Bringing Tidings of Great Joy

If I was the totally organized, on-top-of-things wife and mother that I want to be, everyone of you would have received a version of this picture for your Christmas card.

Aren't they precious?

But because I'm not even half "totally organized" and only seldom "on-top-of-things", that isn't what happened. I didn't order enough cards. :( And because I ordered them so late, I couldn't order more in time. :(

So, it is my hope that for those of you that I dearly love, and didn't receive a Merry Christmas greeting from the Lancasters by mail, would accept this virtual one. They are both sent with the same amount of care and thought. 

Last year, our card pic was professional. Brandy Jaggers did such a good job with those pictures. They were taken in August and it was so convenient to use one of those lovely shots for our Christmas bit o' cheer. I had no trouble clicking on that image and creating the perfect card and sending it your way. 

This year was a bit more difficult. Ty doesn't like his picture to be taken. At least by me and beside his sisters. Getting all  4 of them much less all 6 of us together in decent clothing and smiling all at the right time is almost impossible for casual photography. I searched through our most recent pictures to try to find at least 4 separate shots of the kids to put on those cards with lots of pictures. NO success. 

I had almost given up on the prospect of a Lancaster 2012 Christmas Card. Maybe next year.

We have really been soaking up Christmas with the kids and on the nights that there are no ballgames or Christmas programs to attend, we have been trying to do something "Christmas special". Well, on this night a couple of weeks ago, after I woke from my Monday nap after working, we ate supper together, bathed the children and then decided that we all needed to load up in the car and go look at Christmas lights. The pajama-clad, blanket-wrapped children were SO on board for this one. 

Our first drive was through our neighborhood and it naturally took us to the beautiful Collins' yard. We have seen it many times this season already, but usually as we semi-slowed down and sailed past. This time we hopped out of the car to get a closer look and enjoy the music more. (Yes, MUSIC!) The Collins' weren't home so we did't venture up too far. The kids were busy saying, "OOooo! Look at that one!", "Oh my, Momma! Did you see that one!". 

Isn't it beautiful?

Well, thankfully, I had my camera. I cried out to the kids, "Let's take a picture of you by the JOY sign!"  The girls immediately shrieked and ran toward the sign. Ty immediately sighed and said, "Oh no. Please, no." I ignored him and shrieked and ran with the girls. Ty warmed up to the idea eventually and wasn't it a beautiful picture. He even took this picture of Eric and I.

After we finished trespassing, we drove around for another 45 minutes or so enjoying the beauty of all the pretty lights in town, thanking God for them and their owners, and happy that we didn't have to do any of the work or store the figures year-round. We had great fun but I couldn't get them to get out of the car again. Not even for the Trojan reindeer on Hickory.

When we arrived home, I downloaded the pictures to my computer and knew that I wanted one of those pictures to be our Christmas card. Those moments in the Collins' yard captured where we are right now. 

We were in our pajamas. (Not Eric but the rest of us.) I wasn't wearing any make-up. My sweats didn't even match. All I heard after I told Tess that we were going to use that picture was, "Oh, Momma! But I have my braids in!" She or I braid her hair for her to sleep in at night. I was glad that the picture showed the REAL us. The US that we are most of the time. We aren't put together. Our blemishes are exposed. There is no veneer to hide behind. 

These past few months have been hard. My illness was only the brink of the iceberg. Someday, I may be able to share with you about the heartbreak, confusion, devastation, and pain that they held; about the struggles we are still experiencing. But for now, just know that they were enough to put us under, to break us, to scar us beyond recognition.  

But that night, as on many nights, when the world would have expected to see defeat, despair, and ugliness, this is what the world would see:

Were we hurting? Yes

Were we disappointed in our humanness? Yes

Were we a long way from fixed? Yes

BUT GOD GAVE US JOY.


Would you bear with me and read this next long passage courtesy of biblegateway.com?

Romans 8:12-39

The Message (MSG)

^12-14 So don’t you see that we don’t owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There’s nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!

^15-17 This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we’re certainly going to go through the good times with him!

^18-21 That’s why I don’t think there’s any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times. The created world itself can hardly wait for what’s coming next. Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready and can be released at the same moment into the glorious times ahead. Meanwhile, the joyful anticipation deepens.

^22-25 All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

^26-28 Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

^29-30 God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun.

^31-39 So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture:

They kill us in cold blood because they hate you.
We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.

I shared this on a post long ago but it puts into words in a small way what I get from the above scripture:

I am a sinner.
I deserve to die for my sin.
I can't do anything by myself to save myself from that death.
God is a loving God.
He doesn't want to see me punished.
But God is a just God.
He must punish sin.
God sent His Son to earth to live a perfect life, die on a cross, rise from
the dead to pay the price for my sin.
By trusting in God and by believing in Jesus Christ alone for
eternal life I was saved from this death.
By faith, I transferred my trust from myself to Jesus Christ.
I will go to heaven when I die and live eternally with Him.

Even though I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior,
it doesn't mean that I don't sin. Sadly, I still do. But because
of my relationship with Him, I can ask forgiveness for that
sin and He forgives and forgets and I try to do better.
But because I am His, I can never be separated from Him.

Because of these things, I can have joy despite my circumstance, despite how I feel, and despite what the world might see.

My future is bright in His hands. Because my hope is in Him, I can cry, "What's next, Papa?", instead of saying that all is lost.

