The Popular Label

                                  
        Popular. When you hear this word, what thoughts or feelings does it dredge up inside you? If you used to be, or you’re still considered “popular,” the word probably doesn’t strike you with a sense of dread, and maybe you really don’t think much of it at all. Or conceivably it fills you with pleasurable feelings knowing that you were (or are) associated with the “in crowd.”  Popular may be one of many labels you wear, but is it the right label?
          Growing up in small town U.S.A., I wore many labels, but popular wasn’t one of them. It started in 6^th grade math class when I asked a question and a “popular” boy called me stupid in front of the entire class. Needless to say, I went through the rest of my school years not asking another question, and forever labeled in my mind as “stupid.” Entering junior high, the one thing the majority of the girls wanted was to be   a......you guessed it……a cheerleader. Of course I tried out, and to this day I can still remember the distraught group of girls who didn’t make the squad (myself included). So, my next label emerged: “Not liked,” because at that time, you were voted on by your peers thus resulting in nothing but a good ‘ol fashioned popularity contest. As middle school continued, the cliques developed, and the “pretty” girls ruled. To drive home the fact that I didn’t belong in this category either, Valentine’s Day rolled around, and the pretty girls had lockers filled with balloon bouquets and vases of beautiful flowers. The only flowers I carried were the ones that belonged to one of the “pretty” girls when she asked me to carry them out to her mother’s car for her! So, my next label materialized: “Not Pretty Enough.” Throughout the remainder of my high school years, I struggled with the labels that I was either given by others, or the labels I gave myself as a direct result of how I was treated by my peers. Labels are powerful things that directly impact the way we perceive ourselves, and the way we believe others perceive us. But, there are a couple things I didn’t understand about labels at the time. First, the only one who has the right to label us is the One who bought us which is Jesus Christ. Secondly, when we accept a label from someone else we allow them to control us. I embraced many labels through the years, and subsequently they influenced what I believed, the decisions I made, and the way I behaved.

          Fast forward a few years, and now I’m a forty-year old mom raising three kiddos, two of which are girls on the precipice of their teenage years, and already the labels are descending upon them faster than this mama can help deflect them! My heart is struggling to effectively teach my children that labels only matter if we let them, and to unconditionally love those who have labeled them; especially when those labels and exclusions are from supposed Christ followers. Yep, I said it because it’s time to face the fact that there’s a “popular” problem amongst our church kiddos. I’ve seen it on Sunday mornings, and it spills over onto Monday. Unfortunately, even as an adult I’ve experienced exclusivity and the sense of an “in crowd” within the church. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not bashing the local church because I love the church, but I think it’s time we wake up to the division Satan is subtly infusing in the Body of Christ. Jesus said there would be one way that a person would be distinguished as a Christ follower and that was “If you have love for one another” (John 13:35). Right words don’t make right Christians. We can wear the Jesus t-shirt and speak the Christian lingo, but if we are showing partiality to certain persons to the exclusivity of others, our faith is worthless. As parents we need to take a good hard look at our behavior as well as the words we speak. We all know our children are more likely to do as we do rather than do what we say. So what type of example are we living before them? Are we living out our devotion to God by loving others despite our differences, or are we presenting our kiddos with the false notion that it’s okay to show partiality on the basis of superficial, external attributes? The “popular” label is never listed in Scripture because we’re all equal at the foot of the cross. However, there are a few labels in Colossians 3:12-14 the Apostle Paul told us to put on: Compassion, kindness, patience, forgiveness, humility, gentleness, and above all love. Our devotion to God is authenticated by our love for others. I don’t think Jesus is fond of his followers mistreating those whom he died to save. May God give us eyes to see as he sees so that we treat others as the loved and paid for souls that they truly are. Let’s commit, as Christ following parents, to authenticate our faith by putting aside fabricated labels and worldly cliques, and to become the loving change our children and our world desperately need. 

