When Fear Holds You Captive

Last year, my boys fell in love with soccer. They talked about it all the time. They kicked a ball—any kind of ball—around all the time. And they kicked balls everywhere, including the house. We lost a few good picture frames due to soccer “practice”. When their dad and I finally decided to sign them up for soccer, they were overjoyed.

My younger son was signed up to play in the youngest age group. The group was just learning the basics of soccer: how to kick, how to keep the ball moving, how to block a goal, how to stay on the field, how to remember you are actually playing on a team—in a game (and yes, Peyton forgot he was playing in an actual game quite often! He seemed to think he was a superstar in a movie or something—it was pretty entertaining to see his crazy moves, if I do say so myself…J).

Due to his age, Parker, my older son ended up in the 6-8 year old league. For this age group, there was an “evaluation” night, just so the coaches could see where the players’ strengths and weaknesses were and sort of “even out” the teams. Parker was very excited about starting soccer, and on evaluation night we headed to the field with great expectations. As soon as we walked onto the field, Parker began looking at all of the players. Lots of players had on old uniforms and were dribbling the ball around cones or kicking back and forth. There were also older soccer players already practicing and warming up. Parker began to realize that these other, more experienced soccer players knew more than he did about soccer, and he decided on the field that he was not going to do the evaluations!

My reasoning with him did no good. I tried to point out that the bigger kids were not part of his team. I told him I’d wait for him right beside him, that I’d “go with him” through the evaluations. I even left out the word “evaluation” and told him it was just like a practice. He was not budging.

Finally, I told Parker we could leave. He really was just frozen with fear of failing, of the unknown that came from this first-time experience. As we left the field, he began crying, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be at soccer practice. He was crying because he wanted to play soccer so badly, but he absolutely knew that he was not going to do the evaluations due to his own conceived notions that he wouldn’t do well.

I could’ve forced him to do the evaluation, since we signed up, and “we’re not going to be quitters”. But my mother heart was so heavy for him. I felt his pain.

Because he is just like me.

I knew exactly how he was feeling. I know how it feels to be paralyzed with fear, even when you want to experience something so badly. Even when you know you were born for this moment.

In the end, it was no big deal that he missed the evaluations. Parker got to play soccer, and he learned so many new things. He loved every minute of it and became a good little soccer player! I was so proud of my boy for playing through his fear. Our family had lots of talks about learning new things, practicing new things, and participating even when we felt like we weren’t the best one. Each time we talked, I felt a prick on my own heart. I felt like my own words were meant for me.

How many times have I missed out on opportunities because of my fear? Fear of failure, fear of mistakes, fear of the unknown.

I want to be good at things. I’m a bit of a perfectionist…okay, I’m a LOT of a perfectionist. My sister told me one time that I should be the president of The Overachiever’s Club.

I tend to only want to do things that I’m good at. I used to only sing with tracks, because I’m not the best piano player. I used to hold my words inside my own heart, because they are not always the best laid out stories or the most flowing words. I used to pass up invitations to participate in wonderful writing and singing events because I was frozen with stage fright.

I began to think that since I was born with this shy disposition, this personality of an introvert, that maybe I wasn’t meant to share my words through singing and speaking.

Do you ever feel this way? Is fear holding you back from doing what God has planned for you to do?

Because we may have been born like this—fearful, trembling, imperfect. But we weren’t made for this. We were made for more than wishing for missed opportunities. We were made for more than longing to be who we think we can’t be.

God made us for a special purpose. Yes, it’s true that we are not perfect. We are not always going to be “the best one”. As a matter of fact, it’s okay when we are not the best one. In the bible, God says “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness”(2 Corinthians 12:9).

Why do I want to be the best one when God is the best One? He says that we can boast in our weaknesses, so that His power can work through us. The less there is of Paige Givens, the more of Jesus Christ there can be.

When Parker was out on that soccer field, his fear held him captive, even though I told him I was right there with him. There have been countless times that I’ve ignored the presence of my Father, who is right there beside me, because my fear was so great.

I remind myself today that it is enough to trust in Jesus. It is enough to take Him at His word and rest in the promise that He’s going to take care of me and my fear. He knows what is unknown. His strength is perfect in my weakness.

Fear used to hold me back from sharing words that He had whispered to my heart to share with others. Now, I’m trusting in Him and pushing through the fear.

What about you? What has fear held you back from? I’d love to hear from you below. What are you pushing fear aside in order to accomplish through the Lord’s strength today?

Don’t miss out on the beautiful opportunities that He has created you to experience!

soccer

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Why Are You Going To Church?

I love my church family. They truly are my family. They pray for me, celebrate with me, work with me, and cry with me.  I serve with them, laugh with them, and study with them. We sing, clean, run 5Ks (not pretty for some of us…mainly me), build, plan, and worship together. My church family makes up some of my best friends on this earth.

church 5k

Some of us after my not-so-pretty 5K! Running for Pure Water, Pure Love Missions Project 

I grew up in the church. I was extremely blessed with parents who took us to church on Sunday mornings, nights, and Wednesday nights—and every other time the doors were open.  I can still smell orange flavored juice and buttery crackers and I am instantly transported to the old nursery where I was rocked and sung to and told about Jesus on the laps of dear old saints who are now in heaven. I can hear the beginning strains of the song “The Family of God” and I immediately picture going up to the front of the church to hug a new Christian brother or sister. I can sing “Lean on Me” and add motions with the best of them, just like I did as a teenager at youth rallies. And vacation bible school…oh the joy in my heart that one week still brings to me. The songs, the lessons, the love of Jesus personified through a smiling face and kind words, a messy paintbrush and a messy glue stick, a lesson about the cross and everlasting life.