This doesn't come easy all the time. Most days it is really hard. But, oh, what we learn in the hard places!

So, this Christmas, the picture of your life may not be perfect. It may be the worst picture you have ever taken. But God sees the real you, and loves you anyway. His is a love that isn't just enough, but greater than your imaginings. His is a love that doesn't quit, walk away, and won't allow anything to tear it from you.

So will you sing with me today, especially if it is for the first time:

Habakkuk 3:17-19

Amplified Bible (AMP)

¹⁷ Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, [though] the product of the olive fails and the fields yield no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls,

¹⁸ Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the [victorious] God of my salvation!

¹⁹ The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds’ feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering, or responsibility]!

For the Chief Musician; with my stringed instruments.

Merry Christmas, my friends,

with love from the Lancaster's

We Believe

If you are under 12, quit reading this and log off immediately. Ask your parents to read it first and then let you know if you need to read it.






If you are older than 12,  please don't think that by sharing our traditions that I am saying that the way you do things at your house is wrong. This is just  what Eric and I felt the Lord called us to do in our home with our children regarding Santa Claus.  I am writing this because I have had many people interested in or confused about the way we present Old St. Nicholas and I hope that this explains some of the things that we do and the reasons and thoughts behind those choices and actions.

We have never told our children that Santa Claus brings their gifts to our home on Christmas eve. We don't have reindeer food. We don't have an Elf on the Shelf. We don't leave out milk and cookies. We haven't had stockings every year.

But we don't hate Santa Claus. We like him. We talk about him. We have a few figures of him on our piano and on our tree.

We have shared with the children the origins of Santa Claus. We let them know that the traditions that we have of him come from a fellow who loved God and wanted to be like Jesus. Below is a simple version of the story that we have shared with them:

The real Santa lived a long time ago in a place called Asia Minor. It is now the country of Turkey. His name was Nicholas.

Nicholas' parents died when he was just a teenager. His parents left him a lot of money which made him a rich young man. He went to live with his uncle who was a priest.

Nicholas heard about a man who had lost all his money. He had three daughters who were old enough to get married. But in those days young women had to have money in order to get married. This money was a "dowry" and it was used to help the new family get started. If you didn't have dowry money, you didn't get married.

This family was so poor they had nothing left to eat. The daughters were going to be sold as slaves because they couldn't live at home any longer. They were very sad. They wouldn't be able to have families of their own. And they would have to be slaves—no longer able to decide where they would live or what they would do.

The night before the oldest daughter was to be sold, she washed her stockings and put them in front of the fire to dry. Then all of them went to sleep—the father and the three daughters.

In the morning the daughter saw a lump in her stocking. Reaching in, she found a small, heavy bag. It had gold inside! Enough to provide food for the family and money for her dowry. Oh, how happy they were!

The next morning, another bag with gold was found. Imagine! Two of the daughters would now be saved. Such joy!

And the next night, the father planned to stay awake to find out who was helping his daughters. He dozed off, but heard a small "clink" as another bag landed in the room. Quickly he jumped up and ran out the door. Who did he catch ducking around the corner?

Nicholas, the young man who lived with his uncle. "Nicholas, it is you! Thank you for helping us—I hardly know what to say!" Nicholas said, "Please, do not thank me—thank God that your prayers have been answered. Do not tell others about me."

Nicholas continued helping people. He always tried to help secretly. He didn't want any attention or thanks. Years passed and he was chosen to be a bishop. Bishops look after their people as shepherds look after their sheep. And that is what Nicholas did. When there wasn't any food, he found wheat; so no one went hungry. He always helped people in trouble. All his life Nicholas showed people how to love God and care for each other.

Everyone loved Nicholas. After he died, they told stories of the good and kind things Nicholas had done. Sailors took these stories about Nicholas everywhere they went. Some of the stories were about his special care for children—helping and protecting them when danger threatened. And so more and more people learned about good, kind Nicholas. They wanted to be like him. He is an example of how we should live. And that is why he became a saint.

This is the story of the real Santa Claus, St. Nicholas. To this day people say that St. Nicholas, or Santa, is the special friend of children.

—Carol Myers

http://www.stnicholascenter.org/pages/real-santa/

We have hit a few bumps in the road with this approach. I thought Eric and I had explained carefully that it wasn't our children's job to tell the world what Santa Claus does or doesn't do. We tried to impress upon them that it was each parent's decision when and what to tell their children. When Tess was in first grade that she told her friends that Santa Claus was dead! We talked with her some more, she became older and understood what we were telling her, and I don't think she has done that ever again. It grieved me because I didn't want to push what we have chosen on others any more than I wanted to have other traditions pushed upon us. Because in times past, when we have talked about our custom, we are often met with looks of incomprehension, disgust, and defensive arguments. But to us, we feel the picture we are painting for our babies is just what they need to see.

I know that my kids (as I remember that I did) would love it if some guy came down our chimney and left them everything that the world could offer them. But instead, by letting them know that their parents and loved ones buy their gifts, I hope we let them grasp that there are limits to what they can have beyond their needs and our means.