In A Blink

    I blinked, and just like that it was over. And this mama didn’t handle the idea of “over” well. At the mere questioning from my daughter, concerning the possibility of attending public school next year, this mama was sent into a frenzy…And. It.Wasn’t.Pretty! I don’t expect you to understand if you have never had the privilege of schooling your children at home. So, let me quickly say, this isn’t a slam towards any family who has chosen the traditional path. I sincerely believe each Christian family must make the prayerful decision concerning which schooling method is appropriate for their family (homeschooling really isn’t for everyone and some days, I’ll admit, it wasn’t for me!) In spite of that, our family embarked on our homeschooling journey 7.5 years ago and it has been full of its joys and trials (especially in math-yuck!) As I now sit on the precipice of a decision to allow my freckle-faced girl to step into the world of public school, I see our homeschooling years suddenly coming to an abrupt close and I’ll be honest, I’m not joyfully singing, “Let it go!”
         As I reminiscence of decorating our first homeschooling room, I remember the excessive trepidation I felt taking this enormous step to follow the call of God on my life to educate our children at home. What if I don’t know the answers? What if I don’t understand every detail of the curriculum? Am I smart enough to teach them? Did God really say to do this? Am I crazy? But, isn’t that what happens when you commit to following God’s calling? Satan has been opposing God’s plan since the garden, so why should I expect anything differently? This homeschooling journey wasn’t necessarily all about keeping them out of public school, but rather, it was centered on the golden opportunity and command of Deuteronomy 6:6-7, “And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.” It was about taking God’s Word and making it the integral part of our children’s lives. I’ll admit though, there were some bumpy days in the beginning, and I wanted nothing more than to flag down that yellow school bus!

        As I reflect on the last 7.5 years, I remember introducing my oldest daughter to the wonderful world of reading while her 4 year old sister sat quietly soaking up every minute. It wasn’t long before she too began cautiously sounding out words to her mama while I enticed her younger brother with M&M’s to use the potty! I recollect time telling instruction, art (which wasn’t too “artsy” from this art inept mama), homeschool friends, pajama days, pumpkin patch field trips, and pulling our hair out over addition and subtraction flash cards (what I wouldn’t give now for one more hair pulling day!) Every single day started (and still starts) the same-opening God’s Word together, and we have stumbled through imperfect seasons of Bible memorization. We went everywhere together-shopping trips, doctor’s appointments, AWANA, dance classes, play times at the park, and swimming lessons at the community pool. (That was the pool where I met fellow homeschooling mama and now life-long friend, Sophia. I absolutely cherish her friendship, wisdom, and cups of coffee during play dates! She was the voice of affirmation and encouragement my first few years of homeschooling and for that, I’m forever thankful). But I digress…Our days were full, our lives were rich, and I just now realize and appreciate it. I didn’t completely embrace each season. Some I wished away quickly (like flashcards…who really loves those things anyway?!)
      But something has happened over the last few days with the mention of it all possibly ending. In the midst of struggling through tender feelings and seeking the wisdom of God, I was given the gracious reminder of intentionality. Everyone tells you time passes quickly once you have children (and I’ve found myself saying the same thing A LOT recently), but it isn’t until those precious, (sometimes hard) seasons of their lives are over that you look back and appreciate the moments. Perhaps I needed to learn this lesson as we embark on the teenage years. I don’t want to wish them away or make the mistake of not being fully present in the days and seasons God has for me. I want to live intentional in the jubilant days as well as in the ugly, chaotic, and problematic messes. Every single one is a gift. Doesn’t the Scripture exclaim, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven?” (John 3:27 ESV). So, to the best of my ability, from this day forward, I will live with intentionality. I will grasp my God given moments and live them to the fullest. I will cherish the concluding days of hand crafted pictures, butterfly kisses, Legos scattered, light-saber duels, disheveled beds, finger print smudges, floors full of dinner crumbs, stumbling through math problems, misspelled words, co-op classes, and yes, even flashcards! It is through trials our faith is perfected and it is on the difficult roads the Father molds and perfects. Whatever path our Father has chosen for our family; and however that exposes my weaknesses and shortcomings, I will choose to live intentionally and completely. Psalm 90:12 says, “So teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Perhaps God allowed this circumstance with my freckle-faced girl to get my attention and remind me to “number my days,” which is to evaluate the use of my time in light of the brevity of life. Ann Voskamp recently said, “You have absolutely only one decision to make every day: How will you use your time?” Making the most of my time does not entail a tablet screen, TV, or text message. I hear the clock ticking loudly and the moments adding up which equal my life and legacy. Speaking of moments, I’ve spent enough time in front of this screen and the pitter patter of feet has reminded me why I’m writing in the first place, so I must sign off. It’s time to live intentional.
                                  

