Hi. My name is Lisa ...

Hi. My name is Lisa. And I enjoy sports.

I've not been blessed with much athletic ability - bad knees have plagued me ever since I ran cross country and track in junior high. But I do enjoy being a spectator ever since I was a young girl and watched the Toronto Maple Leafs and Nascar with my Dad.

We recently celebrated the Winter Olympics; the boys and I and got wrapped up in the excitement of following the athletes and the competitions and we bouyed up our Canadian spirit. March Madness starts this week (Go Duke!) and at our house we already have the brackets for the first round picked.

This June the World Cup tournament will start. Since our boys were little, soccer has been the game of choice in our house. All four of the boys have played, to varying levels and with varying degrees of success, and Eric has played and coached. Even I played indoor soccer in a women's league for 5 seasons, before finally giving it up because of my knees. It is labelled as the "beautiful game" and when played with skill and heart, it can indeed be a beautiful game (not so much when I played though).

But I think the sport I enjoy watching the most has become volleyball. Gone are the days of "side out"; these days each serve garners a point for the side that wins it. To be honest, I don't understand half of what my son talks about - running "X's" and hitting 53's - and I couldn't tell you if a team is out of rotation. What attracts me the most is that each side must play with skill in order to earn their points. Certainly you can win capitalizing off of the other team's mistakes, but you need to be quick on your feet and able to move forward point by point. Teamwork is a must.

I think that's really the key - teamwork. Not just on the volleyball court or on the soccer field, but even in the every day happenings of life and home. How well are we able to work together with each other, with family, with friends, with co-workers?

Hi. My name is Lisa. And I want to be a team player.

Motherhood ...

So I was on the bus coming home from work today and couldn't help but overhear two young women talking - I'm not that nosy ... they were speaking that loudly. If I had to guess at their ages, they looked to be in their early 20's. I gathered from their conversation that the one already had at least 2 kids. What caught my attention was when this young mother told her friend "When my baby was little I could hardly wait until she said "Mommy". Now when she says it, it's like nails on a chalkboard."

Wow. How sad that this young woman's experience of motherhood is such that the sound of her child calling her grates on her nerves like that. I can only hope she was exaggerating.

I love being a mom. It's not always easy and sure, sometimes I'd love to have a break from the realities of life as a mother. But I enjoy my boys.

I love standing in the kitchen with one or more of them and yakking about their day, or about the soccer or volleyball practice they came from, or about what piece they're working on in jazz band;
I love to sit at the supper table and just watch the boys interact with each other and see where the conversation takes us;
I love that when I bring home a new t-shirt for BJ (that he actually likes), he tells me that I'm his favorite mom;
I love that every once in awhile Zackery still needs to snuggle and give/get a "grizzly hug";
I love that when I text Corey during the day and tell him that I love him, I can count on him to text me back and tell me he loves me too;
I love that Nathan and I share a favourite TV show (NCIS) and we both can hardly wait for Tuesday nights to watch it together.

I'm so thankful for my boys and for the young men they are becoming ... despite my many mothering mistakes. How wonderful it is to love and to be loved in this way.

Can you hear me now??

I have a voice ... but is that what's really important? Is it more important to be heard or to hear? And not just to hear, but really listen?

I wonder if the skill of listening is becoming lost to us. It's a bit of a dog-eat-dog, survival of the fittest kind of world out there; the reality is that we all want to be heard and sometimes we just hear whoever can speak up the loudest and longest.

My husband Eric has always been a skilled listener; I have always been amazed at his ability to hear beneath the words and to hear someone's heart; to be able to parse and then enunciate even more succinctly what that person was saying and experiencing than that person themselves! After being married to him for over 20 years, I hope I have learned a thing or two and am becoming a better listener.

I wonder if listening is a way of loving? I think it might be. When we are able to really listen to a person's heart, then we're able to love them better (but sometimes it's just to like them more).

