Our Thanks Giving Tree

Entitlement poisons thankfulness.

A wise friend who works for my favorite homeless shelter reminded me of this last week, but I see it so often at home as well. Living with a tween who's barely off the streets herself, but already expecting to have everything handed to her on a silver platter, proves this time and again.

Fortunately, if entitlement poisons thankfulness, the reverse is also true; gratitude is the antidote for entitlement. This year, we found Ann Voskamp's idea of a Thanks Giving Tree and started fighting that entitlement bug in our home by giving more credit to the Giver of all good gifts.

Each leaf holds a scripture about Thanks on one side, leaving plenty of room on the other to ruminate about specific things you want to appreciate more.

Throughout the month, like most of you, we've been a little more intentional about bringing the positive to the forefront of our minds.

We made leaves for all the obvious things we love so much like our dog Ruby, the Bulos (my parents), and all our wonderful family. "Church" is a simple one that would have made the obvious list for Jon or me, but it was a little more surprising hearing Angie suggest it, as it took us an entire year to get her plugged in, and she'd still rather stay home most Sundays. 

It was also music to our ears to hear her share such ideas as being able to talk to a God who hears us, and that we're part of the Kingdom of God.

Angie's very first leaf said that she's thankful to have a family now who doesn't hit her. If it would have fit on the paper she would have added that she wishes every kid could have a family who is nice to them. That girl has a heart of gold sometimes.

As this is my first Thanksgiving in four years in the States, I'm so thankful for food. God could have created manna to provide all our nutritional needs, but instead He gave us turkey, potatoes, pie, and ice cream, because He loves us that much.

I so appreciate cold weather and snow, with the contrasting warmth of slippers, a fireplace, and blankets.

I'm grateful for our little Angelica. Even though she doesn't always fit her Angel namesake, she holds a grudge more loosely than her momma, and she's willing to overlook my shortcomings faster than I see past her flaws. She may not act like the sweet cherubic "Angels" we hear so much about this season, but she brings me closer to Christ, in both the sweet moments and the trying ones, so what more could I ask for.

I praise God for my main man, who not only puts up with my crazy-passionate, justice-seeking side, my task-oriented, go-getter attitude, and all my other differences, but he embraces them. He balances me, complements me, and tempers me. I couldn't have chosen a better match to do life with.

I recognize, and love, that they are both quick to forgive me and show me so much grace.

And while we're fighting entitlement, my guys at Jefferson Street shelter help me with that regularly. This year, we enjoyed our Thanks Giving Tree so much that we decided to share them with our friends downtown for their Thanksgiving meal. 

 I pray that today, as they're struggling to stay warm and dry outside, that the scripture on the leaf they took with them from dinner last night reminds them to give thanks in all circumstances, and helps them focus on the positive with us. No matter how bleak our situation, when we set our mind on things above and give thanks for the abundance Christ lavishes on us all, the outlook gets a little brighter and His love starts to seep out of our pores like the aromas of a Thanksgiving meal baking in the kitchen...

"Enter His gates with thanksgiving; go into His courts with praise.

    Give thanks to Him and praise His name." -Psalm 100:4

5 Things That Would Make the World a Better Place

Have you all noticed that every article these days is a list?! 10 Things Every Woman Should Know, or 7 Ways to Be the Best Husband, or 27 Tips that Will Change Your Life Forever. Not only is the "list" phenomenon taking over my news feed, but the titles are always grandiose statements claiming impossible feats. 

Well you know me, I can't miss out on a trend. Wait, no, that must be someone else. But I do have quite a few bloggable ideas swimming around in my head, and none are alone worthy of a post, so I thought I'd try jumping on this bandwagon. I'm going a little rogue though, in that I don't actually have a theme for my top five list, so I'm pulling them all together with my very opinionated over the top title. 

Here's what God's been showing me lately.

1.You get to choose your attitude.  
Your reaction, your response, even your emotion are all in your power.

I tell Angie she doesn't have to be a perfectionist, she doesn't have to be lazy. She thinks these words are spoken into being, without an antidote. What's done is done. When we've called her a perfectionist or lazy, she assumed it was like us telling her she has black hair or brown skin, it is written. So, now I have to use my words to undo what my other words have done. "You can choose not to be lazy, you can choose to get out of bed before my fifth wake up call." 

