If the Church Bells were Quiet

If the church bells were quiet 

And the candles unlit 

And the building was empty, save one in pulpit 

 If the people could not join their hands down the aisle 

 If they had to put coverings over their smile 

 The stage unadorned 

 And the choir rows sparse 

 If they had to tune in from a speaker in cars 

 Would the church as we know it then cease to exist?

 Or perhaps, is The Church something different than this? 

 Can we still be at church if we're not in a seat?

 Or are we The Church when we're made hands and feet

 Are we robbed of the church if we're not in a place? 

 Or are we fully a church when The Church is a face

 Is church where we gather? Or is Church where we give 

 Is church where we hear a message? Or is the message how we live 

 When building is absent, can Body still grow?  

Where candles are darkened, can't our Light still show? 

 Where church bells are silent, can't Spirit still sing? 

If there's not any address, is Church still a thing? 

 The answer is yes, for we aren't wall or steeple 

 We are Christ's Bride: The Church is a people 

 And where two or more are gathered in Name, then the Spirit of God is there just the same. 

 So where church bells are quiet 

 Maybe we can ring out

 Living Stones being built in a spiritual house ❤️

My Tomorrow Song

Occasionally I write things with absolutely no intention of sharing them, (which is extremely weird for a person with a blog to say, I know) but I came across this poem today in one of my notebooks and thought it was worth putting out there. I am not exactly sure what was going on when I wrote it, but I do think that it pairs nicely with the solemness of today.
Hope it might strike a chord with you too.
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Tomorrow comes
With all its worries and its doubts
With things that never will work out
And unanswered questions

Yes, I do know
It will be easy not to care
To drag my feet and hang my head down for a while
But I'd rather smile

Tomorrow comes
With challenges I've yet to face
And all the plans I've yet to chase
And may never realize

And while I know
It will be easier to cave
To guard my heart and tell my foolish dreams goodnight
I'd rather fight

Tomorrow comes
With its own brand new set of foes
With more bad news and bigger woes
That leave me uncertain

I do still know
It's easier to feel afraid
Than to live with abandon and give people a chance
But I'd rather dance

Tomorrow comes
With all new ways to knock me down
To take my light and block it out
And to keep me quiet

And yet I know
It's easy to blend in and hide
And act like tomorrow has nothing good to bring
Oh, I'd rather sing

Tomorrow comes
Just like every day before
With acts of love and cries of war
And this revelation

We have to choose
To take the easy way, or live
Like "bright hope for tomorrow" is something we believe
As for me

I'd rather smile
I'd rather fight
I'd rather dance

I'm gonna sing

Black and White

Not everything is black and white.
Who is wrong and who is right?
Who can justify the fight?
Not everything is black and white.

Some of it is RED.

RED-the color of blood and war.
The things we jump to battle for
The burning need to settle score
Of trumpet blast and victors' lore.

RED-also the color of love.
Of valentines and things thereof
Of kisses and of turtle dove
The things the Prince of Peace spoke of.

What passion lies in RED!

But which RED shall I then defend?
The one of enemy or friend?
Should I face-off or I transcend?
Which message do I want to send?

For not everything is black and white.

The Twelve Things

A couple of days ago I had a few minutes of down time and didn't feel like doing anything productive with them, (much like the current moment!) so I decided to leaf idly through the pages of a devotional book I had received about two years ago. It's a book about motherhood, and while it is very cutesy I've never had the urge to read it through it before today.
Anyway, as I haphazardly flipped through the pages looking for little quotes to pop out at me, I discovered a challenge in the book to journal twelve things I like about myself and then offer a prayer of thanksgiving for those things and other good things I've received. I closed the book without giving much thought to the challenge right away. But over these 48 hours or so it kept sneaking into my brain.

