Hoping you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. We did a mini STAYcation.  We used free Legoland tickets on Friday and hit the Nixon Presidential Library on Saturday (where Chad and I had the funnest time photo-shooting ourselves in the reflective visor of real spacesuit worn by Neil Armstrong). But then on Sunday it all came to cash in because I woke up sick.

Don’t click away.  I’m not giving away a spacesuit.  Or a camera.

But I do think you’ll be interested in what I’m giving away today. So continuing in my My Favorite Things: Six Weeks of Free Stuff, I’m giving away a trio of my favorite writing items. Even if you aren’t a writer, I’m sure you’ll be happy.

$25 to Starbucks because that is where I get most of my writing done. I’m at my cozy little Starbucks twice a week when my three-year-old is in preschool.

$25 to iTunes because without my headphones connected to my computer listening to my writing playlist or something similar, I can’t get any work done with the milk steaming and people talking on their cell phones in the background.  Music takes me to my happy place when I’m writing.

A mini Moleskine notebook. For the past few months I’ve kept one of these with me WHEREever I go. I put one in my purse and I leave it there.  I write blog posts, shopping lists, and writing ideas in it. It’s perfect.

One of you will receive all of these in one tidy little package that is my pleasure to mail off at the end of the week.  So, to enter, leave a comment in the comment field telling me your favorite trio of whatever.  Three lipgloss colors. Three tea cups you love.  Three places to vacation. Whatever you want. Three things that somehow go together.

Leave your comment (one comment only) before 9pm on Wednesday night and I’ll announce the winner on Thursday.

What’s your favorite trio?

Hours to prepare.

No, days to prepare if you count the meal planning, the sweeping and mopping and dusting, and the turkey choosing and purchasing. Even so, I was up early yesterday still in my pajamas frying bacon for grumbling tummies.  I stayed in the kitchen while they watched the Rockettes in the Parade, wrestling a twenty-pound bird into a roaster, chopping the chocolate for the pecan pie, and the dicing the ginger and apples for my cranberry galette that would leak all over the oven later that afternoon.

Hours.

Families arrive bringing hugs with arms full of casserole dishes and cheek-kisses while setting down bags of sweet rolls.  And then together we set out stemmed glasses, heirloom china and my mother’s silver (that I secretly hope I get someday).  We light the candles, play games of UNO and wait for the turkey to finish in the oven. More hours.

And then we eat.  For 30 minutes. Hours of preparation for only a tiny sliver of the day spent around a table.

One of us clears, one of us washes one of us dries. Another of us puts the leftovers into the bulging refrigerator shelves and someone starts the coffee.  It takes two more hours before my kitchen is back to where it began two evenings ago, with cleaned counters and put-away dishes.  We women talk over the steaming sink while the men fall asleep in front of the television, and even as old-fashioned as that may seem, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hours to prepare, hours to put away, for a few minutes of chewing and sipping.  But the pleasure isn’t in the eating.  The pleasure is in the sipping of vanilla coffee as the sun goes down with dish-soapy hands.  The pleasure is pretending I don’t see my three-year-old steal her 5th chocolate pretzel from the dish by the pies and sneak off into the other room where she won’t be scolded. Its in the elaborate dance we instinctively do in the kitchen as we jockey around each other for knives, cutting boards and spoons to stir gravy.

The pleasure is in the hours before and after the meal standing and laughing with my favorite people in the world.

What did you find pleasure in yesterday?

Thank (YOU) for leaving amazing comments here on Monday.

It truly blessed me to read them.  And I’m not just saying that.

Thank (YOU) for being such an amazing community.  You’ve allowed me into YOUR lives by sharing your stories with me.  I’ve been changed by knowing you.  So thank (YOU) for writing down your thank-yous for us all to read.

I’m happy to be able to give Lisa’s Paper Lantern Necklace to Katie from Pensacola. She wrote:

I am so thankful for ALL of the things God is doing in my family.  I know that sounds kinda broad, but there is huge list that I am aware of and a huge list that only He knows and I am thankful for all of it.