I love church.

One time when I was a teenager, I grumbled to my dad and complained that I wanted to go to a bigger,  “cooler” church, one that had “better” music and programs. One that had more things to do for someone my age.

I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why we go to church.

Why do you go to church? Is it because you love the music? Is it because the preaching is awesome and inspiring? Is it because you feel great every time you leave? Do you go because it’s just what you’ve always done? Do you go because you actually have time to go this week?

A few years ago, in the midst of my very busy and full church life, I had to stop and ask myself why I was going to church. Honestly, I went because I had grown up going to church every single week and I couldn’t imagine what I’d do on Sundays without church. I said yes to teaching and singing and helping because I was asked to serve and I didn’t know how to say no. I went to Sunday School and Discipleship Training because that’s just what I did on Sundays. My friends were there. People I loved were there.

That’s not why we go to church, friends. It’s awesome to go and see friends and share the week’s joys and struggles with them. It’s super to go and get refreshed and renewed by the singing and the pastor’s inspired words. It’s great (and needed) to go and serve. But the why is still there.

We go to church to worship. And I’m not even talking about the singing, hands lifted high kind of worship, although that’s one of my most favorite parts. I used to picture praise songs when I thought of worship. But there’s more to it.

The heart of worship is obedience.

We go to church in order to obey God…and obedience is worship in the truest form. We teach that Sunday School class or join the choir because we feel the tug of the Holy Spirit on our hearts, nudging us towards obedience. We don’t sing loudly and strongly because we just love this song…we sing because we are praising God despite our feelings. We don’t put money in the offering plate because we had some extra cash this week…we offer the first fruits of our resources out of obedience to a God who gave them to us.

We go to church to worship. When we don’t feel like going, we go anyway because our obedience compels us to go. We go with expectant hearts, knowing that God is going to reward our obedience. It may not be with our favorite song during the singing. It may not be with a life changing message—because we may end up serving in the nursery that Sunday instead of going to the preaching service. But the reward is there. It could be an extra touch of peace to a troubled heart. It could be a word from a Sunday School teacher that’s meant just for our hurried soul. It could be a crumbly, cracker-y, toothless grin from a sweet baby as we sing “Jesus Loves Me”. It could be a tearful “Thank you” and a shaky hug from a treasured friend at the altar. The reward is there, and it’s waiting for you at your church.

This past week, our growing church began the needed process of tearing down one of our old, shaky buildings. The last time I walked through it, the memories flowed over me like water. I remembered bible schools, faithful teachers,  lifelong friends, children’s church, and my old youth group in that building. I even remembered getting scolded for climbing a pole that was somehow placed right smack dab in the middle of a hallway. The pole was always there, and we’d climb it when our parents weren’t watching.

old church

The old church building that I grew up in back in the day… Mt. Zion Baptist Church- Corner, Alabama 

As I remembered these precious times of my childhood and teenage years, I shed some tears, even though I hadn’t been in the building in years.  And the Lord reminded me that this was, in fact, just a building. It wasn’t my church. My church is my family of believers that assemble each week to obey and worship the Lord. And the church goes beyond Mt. Zion Baptist Church in Corner, Alabama! God’s church is made up of all the believing Christians across the world! I so look forward to the day when we will all be gathered together and worship for eternity! We won’t be worried about what we “got” out of the message, or what style of music we are singing. We won’t be worried about the color of the pews or the size of our congregation. We’ll be focused on the one, true God. We’ll be focused on worshipping Him, the reason for the gathering.  Until then, maybe one Sunday I’ll see you at church! If you’re not at my church, I trust you’ll be at a gathering that the Lord leads you to serve at…the reward’s waiting, friends!

Shall We Gather At The River/In The Sweet By and By Public Domain

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Give Us Broken Hearts

I see a person on the side of the road with their thumb pointed to the sun-boiling sky, and I feel the need to nod my head and barely meet their eyes as I drive by in my air conditioned car. I may feel a prick in my conscience, but I quickly forget about them as I hurry along my way.

My heart does not break for them.

I hear and read and study about people in foreign lands that are just a location on a colored map to me. They don’t know about my Jesus; they’ve never heard of Him. I read the pleas of the missionaries for prayer, materials, money, help. I think that I’ll send a special offering, and then I forget about sending money when I pay instead for sports, eating out, and movies.

My heart does not break for them.

I see commercials for children who are starving and dying because they have no clean water and food. I quickly change the channel, not wanting to feel the sadness and horror of seeing a toddler drinking water out of a dirty gas can lid. I forget about it later as I turn on the sprinkler for my kids to run through for fun.

My heart is sad for them, but not broken.

Someone is mean to me. They say rude words and hurt my feelings. I can’t believe they’d dare to treat me badly, and I report their behavior to my friends, with a self-righteous “Can you believe them?” mentality. I give no thought to the “mean” person’s motives or heart. I’m too busy thinking of myself.

My heart does not break for them.

I have found myself  asking the Lord for a broken heart. It’s not an easy thing to ask for. Having a broken heart for those who do not know God, for those who are hurting and suffering, requires me to do something, whether it’s prayer, service, or giving money. It requires me to walk away from my synthetic comfort and my fake security. Having a broken heart requires me to take off my pride and put on a coat colored with humility. At times, having a broken heart requires a big dose of courage as well. It takes me to the unknown, requires more of me than I’ve ever had to give.

