Seriously

  • People who will see me with bad hair

    About a week ago I mentioned my upcoming trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion.

    And since then I realized I will need to absentee vote in the Presidential elections.

    I’ve never been good with dates.

    I’m sure other people thought of that immediately, but it didn’t dawn on me until I heard someone refer to election day on November 4 and I was all like “November 4? Where am I going to be November 4? That date means something for some reason.”

    Oh yes. I’ll be out of the country.

    No watching hours of endless media speculation and early projections for me.

    I can honestly say I’m not even sad about it. Just let me know what happens when it’s all over.

    Anyway, the point is that I wanted to tell y’all who else will be on the trip with me so you’ll know who else will be early voting.

    1. Mary at Owlhaven. I’m so excited Mary is going because I’ve read her blog for years and just love her. She has ten kids of her own and I’m hoping she might temporarily adopt me while we’re in the Dominican.

    2. Jennifer at 5 Minutes for Mom. I’ve emailed with Jennifer since I started my blog because we are both Aggies, even though she has the great misfortune of living up north right now. But we share a love of Kyle Field, the Dixie Chicken, and Double Daves pizza rolls.

    3. Marlboro Man at Pioneer Woman and his two daughters. I feel certain that most of you know who Marlboro Man is because over a gazillion and a half people read his wife’s blog. I think we’ll have a lot in common because I sometimes see cows as I drive down the road and he is a cattle rancher.

    4. Tim at Challies.com and his son. Tim is Canadian so he won’t be early voting.

    Our fearless leaders will be Shaun Groves and Brian Seay.

    There may be a few last minute additions to the group, so I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, we’d all appreciate your prayers as we begin to prepare for the trip.

  • Up in the air

    Okay, so I wrote this yesterday on the plane, but the thing about being a gazillion feet in the air and flying over a desert is that there is no wireless connection. However, all this holds true today except the part about actually sitting on a plane.

    I’m sitting on the plane on my way home from Las Vegas.

    Oh yes, I have become quite the jet setter.

    Unfortunately, I made a critical error and didn’t check in until I arrived at the airport, which placed me way down in the dregs of category B boarding. As I walked on the plane, I searched frantically for an aisle seat because, hello, claustrophobia issues.

    Much to my dismay I now find myself seated next to some people who apparently indulged in too much Indian cuisine and adult beverages last night. The smell of scotch and curry is thick.

    I’m not worried that they are reading this over my shoulder though because it’s safe to say they are out for the duration of the flight.

    So now I’m just sitting here, breathing through my mouth, listening to some Christmas music because my iPod is on shuffle and it found its way to some holiday tunes. Who knew Christmas music could be so enjoyable in early September?

    Oh, iPod. You know me better than I know myself.

    Anyway, it was a great weekend in Vegas. I arrived around noon on Friday and Sophie picked me up at the airport.

    We checked into our hotel and then immediately went in search of Mexican food because that is what we do. The concierge recommended a place called Lindo Mihoacan and the only reason I know how to spell it is because I still have the receipt from lunch. I couldn’t pronounce the name right now if you offered me a $106.

    It was the first time I have ever been in a Mexican restaurant that didn’t know what I was talking about when I tried to order chips and queso. I was frightened for my palate.

    I mean I once ate at a Mexican restaurant in Wisconsin and was able to order queso, which, granted, Wisconsin is the cheese capitol of the U.S. but still as far away from Mexico as one can get.

    Which probably explains why the restaurant was called Charlie O’Brien’s Cantina.

    The point is we ate a queso-less lunch, but did have some decent guacamole so all was not lost.

    After lunch we hit the strip and played the slots for the next 24 hours.

    Oh sure. Like we’d have that many quarters.

    We spent most of the weekend at the Deeper Still event and it was incredible. Over the next week, we’ll be putting a lot of video and pictures up over at the Allaccess blog if you want to check it out.

    You know, the last two years of my life have brought some huge changes. I resigned from my job and we became a single income family, which is a tricky proposition when that single income is based on a business that comes with seasonal fluctuations. I have been stretched and challenged in ways I couldn’t have imagined and have had my share of nights where I’ve been awake at 3 a.m. wondering how things would ever work out.