I was touched that this year, after I have been off work for 2 months, that when I asked them to write down the things that they would like for their Christmas presents, they were thoughtful before they began to make their list. When I went over Ty's list with him, I had to stop him from scratching off most of it because he kept saying "I don't really think I need that, Mom". And when Tess brought me hers, she said, "This is the one thing I most want. If you can't get the other things it is okay". It comforts us to know that they won't be disappointed when they open their presents. That they know we love them and the amount of their gifts is nothing compared to the love and thought that goes into each whether it happens to be 1 or 10.

We know that it is a common thing for folks, in kindness, to ask our children what Santa Claus is going to bring them. Instead, we would love for them to ask the kids, "How are you going to share Christ's love this Christmas?" Or instead of telling them that Santa or his helpers are watching them and sees what they do and keeps track of whether they are naughty or nice, We'd like them to gently remind our kids that God is everywhere and that He sees everything that they do. That He sent His Son, Jesus, to earth to be an example for us. We want them to ask our children to think about what Jesus would do. We want our kids to know that they should behave because Jesus gave them loving boundaries and not just so they can get the things that they want.

When we have had stockings on our mantle, instead of filling them with toys, we place a bag of gold foil wrapped chocolate coins to remind them of the money that Nicholas gave to help the young women to remind them that we should look to SEE needs and GIVE as much as we can to meet those needs.

We believe. We believe that a man, named Nicholas, who became known as Saint Nicholas or Santa Claus, lived and died. He was just a man, but a man who wanted to follow Jesus. But more than anything, we believe in Jesus, whom God was so gracious to send us as a baby, so that the world might have HOPE, experience JOY, and know real, unconditional LOVE. 

Hark! It's Christmastime!

I like Thanksgiving. So I get a little perturbed at times with the rush to get the most out of the Christmas season comes at the cost of skimming over Thanksgiving. When I first see the aisles stuffed with Christmas decorations and hear Christmas music on the radio in October, I cringe a bit. I guess I feel like I am force-fed Christmas early so the retailers can take advantage of me. I won't be taken advantage of! :)

(I don't dislike you if you put your tree up early. It just isn't my choice.)

That being said. I guess that is why it takes me a bit longer to get in the swing of things around this time of year.  But, I love Christmas as much as I do Thanksgiving and I get that excitement in due time. I can usually pin it to a moment in time when I "feel like Christmas".

This year it came last week as I was driving down the road listening to KLOVE. I wasn't really paying attention to it at first. I had tuned the radio out and was thinking of what I had to do that day. I had just dropped Dinah off at day school, so T-5.5 hours until pick-up was GO TIME.

I rolled to a stop at the red-light at Shiloh and Harper and realized Amy Grant was softly singing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" to me. I began to sing with her.

At the beginning of the song, she sings softly, a cappella.

"Hark! The herald angels sing
Glory to the newborn King
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled."

I begin to sing with her. Gently, with the next verse, the flutes and piccolos join her, and I am covered in chill bumps with wonder at the King.

"Joyful, all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies.
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem."

A soft female voices join her along with other instruments. I feel a shoutin' spell coming on. Thankfully, I am able to be on auto-pilot at this point in my journey, because I'm so near to home.

"Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth."

Voices unite to form a full choir to shout and sing,

"Veiled in flesh the Godhead see
Hail the incarnate Deity
Pleased as man with men to dwell
Jesus our Emmanuel!
Pleased as man with men to dwell
Jesus our Emmanuel!"

The entire orchestra comes in, the music crescendos. I'm pounding my steering wheel with each word, singing as loud as my lungs allow,

"Hail the heaven born Prince of Peace
Hail the Son of Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings
risen with healing in His wings"

The organ cries out in praise along with me as I have one hand raised and one on the wheel,

"Christ by Highest Heaven adored
Christ the Everlasting Lord
Come desire of nations come!
Fix in us thy humble home
Come desire of nations come!
Fix in us thy humble home."

With tears flowing, I turn off the radio because what could follow that? I drive in silence until I arrive home, turn off the car, I hide my face in my arms over the steering wheel, cry my eyes out, feeling spent but at the same time full of joy. A spirit of peace reigned despite my disheveled appearance.

It was 70 degrees outside. My yard was full of fall leaves. There were pumpkins and withered mums on my doorstep. Inside there were harvest decorations on the mantle. There was no Christmas tree in the living room. But in that moment, in my heart, Christmas-time had come.


Amy Grant "The Christmas Collection" 

Constancy

I've always been one that wanted things to stay the way they were. I was the one who didn't want to go to school. I was the one who cried over the dilapidated old house trailer when we had to leave it to go to the new house. I was the one who didn't want to grow up. I was the one who didn't want anyone to get married and leave home.

So it shouldn't surprise you that if you know me well, hear me speak or pray, or read what I write, to notice that even though I love and am grateful for all of God's qualities, the one I seem to mention the most beyond His Great Love is His CONSTANCY.

As I've grown older, I've realized that there is GOOD change. If nothing ever changed, I'd be in trouble. But through all that change, this little girl at heart, can depend on a God who doesn't.

He is always loving.
He is always just.
He is always merciful if I repent.
He is always in control.
He is always on watch.
He is always truth.
He is always listening.
He is always waiting for me.
He is always a source of hope.
He is always the wellspring of my joy.
He is always good.
He is always faithful.

As I reflected this afternoon on the things that I am thankful for, this hymn bubbled up from my soul and sprang from my lips, it's words written on my heart long ago. This is my offering this afternoon, humbly presented to the King of Kings for His faithfulness to me.