The Jesus who hung on a cross and suffered a horrific death because of me didn’t do it so that He could stay locked up inside my plastic heart. He took my sins on Himself so that He could break open the doors of my heart and make it real. A lot of times, when something is broken, you can see inside of it. My prayer is that God will break my heart wide open, so that the fortunate and less fortunate, the poor and the rich, the hungry, the weeping, the angry, and the outcast will see the real Jesus in me.

Can I be totally honest with you, friends? I’m nervous about it. I’m not going to measure up. There will be times when I will be complacent, tired, and selfish. And others will see. So will you pray for me to use God’s strength and not my own? And will you let me know if you are praying for God to break your heart, too? If we know that we are in it together, we will definitely be stronger!

“Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord and He will lift you up.” James 4:8-10

This summer I met a sweet, precious friend named Renee McGullion at a songwriting conference. We are definitely kindred spirits and I thank the Lord that He placed us in each other’s paths. Renee crafted some beautiful lyrics and I added the music. She titled the song “Give Us Broken Hearts”. I think it’s a prayer that needs to be prayed, don’t you? Take a listen!

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To The Ones Who Are Weary

Are you weary? Are you heavy-hearted? Tell it to Jesus.

I’ve sung the lyrics to that song so many times.

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus! He is a Friend that’s well known. You’ve no other such a Friend or Brother, tell it to Jesus alone!

Do you ever sing or hear a song so much that it becomes like rote memorization to you? You sing it but you don’t think about the meaning? I grew up singing wonderful hymns of the church every Sunday morning and night (and Wednesdays, and any other night I was at a church function!) and I found as I got older that many times I just went through the motions of singing the words, blending in with the choir or the congregation. I love singing hymns. I love singing the wonderful melodies and harmonies that have been the soundtrack of my life. But I admit that in the past I’ve sung the sacred words with no thought or feeling of what I was actually declaring in my song.

No more. I’ve recently started reading a hymn a day. Just simply reading the words to myself, or whispering them as a prayer to my Father in heaven. What a wonderful opportunity to study beautiful words each day! To not just read and appreciate the words, but to breathe them in, soak them up into my soul, and live them fully. One of the latest hymns I read was “Tell it To Jesus” by Edmund S. Lorenz (1876). It’s a song I’ve always liked, and I’ve even played and recorded it before. But this last time, I studied the words and felt the gentle push to share them with you.

“Are you weary, are you heavy hearted? Tell it to Jesus. Are you grieving over joys departed? Tell it to Jesus. Do the tears flow down  your cheeks unbidden? Tell it to Jesus. Have you sin that to men’s eyes are hidden? Tell it to Jesus. Do you fear the gathering clouds of sorrow? Tell it to Jesus. Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow? Tell it to Jesus. Are you troubled at the thought of dying? For Christ’s kingdom are you sighing? Tell it to Jesus.

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus, He is a Friend that’s well known. You’ve no other such a Friend or Brother, tell it to Jesus alone.”

tell it to jsus

Someone reading this right now is so weary that you don’t think you’re going to make it another step on this journey. Someone is so heavy hearted, so full of grief, that you barely even know your name right now. There may be one reading at this moment whose eyes are filling up and spilling over with troubles that seem impossible to overcome. Is there one who is anxious? Is the anxiety keeping you awake in the dark of night? Do you feel alone in this life? What about the one who is burdened with sin? The person who feels unworthy of telling any other soul what they’ve done?

Tell it to Jesus, friend.

I  believe that one of the reasons God sent His Son Jesus to walk this earth in a fully human form was because He knew we’d need Someone when we were weary. Someone who understands the weariness that seeps into our bones and sucks the life out of our spirits. God knew we’d need Someone who understands our anxieties…the worries that fill our minds and steal our daily joys. God knew we’d need Someone who would not only understand our temptations, but would take our sins on Himself.

You see, Jesus took off His glorious heavenly robes and put on our weary, heavy, burdened, anxious, injured skin. He knows. He understands what you are going through, even when you can’t even put two words together to explain it. You can tell Jesus your troubles by simply breathing His name when you have no other words, and He will know. He will heal. He will give peace that you can’t even understand.

And if it’s your sin you’re worried about…He already knows, friend. He’s already taken your sin and put it on Himself. Tell Him your sorry. Let Him have it and keep it and He’ll never bring it up again.

Sin, grief, anxiety…life…it makes us weary. I have friends right now who are sitting by the bedsides of their loved ones watching them fight for life. They are all so weary. I have loved ones who are grieving over losses and they are so weary. There are some people, me included, who get so overwhelmed with their busy lives that they are simply weary at the end of the day.

What about you? Are you weary? Tell it to Jesus. There is no other Friend or Brother like Him. Take a listen to these familiar words, friends, and feel His whisper breathing life back into your weary bones!

 

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Who Are You Called to Be?

Usually when I sit down to write, the words flow out like water. They are fluid, twisting here and there, and I am comfortable following them as they move. Today is a little different. Today, I’m sitting here and I’m looking at a blinking cursor. I’m praying. I’m thinking. It’s been a big week, full of lists and jobs and people and events.

A week ago, I wrote about being a Christian teacher in a public school. I had no idea that the words placed in my heart would strike a chord with so many people. I didn’t think as I clicked on that little  “publish” button  that God would take my little seed and multiply it and scatter it far and wide. If I had known, would I have spoken exactly what was on my heart? Would I have been so honest, so sure of my words? Or would I have second-guessed myself? Would I have tried to make my message more neutral?