I like myself. I don't think that is much of a secret. I have no problem sharing my opinions and I am pretty open about my faults and acheivements with whoever chooses to listen. But when you have to get specific, liking yourself gets a lot more difficult. (The list I will share will probably take you about five minutes to read, but it took me much, MUCH longer to compose it.)
I was a little iffy about posting this "why I love me and am so awesome" blog, because blogs are narcissistic enough to begin with, but I chose to share mine today in order to challenge you to do the same thing. I firmly believe that every now and again, there is nothing wrong with being proud of yourself. Lord knows we all give ourselves mental butt whoopings enough to earn the occasional affirmations!
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Twelve Things:

1. I am a good friend. I strive to be a friend I would like to have, and because of this, I feel like I have wound up with some pretty good ones in return.
2. I have a good sense of humor--one that has helped me laugh through hard times and in spite of them.
More importantly, my sense of humor makes happy times even more joyful.
3. I am intelligent. I am proud of the good sense God has given me, even if I don't always use it. I am happy that I have a mind that can question and challenge and solve.
4. I am talented. I write, I cook, I sing, I dance, I create, I run...
I should have my own reality show...just kidding ;)
I may not be the best in any given area but it is very fulfilling to feel capable. I am so thankful for the abilities God has blessed me with.
5. I am a loving mom. Every parent makes his/her share of mistakes, but if your children look at you and know without a doubt that you love them, you must be doing something right.
6. I am a loving wife. And though I often drive my husband completely crazy, as wives are apt to do, I am pretty sure he would vouch for me.
He's one of my favorite gifts.
7. I am a good gift-giver. This kind of goes hand in hand with being a good friend. If you listen closely enough to another person, you can anticipate his/her wants and needs.
(Exception: my husband's first anniversary gift. You will have to ask HIM if you want to hear that story!)
8. I am driven. I have achieved a lot and am not done yet. I am on the never-ending quest for self-improvement, and I believe growing in little and big ways helps to get you there.
9. I am resilient. Sometimes on the road to self-improvement, I've hit a few bumps. Other times, complete dead ends. But I have overcome many obstacles and have bounced back from some pretty big blows.
10. I am encouraging. I truly, truly want the people in my life to win. In all areas.
11. I am fun. If you need someone to look stupid for your amusement, I am your girl.
12. I am imperfect. Which means I have room to improve in all of the areas that I already like myself for--and then some.
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Thanksgiving:

Lord, thank you for my gray hairs
That pop up once in a while
They mark my days of blessings
And sophisticate my style.

Lord, thank you for my crooked teeth
Which help to justify
My daily coffee habit
And my love for good red wine.

Lord, thank you for my sweaty hands
Because as I have come to find
The people who love me the most
Hold tightly and don't mind.

Lord, thank you for my scars
And markings on my skin
Which remind me of my battles won
And of healing from within.

Lord, thank you for my children
Who fight, and yell, and scream
For as I grow my little ones
They're surely growing me.

Lord, thank you for my daughter
Who came to us by surprise
And has shown me what true sacrifice
And love mean through Your eyes.

Lord, thank you for my son--
My stubborn, headstrong boy--
Who even in frustration
Fills my heart with so much joy.

Lord, thank you for my husband
And for letting fools rush in
For in a time of recklessness
I found my truest friend.

Lord, thank you for the interviews
That didn't turn out right.
They've let me re-evaluate
And have shown me where to fight.

Lord, thank you for allowing me
To make my own mistakes.
Because clearly all the falling down
A stronger person makes.

For Jack

Changing the tune from yesterday's post...(I don't stay mad for long!)

Tomorrow is my son's second birthday, and my house will officially be out of babies :) He was born on April Fool's Day (19 hours after my first contraction...) and I think that speaks a lot about him. He is a clown, he is a joker, he is a prankster, and he wears his mommy out! But I love him every minute of every day and I am so proud of the little person he is now, and the promise of the person he is becoming.

Happy birthday, Bubba!

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Rough and tumble
Sweet but wild
You surely are your father's child.

Love for music
Dancing shoes
(You've got some Mommy in there, too!)

Little monkey
Dimple-face
You run (not walk) from place to place.

Independent
Mountain goat
Your tiny voice an angel's note.