I am also thankful for all of the beautiful blog friends that I have met in the last year.  They have added richness and beauty to my life that I am so glad I have not missed.

I know Katie has been commenting on my blog regularly for awhile, so thank (YOU) Katie for coming along on my journey with me.

Happy Thanksgiving! Eat lots of turkey and fall asleep to the sound of a football game in the background.

“Are you going to get married someday?” I ask my three-year-old.

She scrunches up two little eyes and a nose in disgust and stomps, “NO!”

“But what if it’s Prince Charming?” I ask, hoping to memory-jog the recent emergence of Prince Charming and Snow White in our video library.

She thinks, relaxes her face and asks, “Is he three?” Apparently an age near hers and a proclivity for watching Strawberry Shortcake top her demand list for a future husband.

However, my older daughter wants to get married. In facial distortions and hand gestures she answers all of my questions.

“Who are you going to marry, sweetheart?” I ask her.

She motions wildly hoping I’ll understand without making her answer with real words.  “Oh, I know.” I tell her, “Garrett, right?”

Her face lights up at the mention of a playmate she’s known since she was 4 months old in the nursery at church.  I want her to tell me her reasons.

“Because we’ve…” and then she uses her hands in an elaborate pantomime of

I

have

no

idea.

Oh no! I hope she’s not saying they’ve KISSED!

Evenly I ask her to explain.  “Because we LOVE EACH OTHER!” she half-whispers, obviously embarrassed by having to talk to me at all about it.

Well, now that we have that settled, I think.

I guess Garrett is her Prince Charming.  Through almost eight-year-old eyes he’s everything she could ever want, most of all the perfect Star Wars conversationalist and Wii opponent.  And that’s okay with me as long as he grows up to love God more than her.

A lot can happen in the next 13 years.

But in reality, Prince Charming is a fake. He’s a tenor-voiced opera singer who waits around(only God knows where)  for Snow White (or Cinderella – two timer?) while she gets chased into the forest by the knife-wielding huntsman, is abandoned in a house with 7 tiny men and falls for the witch’s evil apple.  All by herself. Where is he when the dwarves and forest animals are mourning her death around the glass coffin?

I know, I know. He eventually comes around, kisses her (morning breath) mouth and she wakes up.  All is well, a song is sung and she dances off with a giant diamond on her hand.

It doesn’t happen like that, right?  There are good men.  Amazing men. Men who adore God and serve Him first, treat their wives well and are great fathers.  But even they burp at dinner and leave their jeans in piles around the bedroom.

So how do we prepare our children with high expectations for their future spouses, but at the same time not perpetuate a lie that life will be roses and singing squirrels after they say “I do”?

What do you think?

I know her ears get hot and it becomes hard to hear the teacher.

I know her back feels tingly and that she can’t control the expression on her face or the tears that begin in the corner of her eyes when Logan says what he says to her every day.

“You’re mean!” he whispers under his breath as she walks by his desk.

Unprovoked.  Uncensored.  Unecessary.

And a little inncuous to adult ears.  The label of “mean” by an eight-year-old is hardly comparable to other curse words she could be called.  Still, she panics.  She reacts to the word, the attack, as most little girls would — without the benefit of perspective.

She can’t see past today and how now feels.  All she feels is the welling up of grief that fills her to the top and in her mind she doesn’t know when that pain will end. She forgets that in ten minutes Logan’s insult will be a faraway memory.

When I was 14 my boyfriend broke up with me.

(And this is the boy I wasn’t even supposed to be dating but we were together anyway.)

Hot tears. Angry tears.  Alone tears. All of a sudden I’m abandoned and I begin to panic. I shrieked into a pillow on my mother’s sofa, “I CAN’T LIVE ANY LONGER!!!”

Seems silly, right?  I know.  It’s still silly 20 years later.

But that afternoon on my mother’s sofa I couldn’t see past the pain of the moment. The grief was entirely real, expected and valid. Just like my daughter’s horror when the boy at school calls her names. But nothing is as bad with the proper perspective.

It’s the four o’clock in the morning phone call.  No one calls at four am so there must be something horribly wrong.