Great is Thy faithfulness, oh God my Father;

There is no shadow of turning with Thee;

Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;

As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,

Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above

Join with all nature in manifold witness

to Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth

Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Happy Thanksgiving,

Anna Becoming

Hmmm...What Was She Thinking?

I found this picture a few months ago. It makes me smile. I put it on my dresser to keep me smiling every day. If you don't recognize the little people in the picture, I'll tell you who they are. The taller girl is my big sister, Emily and the shorter, fatter, smiling kid is me. 

Because I don't remember back that far, I try to imagine what Emily was thinking. I have come up with three possibilities.

1. "I love my little sister SO MUCH I can help but just squeeze her!"

2. "I can't believe this kid came in and ruined everything for me! I'll just choke the life out of this little kid and be done with it!" 

3. "I am so embarrassed. She is so fat that these buttons don't even meet on this jacket. If I push the jacket together maybe it will look better on her. She has to wear the jacket because of the overalls. Who  picked the overalls?!"

I'd like to think that it is #1.

I love you, Emily!

Anna Becoming

Don't Sleep With the Door Unlocked and the Porch Light On

I woke the other morning around 3:30 am. After laying in bed for 30 minutes trying to go back to sleep, I realized that I wouldn't, I grabbed my books and headed downstairs. When I got to the living room I noticed light coming through the window that isn't usually there in the morning. I looked toward the front door and I saw that we had left the door unlocked and the porch light on.

I breathed a prayer of thankfulness that nothing had happened anyway and I flipped the switch off and bolted the door. As I moved through the kitchen to make coffee and then into the living room again to settle down to spend some time with God, He was already speaking.

He said, "You haven't been guarding your home. You have been leaving the door unlocked and the light on for Satan. You have welcomed him into your house over and over again."

You see I'd been lazy. I wasn't keeping my guard up. I invited television and movies inside my home that didn't need to be here. I let our internet be unfiltered all this time, thinking I'd get around to downloading that software sometime. I'd let mobile devices and computers steal my family time. I'd let the T.V. babysit my children because I was too tired to make much effort. I let books in that if they weren't bad, they didn't speak truth and goodness into our ears. The girls would download popular songs onto their devices and then they would all sing them and for a while before I would realize that my small daughters didn't need to be belting out lyrics about boyfriends and dating and a worldly love that I don't ever want them to experience or understand. Pop culture and worldly traditions that seemed harmless had come to visit here.

I had pledged my home to the Lord, but did it look much different than a home that hadn't?

In Girls Gone Wise in a World Gone Wild by Mary Kassian she quotes Joshua Harris,

"The greatest danger of the popular media is not a one-time exposure to a particular instance of sin (as serious as that can be). Its how long-term exposure to worldliness--little chunks of poison pill, day after day, week after week--can deaden our hearts to the ugliness of sin...The eventual effect of all those bits of poison pill is to deaden the conscience by trivializing the very things that God call the enemies of our souls.

Does anyone really believe that if I disapprove of the sin I'm watching, or roll my eyes and mutter about Hollywood's wickedness, or fast-forward through the really bad parts my soul is not affected? Yeah, sure--and if you don't actually like chocolate cake, eating it won't add to your waistline."

1 Peter 5:8 "Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour."

As I sat there, I thought of four ways that we allow this to happen:

1. We aren't aware of the danger. These are the things we have always done. We have become so immune to the evil we don't see it. We aren't seeking God's will or His word about all things around us. We are babies in faith and haven't sought to be discipled or given the chance to be. Our eyes are blinded from the evil because we haven't met truth.

2. We are lazy. It would take effort to fill our time with something else. It is easier to allow the world to come in than to fight it out. Going along with the crowd is always easier. We just don't think about it and keep on sleeping.

3. We think we've got a handle on it. We think we can filter out the bad and only receive the good into our hearts and minds. We convince ourselves that what we watch isn't really that bad.

4. We are in willful disobedience.We know what the danger is. God has told us to remove it and shut it out. We just choose not to do what He says.


It is my responsibility to be on watch. God warns us over and over in His word that Satan will be after us.

I Corinthians 16:13 "Be on guard. Stand firm in the faith. Be courageous. Be strong."

I Thessalonians 5:6 "So be on your guard, not asleep, like the others. Stay alert and clearheaded."

2 Peter 3:17 "I am warning you ahead of time, dear friends, Be on guard so that you will not be carried away by the errors of these wicked people and lose your own secure footing."

I am responsible for weighing what comes in against the truth of God's word.

Philippians 4:8 "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."

Mary Kassian writes,

"Satan tries to lull us with the sweet smell and steady thrum of worldliness. He wants us to forget God and become enchanted with evil. Stamping out his influence and listening to godly counsel is the only way to escape his subtle, yet powerful scheme."

She goes on to challenge the readers of the book to reduce their media intake for at least a month. To watch less or no T.V. and or movies, To not read worldly magazines or surfing the internet. And take that time that you gain and spend it seeking truth. Ask God to help you know what it good and what is evil and for the wisdom to make the right choices for yourself, your home and your family.

As I posted on the Girls Gone Wise Bible study wall, we disconnected our satellite service because it wasn't a service to our home. Even the channels that I had convinced myself weren't bad had things in them that made me cringe. We received free movie channels that were not fit for anyone's viewing.

