compare to the anticipation of this gift of honoring my parents for 50 years of marriage they’ve worked desperately hard to grow with prayer, commitment and love. To give back to two people who have given everything to their children and grandchildren, who have left a legacy of commitment through all kinds of circumstances, was worth the months of secrecy and sneakiness. I guess you could say I lied out of love…

A Lasting Legacy

“Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain.” Psalm 127:1

The young couple met in high school and began a cycle of dating and break ups.  I’ve lost track how many.  He was a grade ahead than she and graduated from Breo-Olinda High School in 1959.  They finally stopped breaking up and tied the knot March 24, 1961.  Their old high school has since been torn down and rebuilt elsewhere in the town of Brea paving the way for city expansion on that hallowed ground where they first met. And, while the old B-O gymnasium where she watched him play basketball is history, their marriage of 50 years is still standing.

It’s a miracle, really. I’m sure they’d both admit it. Dad’s parents died when he was a young boy, leaving him an orphan bouncing between relatives. Aside from his older brother by 10 years, he had no significant father figure in his life to show him how to be a man, a strong family leader. Mom’s family was dysfunctional. With an alcoholic father and a mom who managed to hold the family together, she also didn’t have a great picture of family life. And, while both families had respect for God, they didn’t claim to live for Him. So, with a shaky foundation, they began their life together…young and in love.

They could’ve been a divorce statistic, but they’re not. A few years and a couple of kids into their married life, mom was introduced to Jesus and decided He was worth following. Dad saw Billy Graham on television one night and made the same decision. They began a legacy like Ruth did turning her back on her Moab roots and following Naomi’s God. Dad and mom moved out of California to the foreign land of Oregon to raise their family. They never looked back, and it’s made all the difference in their marriage, their kids and their grandchildren.

I’m not saying they didn’t struggle. They fussed and fought, bickered and battled. Months and sometimes years of striving ensued. I would hear their fighting from my downstairs bedroom and fear divorce. I know I didn’t understand all that was occurring. Perhaps financial strain and my dad’s traveling a lot at the time contributed to the tension. Other times stand out in my memory as desperate attacks from the enemy to destroy my parent’s marriage.  In spite of all the torment during those horrible times, my parent’s stuck together like glue. They arose from that period of time like David after killing Goliath.  Through those challenging times, their marriage became unshakeable, impenetrable, indestructible.

Lest you form a picture in your mind of all war and no peace, that is not the case. I simply do not desire to deceive you with 50 years of wedded bliss. Foremost in my growing up years, however, are portraits of my parent’s love and affection for each other. They hugged and kissed each other everyday, much to my chagrin. “Oooh, gross,” the three of us would say. Those three little words, ‘I love you,’ were shared between them each day. They were nuts about each other and made sure we knew it. Their relationship was always first. Commitment to staying married through the ebbs and flows of love became their goal. With their unstable family history, they placed preeminence on building a Godly foundation in their marriage. No examples from the past to follow, they began a legacy of Christian values for their family. Like the pioneers who traversed the west conquering winter elements, gigantic mountains and fierce enemies, they persevered paving the way for those of us who follow them.

How grateful I am for this shining example in my life. In a world that dumps marriage as easily as dinner leftovers, my parent’s marriage stands as a beacon of hope for those who persist despite the odds. I, too, want to be counted in that esteemed group who love, cherish and honor their spouse through thick and thin, babies and teens, gray and bald. You go, mom and dad, we’re right behind you, following in your footsteps!

“May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.” Proverbs 5:18