I want her to stop repeating that she's lazy and keep telling me "I'm a Cookie Smart," like she did yesterday when she figured something out on her own. She quickly realized she meant "Smart Cookie" but it was priceless to hear her repeat my positive words instead of my negativity.

I need to speak words into myself as well. My short temper is not inborn like my hazel eyes. My low frustration threshold is not an excuse. Instead of telling my husband that's just the way I am, and expecting him to adjust accordingly, I can change.

Someone in our small group last night said she'd heard, "We choose to stress." 

Hmmmmm....

Yesterday, between the hours of 3:00pm and 8:00pm I had 4 hours of homework to walk Angie through, a Grand Opening at Jefferson Street Baptist Center (my favorite homeless hangout), Ange's basketball practice, dinner to cook for my family, dinner to prepare and take to the neighbors who have a new baby, and our young married couples' small group to attend. 

If stress is defined as "pressure or tension exerted on a material object" then I don't think I created that tension, I think it was exerted on me as I was pulled in 17 directions. 

The second definition, however, is "a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances." The ensuing headache also seemed outside of my control, but my reaction and my emotions were within my power. I could have made better choices about my tone of voice, my patience, my priorities, and avoided apologizing to Angie and Jon later.

Take your thoughts captive. Breathe deep. Then choose a mantra or say a breath prayer: 

Refuse to Worry

Give Thanks Not Anger

Love Casts Out Fear

Inhale-Jesus, Exhale-Grace

What are some of yours?

2. You can only think one thought at a time.
Replace your negative thoughts.

Pink Elephant. Try to stop thinking about a pink elephant. Go. 

Red Dog. If you successfully stopped thinking about pink elephants it's because you replaced the image with something else, a red dog perhaps, or something of your own volition if you recognized the need to focus on an alternative.  

Why don't we do this with our emotions as well?

Ann Voskamp says, "You can only have one emotion at a time." You can't feel anger and gratitude at once. You choose. It seems like a pretty clear choice if you put it that way, doesn't it? There may be five things to be upset about at this moment, but I guarantee you have 100 things to be grateful for. Maybe you have a whole pile of things to worry about, to-do lists to stress over, real dangers to fear, but what if you took inventory of gifts to thank God for... Could the second list be longer? Could you focus more energy on that list than the first?

What's stealing your joy? Grief, guilt, rage, anxiety, fear?

Take it back. Choose joy. Choose peace. Choose love, thanksgiving, good. Meditate on the fruit of the Spirit. Store up these things in your heart.

3. It does no good to choose your path, if your heart's not in it.

Submission. 

I mentioned in my last post my snide remarks and sarcasm about this interminable hunting season. Somehow I think I thought I was respecting my husband by not throwing down ultimatums about his hobby. I doubt there's a book out there on respecting your man that recommends under-your-breath remarks as a way to bolster his ego. Do you ever hear the words coming out of your mouth as if you're another person? If only I could get that outside perspective--hear the lasting reverberations of my statements--before they're spoken. Then maybe I'd make better choices. 

Jon wants to go to Florida for Thanksgiving to see some of his family. I'm not entirely sure 28 hours in the car with the child asking if we're there yet, is going to put me in a thankful mood. But he spends loads of time with my family so I haven't put up a huge fuss about the idea. Last night, I was talking to someone on the phone about how I'm going to miss the Jefferson Street Baptist Center Thanksgiving meal 'cause we'll be on the road to FL, and I threw in some half-sardonic explanation about submission. Again I heard myself too late. Submission's probably kinda like humility, if you're telling people you've got it down, maybe you don't.

That's not to say I'm ready to filter all of my commentary or completely curtail my snarkiness, but I'm about ready to quit kidding myself that I'm truly submitting or being respectful. Seems like I'm on the right track at least.

4. No one controls you, but you.
He didn't make you mad. She didn't stress you out.  

If you're a parent, you've learned/are learning that you don't control your kids. So, why don't we carry that thought into our adult lives and realize others don't control us. Our circumstances don't control us.

