Month: December 2016

As I sit here on this New Year’s Eve…eve…eve….(I think) – in other words, December 29th, I can’t help but reflect on this last year.  As with each year, naturally this time leads us to think about the previous 12 months, and also tends to see us setting goals for the upcoming 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds. That is the time we all have in front of us, although none of it is guaranteed. We all look at the coming up year hoping for a fresh start, believing for better things, and thinking that at the end of 2017 we will reflect and see all that we have accomplished.

As I look back on 2016, I see a year that had some hard times, but I also see a year where I had to boldly and almost defiantly declare that I know there is a plan for my life. There were times when I can almost picture myself stomping my foot and saying “I don’t care what it looks like today – this is just a refining time that I will look back on and be thankful for.”  Y’all that is straight truth right there. I went into 2016 believing for great and wonderful things….and I’m ending 2016 thankful for this year, and believing the same for 2017. 2016 was a year of internal growth, even if there aren’t a lot of external things to show for it.

As I think about 2017, I know this will be a year of great change. This is the year I have been a mom half of my life. That’s right, I will officially reach the tipping point when the days before I became a mom are fewer than the days since I have been one. That’s a crazy thing to think about. It is also the year that sees my son graduate, and I send him off with hopes and dreams of his own. I was 19 when I had him, and very shortly before he turns 19, he will go off to college. Two 19 year old kids – a lifetime away from each other. So – while this is the year I reach that milestone, it is also the year where I begin to develop some things outside of that, too. It’s important for both of us that I transition into this next stage in life as seamlessly as I hope for him to transition. It doesn’t mean that I won’t have times of nostalgia, but it does mean that it’s time to let him soar, and not have him worry about what mom is doing back at the house. Y’all, I have been a mom my entire adult life – and I will always be a mom. But it’s time to figure out how to be Kim, just Kim, too.  Trust me, your kids want that for you. At least I know JD wants that for me. Let’s not even discuss the slap bet he made with his cousin….let’s just say that I’m looking forward to him losing.  haha!  =)

I could make a list of goals that I want to accomplish in 2017, and I’m not saying I won’t at some point, but more than anything, my goal for 2017 is to become even more firmly rooted in who I am – and in Whose I am. I have a pretty strong sense of self, and usually look at the world with a positive outlook, but that doesn’t mean I am free from times when negative thoughts enter my mind or worry seems to weigh.  For 2017, I will remind myself early and often:

Philippians 4:8 – Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.

Not as an excuse to overlook areas that need tending, or as a way to escape the reality of the situation, instead as a reminder to weigh my thoughts against what His word says for my life. My prayer will be that if my thoughts don’t line up, they will be taken captive and His word will be brought to my remembrance.  I believe that this truly has the power to change my life – and the life of others. If a single action can change our world, and our actions begin with a thought, may that thought be a positive one – full of promise, hope, and understanding of just how much we mean to the One who created us.

Here’s to great things in 2017. In thought. In action.

This is a beautiful life.

 

I feel as if I should start this one with a disclaimer, because this post won’t be easy to write or easy to read – but it is what’s on my heart.

I prayed for you yesterday, with tears rolling down my face. The tears were quite unexpected, although they shouldn’t have been.  I headed towards the town I grew up in to do a little last minute shopping, and as I got closer and closer it was like a flood of memories came, and I was left with the truth I always know, but have a hard time expressing. So, I began to pray. I prayed because I know that somewhere out there you are going to bed unable to dream outside of this moment. There is no dream – only a hope for survival. Somewhere along the way you gave up on rescue, and live with the reality that people can’t even see what is going on, much less realize you need more than a gift under the tree. You live in this moment, and I live with the knowledge that not everyone will be saved by someone else. While I prayed that eyes would be open to see the need in those around them, I prayed that God would keep your heart and mind safe. That He would have His hand of protection on your heart and mind, until the day you realize that sometimes rescue comes in the form of the person you see in the mirror. I prayed that you would one day be able to put one foot in front of the other, leave behind that life, and look back and see that even in the hardest of times, God was faithful to you. That even in those moments, He was working out a path of escape. I prayed that one day you’ll drive back into that town, not defeated, but instead strong in who you are, confident in His love for you, not held back with bitterness or anger, but free with forgiveness and a strong appreciation for how beautiful this life is. I prayed one day you find a way to help someone else, even if it’s small. You will always see the need and not be able to look away from it, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You’ll find a way to live with doing what you are able, and turn over to the Lord that which you are not. You’ll find people who love, support, and believe in you. I prayed for you, and I pray for you often. I prayed for a soft heart, strong mind, and eyes that look towards the Lord for help. Yes, I prayed for you, not as someone who wants to look away from where you are today, but as someone who once was where you are. Rescue is coming. Even if it comes from you.

This is a beautiful life.