I have a voice

I have wanted to get back into writing some posts, and often discover great subject matter while I'm riding the bus to or from work, or doing the dishes, but then when I sit down at the computer and face the screen, my mind seems to turn to mush and I have nothing to say. It's hugely disappointing. Why? I think it's because I want to have a voice and to be heard. I have thoughts rumbling around in my head, but have difficulty being courageous enough to get them "out there".

I used to sing in a lot of groups and actually did a fair bit of "vocalizing" in my younger days. Not so much any more. In all my years of singing, the one comment that always came to the forefront was "You're too quiet". Even when it came to singing, I think maybe I was scared to be heard then too.

It's a big thing for me to believe that I have something to say that someone else might want to hear. For a long time I have believed that what I think really doesn't matter. I'm not sure exactly when that changed for me - perhaps when the kids came along and all of a sudden what I had to say was important to someone. Or perhaps it was the constant affirmation of my husband. Of course now some of my kids are teenagers ... but I still am able to believe that what I have to say to them has value. They might not always believe that or want to hear it, but that doesn't negate the truth of the matter.

And the truth is, I have a voice. I have value.

A year later ...

Lately I've been thinking that I should start blogging again - not necessarily for public consumption, but just for my own well-being. I looked at the last post that I made a little over a year ago, and did a bit of a double-take. The post was about being a "Martha" and wanting to be more of a "Mary". This past year has been a tough one for us as a family. I need to mull this over a bit before writing more. I'll be back soon.

I'm a Martha ... I want to be a Mary

There's a story in the Bible of two sisters, Martha and Mary. Both of them loved Jesus, but in quite different ways. Martha was a hard worker and it was important to her that the house was clean and there was food on the table - the epitome of hospitality and service. Mary just wanted to sit at the feet of her Saviour and soak in who He was. She wasn't nearly so concerned about the things around her -- her priority was her relationship with Jesus.

Most of the time I'm a Martha - busy doing things. But in my heart I long to be more of a Mary. I want to be able to drink in the full scope of my Saviour's love for me and make my relationship with Jesus a priority in my life.

Coming back

It's been a while.

I've just needed a break from things ... especially "church" things. But I think I'm ready to come back -- not quite sure to what yet though, but I know to Whom (although I never left Him).

There was a time back in 1985 when I had finished two of years of Bible School (back in the dark ages according to my kids), that I felt like I needed a break then too. I had been busy with Bible School life, with ministry and deputation most weekends, and then in between my two years of Bible School, I went on a summer missions trip to Ireland and spent 8 weeks of my summer involved in ministry. In some ways I think I felt "ministried-out". I needed to absorb all the things I had learned and experienced and figure out what my own personal faith was all about, and needed to take a step back from things in order to accomplish that.

Over the last half year I've experienced a change again. We left the institutional church a number of years ago and then started a house church fellowship and about a half year ago, that house church fellowship kind of fell apart. I felt very insecure personally about everything that went on with respect to the demise of the group, as if the rest of the group blamed me. There hasn't been much contact with most of the group since that time which kind of reinforced my insecurities. Once again, I've needed to take a step back from things to re-evaluate and solidify my own personal faith, and also to give myself time for personal healing and forgiveness. I don't know if I'm ready to get back to anything organized - I'm still waiting on God to hear what He wants for me.

I'm currently reading a novel called "Chasing Francis" by Ian Morgan Cron. The author calls this genre of book "wisdom literature" because it is a "delicate balance of fiction and non-fiction, pilgrimage and teaching". It's about a pastor who begins to question his faith and then goes on his own personal pilgrimage in Italy following the life of Francis of Assisi. I'm enjoying the book ...

In some ways I feel like I am coming back and embarking on my own personal pilgrimage too.

Best thing about my day ...

The best thing about my day today (besides the balmy spring weather!) were the notes my kids left for me this morning. Usually I'm the one leaving notes and reminders for them, but today they left me notes telling me they loved me and hoped I was having a good day. Because they remembered to tell me they loved me, I'll let it go that they forgot to put the milk away after breakfast.

Vows ...