I’m glad I didn’t know.

If you were to search the term “people pleaser”, you’d probably see my picture right there beside it. I want to please others. I run from conflict.  The first few years that I taught, I would worry myself sick over any situation where a parent even hinted at frustration or disagreement with me. I used to find myself reliving unpleasant moments or words over and over in my mind, until I realized I was focused on pleasing others more than I was focused on pleasing God.

When I decided to focus fully on pleasing the Lord of my life, so many wonderful things fell into place. I don’t know about you, friends, but I am busy most of the year, except for those two glorious months that teachers call “summer break”. Oh my…summer break. I spend my days playing with the boys outside, swimming, playing the piano, writing as long as I want to (in between playing some more with the boys), and reading every book I can get my hands on! As July begins to wind down, my mind always starts going back to my classroom. I think about changes I want to make (which of you teachers have ever gotten up in the middle of the night to add to their classroom list…come on, you know you’ve done it!), I start looking at new bulletin board ideas, workstation materials, and rug-cleaners (gotta clean that rug…you don’t even want to know the kindergarten mishaps on a rug). I start mentally preparing myself for Meet the Teacher night,  professional development, and room arrangement. No matter how much I think that I’m prepared, the first week back always gets me. The “busy” creeps in, slowly at first, but then suddenly, as my list grows and grows with what seems like an endless amount of tasks to do before the first day, the busy explodes.

list(This is last year’s to-do list for one day! Anyone else’s list look like this?)

It happened again this year. The to-do list seemed to take on a life of it’s own, and I’m sure it won’t get completed until next May. I’ve spent lots of time at school, and now, all of a sudden, I realize I haven’t seen my boys in about two days except to put them to bed and wake them up. Last year, I would’ve worried (Lord, am I being a good mommy?). There are times when I decide I’ve spent enough time at school, and I take the boys somewhere special each afternoon when the school day is over instead of staying after to work on lesson plans. Last year, I would’ve worried (Lord, am I being the best teacher?). Sometimes, by the time the clock says 9pm, I am sound asleep on the couch, and there are dirty dishes in the sink and clothes that need to be folded. Last year, I would’ve worried (Lord, am I being a good homemaker?). In the past, I have worried about being a good wife, a good daughter, a good friend. It’s in my nature to want to please others.

There came a point last year when I felt like I had stretched myself so thin that I thought I would break. That’s a tough place to be. I’m sure you have been there, too. It’s a noisy place, even if you are all alone. The noise of life can break you down. It’s in this place that the enemy of our souls really tries to get to us. “You’re not good enough,” he shouts. “You’re not in the right place! You have no business here, among these people who are better than you…”, and it goes on and on. He uses the words that are specific to us, the ones that hit us the hardest.

This summer, I heard a wonderful mentor,  Gloria Gaither,  say “Satan labels us, but God names us.” Words so true.

You see, when the noise of life and the labels of the enemy threaten to overwhelm me, I hear this whisper. It is a whisper that is so much bigger than the noise. It’s the whisper of my Father, and He’s calling me by name.

He calls me His child. He calls me beloved. He calls me His friend. My Savior calls me redeemed. He calls me changed. He calls me forgiven. He calls me enough.

I can be these things, because He has called me to be these things. No matter how busy I get, no matter how many directions I’m pulled, when I focus on pleasing God, I receive peace. With His strength, I can be wife to Chris and mommy to two precious boys. I can be a teacher, singer, and writer of words! I can be who He calls me to be!

You can be these things! He calls you by name! When  you ask Jesus into your heart, He calls you His child, His treasure, and His beloved. He calls you by name!

When I committed to focus on pleasing the Lord instead of others, I wrote this song as my prayer. I will readily admit that I still prefer for people to be happy with me. I still like to be in harmony with those around me…it’s just part of my personality. But when it comes down to pleasing God or pleasing man, I am choosing to please God. I will say what He has placed on my heart. I will do what He calls me to do. I will choose to be who He has called me to be.

Take a listen to my song and sing it like your own! And let me know…who has He called you to be? What has He called  you to do?

“Who  You Call Me To Be” words and music by: Paige Givens (BMI), copyright 2014

 

 

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Walk to You: Jayson and Hannah’s Story

Matthew 14: 22-31

“The boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I.  Don’t be afraid.”

 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

 “Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.”

peter

The disciples had a plan.  They planned to get in a boat and take a nice, uneventful ride across the Sea of Galilee.  After all, Jesus had sent them on ahead of Him alone. And surely He wouldn’t send them into a storm, right? Their plan certainly didn’t include roaring wind, pounding rain, and battering waves. The plan didn’t include a ghost-like figure coming at them on the water.  Peter didn’t expect to walk on water. God’s plan, however scary and confusing, ended up being so much better and fulfilling for Peter and his faith. His ways are not ours. They are bigger, they are better, and they are perfect.

We make our own plans all the time. I’m a huge planner. I make to-do lists almost every day, and lots of times the last thing on my list says “Make tomorrow’s list”. I’ve always said that I trust in the Lord, that I believe He is in control, and that His timing is perfect. I’ve thought that I believed that, but I had never really been tested in that belief…until my sister had a storm of her own to face.

This is Hannah and Jayson’s story.