Choosing to Lose

                            

       In 2015, I choose to lose. That’s right, I want to lose. Everyone loves to win and we love winners, but this year I have decided to live in contrast to the world. Loving this life too much and desiring to always be counted among the winners will affect what I’m willing to do for Christ. Because winning anything significant always involves losing something else. My existence isn’t about making a life, but changing a life. When Jesus sent out the 72 as harvest laborers, they returned to Him with joy (Luke 10:17). It is in the pouring out of ourselves for others that our joy is made complete. It is taking what has been invested in us, and dispensing it for the sake of another made and paid for soul.  Selfishness is a dormant illness that can come to life anytime my focus shifts inward rather than outward; therefore I must choose to lose so that others may win. Isn’t that what Jesus did for me? Didn’t he choose to lose his life so that mine would be saved?

So here are a few things I am choosing to lose this year:

I choose to lose arguments for the sake of peace. The need to always be right is a dreadful disease; and peacemakers, according to Jesus, will be blessed (Matt 5:9).

I choose to lose pride and cling to humility. It is in humility I find grace, and lose the propensity toward sin (Js 4:6).

I choose to lose anger and bitterness because neither produce righteousness in me or in others around me (Js 1:20). Anger may be infectious, but so is grace!

I choose to lose the absurd notion that I cannot be joyful in tribulation and that I must spurn the “bad” days of my life. Life is a moment by moment reception of God’s sovereignty. To accept only good from the Lord’s hand is to emotionally reject God’s providence thus promoting my intentions and desires above God’s.

I choose to lose the idea that busy is better. I will embrace “ordinariness” and simplicity because mundane is a gift.

I choose to lose living to audaciously consume. Instead I will live to be shamelessly consumed by His purpose.

I choose to lose fear and grasp faith because fear and faith cannot co-exist. Faith embraces the courageous willingness to believe God and stand alone under pressure (Dan 1:8-16).

I choose to lose the concept of self-preservation. My life was preserved for me at the cross; therefore since Christ was raised from the dead, I am able to live a “risk it all” kind of life.

I choose to lose bowing down to my feelings and will bow only to God’s Word.

I choose to lose indifference. When I refuse to see pain and suffering in this world, I lose the opportunity to feel and grow in compassion thus attributing to a hardness of heart. Compassionate hearts are birthed through personal experience, and the bravery to involve ourselves in the pain and suffering of others.

Ultimately, the summation of choosing to lose is choosing to extend grace. Because every ungracious moment links me to the amnesia of the soul who forgets the grace that has been extended to me. The reality of the gospel is Jesus chose to lose so we could win. I am a woman who needs more of Jesus in 2015 than of herself. I choose to lose.

                                                  

A Parent's Words

                                                    

        Today, there is much at stake in what we say. Words plummet from our mouths brandishing unlimited influence. Words boast of the authority to encourage, uplift, compliment, validate, extend hope, and promote healing. The very way our words are exhaled kiss the soul and declare life. Alternatively, words flaunt the ability to cut, pierce, provoke, irritate, anger, shatter, and destroy. Jon Bloom, president of Desiring God, writes, “People die because of something said. Tongues can be weapons of mass destruction, launching holocausts and wars. Tongues can also be the death of marriages, families, friendships, churches, careers, hopes, understanding, reputations, missionary efforts, and governments.” But, the most prevailing words that echo through the recesses of our minds are those articulated by our fathers. Because a father’s words are weighty.

As a mother, the words I declare over my children are powerful, but the words spoken by a father have a greater impact and far more lasting consequences.  Angry, careless words can drop heavy like a crushing brick stripping the blossoming woman within of worth and dignity causing her to wither inside. A father’s words have the potential to inspire, reshape, redeem, and remind the precious soul of grace, unconditional love, respect, and chivalry. The mouth of a father is a Holy Grail filled with potent words to inoculate sons and daughters against a poisonous culture filled with the enemy’s defamations. A father can be the “voice of reason” or the reason their child no longer uses their voice. Because the sum of a father’s words are weighty.