We have filtered our internet and have cut it's usage by at least 80%. We are allowing it for work and school and for any use that might be edifying (I pray that my blogging is).

Before we did this, I had put it off because I was scared of what we would miss, or wondered how we would spend our time. But then, something bigger than a media reduction challenge forced me to want to shut the world out. There are consequences that I don't want to have to pay anymore.

Guess what? We are on day 4 and we have hardly noticed. We have enjoyed talking to one another. We have enjoyed singing together. We have enjoyed praying together. We have just enjoyed BEING together and present with one another not just in body but in mind and spirit. (I'll keep you posted to see if we continue to enjoy each other or not.) I personally have had time to spend on my Bible studies instead of just rushing through them. There aren't any blank pages. I have time to absorb His message and dwell on it for a while so that I can receive it. I'm not just chucking knowledge at my brain and seeing it slide off. It's taking root there and hopefully it will grow to be a part of me.

I know that everyone needs to make the right choices for his or her home. The ones we have made may not be right for you. But, I urge you to seek what God would have you do and then walk in obedience to that. Because my friends I don't want you to get caught with the door unlocked and the porch light on, like I did.

Click on this to read Joshua Harris's full article "Like to Watch" to learn more ways to help us become more discerning about our media choices.

Much love to you,

Anna becoming

Crying Over Spilled Milk, "Unglued" Moments, and God's Gentle Rebuke and Mercifulness

Today hasn't been the best day. There have been several rough ones lately and maybe today wasn't any worse than any of those, but it sure felt like it. If you can hang on through the complaining part and get to the end, you'll see why I posted.

I guess I really started crumbling last night when I fell asleep around 8 pm and woke a bit at 9 and knew that I needed to get up and take my i.v. infusion (I've had viral meningitis and it is taking some antiviral therapy at home to make it go away.). Well, I've been through a lot with it the past 4 weeks and I'm tired of being compliant and waking at 6am to take a dose after having to stay up until 11:30 the night before to wait and flush the i.v. after that dose. I dozed and woke every 15 minutes thinking about it and the people who worked hard to get me the treatment I needed in the first place. I should have just got up and taken the medicine because I probably would have rested better but I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and talked myself out of that one dose.

So after a couple of hours of troubled sleep, this day began around 2 am when I awoke from a HORRIBLE dream. One of those that seems so real and its horribleness lingers with you for hours if not the rest of the day. I tried and tried to go back to sleep but couldn't.

Around 3 am, I realized that I had not in fact, picked up the key to open the church for this morning's Bible study. I also had not arranged for anyone else to open it for me. If this had been the first weekend that I had to call someone else out of bed early on Saturday to help me, I might not have felt as bad as I did. But because this is the 4th time I've had to, I was sick. And of course at 3 am there isn't much to do about it. So instead of peaceful sleep, I pondered at what would happen if no one could open the building. Not exactly resting in God's peace and provision, was I?

I tried to pray, but ended up making a to-do list instead. Also at intervals, squinting my eyes shut and saying, "Please, let me sleep. Please, let me sleep."

So, I get to sleep at about 5:30, about 30 minutes before I need to get up. Well, I talked myself out of a shower. I talked myself out of a good review of the lesson before I go to class. I talked myself out of a bite to eat. I talk myself out of taking this dose of medicine on time. So I roll out of bed at around 7:00. I send out texts, trying to see if anyone is awake. Praying they would answer, "Yes, I've been up for hours. I'm just itching to get out and do something. Is there anything that I could do to help you this morning?" No such thing happened. (Please know that I am the one totally at fault here. I do not blame any minister on our staff for not being up at the crack of dawn to wait on my bidding.)

So after hitting the high spots, throwing on a little rouge, and a sweatshirt and jeans, I make the call to wake the poor servant of the Lord that I chose to pick on. He answered cheerfully, despite my rude awakening and that issue was quickly resolved. I hook up my medicine that is very visible from my pocket to my forearm and mentally berate myself for not getting up to infuse it earlier because now I'll have to wear it all through class. I take 10 minutes to look over our chapter and pray that God is able to use me despite myself especially this morning that I have a bad attitude and am skimping out on my usual preparation. 

The class went beautifully. The discussion was great. So for an hour I had peace. 

I loaded up and headed home after class, looking forward to a couple of hours in the bed to rest before I needed to go to Ty's ballgame (because, "Yay!", they won their games last night and this morning.) I did get to lay down a bit but not nearly as long as I liked and apparently longer than I should. I was not ready at the time that I should have been to go to the ballgame and that made tensions run a bit high in the house. I rush to finish my toilette and grab my perfume bottle from the cabinet. It slips from my fingers and the mostly full bottle of perfume is broken in two pieces on my tile floor. (I don't get perfume very often and this was a Mother's day present from this year.) Needless to say, I was even more distraught.

I grab the 2 pm dose of med and hook it up, knowing that it won't be infused by the time we get to the game and I'll get to parade my pitifulness again. So then we ride in silence to the ballgame and all the way home. (Ty and his team won the game and so they also won the tournament. That was a good spot in all my crankiness.) 