From an 11 year-old the logic seems so clearly flawed, "Mom, why do you keep making me angry?!" "I couldn't help it, she made me mess up." "He distracted me." 

As grown-ups we're no better. We constantly blame our situation and our surroundings. "That made me upset." "Why did you make me do that?" "If you hadn't done that I wouldn't have..." "I don't want to yell all the time, but when you don't listen..." No wonder our kids do it. Until we're accountable for our actions, why would they be?

It's about time we take back control of our lives. Responsibility for our attitudes. Rein in our hearts. Make healthy choices.

And while we're at it, how 'bout we take charge of our wardrobes...

5. Yoga Pants are for yoga. 

(I just had to throw this one in there, because it really might make the world a better place)

If they were for the airport, they'd be called Airport Pants. But they're not. They're not Grocery Store Pants, or Shopping Mall Pants, definitely not Church-Going Pants, or even Coffee Shop Pants. If you're not on your way to the yoga studio, or actually on the mat, cover up your bum! Yeah, you're butt looks good, that's the point, my husband doesn't want to see that, and if you're married, I'm hoping you're husband doesn't want my husband to see that either. Come on ladies let's look out for one another here. 

This Thanksgiving replace your spandex with denim and we'll all be grateful. 

But seriously friends, "Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus." -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

-Thoughts inspired by Jimmy Evans, Ann Voskamp, Danny Silk, Dave Stone, and Jesus Christ

-If this post sounds like it wasn't written for you, you're right, I'm the one who needed to write it, to process it, and to live it.

Hunting for Unity

Ladies (and gentlemen you might be able to help too), I need some advice. My husband and I are VERY different. Have any of you struggled with this?  Better yet, has anyone found the cure??

This weekend, Mary McDonald and I had a CVM booth at the Global Missions Health Conference where some 2,500 medical professionals from all over joined to plan our strategy for changing the world. Seriously, at one point, I looked down our aisle of the exhibit hall and saw dozens of conversations going on between people who want to use medicine to transform lives, to save lives, and to bring Life. I was awe-struck to experience so much power for good in one place. Worshipping with thousands of voices on-fire for Christ was so incredible that a 60 year-old veterinarian friend of ours said "Hurry, I don't want to miss one song!" as if he were a 16 year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

These two sweet ladies came all the way from Korea just for the conference! 

As veterinarians, it was our first time to join this meeting of world changers, but our differences in species preference did not stop us from making all sorts of neat connections. Like a medical surplus supplies company who plans to hook us up with some donated medical supply for our missionaries, or a company that makes hand-crank rough-terrain wheelchairs who I'm hooking up with my friends at Kupenda for disabled children in Africa.

Nanse nearly blew a gasket just reading our sign!

We also made some great friends, like this vet tech who's been studying Mongolia for decades, and looking for an organization just like ours for almost as long. Nanse-->CVM-->Mongolia = God at work!

A Kenya Relief booth had drawings for banana-leaf art handmade by one of their workers in Africa. When I got the call that I'd won this one-of-a-kind piece, I was a little hesitant to accept it, since I'm still holding out hope that we won't always be a "House Divided."  But maybe that's not the right attitude...

You see I'm struggling with division, dissension, let's be honest--selfishness, because it's hunting season. It feels like it may always be hunting season from here on out. I haven't asked when it ends, as snide remarks seep out of me as involuntarily as Carbon Dioxide whenever the topic is broached. And even if it does end, I predict it will return to haunt me annually. No matter how many times the deer population is "controlled" it's never enough. Reminiscent of our yearly trips to Mexico to spay and neuter dogs and cats, which would provoke questions about the success of our surgeries if we had to keep returning to sterilize the pet population again... Wait a minute! Vet friends, we could start a deer sterilization clinic!! Have any of you castrated a buck?

Okay, I get it, there's more to hunting than just population control. But don't expect me to understand why my husband lathers himself in deer urine, leaves the house hours before he would even consider setting his alarm for anything else, and goes to sit in a tree alone from dawn till dusk without making a sound, to participate in a "sport" where only one of the opponents knows he's playing. If you ask me, bow hunting's not more sportsmanlike, it would only be sportsmanlike if they both only used what God gave them; antlers vs. opposable thumbs.