    But in the midst of all that have come some of the biggest blessings of my life. I’ve seen God provide for our family in ways I couldn’t have imagined. After years of feeling trapped in a job that never felt quite right, I’m getting to do something that I enjoy.

    And yes, there are still days and circumstances that are a struggle, where I still feel like I’m being pushed way beyond my comfort zone. I’m still learning to walk by faith and not by sight, which is hard for a semi-recovering control freak.

    But like Priscilla Shirer said on Friday night, the purpose of the journey isn’t necessarily to get us to the Promised Land, but to get us to draw closer to God.

    I find myself more drawn to Him than I’ve ever been in my life because He is where I find my provision. He is where I find my strength. There have been so many times in the last two years that life just hasn’t seemed to make sense unless I look at it through eyes of faith.

    I’ve spent a lot of time lately worrying about what will happen or what won’t happen, and I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this once or eight hundred times, but I’m not a big fan of change.

    But that’s life. It’s about change and it’s about trusting Him in the midst of those changes.

    Even if some of them are as jarring as going from Travis Cottrell singing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” on your iPod to being blasted with “Mary, Mary” by Run D.M.C.

    On Friday night, Priscilla shared this verse from Job 42:5, “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.”

    By the grace of God, my eyes are learning to see. To really see Him.

    Oh that they would see Him more.

  • For the least of these

    My friend A.J. returned home last week after spending the entire summer in Africa. She is an incredibly talented photographer and is using her gift to create a photography book to help the orphaned and vulnerable children in Zambia.

    A.J. has spent the last two years raising money for this project and all proceeds from “Lahema’s Legacy” will go directly to helping the Zambian children.

    Did I mention that she’s 25 years old?

    I won’t bore you with what I was doing at 25, but rest assured that it wasn’t something as unselfish as spending three months in a foreign country to benefit the less fortunate.

    You can read all about A.J.’s summer by visiting the Lahema’s Legacy blog. It starts with the most recent post, so you’ll want to scroll down to the bottom and read from there.

    Oh and here’s a picture of Caroline in a dress that A.J. brought her from Africa. I have a feeling it’s going to be worn to Kindergarten before it’s all said and done.

    img_5206.jpg

    Anyway, the point is that A.J.’s dedication to telling these kid’s stories has inspired and challenged me.

    Last year, Compassion contacted me and asked if I would be interested in going to Uganda with a group of bloggers, including Shannon and Sophie.

    Obviously, I didn’t go. There were a lot of reasons why it just didn’t seem to be the right thing at that time.

    Then earlier this summer I received an email from Shaun Groves from Compassion asking if I’d be interested in going to the Dominican Republic in November.

    I said no.

    But then some cool things happened which made it clear I was supposed to go.

    So now I’m going.

    I’ll be in the Dominican Republic from November 2-7 to see what Compassion is doing there and how we can make a difference in these children’s lives.

    I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m ready.

    And I can’t wait to tell y’all about every minute of it.

  • Name

    I’ve had all these things in my head for the last two weeks, but haven’t been able to figure out how to write it all out. Of course being doped up on Benadryl and Zyrtec all weekend probably didn’t help matters.

    Anyway, I’m just going to type it all out on the computer and resist my urge to delete the entire thing for fear that it will only make sense to me and the rest of you will read it while shaking your head and thinking “What?”.

    A couple of weeks ago, I watched Steven Curtis Chapman and his family being interviewed on “Good Morning America” and “Larry King Live”.

    Honestly, part of me didn’t want to watch because the whole story has just broken my heart. The tragic death of a five-year-old girl hits really close to home when you’re the mother of a five-year-old girl.

    But I watched anyway.

    One thing that came up in both interviews that brought tears to my eyes each time I heard it was when Steven Curtis Chapman said someone later told him that as he was being driven away in the car to get to the hospital where his daughter had just been Life-flighted he rolled down the window and yelled to his devastated son, “Will Franklin! Your father loves you!”

    I cried because it is such an incredible picture of how much a parent loves a child. That even in the midst of all that tragedy, he made sure his son knew that he was loved.