After we get home, as tired as I am, I know I have to go back into town and get some groceries and pick up another prescription. So instead of the rest my body craves, I load up all 4 of the children because Eric didn't feel good and head for Wal-Mart. I am used to shopping there in the mornings during the weekdays and without children so this trip was a bit more stressful than usual. Dinah has only had a 20 minute nap because of the basketball game and isn't going to win any Miss Congeniality awards today, so I was especially nervous. We finally made it through and were loading our things onto the check-out line and I grab the milk and for the second time that day, something slips through my hands and lands on the floor. The gallon, yes, gallon, burst open and quickly gave the floor a milk bath. So I'm standing there, exhausted, in a milky puddle, with the broken container in my hands, dripping in front of what seemed like half the population of Corinth. The check-out woman was new, I believe and took what seemed like several minutes to find the number that she was supposed to press to get someone to come and help clean up.

One of the ladies who came to help me with my mess, said laughingly, "Well, you know they say there is no use crying over spilled milk!" to her companion cleaners. I guess whatever shred of pride or dignity that might be left in me was keeping me from bawling like a baby all over that spilled milk whether there was any use in it or not. 

The mess got cleaned up. We drove home without mishap. The groceries were put away. The kids were fed their supper. I climbed the stairs with Dinah, put us both in our jammies at 7pm and crawled into bed. It felt so good and I was miserable. 

I had tried to read my "Unglued" book and work in it earlier in the day but it only made me want to cry. So I had to close it because I didn't have time to break down. It seemed that lately my whole life has been  "unglued". My thoughts ran to all the things I had to be thankful for. The fact that my illness was not worse than it was. The fact that even though I've been off work we have had back-up in place for most of that and that God is providing as we go. The fact that we have been lovingly delivered meals over and over again that have helped us so much. The fact that I've had so many beautiful people praying for me. The fact that for everything I had obligated myself to and was unable to fulfill, my wonderful brothers and sisters in Christ have stepped up to take care of for me. The fact that I am able to be at home now and not at the hospital. The fact that even though you have to take medicine, it allows you to be mobile anyway. The fact that my children and husband have been healthy through all of this. The fact that I've had a dream team of doctor and nurse friends helping me through every bit of this. The fact that I have been able to be up and around this week and to get to be a mom to my kids and to be with my Bible study groups. "Yes, yes", annoyed, I said, "But don't you see how pitiful I am? But look at all that went wrong. Look at all the things that were painful and hard." I fell asleep feeling sorry for myself.

Well, I woke at 9:30. Time for another dose of medicine. After I hooked up my i.v., I knew I needed more than this dose of medicine could provide and started thinking about my day. I thought about the perfume. Broken and spilled out, evaporated now. So I looked up the chapters in John with the "immoral woman" who poured out her perfume from her alabaster jar onto Jesus's feet and washed them with her tears. 

I thought about the milk and then read the verses in Hebrews about the believers who were still drinking spiritual milk and hadn't graduated to solid food because they still didn't do what was right. 

I searched the words "broken" and "spilled". Here's a little of what I found.

"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person's strength." Proverbs 17:22

Well, my day was an example of that one. My broken spirit took what strength the meningitis didn't take. I spent my get up and go on feeling sorry for myself. Man, I did it again. 

"The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God." Psalm 51:17

"He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds." Psalm 147:3

"All of us must die eventually. Our lives are like water spilled out on the ground, which can not be gathered up again. But God does not just sweep life away; Instead He devises ways to bring us back when we have been separated from Him." 2 Samuel 14:14

"Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength." 1 Corinthians 15:43

I found mercy and hope despite my failings. He won't only heal my brokenness, He'll use it for His glory if I let Him and He will draw me closer to His side.

"You call out to God for help and He helps - He's a good father that way. But don't forget, He's also a responsible Father and won't let you get by with sloppy living." 1 Peter 1:17

He's not going to let me get away with living in the old way. I am a new creature and I better start acting like it. All this chiseling (for you "Unglued" ladies) hurts but its to make me into the beautiful creation He sees me to be. He isn't going to let me settle for the ugliness that I've become used to (for you "Girls Gone Wise".)

"Your life is a journey you must travel with deep consciousness of God. It cost plenty to get you out of that dead-end, empty headed life you grew up in. He paid with Christ's sacred blood, you know; He died like an unblemished sacrificial lamb. And this was no afterthought. even though it was only lately--at the end of the ages--become public knowledge, God always knew He was going to do this for you. Its because of this sacrificed Messiah, whom God then raised from the dead and glorified, that you trust God, that you now have a future in God." 1 Peter 1:18-21

So, I hope that my pity party is over. I pray that I don't let Satan get that foothold in my mind again. Get away! I pray I dwell on what is true and honorable, right and pure, holy, commendable in the Lord's sight, the things that are excellent and worthy of praise. (Phil 4:8)

References: Unglued by Lysa TerKeurst

                     Girls Gone Wise in a World Gone Wild by Mary Kassian

                     www.biblegateway.com

I Remember

These past two weeks, four babies in my circles of friends and acquaintances have left this world for heaven. Two precious little ones after their birth and two other sweet babies while they were still growing in their mother's wombs. As I have heard of their situations, I have prayed for them throughout my days. Something or someone would turn my thoughts to them, I would send up a prayer for them and their families, then push them from my mind again and go about my day. It seems unkind to have not dwelt on them or their pain. But I couldn't. I didn't have time to think about this and get upset. I am very careful most all the time not think about babies dying. I am very careful not to touch those things in the closet. I am very careful not to pull out pictures. I am very careful not to look at that teddy bear.