Our family is so close, especially the three sisters. Amy was eight and I was five when Hannah was born, and we always “helped” take care of her. When she was a newborn baby, Amy “helped” with her all the time—moving her and picking her up at crazy angles. When she started school, I “helped” her learn to read and do math problems during the long summer days. I also took it upon myself to use my own invented method of teaching her to play the piano. I wrote numerals on her fingers and taped numerals on the piano keys and then numbered out songs for her to play.  I couldn’t understand why she didn’t  enjoy it and catch on as quickly as I thought she should, and I soon gave up on her becoming a Mozart.  Amy fixed her hair (and got kicked in the shin), I pulled the raisins out of her Raisin Bran, and, although we had our regular sister-spats (Mama, she ate the last pickle and she knew I wanted that pickle!), we all three grew up to be best friends.

Chris and I had the first grandchild of the family. We weren’t expecting him, but Parker was a delight to the whole family. It was like he had three mamas instead of just one. Amy and Hannah fed him and held him and played with him and loved him like he was their own little boy. Not too long after Parker arrived, Amy and Brian had their first little boy, Tanner, who was quickly followed by our second son, Peyton. Now, my parents, who had three daughters, had three grandsons! The “Three Musketeers”  had three loud, boisterous, playful years before Amy and Brian had “Baby Jacob”. While all of these boys were growing and thriving, Hannah and Jayson had gotten married, built a beautiful house, and decided that they were ready to add a baby to the mix of happiness. We all agreed. Yes, this was a great plan. And, what if it was a girl? Happy day! A girl would be a perfect addition to all of those boys!

Our plans are not His plans. Our ways are not His ways. One month turned into two. Two months turned into three. Three months turned into a year. Time went on but no baby came. Doctors, nurses, and specialists all had plans. But their plans didn’t work. Hannah, the baby who we’d “helped” take care of, the sister who had loved and taken care of our babies, didn’t have one of her own. Yet. You see, our plans are not His plans.

After some time, Jayson and Hannah felt like the Lord was leading them to adoption. We all braced ourselves. We wouldn’t get too excited. If Hannah and Jayson had a possible lead, we’d pray about it and be supportive, but we wouldn’t get in over our head with emotion and anticipation, just in case the situation fell through. And we had several leads…and each time, we clapped and squealed and hugged and thought to ourselves “This is it. Their baby is almost here!” And each time the situation didn’t work out, we were devastated. Most of all, Hannah and Jayson were shattered every time.

After one particular time, when I just knew that a situation was “the one”, and it didn’t work out as we’d planned, I remember saying to the Lord “I don’t see why this is happening. If You knew she wasn’t going to get the baby, why did You let these people contact her?” I wasn’t mad. I was genuinely confused. But His plans aren’t our own. You see, His plan for Hannah and Jayson was so much better than the one they’d planned for themselves. It was better than what we’d planned and dreamed for them.

His plan was Baby Carter.

One afternoon, Hannah came home from work and answered her ringing phone. When she heard the adoption agency worker’s voice saying “Congratulations, Mrs. Sparks, you’re having a baby!”, she sat down and cried. Not just a little. She cried tears that she’d been waiting for years to cry. It’s the happy, scared, excited tears that come when a mom hears the doctor say for the first time, “Yes, you’re expecting a baby.” They soon found out the baby was due in July and that it was a boy. Another boy in the family!

carter 6

I prayed so hard that the birth mom wouldn’t change her mind. I prayed for this every time I thought of Carter or Hannah or Jayson. “Please, Lord, don’t let her change her mind.”

I didn’t even think about praying for a safe, complete pregnancy.

When evening came…the boat was already a considerable distance from the land, blown by the waves and wind.

Late one Friday night in April, Hannah and Jayson got a call that Carter was going to be born via emergency c-section due to the birth mother’s dangerous blood pressure. He was 29 weeks gestation. Hannah and Jayson, along with our parents, dropped everything and raced to Jacksonville, Florida, where he was going to be born.

The night was pitch black and stormy. It rained—hard—the entire nine hour drive to the hospital. My mother said it was like being in a black tunnel and not being able to see an end to it. Hannah said they prayed the whole way. We prayed at home too. I didn’t have many words. I couldn’t think past “Please let him live. Let him live.”

But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

It was hard to see the Lord’s hand in those moments. It was hard to understand His plan. But His plans are better than ours.

Carter Ray Sparks was born on April 19th. He weighed 2 pounds and 5 ounces.  He was fourteen inches long. He was a tiny perfect miracle.

car

You know, going back to the disciples in the boat, I don’t know that I would’ve been like Peter. When He realized that Jesus was not a ghost, his fear turned to a kind of longing. I imagine his heart started pounding from desire to be with the Lord instead of fear. “I’m really gonna do this. This is it. Getting out of the boat…”

“Lord, if it’s You,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

Then he got out of the boat and walked on the water and came toward Jesus.

Hannah and Jayson had to step out of their comfort zone and get out on the water and trust Jesus. They went in the hospital, actually had to meet total strangers, and say, “Yes, we’re the ones who are going to be the parents of the child you just gave birth to.” They were first time parents and they took one look at their baby, who had tubes coming from all over, who could fit in their palm, who would later be on a ventilator and have a battery of tests and procedures, and knew that he was their son. He was the reason that God had planned for them to wait for so long. They hadn’t waited for years for just “a baby”. They had been waiting for Carter, their son. And now he was here. Earlier than we’d planned, but just on time with God’s plan.

But when Peter saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink, cried out “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out His hand and saved him.