    But even more than that, I cried because, for the first time, I realized that is how God loves me. How many times have I been crushed by my fears, my failures, my disappointments? How many times have I doubted, questioned, and wondered why things aren’t working out the way I want them to?

    He whispered to my heart and let me know that in all those times, when I have been at my lowest points and at my highest points, He has looked at me and said, “Melanie! Your father loves you!”

    This shouldn’t be a new revelation to me. But it was.

    When I think back to my childhood, I don’t remember hearing much about God’s grace. I’m not saying it wasn’t being taught, it just never really sunk in. Maybe I heard one too many flannel-board Sunday school stories about Sodom and Gomorrah.

    Whatever the case, I have struggled with grasping God’s mercy and grace. I struggle with how He can love me so much when I so often feel like I’ve failed. And at the heart of that is a trust issue. Do I trust that His love is stronger than my failures? Can His grace cover my flaws? Do I trust that He wants to pour out blessings on me that I don’t deserve, but He gives them anyway because that’s how much He loves me?

    Two days after I watched the Chapman interview, I went in Borders to buy a new book for our beach trip. I looked around and had a couple of different choices in my hand, but then I saw “The Shack” on a display shelf. I knew it was the book I was supposed to buy.

    I’d heard great things about it, but had purposely not read it because I knew the story begins with a tragedy involving a young girl. I just didn’t know if I could stand to read it.

    I mean, I am the same person who spent the first six months of her daughter’s life watching only two things, “I Love the 70’s” on Vh-1 and “Little Women”. It was all my raw heart could bear.

    So I put down my copy of “Such a Pretty Fat” by Jen Lancaster (which I still really want to read by the way) and bought “The Shack”.

    It was the right choice. I couldn’t put it down.

    At one point early on in the book, the main character experiences his first real encounter with God. And at that moment God picks him up, spins him around like a little child while shouting his name “Mackenzie Allen Phillips!”.

    Tears.

    After I read it I couldn’t get the image out of my head that God sees me that way, that He feels that way about me. That I am His child and He longs to hold me close the same way I long to hold Caroline close and cherish every single ounce of her, but even more so.

    I’ve read Psalm 139 countless times. I know He knows my thoughts, I know He knows my words before they are on my tongue, I know He knows the numbers of hairs on my head (not as high a number as it used to be), and I know His thoughts of me outnumber the grains of sand.

    I know it because I’ve heard it all my life. But I felt like in the days following the Chapman interview and reading “The Shack”, He began to really reveal to me the depths of His love for me. Not for all mankind, not for every creation, but, specifically, for me.

    At church the following Sunday, I was standing during praise and worship and I felt God say to me, “I know your name. I know everything about you and I adore you. No matter what.” It’s like I could hear Him saying my name. My full name, over and over again.

    Just as I was feeling that in my heart, our pastor began to speak. Guess what he said? “God knows your name. He knows everything about you.” And as he spoke those words, the worship team began to lead us in a song I’d never heard before

    He knows my name
    He knows my every thought
    He sees each tear that falls
    And hears me when I call

    Is it just me or do you think God is trying to tell me something? His love for the world isn’t general. It’s not an all-encompassing “I love my creation” thing. It’s specific.

    Specifically for me. Specifically for you.

    In spite of who we are, in spite of how we fail, in spite of all our weaknesses.

    Because, here’s the thing. He made us. He knows us. None of our shortcomings and moral failures surprise Him. God doesn’t sit in heaven saying, “Wow. I did not see that coming.”

    He sits in heaven, with a deep longing to take us in His arms, spin us around and say “Melanie! Your Father loves you!”

    Except He would call you by your name, not mine. Because He’s God.

    And He knows your name.

    “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” Isaiah 49:16

  • I get my wisdom from the cucumbers and tomatoes

    On Saturday morning I had my first (last? only?) speaking engagement as Big Mama. I don’t remember much of what I said but I do know that I didn’t throw up, so that’s a plus.

    Because about five minutes before I was supposed to get up and speak I felt like I might be sick.

    And the fact that I was wearing a wireless mic with an earpiece thing didn’t really help matters because it made me feel like I might be required to break into some sort of choreographed dance number a la Justin Timberlake.