 Because of these precious babies and their families coming into my life and thoughts in unusual numbers, I wasn't able to push those reflections away. I thought of them and how they would be feeling. How their coming days would be so hard. How that in the midst of this most difficult thing they would  have to chose to be faithful and tender and good or broken and hard and bitter.  How they would always carry those babies in their hearts and minds when others had long forgotten. Today, I lift them up and I remember.

I remember a fog. My body moved. I heard my voice. I ate. I slept. I cried. I prayed but none of it was clear. It was almost as I was watching myself do those things. A dream state. That's what it felt like. There would be no waking into the realization that everything was fine. Only harsh reality when I emerged from the fog.

I remember frustration. I don't make decisions, especially important ones, lightly. I want things to be right. I had to choose so many things so fast. Constant fear of living in regret over these decisions. These had to be right. I wasn't given the luxury or the agony of being able to plan for this event. I wanted people with me but then wanted to be alone at the same time. I wanted the chance to ask God to spare him. I wanted my boy.

I remember seeing things I never wanted to see. Knowing things I never wanted to know. Having to say things I never wanted to say. My breath being sucked from my body when I saw the tiny hole in the earth where my baby's body would lay.  Seeing my husband knees buckle under him as he leaned over our baby's casket for the last time. Having to tell our other children that their baby brother wouldn't come home with us after I delivered him. Having to answer their questions. Having to tell them that sometimes God doesn't raise people from the dead like they had heard from their Bible stories. 

I remember heaviness. My head, my heart, my arms, my feet, all so hard to hold up. The weight of grief so difficult to carry. Not wanting to wake, much less get out of bed and go throughout my day as if  everything was normal again when it wasn't.

I remember tears that wouldn't stop. Choking sobs. Suffocating sadness. Groans and gut wrenching mourning that involved my entire being.

I remember brokenness. Being so shattered that it felt like there was no hope of being put back together again. Would I ever be able to laugh? Would my smile ever stop being betrayed by the sadness in my eyes? My joy was in pieces. Part of my heart was torn from the whole and sent away from me to a place I couldn't be.  

I remember fear. Would someone ask me when I was due? Being post pregnancy with no baby, I looked pregnant. Would someone ask me how many children I have? I can't tell them I have 3 because I have 4. What will they say to me? I know they are trying to be kind but sometimes the words hurt. What if they don't say anything at all? When they didn't acknowledge my pain it felt almost as bad as when they did. What if I have to walk past the baby section when I have to shop?

I remember emptiness. Empty arms. Empty cradle. Empty picture frames. Clothes never worn. Bears never cuddled. Family pictures that weren't complete. Christmas cards without all the names.

But along with these above,

I remember clarity. The fog cleared and with the light of day, I knew what to do. God's word was beside us guiding us when we were uncertain or confused.

I remember peace. Though there are things I wish I had known or wish I had done, I never stewed over the decisions we made after we made them. I carried serenity when it was impossible within myself. It was a gift given me by the Father of all. The words of Psalm 23 calmed my soul and quieted my spirit.

I remember beauty. What a beautiful baby boy held forever in my heart! We always say it is so hard to see our children grow. He'll always our sweet small one who never grows up. I remember daffodils and tulips everywhere. The compassion and love I felt and experienced was lovely.

I remember being carried. Paul Lee read "Footprints in the Sand" at Jack's funeral. A poem I've known all my life that never held such meaning as it did in the coming days. When it as humanly and physically impossible, God carried us. My husband, my mom, my siblings, my close friends and family let me talk and talk and they listened and listened. They didn't try to fix me or change me. They talked sense to me when all I felt was nonsense. They helped carry my pain as if I gave them each a suitcase full of it. 

I remember comfort. Never before were the words of God more real. Never before had I felt His presence so strongly. He was almost palpable. I felt Him beside me all the time. We were in constant conversation. To know that my baby boy was in the best place he could be other than my arms brought such rest. My relationship with Eric was stronger than it had ever been. I wanted to be with him all the time. I needed to be near him. He let me follow him around the house. He held my hand all the time. I remember the ones who just hugged me and said they were praying for me. The ones who teared up too when I began to cry. I wasn't alone.

I remember love. I never felt more loved or cared for after Jack died. Our mailbox was full of cards everyday. Our house was filled with food and flowers. Gifts to remind us of God's love and their love. I felt the prayers said for us. Phone calls, visits, thoughts and prayers. They helped make everyday more bearable. "Being Held" just like Natalie Grant wrote. Our pain gave us the chance to be held.

I remember healing. The bad days got better. The black clouds receded and didn't come as often. I didn't cry everyday. My chest didn't hurt as bad as it once did. I was able to comfort others with what comforted me.

I remember fullness. My arms were filled with my family and friends. God allowed me to share with others how He had worked so miraculously in our lives. What joy to be able to share and comfort others because you have been there before. To have something in common with someone you've never met but be able to love on them from far away. And how wonderful when he gave us Dinah. What a sparkler! And how much more I am able to love the children I have because of the one who is away from me.

With the bad came the good. With the hard came the help. With the pain, came purpose. With the sadness came new joy.