The foundation of a daughter’s securities and subsequent inadequacies are erected on the affirmation or lack thereof they receive from their fathers. King Solomon wrote, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue and those who love it will eat its fruits” (Proverbs 18:21). A wise father knows his words can hurt more than sticks and stones and there is no such thing as an insignificant word. A wise father knows timing and tone are considerations and every single syllable has the potential to caress the soul or extinguish it. A wise father discerns that his words are weighty and he is careful to glorify God by tempering his anger in order to have a well-fathered daughter.

Womankind are born with a God given desire for affection, affirmation, and love. Every soul longs to be chosen and to believe they matter-that they have purpose. There is a heart hunger hidden in each woman reserved for their Daddy and a desire to delight him. Therefore there is no one on this earth who holds more power to ensure the thriving of a soul than a father. Ultimately our desires are a gaping hole. A gaping flesh wound inflicted in the garden when man chose woman over God. Perfection was destroyed, sin was introduced, and our souls have been gaping wide ever since. There is only one remedy for our scarred hearts. The only soul fulfillment is the love of a sinless Savior and a blood stained cross.  

He is the living Word and the eternal pre-existing Word and his very utterances created a universe beyond comprehension. The breath of the Holy One infuses our lungs and every single exhalation whispers his name pouring forth praise. Forever his word is firmly fixed in the heavens extending hope to a sin tainted world. And the most significant confession is birthed in our hearts which leads to salvation because “out of the heart the mouth speaks” (Matthew 5:18)…Jesus is LORD! Jesus is LORD! Jesus is LORD! For that reason, our souls are diagnosed by our words since our tongues reveal our hearts. Our words exist in a circadian rhythm…daily gifts to sanctify our children who were made in the very image of God. Forgive us, Father, our soul amnesia overlooking whose image our children reflect and may our hearts consent with author Ann Voskamp to continually, “Speak words that make souls stronger,” because a parent’s words are weighty.

The Gift of Sponsorship

     I can still remember it like it was yesterday. My two little girls ages 6 and 4 were snuggled securely on my lap as we sat in front of the computer looking intently and heart-wrenchingly at the vast sea of beautiful, anticipative faces who were created in the image of our God. Each set of eyes looking back at me pierced my heart as we read story after story searching for the one God would place on our hearts to sponsor. Etched into each yearning face is a story. For some it is the loss of a parent, others it is living in a “high risk” aids infected area, the majority reside in malaria ridden areas, and many are the tiny hands and feet working for survival yet hoping one day education would be written into their lives that the cycle of poverty might be broken. Though the stories may be diverse, each one began with hope sworn identical words, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5). God is acquainted with every single story and every single child and his very knowing of them guarantees hope. As we painstakingly narrowed down the pictures and stories that tugged at our hearts, we made our decision and chose little Anna, age 6 from Tanzania. 
          

          Now it has been 6 years since our family sponsored our first child and we’ve gone on to add several more sponsorships to our family. Last Christmas, after my children began asking to become sponsors themselves, they each sat down at the computer and once again chose that special person whose lives they would impact. Because the truth of the matter is our very existence is a “mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14) and our existence is not about making a life, but changing a life. Allowing our children the gift of sponsorship has given them a sense of responsibility in the transformation of a life across thousands of miles through prayer, letter writing, and gift giving. Addy, my oldest daughter, has become a beautiful spokesperson for Compassion, advocating on behalf of the children, speaking before her peers on Compassion Sunday, and forever looking for the next sponsor for the life of a child. 