Carter stayed in the hospital for nine long weeks. Those weeks were full of ups and downs, like waves on a stormy sea. He went back and forth on the ventilator and had tons of poking, prodding, sticks, and tests, but overall he did great. He’s a fighter! There came a time where everyone else in the family had to go home and Hannah had to stay at the hospital all by herself in a strange city. Jayson had to go home for work. His house was empty, with no wife and baby yet. The storm was raging and the noise was pounding. Like Peter, I’m sure the noise turned their heads from Jesus a few times and they felt like they were sinking. But as soon as they called out to Jesus, He immediately reached out His hand and saved them. It may have been a good report from the doctor, a prayer with friends, a note in the mail, or just a calm assurance that He was there and He was in control.

When the disciples were out to sea and the storm was beginning to blow in, they were afraid. They couldn’t see Jesus through the storm. But guess what?

He could see them. He knew exactly where they were. And He was with them, just like He was with Jayson, Hannah, and Carter.

To be completely honest, I couldn’t figure out why God allowed Carter to be born so early after all that Hannah and Jayson had been through. There were times when I couldn’t see Him, when Hannah and Jayson couldn’t see Him in the situation, but He could see them. And He had a plan that was so perfect.

In our plan, we worried over Hannah not getting to have a baby of her own. We hated that she wouldn’t know what it was like to carry a baby, to feel it kick her tummy. In our plan, we worried and agonized when Carter was born so early. We worried when Jayson had to come back home to work. We worried about Hannah being alone. But God had a plan.

Day after day, Hannah held her little baby against her tummy when he would’ve been in another’s tummy. She got to feel him kick her ribs and her belly each day in a special time that was just for mother and baby. He got to hear Hannah and Jayson’s voices and prayers when he was only at 29 weeks gestation. Now, he turns his head to find their voice even when he’s in a room full of people. God’s plan for Hannah and Jayson was Carter, and what  a perfect plan it was!

carter 5                           carter 3

“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:27-28

God’s plan is so much better than our plan. Yes, it’s confusing and fearful and even painful at times. And there are some things we will not understand until we reach Heaven. But for those things, it is so comforting to know that even when we can’t see Him in our noise and storms, He can see us. And His way is better than ours.

This is a new song I wrote called “Walk to You”. Take a listen…

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Draw Me Nearer

Being a kindergarten teacher, I have a special hidden talent that amazes my husband. I can read almost anything written by a child and make meaning out of it! It’s a talent that is shared by all other kindergarten and preschool teachers worldwide. Sometimes, there can be no words, only pictures, and we can talk to the child who wrote the piece and still be able to “read” the story.

This is a skill that has to be learned. During my first  year of teaching, I had many interactions with my little writers that ended with me pasting a plastic smile on my face and saying “Ohhhh, that’s….nice. That’s…., now, what is that?” I still pray for my students that had to have the 21-year-old during her first year of teaching!

After a few years, I grew wiser, and began studying the work more closely. When a five-year-old proudly showed me his most prized story–and it looked to be scribbles and a string of letters–I would say something like “Oh, yes, you’ve used lots of brown lines here…tell me about your story…” That way I wasn’t letting on that I had no idea what was written on the paper.:)

Somewhere along the way, as I became a bit more “seasoned” as a teacher, as the paperwork and routines and classroom management became more like a second nature to me, I began to have more time to really get to know my students. I was no longer overwhelmed by the testing and the materials and walk-throughs, so I actually had time to talk with my students and listen carefully to what they were saying to me.

I began to know the little writers who so eagerly expressed what they had to say. My classroom’s Writing Workshop became one of my favorite parts of the day. It still sends a little jolt to my heart to get to say “Okay, writers, let’s meet up on the carpet. We need to talk about what we’re going to do as good writers today.” They are so excited to see what I’m going to tell them about writing, and then–this is the best part–they all rush back to their seats because they believe that they can do the same thing. They haven’t learned about fear and self-consciousness yet. If Mrs. Givens says that they are writers, then they believe that they are writers!

So for the past few years, one of my favorite past-times has been to read young children’s writings, with their fun invented-spelling and colorful illustrations. When my oldest son was in kindergarten, he brought home his journal one night for his family to read. On one page, the words looked like this:

Mi dd wrks in hiz vjtubl grdn.”

I was immediately touched. “Oh, look, Chris! It says ‘My dad works in his vegetable garden. Isn’t that sweet?”! (By the way, we didn’t even have a vegetable garden…)

I have found that the more I know my students, the easier it is to read their writing. One of my sweet students wrote this on our Daily News board last year.

writer 1

Translation: “Good morning. Today is Friday, 2014. No one is absent. I like huntin’.” The last sentence took me a minute to translate, but I thought of the writer. What did he like to do? This particular writer is a fisherman and hunter so I quickly deducted that he was saying “I like to go huntin’.”

You see, when you know the writer, it’s easier to know what their message is.

I have gotten to meet so many writers this year, besides my usual kindergarten friends. I’ve met up with some great bloggers, songwriters, poets, columnists, authors, and composers. I have found that when I meet and befriend writers, their works become so much more meaningful to me. When I hear a song on an album that was written by a friend, I get so excited because I know the writer. I know what their message is!

Last week I was at a concert and the singers began to set up a song that a friend from a songwriting conference had written. I was so excited. I began telling all of the people around me “I know this one! Well, yes, I knew the other ones, too, but I know the writer of this one. I know the writer!”

The message is so much more meaningful when you know the writer.