The sadness and weeping may endure for the night (or what seems like a very long time) but joy comes in the morning (one day when you aren't expecting it). Psalm 30:5b

"Baby Jack Jack"

Jack Nathanael Lancaster

Born of Heaven February 19, 2008

(Portrait drawn by Cole Sanders)

Hang On! Its Going To Be a Bumpy Ride

I have so much to tell you about my trip to Africa! The first story I want to tell you about is our road trip from Nairobi, Kenya to Musoma, Tanzania.

I don't know if there is another way to travel there but our team flies into Nairobi, Kenya before traveling to Musoma, Tanzania. Our team landed in Nairobi and spent the night at the Mayfield House before leaving early the next morning to our final destination. I had the choice to fly to Musoma with some of the group or to ride in a van to Musoma by way of Tenwek with the other members of our team. The purpose for going through Tenwek was to see the hospital there. So naturally, I wanted to see the hospital.

So what? The roads through Kenya and Tanzania can be a bit rough. A bridge was out because of recent heavy rains. We were told that it would take longer than usual because of the detour. It would only take a couple of hours to fly to Musoma. By taking the road it would take us around 8 hours. After being given what Dr. Hutchinson believed would be all the reasons that I might not want to take the road, I decided that I still wanted to see the hospital.

So that morning, we waved good bye to our fellows. We boarded different vans. Theirs to the airport.
Ours to Tenwek.

This was our van.

God has such a sense of humor. We wouldn't find out until much later that the only thing "royal" about it would be the pain in our rear ends and the fact that it almost took us to meet the King of Kings with a few near misses.

Its an adventure though, right? It doesn't matter that there is no cushion left to the seat. Or that the shocks are original to the van. Or that the van and I may or may not share the same birth year. It could be worse. Check out this family of four:

I was in high spirits. I can be comfortable anywhere. The interior resembled the farm truck that I drove as a child while haying in the field. Happy memories. We were going to see so much. The temperature outside was pleasant. With open windows and an open road, this was going to be the best trip ever.

We had not left the city when we were stopped at a checkpoint. The Kenyan officer slowly struts toward the open drivers window. Not smiling, with a baton propped on his shoulder. He speaks to the driver. The driver hands him some papers. They speak for minute. The driver asks our friend Joel something. Joel shakes his head in what looks like disgust and says something back. The driver proceeds to get out of the van and whisper to the officer. Everyone is just sitting in the van wondering but keeping as silent as possible. Kitula asks Joel what is going on. Apparently the driver did not have all of the correct papers. And he wanted to know if we had any money. Not a good situation. The driver gets back in the van.  Joel says something to him that I learned after the fact that went something like, "You are supposed to be professional driver for a professional company and you aren't legal?"We are waved to go on. A collective sigh is heard.

So, all's well that ends well. On the road again. That was probably the one kink in the day. There always has to be one. Pretty soon we see the Great Rift Valley. Isn't it beautiful?

This is what most of the roads looked like. Remember: no cushion, no shocks. And I forgot to mention that if there are speed limits, or any traffic laws for that matter, no one pays attention to them.

We zipped, bumped, vibrated, and swerved on.

It is always telling when the drivers try to drive OFF the roads because they are so bad. Well, We have been in the van for about 6 hours now. We aren't at the hospital yet. But look at the beautiful tea field we saw.

I'm a little sore but the landscape is breathtaking.  I still know I did the right thing. I may never get to see these things again.I enjoy reading the signs on businesses as we drive through villages. From Kenya to Tanzania, there were no just plain ordinary names. It could be a 10x10 ft building and it was a "Shopping Centre". Consider this "Palace".

I love it! There is one place I did not get a picture of because we were speeding past it on a curvy mountain road and I needed both hands on the "Oh Me!" bar that I really wanted. We were up in the mountains with only small thatched huts on the mountainsides. There on the right hand side of the road came into view what appeared to be a small wood cabin with a porch. A cow was on the porch chewing his cud and swishing his tail. As we zoomed past the sign on the building said "Dynamic Hair Salon and Boutique".

About the same hour that we had previously thought we would arrive in Musoma, we pulled into the Tenwek hospital parking lot.

The hospital is beautiful on the outside.

There is a large sign with "We Treat, Jesus Heals" on it. I like that.

Here are some images of inside the surgical ward and operating rooms:

the surgery board

the scrub station

the operating room

recovery

Dr. Hutchinson gowned and talking to a surgeon

Compared to home this may look a little primitive. I think it looks wonderful compared to the Indian hospital rooms that our group used a few years ago. A team from Vanderbilt comes to this hospital to do pediatric heart surgeries twice a year. Dr. Hutchinson hoped to make connections for children in Musoma that needed surgery.

After our visit, we climbed back in our luxury liner and headed to Musoma.We rode several more hours. We were able to nap a little and take in more countryside. I even saw a wedding processional down the road. The bride and groom surrounded by well wishers dancing down the road. We were going so fast, I couldn't get my camera out to take a picture after I realized what I was seeing. I would have ridden the whole 12 hours again to see just that one thing. The bride in a white satin dress with a child's plastic tiara on her head, trying not to smile (it isn't traditional to smile) but the smile breaking trough none-the-less.

The next exciting thing was crossing the Kenyan/Tanzanian border.

I think I'll save that for another post.

Sorry it has taken me so long to post anything. Not much time for reflection and computing for hours here in the Lancaster household. I went straight from my foreign mission back to my home one.

Becoming,

Anna