 

Last night and today I had the honor of shopping for families for Christmas.  It is something I enjoy doing every year.  We take up donations at church before Thanksgiving, and then names and money are handed out to those who want to shop.  I’m always excited to open the envelope with my name on it, and see who I get to shop for.  I’ve shopped for little boys and girls, pre-teens, and teenagers. There is usually one wish, and then I have to come up with other gifts to buy.  Some years have been more challenging than others. But this year…..

This year I opened up my envelope, and saw that I was given a 7 month old baby. I was given a child who won’t even remember the packages under the tree, or excitedly await to rip into paper. I looked at the little slip of paper, with a wish of learning toys, and thought – sweet goodness, I have no idea what to get a baby.  I mean, just last week, my friend from work was talking about a toy that is a wooden piece of cheese you run string through.  Huh? Literal string cheese? Okay.  We are a long way removed from JD’s first Christmas.

I thought that, and then thought about JD’s first Christmas.  Sure, he was only 3 months old, but we were excited.  I remember getting him a little 1st Christmas outfit, and how his granny kept telling him he was going to get some “stuff.”  It still makes me smile.  The truth is, the first Christmas isn’t for the child – it’s for the parents.  And that led me to another thought.  I thought about this sweet baby and her mama….so here we are.

Dear Mama,

I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.  We have never met, but I’ve had you on my mind a lot lately.  As I sit here watching The Santa Clause, having just finished wrapping gifts for your precious baby, I want you to know first and foremost that it was my honor to be able to do this.  When I think of a baby’s first Christmas, I think it should be filled with joy – and I hope that this year is that for you.  I don’t know if this has been a hard year, or if you feel that really this has been a hard life. I don’t know if your circumstances leave you feeling overwhelmed…or if like me, even when times are hard, you have hope. You believe for the best. I certainly pray that is the case.

Somewhere along this way, I realized that I wasn’t just shopping for a baby girl.  I was shopping for you. I thought about what you might want for your child, and I hope I made good selections. I did get learning toys, and a couple of cute outfits, but then I thought about what I would want.  I couldn’t let this year pass without something to commemorate your daughter’s first Christmas. Something small, but maybe something you’ll unpack each year. Maybe you’ll hold this ornament in the future, and you won’t think about the hard time. Instead you’ll hold this ornament and think of how life can give us the greatest of blessings.

From one mama to another….Merry Christmas.

This is a beautiful life.

I have always had a great love and appreciation for our military, and for the history of this country.  I have been to the Vietnam memorial in DC, shed tears at Arlington, walked the floor at the WWII museum in New Orleans with chills bumps, and gazed in awe at the Naval Aviation museum back home. A few years ago, I even had the amazing opportunity to attend the commissioning of the USS Michael Murphy on a beautiful October day in New York City.

But today I experienced something I never have before, and honestly never thought I would.

As we walked up to the lookout area at Pearl Harbor, the thing I noticed first was just how small that the harbor is.  I had a hard time imagining all the mighty warships we had there on that day almost 75 year ago.  It is hard to believe such a magnificent fleet all in one location.  I gazed out over the water, and thought about what a sight that must have been.  The mountains, with the clouds hanging low, the mist in the air, a place that had to have been so far removed from what most of these young men had ever seen.  The water today was like glass. Peaceful. A tropical paradise that quickly turned into hell.

We had a bit to walk through the museum, where one of the things that stood out was a short clip of a veteran talking about how he could only notify one family member that he was safe, and the struggle he had between notifying his mom or his dad. As he choked up, he explained how he chose his father, and then could only send one line out. Imagine the relief his dad had to have felt getting the one sentence that simply said he was alive. We watched a short film, and the kids all very solemnly got in line to load the ferry to the USS Arizona Memorial. I found myself seeking out the face of my own son. I thought about all the mamas who couldn’t even have pictured a place like Hawaii back in some small mid-Western town, but sent their sons off to serve in the Navy. It took us over ten hours of in-air flight time to get here. That was an impossible world away in 1941. As we pulled up to the memorial I couldn’t help but think of how those same mamas would forever after live a world away from their sons. Their sons, which I have no doubt they loved more than their own lives – forever entombed in a watery grave as a reminder of the sacrifices made on that Decemer day.

As we lined up to exit, we saw a Pearl Harbor veteran wheeled onto the memorial with tears running down his face. Seventy-five years ago he lost his innocence, his childhood, his brothers-in-arms, and returns today to a place that isn’t just a memorial of a time long past, but a monument that clearly divides the life he once knew, and the life he went to bed with on December 7, 1941.  Forever changed. We see the documentaries. He closes his eyes and can’t escape.

My words will never be able to accurately convey the experience of Pearl Harbor.  The beauty of the land. The absolute unimaginable events that took place there. There are monuments to other lives lost in defense of this country, but none where so many lives were lost in an instant. There are other monuments that have the names. But it is something to know you are standing above so many who rest in their earthly grave below. Together in life. Together still in death. My words may not come like I would like, but my heart will never forget.