It’s the letter that comes in the mail from one person who you know would rather see you burn in hell than see you face to face.

It’s the huge bill that arrives that you weren’t counting on. Panic.

It’s when a friend calls you and says, “I don’t know the right way to say this, but…”

Panic.

But here’s the perspective:  You can get through ANYthing.  You can.

You can walk through a parent’s death.  Through divorce.  Through rejection. Through cancer. Through miscarriage. Through infertility. You can get through it. It may be the hardest thing you have EVER done, but you can get through it. It won’t last forever.  Nothing does.

How do I know this?  How can I say these things??

Because He is able when we are not.  He is strong when we are weak. He is Peace when we are Panic. He is Faith when we are Faithless.

He is the same One who calms the worried seven-year-old girl and soothes the mother who’s baby has died, who holds the hand of the abused woman and searches out the kidnapped.

God is able to sustain us, each one of us, and BE the perspective that we lack.

Do you panic? Do you have trouble gaining perspective?

Oprah does it.

And now I’m doing it.

And to be honest I haven’t watched Oprah since I was on bedrest pregnant with my OLDEST daughter 8 years ago.

Anyhoo…

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time then you will know that I’m not really a giveaway girl. I’ve given away books written by my friends and acquaintances in the last year, but I’ve never done anything like I will be doing in the next six weeks.

Don’t have a heart attack.  I’m not giving away cameras or refrigerators.

But every Monday from now until the end of the year, I will be hosting a giveaway. Yes, that’s right.  Every Monday. Like clockwork.  (Or as regular as jogging regimen used to be before I started writing a book…)  And they will be MY FAVORITE THINGS.  Sorta like Oprah.

And since I’m not in the giveaway circuit, most (not all) of the things I get to give to you I will be purchasing myself.  Some have been donated and I’ll make sure you know when someone has been gracious enough to donate something to my readers.

So to launch this My Favorite Things: Six Weeks of Free Stuff series, I’m giving you one of my personal favorite things. A necklace by Lisa Leonard. She just has been generous enough to donate one of her brand new Paper Lantern necklaces to one of my readers.

Not only is Lisa one of my favorite people, but her unique jewelry is some of my favorite to wear. I’m not glamorous or overstated, so for me her pieces are the perfect amount of jewelry around my neck.  I have one to giveaway here this week and the winner will be able to personalize it with the names they choose (yours won’t say “chad” “hope” and “naomi” because if it did, that would be weird).

To enter, leave a comment telling me one thing you are thankful for (this being Thanksgiving week, I thought that would be appropriate).  Please, one comment only per person and the comments will be open until 9pm Pacific Time on Wednesday.

I’ll announce the winner at the end of the week.

Oh, I’m so excited! Are you?

I’m going to take a risk this morning and I’m going to ask you to take a risk too.

I want to pray for you all this morning again like we did awhile back.

But let’s do this:  Instead of praying for situations to change, let’s pray for us to change.

This is what I mean.  We usually pray for healing or for God to change a situation to meet our needs. For example:

“Lord, please heal my friend who is dying from breast cancer,” or

“Lord please bring peace to my marriage.” and

“Please give me time to complete all the tasks I have to do.”

Instead, let’s pray that God changes us. I know, I know, it’s super risky.  God cares deeply about the woman who is dying from breast cancer and about peace in our relationships. And I’m not saying those types of prayers aren’t good.  Let’s do something different today knowing that God’s ultimate goal for us is our transformation.  So let’s pray today that God stretches us to meet the demands of our crumbling worlds.

“Lord, stretch me to be the type of person that offers comfort and energy to those who are suffering.  Show me how I can be Christ to her ” or

“Lord, change me to be a better wife/husband to my spouse,” and

“Help me to complete my tasks with efficiency and teach me new ways to manage my time.”

This kind of prayer takes courage. It’s risky to ask God to change you.

Are you willing?

LEAVE YOUR PRAYER REQUEST IN THE COMMENTS. Let’s pray for one another today before the weekend begins.  Come back later in the day or the weekend and pray for those who have left requests before you. I will be praying for each of you today.