My youngest son Zackery had a mishap at the start of summer holidays last year. He was sliding into home base in the backyard and slid into a tree root. He gashed open the bottom of his heel pretty deeply and after trying to clean it up, I finally took him to the Emergency Room at Children's Hospital. After waiting for awhile, we got into a treatment room and they had him soaking his foot in an antiseptic cleanser to try and get as much of the dirt out as possible. After re-examining the gash, they decided to go ahead and stitch it, so we (or I did, actually) applied a topical freezing gel, and then the doctor froze the area more deeply using needles. Every time that needle plunged into his heel, Zackery cried out in pain. Once the doctor started stitching, Zackery screamed every time that needle went in, even though the doctor said he shouldn't be feeling anything. Zackery felt immense pain with every stitch. It was heartwrenching for me to have to hold him down and to try and comfort him when pain was being inflicted on him ... even though we knew it was for a good reason. One of the nurses actually told me she had once cut her foot in a similar place and the pain she felt when she was stitched up ranked right there next to childbirth.

All that said, I've noticed in the past number of months that Zackery has changed when it comes to pain. He used to be fearless and ready to take on the world and whatever it handed to him. Now he won't let anyone wiggle a loose tooth or pull it out -- he's got to do it himself. If he gets a sliver, he's the one that has to pull it out. It's like he doesn't trust that anyone isn't going to inflict pain and he's doing whatever he can to protect himself from physical pain. I believe that day in the ER when he was getting stitched up, he made a vow of self-protection (he might not know it though) to not let anyone hurt him physically again.

I've made vows like that too -- as a means of self-protection when I've been hurt by someone relationally, I have internally vowed that I'm not going to allow myself to be in such a vulnerable position where I could be hurt like that again. Often those vows are made sub-consiously, without planning or forethought; we just know we don't want to be hurt again and we'll do what we need to do to protect ourselves.

So how do I reconcile that with the call of Jesus to love my neighbour ... and how do I keep loving my neighbour when they keep hurting me? Do I just put keep putting myself out there knowing I'm going to be hurt again? I guess the next big question is, do I trust Jesus enough to take care of all those hurts and to mend my emotional well-being when I get hurt again?

Call Waiting ...

So this afternoon I was on the phone with my back-yard neighbour and the phone beeped, and my visual call waiting showed that my husband was trying to call. I cut the call with my neighbour short and tried to pick up the call with my husband but he wasn't there. I waited a couple of seconds and then called his number. The funny thing was, he hadn't tried to call me. I think it was God's way of getting my attention ... it was important for me to be in touch with Eric. Eric was driving the truck in northern Ontario on narrow highways in a bad snowstorm ... and shortly before I called him, an oncoming semi took out his driver side mirror. It could have been a head-on collision; it could have been so much worse than just losing the mirror. He was still shaken up and still had a number of hours to drive on his shift. But I had an opportunity to pray for him on the phone and then to continue lifting him up in prayer after we said good-bye.

God tries to get my attention in so many ways -- unfortunately rarely as clearly as visual call waiting! It was a good reminder to me that when people are brought to mind, often there is a reason for it and I need to obey the promptings and pray.

Solitaire

I don’t play a lot of computer games, but the one that I play most often is Spider (Two Suits) Solitaire. Just how often do you have to play a game before it’s termed an addiction?! I enjoy the challenge of the game and am at the place where I want to win every game, and believe that every game is winnable. According to the powers that be, they (whoever they are) say the chances of winning are 1 in 5, or 20%. Currently, according to the game statistics, I happen to be winning 95.6% of the time.

When I get to the last deal of cards and I am unable to win the game, I click the “undo” button to get back to the beginning and start all over again. That way I can re-play the game and it isn’t considered a loss. Sometimes I walk away and come back later and it often seems that once I’ve taken a break and come back to it, all the cards line up and I wonder how it was I couldn’t see it play out earlier.

I wish life had an “undo” button. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could keep hitting that button until we go back to that time and place where we could say or do something differently. How far back would I go?

My son is reading the Ted Dekker book “Blink” right now and it tells the story of a man with a genius IQ who is somehow able to see all of the possible outcomes and consequences to his actions in the blink of an eye. He chooses his actions according to the best possible outcome.