Our Father is a Writer. He is the Writer of the universe, the Author of creation. He has illustrated every detail of your life, outlined each chapter and paragraph. When I think back on the history of the world and to the unknown of the future, I am amazed that I know the Writer. He holds the pen. And sometimes, when we are listening very carefully to Him, He whispers His words into our hearts and let’s us write them down for Him. What an honor it is to know this Writer. I’m so glad that I don’t simply know about Him, I know Him personally. I have found that the more I know Him, the closer I draw to Him, the easier it is to understand His Word. The easier it is to hear His voice. I am able to find clarification and meaning in the story He is writing for me. How well do you know the Writer, friends?

I love the hymn “Draw Me Nearer” by Fanny J. Crosby. I have made it my prayer lately. The closer I am drawn to Him, the more I know Him. The more I know Him, the clearer His words are to me, whether they are words written in the Bible or whispered to me by the Holy Spirit. “Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water.” Hebrews 10:22

Here is my version of Crosby’s “Draw Me Nearer”. Take a listen!

 

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Memories Without Warning: Part 2

Our wonderful friends at our church helped us out lately with some memories of their own. We used pictures to make a slideshow to go along with the song “Memories Without Warning”. Enjoy!

 

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Memories Can Happen Without Warning

Have you ever been on your way home after a busy day, with thoughts filling your mind and stealing your attention, and suddenly, you look up and you’re home? Have you ever thought “How’d I get here? I don’t even remember it!”

This was what I did many times with my life. As a child, even though I loved school, I couldn’t wait for summer time. I’d wish away the last few days of school until suddenly, I was in the warm golden days of summer. My warm golden days would quickly turn into gray boring days and I’d wish for the comforting routine of school days. When I was in school, I’d sigh and think “I can’t wait until I’m in high school.” I plowed my way through junior high with my head down and my mind full of I-can’t-wait-until’s…and then, suddenly, it was my senior graduation day. And I looked around at my friends and realized I wasn’t going to see them anymore.  And suddenly, memories of my days with friends I’d been with since kindergarten came crashing over me like a tidal wave. Running on the playground, playing “horses” with my best friends in grade school; giggling over boys and finally getting a locker in middle school; make-up, cars, prom, and just laughing until we thought we’d pop in high school.

In college, I couldn’t wait until I graduated so that Chris and I could finally get married! Because, you know, we just knew that as soon as we finished college, we’d magically be making the big dollars, me being a teacher and all.

When Chris and I got married, we couldn’t wait until we got to have a house of our own. We loved our little yellow “fixer-upper” that we rented. We still lovingly point it out to our kids as we drive by. But we really looked forward to the day when we got to have a house of our very own.

Once we were established in our own home, we couldn’t wait to start a family! It wasn’t too long after we moved in that we found out we were expecting Parker. Nine months seemed like forever.

Do you see a pattern here?

I have spent my entire life waiting for the next step to happen instead of enjoying what was happening now. Sometimes I grieve over the things that I missed, the things that I didn’t take time to enjoy because I was so busy getting to the next piece of my life. But then God gives me memories.

Memories can be tricky things to figure out. There are times when I feel them coming on and they cover me like a warm blanket, soothing my soul. Then, there are other times when I feel them coming and I want to stop them. I sometimes don’t want to remember things that will make me sad or homesick for the way things were before.

Lots of times we don’t realize we are making memories when we are doing everyday life. All of those times I sat on my Granny’s porch watching the sun go down in all of its orange and pink glory, I didn’t think to myself “Wow, what a beautiful memory I am making.” When my babies cried in the middle of the night and I stumbled to their cribs to pick them up and soothe them, I didn’t think “Let me just get a quick pic of this…it’s such a great moment in life.” At those times in the middle of the night, my brain usually felt like it was stuffed with cotton! My thoughts were usually “Must. Get. Sleep!”

But when I think back now on those precious times, I am so thankful for those memories, the ones that came without warning. Although I never took a picture of the sunset from Granny’s porch, I picture it in my mind every time I see a beautiful sunset now.

sunset

Every time I hold my growing, wiggling, sweaty-smelling boys, I remember in my mind those nights when it seemed like the rest of the world was asleep except for the two of us. I remember how soft they felt, how sweet their baby-powder, milky faces were to kiss.

boys grown

Every time I pass the old yellow house with the beat-up mailbox, I remember the first years of being married to Chris. The struggles, the laughs, the decisions, the fears.

Every time I miss my grandmother in heaven, I remember her hugs, her funny sayings, the songs she sang. I remember the food she cooked, the chair she sat in, and the flowers she lovingly tended. I remember her cats, how she loved them, how she sounded when she talked to them. I remember how she loved me.

Yes, memories can happen without warning. They happen every day of our seemingly ordinary lives. I’m praying that I can start opening my eyes to the memories happening all around me each day instead of pressing forward with my head down to the next phase of life.

And for those memories of the times I almost missed out on due to my “waiting”, I thank God for preserving snippets and pictures and sending them to me just when I need them the most.

What about you? I’d love to hear some of your special memories! Let’s share them with each other in the comments below. I’ll bet someone’s memory will spark one in another person’s heart!

To get your memories flowing, I’ve added a new song of mine. It’s called Memories Without Warning. Take a listen and let the memories pour out!

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After All

There are some gorgeous daylilies blooming in my yard right now.

lily 2

Their colors are so unique and vibrant. They actually bring a smile to face when I look at them, because I am reminded of how they got in my flowerbed in the first place… and that I almost threw them away.

Yes, I foolishly thought to throw these treasures away at one time. About five years ago, my great aunt had actually dug up some daylilies from her yard and put them in a box for anyone who wanted some. My mother saw them and thought that they’d be pretty in my new flowerbed, so she got some and put them in two plastic Walmart sacks for me.