Sister's buddy
Daddy's joy
But you are a "momma's boy." :)

Never tired
Never scared
Your mommy was not quite prepared.

For puppy's tails
And icky bugs
(But I sure do love your sticky hugs!)

Handsome rebel
Lady's man
I'll steal your kisses while I still can.

...And hold your hands
And brush the the dirt
Off of your britches, hair, and shirt.
And kiss your boo-boos
And wipe your tears
And cherish these few precious years.
'Cause the first time I heard your heartbeat
I knew our family was complete.
And every day we spend together
Is another day for me to treasure.

Mommy loves you, Stinker!

My Funny Valentine

I love Valentine's Day. I know that it's been given a bad rep, because just like with every holiday, we've managed to over-commercialize it. And perhaps, Valentine's Day was only about making a buck from the get-go. I don't know for sure, and who am I to speculate?

However, regardless of its origins, I think there is something truly beautiful about it. Could you do something romantic with your significant other on any other day of the week? Of course you could! Could you take the time out to tell your friends and family how much you love and appreciate them without attaching a box of conversation hearts? You betcha! But the truth of the matter is, we are usually so busy dealing with our own day-to-day, the romance gets put on the backburner and we just make assumptions that our family and friends know that we "heart" them. Valentine's Day gives a gentle reminder to make those sentiments known. Moreso, it gives us an opportunity to put thoughtful consideration and time into making our sentiments known...and any woman would agree with me that thoughtfulness and time trump any amount of money spent.

In case there was any doubt in your mind, I am madly in love with my husband. I wanted to make a special post for him on Valentine's Day, but his Valentine's Day has already come and gone. So take this as your cue to share your loving sentiments with the special people in your life every day of the year :)
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The day we were married, we shared our first dance as husband and wife to Keith Urban's "Making Memories of Us." I am so not enough of a techie to make this into a video, so I'll work with the skills God gave me. But you should definitely play the video of Keith Urban--if for no other reason than his voice is like honey and he is awful nice to look at :)

(But I think my husband also is so I will be posting pictures of him as well lol)

The Video


I'm gonna be here for you baby
I'll be a man of my word

Speak the language in a voice
That you have never heard :)

I wanna sleep with you forever
And I wanna die in your arms

In a cabin by a meadow
Where the wild bees swarm

And I'm gonna love you
Like nobody loves you
And I'll earn your trust
Makin' memories of us

I wanna honor your mother
And I wanna learn from your pa

I wanna steal your attention
Like a bad outlaw (haha!)

And I wanna stand out in a crowd for you
A man among men

I wanna make your world better
Than it's ever been

And I'm gonna love you
Like nobody loves you
And I'll earn your trust
Makin' memories of us

We'll follow the rainbow
Wherever the four winds blow

And there'll be a new day
Comin' your way

I'm gonna be here for you from now on
This you know somehow
You've been stretched to the limits
But it's alright now

And I'm gonna make you a promise
If there's life after this
I'm gonna be there to meet you
With a warm, wet kiss

And I'm gonna love you
Like nobody loves you
And I'll earn your trust
Makin' memories of us

Happy Valentine's Day---I mean Wednesday--Soldier :) I love you!

Being the Tree

(Edited with this addition 1/23/23) I wrote this blog nearly 11 years ago to the day. There are parts of this entry that make me cringe (mainly my proud, flippant, judgemental verbage.) I was not in a spiritually mature place when I wrote it, although I'm sure I thought I was, because that's how pride works. But I can see the evidence of God's patient work on my heart, and the genesis of my revelation of His absolute grace and goodness. I'm so thankful to have a marker of the start of my "growing pains," and that's why this post will continue to hold it's place as my "favorite."