In a room with 400 people watching (or it could have been more than 400 because we had to bring in extra chairs) we stared at each other. And we thumb-wrestled.  400 people more than we could feed dinner to so we offered them cake and punch later on in the fellowship hall.

And then we said things to each other that were supposed to be written on some heavenly stones for the angels and all of eternity to witness and seal. Vows. Covenant vows.

But things don’t always work out the way we think.

People don’t always keep promises.

But this isn’t about promises kept or broken.  Its about purpose.

Because standing across from my husband with my father the minister asking us to repeat our (covenant) vows I began to feel a sense of purpose.  As if the something that I was doing that June afternoon was more important than the church or the 400 people or the dress.  There was a bigger reason behind getting married than just being in love.

There were several years when I squandered that purpose and he squandered that purpose.  We knew we were meant to be together, to do “big things” for God (even if they were in small bits and tiny corners of hearts). But for many years we both resisted in every way we could.  We rebelled.  We closed our ears.  We looked the other way and wore dark glasses.

We were trying to escape our purpose.  And to be honest, for a long time I didn’t even know what I was here for.

This past weekend I felt closer to my (and our) purpose than I ever have before.  My husband and I shared the stage as we spoke to a group of about 150 about grace, repentance and restoration.  We shared our story and how God has redeemed our marriage.  How He has made our covenant vows real and alive again even after they’d been squandered.

We finally moved and breathed together like we were meant to.

And I don’t think the 400 people in the room 13 1/2 years ago had any idea what would come of our marriage.  And they certainly didn’t know what our purpose would require. If they did, they might have gotten up and walked out. Who wants to watch a marriage fail? I don’t think they knew that we would walk through something that would change the course of our souls.

And we didn’t either. But we hung on to the immovable thought that we were meant to be for something bigger even when we struggling the most.

He is faithful to His purpose in me even when I’m not.

[In case you're wondering, I think my purpose (and our purpose as a couple) is to see hearts changed and healed, and to offer a story of grace to those who don't believe grace is possible.]

What is your purpose? Do you know it yet?  Can purpose change throughout your life?

Why do I think goodness is so hard to find?

I think its pressed into the corners of life and gathered up in tiny places like pockets and closets. I search for the goodness under rocks and in the early morning hours when the sun isn’t up yet, as if its hiding from me. Goodness isn’t in the ordinary or the routine.  It is swept into the sidewalk cracks, the creases in folded fabric, the edges of the paper.

Goodness is hard to find in the world. It seems…

That’s how I live: just trying to endure until the next tiny good moment.

It’s like waiting for the release in a song.

But living like that robs me of the in between times. All the sweetness that happens in the riding in the car, in the walking in the woods, in the preparing of a meal.  All the goodness in the questions, the listening, the stories at bedtime.  I miss it if I try to wait for the tiny and profound.

In the searching for the little, I’m missing the big and wide open graces that are here the whole time.

What are you missing today? Do you find it hard to see goodness?

This post inspired by this song: Click to listen.

I’m constantly telling my girls,

Say ‘Thank You’…

And they do, politely usually.  They are getting it and soon it will be more than habit.

But its comfortable to them to be grateful because their ever-present mother is asking.  When I’m not with them and the teacher holds the door open for them, do they smile and say “thank you?” I hope so.

Today I’m writing over at (in)courage.

Inconvenient Gratitude

Am I thankful?

Sure I am.  As long as it’s convenient.

As long as the gift-giver is within ear’s reach of my thank you. And as long as what I’m thankful for is good, comfortable, pleasant and smells great.

I never thank anyone for rolling over my toe with their cart in the grocery store or thank someone for an unkind word.  And I never thank God for struggles.

I mean, how stupid would I sound:

Thank you, God, for NO MONEY to pay the mortgage today.

Thank you that my seven-year-old has emotional outbursts every morning before school that reduce her to a pile of unbrushed auburn waves and tears on the bathroom floor.

Thanks for spilled apple juice, dried and sticky on the floor…

Click here to read the rest.

Are you grateful during the uncomfortable, inconvenient times?