    Except I can’t sing and I have little to no rhythm.

    I started off by talking a little bit about the blog. How I got started, how I got the name Big Mama, and how it’s become this really cool thing in my life over the last two years. Of course halfway through talking about it I realized I needed to clarify that when I talked about Big Mama I was referring to this site, as opposed to myself in the third person.

    And then in my head I became mortified that for a good fifteen minutes everyone in that room may have thought I actually had been talking about myself in the third person.

    Big Mama says say no to drugs.

    Big Mama says get yourself a new swimsuit.

    Big Mama says I enjoy the occasional snack cake.

    Oh sweet mercy.

    Anyway, in the weeks leading up to this event, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I was supposed to say. Should I talk about the blog? Or about blogging? Or about how I am compulsive and obsessive? Or take an audience poll about the length of my hair?

    Then on Wednesday morning I was out walking the dogs and it hit me. I knew I was supposed to talk about the Snoodle Doo.

    Oh Lord. Don’t make me get up in front of a bunch of women and talk about the Snoodle Doo.

    The Snoodle Doo is an episode of Veggie Tales. Y’all may remember that I am not necessarily a Veggie Tales fan. I have issues because despite their lack of hands and feet, they have the incredible ability to wield a sword and well, walk. But about three weeks ago, Caroline was watching Veggie Tales and it was the episode about the Snoodle Doo. And it spoke to me so deeply that I started to cry.

    The veggies made me cry.

    Yes, the tears may have been partially caused by my ongoing hormonal imbalance, but it went deeper than that.

    The story of the Snoodle Doo is about finding out who you are and who God created you to be. It’s about letting go of all the false, hurtful things people have said to you and about you. It’s about seeing yourself through God’s eyes.

    We see the Snoodle Doo get so weighted down by everyone’s perception of him, but then he finds his creator who draws him a picture of who he really is, who he was created to be. The Snoodle Doo says, “Is that me? I want to believe it but I’m afraid to.”

    The creator replies, “I know who you are, I made you. I’ve seen you fall down in the mud and the goo, I’ve seen all you have done and all you will do; I gave you your pack, your paints and your wings. I chose them for you; they’re your special things.”

    And it was at that point that I got a little teary.

    I spent so many years letting my past dictate who I thought I was. Every mistake I made and every bad decision defined me. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything good. I felt like He had saved me and that was enough.

    I was afraid to tell anyone my hopes and dreams because I thought they were out of reach. I didn’t think I had any real talents or abilities and, even if I did, I didn’t know what they were or how they could be used.

    I was going to spend my life being a less than mediocre pharmaceutical drug rep and hopefully at least an average wife and mother.

    But He had and has so much more in store.

    Psalm 139 says that we are wonderfully and fearfully made. Psalm 17:8 says we are the apple of His eye. Psalm 18:19 says He rescued me because He delights in me. Isaiah 49:16 says He has engraved me on the palms of His hands. Zephaniah 13:17 says He takes great delight in me. He will quiet me with his love and rejoice over me with singing.

    That is some serious love. That is a God that wants to give us hope and a future. That is a God who sees us as His masterpiece.

    He made each one of us with specific plans and purposes in mind. He gave us talents, gifts and abilities that are unique to us. It’s our job to find out what those are and use them.

    When I keep my eyes on Him and His vision of me, I know what it is to soar.

    And I like it.

  • Pressing on

    I can always tell when I have a lot on my mind because, well, it’s my mind and I am well aware of all that is in there and, also, all that is not in there. Plus, I start to draw a blank when I try to write a post about random things and so I end up putting up a picture of Dreyer’s ice cream.

    It’s that feeling of knowing I have something to say, but not knowing how to say it or how to start. So, instead, LOOK! ICE CREAM! PEANUT BUTTER AND CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM!

    Since I wrote about letting go of my fears a few weeks ago, I’ve thought more about it. To be honest, there have been many times in the last month when I’ve felt fear and worry well up in me again. And I don’t really talk about it because it’s not fun to talk about. I’d rather think about cute shoes, my hair, and that everything is 40% off at Gap right now.