 (Romans 5:8) But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 

 (1 John 4:11) Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. ***

 One week after my son was born, my husband left for several weeks of training at the National Training Center in Fort Irwin, California. As one would expect, I needed to call in some reinforcements so I could take care of the toddler, the baby, my recovery, the house, and so on...
My mother-in-law was able to come stay with me briefly for a couple days right after my husband left, and then shortly after she left, my WONDERFUL grandfather allowed an amazing lady to come stay and help me out for two whole weeks. (And she is pretty wonderful herself!) This was such a blessing in it's own right, because I have never had the luxury of living close to my relatives, and this gave my grandmother and I an opportunity to spend time together that we normally wouldn't have. But that is another story for another blog... :)

During her visit she was reading a book, entitled "Legacy of a Pack Rat." (I know I have referenced this book in a previous blog--See 'God Bless All Mothers.') One night she read a poem out of the book that brought her to tears. Here it is:

He Fell on the Sidewalk

He fell on the sidewalk...
I saw him fall,
too drunk to walk
he could only crawl
to a scraggly tree;
and with help of that tree he got on his feet.
In my heart always,
God, please help me see
he got on his feet
for--
there was A Tree!

I didn't want to tell her as she read the poem aloud to me that day--- I didn't get it. I mean, I understood that the "tree" was a reference to Calvary, but I didn't get what was so moving about it that it would bring her to tears. And I like to consider myself cultured to things such as these, so it has bothered me the better of two years that I was not moved like my grandmother was.

Nothing better to turn on a lightbulb than a little life experience...

There were a couple of mothers from my daughter's last dance class that I, well,(trying to be P.C. here...)didn't particularly care for. It wasn't that they were mean, nasty people. They just did things and acted ways that I disagreed with.
---Does anyone here still watch Friends? Because I am about to throw a reference in just for you ;)---
You may henceforth refer to me as "Judgy von Holier-than-thou."

One of the mothers had four kids: an older boy, three-year-old twins, and a 7 month old. The older boy we never saw much because he was at school, but she would tell us these horrible stories about his behavioral problems. Her three year old boy ran around kicking the 7 month old baby (and pushing mine!) and the girl in Sammi's class would randomly throw herself onto the floor in screaming fits like a normal three year old girl would do---if that three-year-old were on steroids. The complete lack of control that mother had of her children disrupted the entire tone of the classroom, and the waiting area for that matter. It possibly affected my homelife too. Honestly, Sammi never yelled at me until she saw those twins yelling at their mother. I remember actually feeling relieved when they weren't at dance class.
The other mother was not a bad mother--she was just chatty. Her husband is deployed as well, and she always spilled her guts about everything she had heard was going on over there. Now, this may just have been me being overly sensitive, but I hate it when people talk openly in public spaces about private information. If you know a soldier who was KIA--good for you. That is not the business of the random collection of people we have in the dance class, and truthfully, I feel like people just like to flaunt that kind of information when they have it.

Anyway, let's fast forward to the point where Judgy von Holier-than-thou becomes Sorry von Eats-her-words.

As the dance class progressed, I began to learn more about these women's personal stories.
The first mother was raising four children as her own, but the 7 month old was the only baby she had actually birthed. Her oldest three were adopted from her sister, who was having mental and drug abuse issues.
The second mother had just lost a three month old baby, and her husband was deployed one month following their loss.

So now I'm sure you're wondering, why did I share these women's stories and how do they relate to the poem?

The drunken man in the poem would have never been able to get back on his feet without the scraggly tree. But why was the tree there in the first place? Because God knew the man would need it and provided a customized aide for him in that exact moment of weakness. People often speculate that God is punishing them on earth for their wrongdoings, but there is only one judgement day. Right now He is watching us in our drunken stupor, withholding His judgement, and trying to get us back on our feet by planting trees.
As a follower of Christ, I have been given the very same power to plant such trees. Too bad I am more of a lumberjack.

I was so busy judging what a "bad mother" I thought first lady was that I failed to see she was acting as a "tree" for her sister. Heaven knows, I love my nieces and nephews, but I have a hard enough time dealing with my own children screaming at me, and I certainly wouldn't manage well if it were somebody else's child. And with my hoity-toity attitude and up-turned nose, I was just hacking that mother away at the roots.