Now I do not have a green thumb. I worked at a flower nursery the summer between high school and college and proved that my thumbs are very un-green. One time when I was supposed to be pulling weeds and grass blades out of a potted plant, I did a great job of pulling all of the green stuff out from the edges of the pot. I left one tall green plant standing alone in the soil and proudly showed my employer…who informed me the only green plant left in the pot was a huge weed. Somehow, I’d pulled all the good stuff out and left the great big bad stuff in!

But my mother was sure that I wouldn’t be able to  harm these daylilies. She gave me the two plastic bags of “dug-up” flowers and I sat them by my front steps, bag and all, as I was going in the front door. I had every intention of planting them quickly…but then I ended up going to the hospital and having my second little baby boy, and all thoughts of plants were forgotten. I became immersed in bottles, diapers, and sleep deprivation. I had no time for horticulture! Chris was busy with work, helping around the house, and entertaining a busy two-year-old, so he gave no thought to the lilies waiting for transplant. Even my mother, the master gardener, who came to see the boys and help out several times a week, walked by the Walmart sacks by the front steps. The daylilies were forgotten.

They sat in those plastic bags for three weeks. One day, I left baby Peyton inside with his daddy and took Parker outside for some time together. As Parker toddled around the lawn, I looked over and noticed the plastic bags.

“Oooohhh, I forgot about those”, I groaned.

I took them over to the garbage cans immediately. Chris jokes that one of my favorite things to do is to throw things away. There is some truth to that. I don’t like to let things “sit” if there’s no purpose for them. I figured that these daylilies had no purpose, no life left. But as I raised the bags to throw them away, I looked a little more closely into the bag and noticed some green among the shoots.

Seriously? These things are super-flowers! If they still had some life in them after three weeks of sitting in a plastic bag, maybe they could survive my black thumbs!

So I decided to plant them. Chris got rid of the brown parts and what was left was a pretty measly lot. We planted them in two different places in our yard. There was no miraculous blooming and splendor of daylilies that first year, or even the next. However, I did notice one thing: growth. One green shoot turned into five the first year, which multiplied into about ten fat, green blades the next year. By the third season, after being watered and cultivated, after sinking their roots deeply into the ground, the daylilies bloomed. They were so pretty! And now, after five years of growth, they are breathtaking. And they were grown in my flowerbeds of all places!

lily one

These daylilies remind me of some other seeds in my life that I almost forgot about. That I left out in the elements until there was no sign of life. That I almost threw away.

When I was born, God gave me some special gifts, special seeds, that were meant to flourish. He planted words and songs inside of me, but it was left up to me to get the words out the way He planned them to be. My parents did a great job of cultivating these seeds, but when I became an adult and had to take care of the seeds without their help, I sat them outside the door of my heart and left them there. I let the many duties of life take precedence over the gifts at my door. I was busy with more important things than writing and making music. Every once in awhile, I glanced out the door at the seeds, but then shook my head as fears and insecurities told me that those things were not important. Eventually, I almost forgot about the seeds…And I almost threw them away.

I remember coming to a point where I was “holding up the bag” over the garbage can, ready to let it fall away…but the Lord gently nudged me to look closely before abandoning the seeds He had given especially to me. And as I looked, I saw a tiny flicker, a tiny spark of life. These seeds were not meant to be thrown away. They were meant to flourish.

So I made a very important decision. I decided to replant these seeds and let them take root deep inside my heart. There was not an overnight miracle, although little “shoots” did start coming up immediately. He gave me little phrases to write down, simple melodies to play. The Lord is the Cultivator, and He has guided me to water the seeds with prayer and the Word…and the seeds are growing. Boy, are they growing! Some have bloomed into full-blown songs and stories that make my heart so happy! Those almost-forsaken seeds are going to flourish after all.

So I urge you, friends! Don’t throw your seeds away! He has given all of you something special. Are you supposed to teach? Are you meant to encourage? Do you have the seed of preaching, designing, planning, leading, or singing? Is the gift of giving comfort, of creating art, of cooking lying dormant in your soul? It’s not too late to grow your seeds! Don’t throw them away! Ask Him to cultivate the gifts He has placed within you. Use His Word and His presence and watch your gifts grow and bloom!

I was digging around (no gardening pun intended) in some past files and found this old treasure of a song there. This song is called After All. I wrote and recorded it over  ten years ago but it seems so relevant to what is going on in my heart today. One day, after all is said and done, I want to hold up a beautiful bouquet of the gifts that my Father gave to me. I want to hear Him say “Well done!” when He sees my flowers. I’ve included the lyrics to this one, friends. Read along and take a listen!

After All

After all is said and done and I’m left with all that I have won

Will there be anything in me that’s good?

Oh have I used the gifts You gave like I should?

Oh will You say “Well done, my faithful one” after all?

 

After all the music has been played and the crowd has all gone away

And the curtain closes over me Oh my God, tell me what will You see?

Will there be anything in me that’s pure?

Oh has it been Your glory I’ve lived for?

Oh will You say “Well done, my faithful one” after all?

 

And I’ve gained many riches on this earth

But what of all that I’ve acquired is of worth?

 

After all my life has been spent and my time on this earth has reached an end

Then I’ll look on Your sweet and holy face

Oh, will You say the words I long to hear You say?

Oh will You say “Well done, my faithful one” after all?

 

Words and music by Paige Muncher, 2003

 

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