    The important things.

    I have just felt like I need to clarify that I haven’t arrived at some incredible destination of perfect peace and tranquility. It’s a daily dependence on God. Trusting and knowing that He can meet all my needs and that He has a great plan for my life.

    I know it, yet I’m quick to fall into my old patterns and forget it.

    I’ve thought so much about Paul’s words in Phillipians when he says, “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me”.

    I’m quick to get bogged down in the what ifs. I’m quick to worry and fret over things that are ultimately out of my control anyway. I’m quick to try to come up with my own solutions and totally discount His sovereignty in all situations.

    I worry if I’ll regret not having another baby. I wonder if I should have another baby. I worry if Caroline will grow up to be happy and normal without a sibling. Who will she look at and roll her eyes with when she’s a teenager and I say embarrassing things? Which is inevitable, by the way.

    I worry about our finances and if we’re going to owe money to the IRS this year. I worry that we’re not saving enough for the future. I worry that our property taxes are going to go through the roof now that our neighbors have built the Taj Mahal next door to us.

    I worry about P and I flying to Florida in May and what if something happens. I worry about Caroline and if I’m raising her to the best of my ability. I have days where my patience reaches its limit and I forget that she’s just four. And then I feel guilty.

    And then I worry about feeling guilty.

    I worry because I’m speaking to a group of women in a few weeks and I don’t know if I’ll have anything to say beyond “Hey y’all. What’s up?” I’m speaking to another group of women in June and hope I say more than “Blogging is good”. What if I fail? What if I screw it all up? What if I’ve heard God wrong?

    So, basically, there are days when I’m a big, hot mess.

    That is a lot of information right there. I feel a little like that episode of “Seinfeld” where George bares his soul to Jerry and then says, “That is who I am and everything I am capable of.”

    I guess my point is that I don’t have it all together and I have days that just really stink. But I try not to focus on those things because, most of the time, I try to refrain from hosting my own party full of woe and pity. And I know that in spite of all these worries I manage to manufacture, I am blessed.

    A few weeks ago, I sat across the room from our former housekeeper, Cata. She is sixty-seven years old and has cleaned houses for most of her life. About a month ago, she and her husband lost their home and much of what they owned in a house fire. They have no insurance. Yet, I sat there and listened to Cata tell me in her broken English how blessed she felt and how God has been faithful to provide help throughout her entire ordeal. She looked at me with joy in her eyes and said, “Melanie, God is not old. He is still working.”

    How much do I love that she said “God is not old”? It totally makes me think of when God asks Moses, “Is the Lord’s arm too short?” (Numbers 11:23)

    God is not too old and His arm is not too short.

    Everything you read here is a snapshot of my life. The days of monogrammed dresses and Easter baskets come once a year and make good pictures, but sometimes the reality is a lot messier.

    I’ve been in a season of life where I start to feel easily overwhelmed. Doors have opened and I can see things on the horizon, but I’m not there yet and I get frustrated. And I start to doubt if any of it will ever really happen.

    And then, of course, I worry about what it will mean if it does all happen. Because I am a fan of coming up with the worry material.

    In fact, a few weeks ago I received an email with some really cool news and I called Gulley to tell her about it. She was so excited for me and there may have even been some jumping up and down. Meanwhile, I was all like “Well, we’ll see what happens.” She said, “What is wrong with you? Get excited, Coach Fran!”

    The day before yesterday I got on my knees and prayed about all my fears, doubts, worries. Why don’t I trust God the way I should? Why do I go back to that place of relying on my own power? Why do I let the fear overtake me? When will I be the person I wish I could be?

    I didn’t get an answer.

    But then yesterday morning, I walked my dogs down to an empty field by our house to let them run. I stood there watching them and noticed one lone bluebonnet sprouting up in the middle of the field. I know from past years that in another week, the entire field will be covered in bluebonnets. But, for now, there is just that one.

    And I felt God say to me in the still, small place in my heart, “My girl, that’s how it is sometimes. After a long winter, spring doesn’t always happen all at once. It happens one flower at a time. I make all things beautiful, one flower at a time.”

    “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11