     Last night I sat captivated at the Gift of Christmas Tour enthralled  with the beauty and passion of three sisters in Christ, Amena Brown, Ellie Holcomb, and Ann Voskamp. Yes, this event was sponsored by Compassion International, but sponsoring another child was the furthest thing from my mind. We had recently lost a couple of our Compassion children because their families had moved out of the Compassion service area and we had chosen new children in their place. However, as Ann Voskamp called the Compassion representatives forward, each carrying numerous folders containing the lives of children in desperate need of hope-my heart was stirred. Because during this advent season, isn’t that what we all need? What we all are starving to behold? Just a glimmer of hope in our messed up world? For some of us, we are hanging on by our last thread and we need someone to come and reweave our story and sow hope in our dark places. We need the light from heaven to peel back our darkness because light always over powers darkness. As I looked up, a beautiful young lady named Hope stood before me and her name simply beckoned me to extend the gift of hope to one of the lives in her hand. And then I saw her, a tiny girl child with braided hair with the words Central America scrawled across her card. My heart was pressed to choose her, just as Christ chose me and whispered, “You are mine” across the dark recesses of my longing soul. But, alas a moment of doubt, a second of hesitation and she was gone. The evening continued and my loving Father insisted, “Sponsor her,” but I wrestled with the internal dialog of my heart thinking surely she had been chosen by another since much time had elapsed. However, I sensed the gentleness of my Father asserting, “She’s still there.” So at the end of the evening I made my way through the crowd to the Compassion table and began swiftly scanning the sea of hopeful faces peering back at me from their folders, searching for the tiny girl child with braided hair from Central America. Then all of a sudden my eyes landed on her precious face and I gasped, not really believing, and I clutched her packet, thankful the Lord had extended a second opportunity for obedience to his will. Tears slid down my face as I clasped Holanna’s packet to my heart and I said to the representative, “I want her.” And with those words, Holanna became Cianciotto sponsored child #7…God’s perfect number. 

     Ever since I was a child I have held a deep longing to adopt and yet, I’ve had to learn to thank God for the desire while it goes unfulfilled. Although God has not given me more children to mother in my home, he has blessed me with what I like to call my “spiritual children” through Compassion. So, I have two children in Africa, one in Haiti, India, Bolivia, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic. He has called me to advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves (Proverbs 31:9) and who are otherwise ruined by their condition. I am called to grasp hope and extend hope because if I don’t, I will pass through this life and never really live it. Hope is where the journey begins.    
If you would like to begin your journey of sponsorship, would you please consider sponsoring Francisco Emmanuel Bountin Jimenez from the Dominican Republic?

Addy is advocating for the Speak Up Compassion Campaign whereby she is "speaking up" for one child in poverty and looking for Franciscos's hope giver. Please contact me today if God has placed it on your heart to be his sponsor!

A Beautiful Reflection

                                 
     The Lord was birthing the words for this blog in my heart when I happened to see a Good Morning America clip about a “magic mirror” and a female band out of Austin, Texas called The Mrs. My curiosity was piqued. I mean what woman isn’t intrigued by the thought of a “magic mirror” that would speak positively about her reflection? As I watched the episode unfold, I was brought to tears as the magical mirror spoke positive, uplifting words of encouragement over each beautiful woman who dared to stop for a glance. (Watch here: www.themrs.com)
The Mrs. have stepped out with an innovative idea and a sure fire new hit, “I’m Enough,” challenging women in all walks of life to “kill that noise” of criticism that reigns unrelentingly when face-to-face with our reflection.
     We have bought the demoralizing lies far too long, friends, and the consequences are devastating. Anorexia, bulimia, self-mutilation, plastic surgery (to which I’ve succumbed), and measuring our self-worth by the number on a scale instead of the nail scarred hands of Christ. Each one of us is loved far more than we’ll ever know by a Savior that died for us (Romans 5:8). Prince Charming is a fictional character who sweeps the flawless princess off her feet, but Jesus Christ is the King of Kings whose blood bought our ransom and whose everlasting love for us is the embodiment of perfection.
     Several years ago I was chastising myself before the merciless mirror picking out each “flaw” my eyes deceivingly embraced. I was focused on the crinkles around my eyes, lines forming around my mouth, the too much wiggle in the tummy, and extra jiggle on my thighs when suddenly I sensed the sadness of my heavenly Father, my creator. Here his creation stood picking apart his work of art. He impressed upon my heart the truth of my criticism which was simply my agreement with the enemy. You see, Satan loves to distort the works of God and his desire is to “steal, kill, and destroy” (John 10:10) the abundant life Christ desires for us. When God created man in His image he looked at his creation and called it “very good” (Genesis 1:31). So when did we stop believing God’s word about our image which was created like him? We are a beautiful reflection of our amazing Creator, yet we have swallowed the lies of the evil one, aligning our thoughts with his, ashamed to look in the mirror or step on a scale. The last time I checked the words fear, overweight, underweight, and ugliness were not descriptions the Lord used to describe is daughters.
     Our true identity lies in Christ and he is enough. When we gaze in the mirror, we reflect the flawless beauty of chosen women who are redeemed from sin by blood spilled just for us. We have been adopted by a perfect Father who smiles at our appearance and shouts over our critical inner voice, “You are blessed, chosen, holy, blameless, loved, adopted, redeemed, and forgiven. You are mine” (Ephesians 1:3-5, Isaiah 43:1). Today when you step in front of the mirror, don’t be afraid of the image you see, embrace it as the person God created you to be. You are a beautiful reflection which represents the hand of God in a unique, inspiring, and beautiful design. 