I was so huffy at the second lady for spreading sensitive information that I didn't realize WE were supposed to be her tree. I can't imagine how much hurt and loneliness she must have felt--all she needed was a listening ear, a chance to feel "normal." I just left that poor lady down there on the sidewalk, so to speak.

So now, nearly two years after hearing the poem for the first time, I finally get it. Over two thousand years ago, God knew that I was going to be the secretly judgemental person that I am today (along with a laundry list of other things I will also save for another blog!) So, He planted a tree for me in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ so I could grab hold of Him and stand back on my feet.

And because He did that for me, the least I can do for Him is this: I will be a tree for other people in need to lean on. I know I'm not perfect and may sway a little in the wind, but I'm still going to stand. In fact, I may never be anything more than a scraggly tree...
but I'll do my darndest not to be a lumberjack anymore.

Farewell to Diet Coke

So one of my New Year's resolutions was to try to drink more water. As I have made the attempt to commit to that resolution I have stumbled upon a certain truth...If there is coke available to drink, I will not choose water over coke. So rather than kick myself for my own lack of self-control, I have decided to remove the obstacle that stands in my way.

But in this die-hard country fan's mind, every hard good-bye deserves a song. And I thought, if Toby Keith can make one about a red solo cup, why can't I make one about my diet coke?! (Boy, do I ever have too much time on my hands! Nathan, come home soon. Come home real, REAL soon.)

So without further ado, (or much ado about nothing, dealer's choice,) here goes:

(ps. If I could play guitar and sing this for you, I totally would. lol)
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So sweet Diet Coke, you’ve long been my friend
But sooner or later it just had to end
And lately it has come to my attention
That you are making me fat.

Sweet Diet Coke, you’re way too addictive
The headaches you cause need medication (prescriptive)
Your acid’s eating my bones; I call that vindictive
Diet Coke, you can kiss my a**. Woo!

Sweet Diet Coke
You have to go.
Please leave the party. Please leave the party.
I love you sweet Diet Coke. But you have to go.
Just leave the party. Yeah leave the party.

Now I really love how you bubble and fizz
But you see, Diet Coke, the simple truth is
If I needed a fix I could just drink a smidge…
…a glass…no, a case of beer.

But I have to admit I’ll sure miss that sound
When I pop the top and chug those first few gulps down
And your color---yes, the sweet amber brown
--No wait, that’s also my beer.

Sweet Diet Coke
You have to go.
Please leave the party. Please leave the party.
I love you sweet Diet Coke. But you have to go.
Just leave the party. Yeah leave the party.

Now I've tasted your zero and tasted your lime
And cherry and vanilla, from time to time
But you cannot seduce me; you can’t change my mind
Diet Coke, we are through

Sweet Diet Coke, please understand
This isn’t forever; we will meet again
With an occasional burger or pizza—but then:
I might reserve you for mixings with whiskey... or rum... or coconut rum...Who am I kidding? Can I please get another beer?


Sweet Diet Coke
You have to go.
Please leave the party. Please leave the party.
I love you sweet Diet Coke. But you have to go.
Just leave the party. Yeah leave the party.

For My Soldier

Miss you every moment
Love you every second
I may not always need you
But I want you just the same

Happy for a moment
And sad in the next second
Cuz this would have made you smile--
Want to hear your laugh again

Proud of you every moment
Think of you every second
I worry just a little
But then I think of you and smile

So stop for just a moment
Take a break for just a second
And know how much I love you--
Would walk 7000 miles

Just to kiss you for a moment
And to hold you for a second--
The months cannot pass fast enough
I want you here with me

Til then I'll miss you every moment
And love you every second
And fall asleep each evening
And see you in my dreams
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We all love you, Soldier.

The Plant

When someone that I love loses someone that they love
It stinks to think that in lieu of the words I cannot find to say
I can only give a plant.

A plant cannot smile brightly at you
Or make you laugh
Or wrap you in a warm embrace and tell you that everything will be okay.
It is just a plant.