What I do need to understand, however, is how to support this madness. Or at least how to stay happily married in spite of it. Suggestions?  Here's what I've tried:

• Telling him how it makes me feel when projects are left undone around the house while he's playing in the woods
• Sarcasm and bitterness
• Suggesting an alternating-year hunting schedule so we can take turns resenting each other
• More snide remarks
• Resignation
• Getting up to make him coffee and lunch at 5am

As always, it looks like Jesus had it right, and He's just giving me yet another opportunity to practice...

"With humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus" -Philippians 2:4-5

Fortunately, my uncle gave us tickets to the UofL basketball game this Friday, so if I can't get him out of camo, at least I can get him into some Cardinal Red!

From a Yellow Fuzzy Ball to a Big Orange One

Since Angie brought home this beauty on Sunday, naming her the Runner-up for her division of the Jefferson County Middle School Tennis league, we've been transitioning to basketball. Meaning she played, 5 tennis matches from Friday-Sunday, and then her first basketball game Monday. Busy, busy!

Angie's not quite ready to devote her life to tennis {sigh}, so she wanted to join the basketball team. After a few practices that seemed to be growing longer each day, there was a Parent Meeting, where they informed us that our sixth graders would be conditioning from 3:30-5pm and practicing from 5-7pm Monday through Friday. Note the italics, yes they're sixth graders, not professional athletes. Don't pull out your calculator, I already did the math = 17.5 hours of practice per week. This was a stark contrast to the middle school tennis season where there was one single practice, which was rained out before it began. It was also a contrast to my college sports days where hours like that were reserved for preseason two-a-days. We discussed it, slept on it, prayed about it, considered the insanity of not seeing our child between the hours of 7am and 7pm Monday-Friday, and called the coach to quit. However, we didn't get very far. As there are only 5 girls on the team, it turns out we have quite a bit of pull, since our child's participation is vital to their season. It's also possible the athletic director saw a lawsuit coming. So they cut practices down to 6 hours/week. Intense, but manageable. 

Which one of these is not like the other? (Hint: Pink)

At the same parents' meeting they asked us parents if we wanted the kids shoes to match, to which of course none of us responded, because we couldn't care less, and we didn't have time as the kids were all screaming "YES!" in unison like their lives depended on it. So, to appease the kids without startling the parents after the sticker-shock of the uniform price tags we'd just seen, the coaches told us they'd do a fundraiser. "Okay, whatev, if you're paying for them my kid can wear moon boots to games," we thought.

Until we got an email two days later with this picture:

...and this price tag - $80 (marked down from $129)! Apparently, the fundraiser consisted of sending the parents an email to solicit the funds for these stylin' Nikes. (My 11 year-old does not need more expensive shoes than I've ever worn in my life!)

After many teachable moments with Ange about sponsor children, homeless ministries, missionaries, and ways we choose to use our money to help others, our kiddo remains the only poor ostracized sixth grader with $7 shoes from Wal-Mart. I'm sure this is building character, not resentment, right?

 

We were shocked to learn that they charge $5 to get into middle school girls' basketball games, Jon actually asked, "Even for parents?" to which the ticket lady's snarky glance silently replied, "Who else would be here?!" And don't expect popcorn. But if you really want to get back to the basics this is the place to be. I'm pretty sure there were more "double dribbles" than single dribbles, and possibly more air balls than bank shots.

Angie shooting free throws; look at the height she can get in her $7 sneakers!

Speaking of height, check out the refs they're hiring these days! You'd think they could afford some full-size dudes as steep as the price of admission is running.

I snapped approximately 759 shots of this mini-fella.  #obsessedwiththecuteness

The game got off to a slow start, no scoring in the first quarter. But after the opposing team hit a three to warm-up the scoreboard, we answered with an uncontested 31 points. Final score: 31-3! Don't worry we played our entire bench, there are only 5 of them...we have no bench.

Morals of the story friends -- if the coach wants your child to play 17 bazillion hours of bball a week and wear shoes that cost more than the space station you don't have to give in. However, if your kid wants to be a referee at the age of the 3, you should let him, 'cause it might just make some parent's day!