Holy Ground

                                                 

          As I wrap up my quiet time and take the last few sips of my now cold pumpkin spice coffee; I reflect on my life recalling fond memories of my wedding day, births of my children, the numerous cities and homes I’ve lived as an Army wife, and all that my present life entails. God willing, I will reach a milestone in my life tomorrow…the big 4 0.  I certainly cannot boast of vast achievements, prestigious college degrees, world travels, or fame. I describe my life as a glorious mess of marital bliss and ugliness combined with parental successes and failures. I’m continuing to stumble through my homeschool calling year after year relying on God’s faithfulness that my inadequacies aren’t failing my children, while silently praying for spiritual growth through countless humbling experiences. I have perpetual piles of laundry, and a home that continually needs cleaning. Yet, our home boasts of moments of laughter, arguing, (inevitable?) pre-teen eye rolling, crying, forgiving and love. I half-heartedly admit to a love/hate relationship with my scale, I barely find time to squeeze in a workout (so I keep my fingers crossed I don’t find myself “squeezing” into my jeans!) I’ll admit I have an insatiable sweet tooth and my favorite junk food is Cheetos. Every four weeks I walk through the doors of the “beauty” parlor so as not to submit to gray hair; however, I’ve come to embrace my “laugh lines” which reveal a lifetime of joyful amusement! I am a die-hard Cowboys fan (which simply goes against the masses living in Houston), but I also have Kansas City blood which runs blue for the Royals, my childhood baseball team. I’m not the least bit creative or artsy like my mom, and my best rendition of drawing consists of stick figures.  I don’t have a crafty bone in my body, but being a homeschool mom, I suffer from “mommy guilt” (over many things and this is just one) which says I should attempt to offer craft time for my kids. Consequently, I only survive because of Pinterest, and yet my crafts never seem to turn out like the picture…sigh. I hate ironing and I’d much prefer going “slightly wrinkled” than waste precious time pulling out the ironing board. I can’t sew to save my life-sorry kids about all the AWANA patches that were super glued to your vests!  I have always been a bookworm, which was especially evident the year I gave my brother a book for Christmas and read it before he did! I love individual date nights with my kids, and I cherish long talks and alone time with my husband, the Colonel. Is any of this glamorous? Not at all. Significant? Yes. This is the life God ordained for me before time began (Eph 2:10). What I see as mundane and extremely ordinary, God sees as holy. When Moses encountered his burning bush experience, God said, “Take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground” (Ex 3:5).

          As a wife and mother in the thick of marriage, sibling arguments, math problems which threaten my sanity, parental illness that renders my heart shattered, my Father decrees it all holy ground. Although most days my life is simply very commonplace, it’s also full of enriching experiences which God designed specifically for me so that I would inevitably become more like his Son. With every meal prepared, boo boo repaired, argument refereed, tears cried, patience tested, errand ran, math problem solved, science experiment flopped, stick figure drawn, prayers prayed, Bible lesson taught, and innumerable hugs given, every single moment of my life was perfectly designed by a perfect Savior for his glory and my sanctification. Honestly, turning 40 isn’t earth shattering as some make it out to be. For me, it’s simply a time of reflection and thanksgiving. In God’s sovereignty, I’m right where he wants me to be, living the life he created which is fully dependent on Him.