A plant will not replace the life that was lost
Heal the hurt that surfaces
Make the lonliness go away
Or bring answers to any of the "why's" we are sure to ask
Because it is just a plant.

But I will send it anyway
Because I don't know what else to do.

And especially when I can't be there to tell you in person,
I wanted there to be some clear sign to show you
That I love you
That I am praying for you
That I hurt and grieve with you
That I miss them too
That their lives mattered to me--and you matter to me too.

So, just this once,
Let it be more than just a plant.
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Dear God,
Thank you for Folse, Betty, and all of the angels you have added to your kingdom to keep watch over us here. And please let my Boudreaux family know I love them more than my plant could ever say.

Ode to a Tired Army Wife

This bed is too empty
The covers are cold
And these sleepless nights
Are sure getting old

I rush through the day
To wait through the night
For the ten minute phone call
Then I switch off the light

Too lonely to lay there
Too tired to rise
To try a new tactic
So I just close my eyes

And think all about
Just how nice it will be
When you come back home
And are here next to me

I will hold you and kiss you
As hard as I can
Then I’ll sleep like a baby
And I’ll snore like a man :)

God, Bless All Mothers

I recently just finished reading a book my grandmother gave me called Legacy of a Pack Rat written by Billy Graham's wife, Ruth Bell Graham. In it she has written a short poem entitled, "God, Bless All Young Mothers."

Here it is:

God,
Bless all young mothers
at end of day.
Kneeling wearily with each
small one
to hear them pray.
Too tired to rise when done...
and yet they do;
longing just to sleep
one whole night through.
Too tired to sleep...
Too tired to pray...
God,
bless all young mothers
at close of day.

This really struck me when I first read it, mostly because I can relate. But after it sat with me for a while, I began thinking about how lucky I am to be a "young mother." I think it is universally accepted and understood that mothering infants and preschool-aged children is hard work. We have so many support groups in place like MOPS and "Mommy and Me" swimming classes, and "Read With Me" storytimes so that we don't ever have to go through it all alone. But it seems to me that when your children get a little older, those support groups fizzle out...not because you don't need the support anymore, but they just don't exist.

So to the mothers with children in all the other age groups, here is my sad attempt to include you in Mrs. Graham's prayer:

God,
bless all mothers
with children of eight or nine.
When they have to listen to their child's incessant whine,
of 'Mom, I'm hungry.' or 'There's nothing to do.'
Give them the strength
to push one more day through.
And give them the sanity,
when school comes to an end,
to make it through the summertime,
'til they begin again :)

God,
bless all mothers
who have teenagers in their care.
Because teens don't give a stink
that they're graying all your hair.
They think their mothers are outdated
and don't understand a thing.
They won't take notice of or say 'thank you' for
their mom's protective wing.
Please help them keep their patience
when their teens ignore them and insult them
And give them understanding
when their babies disappoint them.

God,
bless all mothers
with children that are grown.
Please give them peace of mind
when their child is far from home.
And please give them faith and trust
that their child will come to see them.
And help them keep their patience
because their child will always need them.

God bless all you mommas! :)

For Sammi

My daughter is just like me
A princess through and through
She loves dresses that sparkle
Wants her hair all curly-q

My daughter is just like me
Loves the spotlight; loves the show
She needs to have her voice be heard
When she's around, you'll know ;)

My daughter is just like me
She's a giver; She is good
But she can also be a fighter
If you catch her in a mood

My daughter is just like me
Her temper is short-fused
She has a hard time sharing
And forget waiting...it's no use

My daughter is nothing like me
Always trusting; Worry-free
She will befriend you in an instant
She's more accepting than me

My daughter is nothing like me
She is innocent and pure
She is proud of who she is
Self-confident and sure

My daughter is nothing like me
She's more forgiving and more kind
She's more apt to seek direction
Not afraid to speak her mind

I could compare us both for hours
But I'm sure the more I do
I'll find many more reasons
I wish I was like her, too