"Light Off"

The time change has seriously messed with my schedule this year. Apparently, whoever created this plan 1. does not have small children and 2. does not have an enormous need for routine and structure like I do. Since the time change my boys have been waking up sometimes as early as 5:45 taking away my early morning "get stuff really done" block of time. I'm really missing the days when they slept 11 hours.

Yesterday Connor woke up again super, super early...before the sun. I heard him stirring and came to check on him. As he opened his bedroom door he started crying and said "Light off, Mommy." As I grabbed him to hold him I realized he was shaking he was so scared. I asked if he was scared and he replied "yes" and buried his head into my shoulder. I reassured him that the lights are off at night time, it's completely normal and I held him as we collected a couple of treasured toys to join him back in bed until the sun came up.

But it made me think. It made me think of several friends I know who are going through really tough, really scary times. They are no longer two and somehow between then and now it has become unacceptable to just say "light off... I'm scared". They have in their own ways said or done things to show that they are scared, but you have to listen really close or you'll miss it. Of course, my friends are the ones I do know about. What about the tons of people in my life and ministry that I don't know about because they aren't saying "I'm scared?" It means that they walk through the tough, scary times alone.

So, how do we reach out to people who are longing for what Connor needed so badly that morning: comfort, reassurance and someone just there to hold them and hear them admit they are scared? How do we make sure to really know the people around us that we serve with and do life with? How do we create environments that are safe enough to say "light off" and then provide helpful support to them?

Connecting worlds

Halfway on the other side of the world from me is a little boy. His name is Caleb. He's about a month and a half older than my son Cameron. Which means a lot of very fun things. He's likely very mobile. Crawling, cruising and even walking possibly. He's probably still very attached to his mother. He's probably just learning what it means to be told "no" when he's about to do something that he shouldn't or that could cause him harm. His days are filled with looking to the adults in his life to fulfill his physical and emotional needs. All of that is not all that different than a day in Cameron's life.

But, Caleb is growing up in Nakuru, Kenya while Cameron is growing up in Clearwater, FL. Worlds away from each other in every sense of the word. Caleb's world is already very directly affected by HIV/AIDS. In his short life he has also been affected by the cruelty of tribal clashes. He has already been separated from his biological father. To him none of these things is unusual. It is the only life he knows.

Cameron has not experienced any of these things that Caleb sees each day. His is the only life that he knows, but I hope that Cameron will one day appreciate the blessings that he has already been surrounded by.

Caleb and Cameron both will grow up with hopes and dreams for their future. They both are loved fiercely by their mothers and other family members. But most thankfully, they both have a Heavenly Father Who is irrationally in love with them. A Father who created them to be exactly who they are and to fulfill plans that He has for them.

I have not yet met Caleb. But, I fell in love with him the second I saw his big brown eyes and pudgy baby hands. This week, my friend and worship leader, Chris Cox, will get to meet Caleb. What an awesome opportunity! Chris is in Nakuru to try to tell the stories of children just like Caleb. He will be meeting tons of children and adults who have seen realities we in the USA can not even begin to wrap our minds around.

We'll be telling these stories as part of our Christmas production this year, Restoring the Wonder of Christmas.

So, would you please take a moment as you read this to pray? Please pray for Chris and Douglas as they travel and are meeting so many wonderful people in Kenya. Please pray for Molly, Joe and Elijah, the family from Cypress who has moved to Nakuru to start an orphanage. Please pray for our Christmas production that it will reach many people in Clearwater with the hope of a Father in Heaven Who truly can restore wonder to our lives - and that somehow we can make a difference on two sides of the world this Christmas.

Thank you for your prayers.

If you would like to follow Chris and Douglas as they are in Kenya you can keep up with them at:

Cypress Meadows Blog

Feeling deeply

I believe that through the gift - and the curse - of feeling emotions deeply, the artist has the unique ability to articulate what others' hearts long to explain.

I've lived for far too long with the emphasis of this leaning on the side of curse. I have for decades now been teased and handled with "kid gloves" because I feel things deeply. Tears are a common occurrence for me to the point of being accused of easily "leaking."

But, art is in many ways leadership and you cannot lead where you have not been. Great art explores and exposes the deepest emotions and challenges the viewer to process those feelings.

To craft services, write songs, and produce paintings, photos or videos that take a compelling look at reality we must be able to relate and relate well.

So artists, go ahead, feel deeply knowing that it is not in vain if you can use that to guide someone else along the path.

Making announcements fun

Three weeks ago when we launched our latest series, "Letters to the Next President" based on Northpoint's series of the same name we added a very fun element to the service.  For those of you looking for a cool wrinkle for your announcements check this out.

Huge kudos to our "Sarah" and student director, Jan Cox and Warren Wetherbee. They really did an outstanding job scripting and performing this piece!

I'm not sure, though, how many of the announcements were actually remembered that day.

Something to say

Some days I feel like I have so much to say that I'm going to explode.  Believe me, my husband has experienced this phenomenon.  It is behind the fact that I author 4 blogs, have currently 3 different journals going and as my mom always said I can "summarize a 2 hour movie in 4 hours."  For me so much of life is in the detail, the nuance.  

I was reminded of all of this again today as I started reading the life story of Nancy, a girl in Nikuru, Kenya.  She tells her story in beautiful detail.  A lot of her story is the same as everyone else's.  She was welcomed into a loving family at birth, shared traditional celebrations and experienced the fun of having older brothers.  But, her story is different.  It is her story.  Her reality.  No one knows it as she does or can tell it as clearly, beautifully or passionately as she can. 

It reminded me that every time I hear the voice in my head that challenges that no one will want to hear my story that that is not my responsibility.  My responsibility is to tell my story as beautifully, clearly, and artistically as possible.  

Think about it, I have been given the gift of knowing the story of a girl a world away that I may never meet but who has now touched me and taught me things she will never realize.  So, what do you have to say?  And what keeps you from saying it?

We MUST know who we are

Recently, at Leadership Summit, in the midst of what I call "intellectual gluttony" I was impacted with this question and challenge.  Who is it God has called my church to be?  Go and be authentic to that.

I get so frustrated when I see churches following trends simply because it worked well for another church.  (I'm three times as frustrated when I catch myself doing it.)  Who God has called that church to be is not necessarily who He has called my church to be.  So I must figure out His calling on me and follow that with as much integrity and authenticity possible. 

Ok, so that's a ton easier to talk about than to do.  More often than not we miss it. 

How do you make sure that you're staying authentic to the call and culture God has you in?

Love/Hate Relationship

I love my job.  I hate my job.  I'm not being duplicitous.  Just honest.  There are so many things to love like the people I get to share life with and share ministry with.  Like the services where "it" just works.  Like the chance to make my living doing what I'm absolutely addicted to doing anyway and used to do as a volunteer. There are so many things to love.  

And then there are the situations that always come up in ministry that just stink! (ok.... that's gone through my "baptist-girl" filter.)  Great ideas come a day late and a dollar short (or several $s).  People go bump.  Poor choices are made that negatively impact exponential numbers of people.  You see people you love suffering.  

It's so often the ministry leader's job be the one to address these situations head on when I'd really rather it be someone else's responsibility.  

The truth is, the great parts and the incredibly hard parts of ministry always leave me feeling incredibly unqualified, unprepared, incompetent and extremely humbled.  

And while I can't tell you what my reaction to the next "this was not in the art's directors handbook" situation will be (ok other than tears... those are a given).  

I can say that for today I am still praying "Bring it on, God" but with a very sober appreciation for that challenge.