Sometimes, what we think is the best possible outcome isn’t that at all. And sometimes the best possible outcomes are those that challenge our faith and our belief system – and often those “outcomes” don’t lend themselves to warm, fuzzy feelings. Face it -- life is hard and life’s not always fair.

70 x 7 = a lot

I've been hurt recently, and I am trying to forgive – 70 times 7 and all that. Sometimes the hurt is hard to let go though; there’s power in it. Maybe that’s why Jesus told us to keep forgiving so many times. Early the other morning, before I absolutely had to get out of bed to get to work, I was channel-surfing through the infomercials and numerous religious programming and stopped on one show hosted by James and Betty Robison. I usually find them to be pretty on-target people. Beth Moore was speaking this particular morning about forgiveness; about healing from the wounds and hurts so we actually can forgive! And she talked about how important it is to lay it all before Jesus; to spill your guts, as it were, in order for Him to be able to begin healing us. I liked what she said that it’s OK to be a tattletale to Jesus. I need to tell Him where it hurts and He wants to heal that up. Too often I “debrief” to my husband, and he’s a great listener (and I love him for it), but he can’t heal me the way Jesus can.

So I continue to take it to the Lord and dump it at his feet. And I continue to try to forgive. 70 times 7 is a lot.

Trust

Last night we watched a DVD that Zackery got for Christmas -- Veggie Tales' "Gideon: Tuba Warrior". Obviously it's the story of Gideon, which in and of itself is a great story about God's faithfulness, especially when we are willing to be used by Him. But they also "Veggie-fied" the story of George Mueller, the fellow from Bristol, England who started an orphanage there. He never asked for any donations or help, yet his testimony was that God always supplied all their needs. Our boys were all questioning if this was a real story, and I think found it a little incredulous ... that there were some days when this orphanage had absolutely nothing to eat or drink and their response was to pray and ask God to send it, also remembering to thank Him in advance for supplying. And God heard their prayer and supplied their needs. It is an amazing testimony and it is a great reminder for me to continue to place my trust in God for all I need.

Life means so much

It's been a good Christmas for us this year. Often Christmas is a hard time of the year for Eric emotionally, but this year he has done really well. Eric's parents were at our place for a very short visit, which was good -- I don't mean that it was good that it was a very short visit, but the time together was good. On Boxing Day we got together with some new friends that we have made (the parents of our kids' friends) and had a great time together. We've taken time to play, nap, read, puzzle and enjoy each other's company and the company of friends and family.

Family and friends are an important part of who we are ... often they have shaped us into the people we are today (good or bad). I guess I'm feeling kind of melancholy because my parents aren't around anymore and I miss them. I received news yesterday that a good friend of mine from high school lost her father to a brain hemorrhage on Boxing Day. I guess that's contributed to my sad and rather contemplative mood.

Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill and ink
And there's plenty of room for writing in
All we do is believe and think
So will you compose a curse
Or will today bring the blessing
Fill the page with rhyming verse
Or some random sketching

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much
Life means so much
Life means so much

Every day is a bank account
And time is our currency
So nobody's rich, nobody's poor
We get 24 hours each
So how are you gonna spend
Will you invest, or squander
Try to get ahead
Or help someone who's under

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much
Life means so much
Life means so much

Has anybody ever lived who knew the value of a life
And don't you think giving is all
What proves the worth of yours and mine

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
That somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much

Every day is a gift you've been given
Make the most of the time every minute you're living

Artist: Chris Rice
Song: Life Means So Much
Album: Short Term Memories
[" Short Term Memories " CD]

J is for Jesus ...

Today my two youngest boys had their school Christmas concert. My husband went to the afternoon performance and I attended the evening showing. I use the word "showing" because a school Christmas concert really isn't complete until a little girl from the kindergarten class hikes up her dress to her armpits so she can pull up her tights!

I really appreciate that the public elementary school that my boys have been attending still calls it a "Christmas" concert. Other school divisions call it a "winter" concert and seem to bend over backwards to keep their concert and the season sanitized of anything to do with the birth of Christ. At our school Christmas concert, Christmas carols are sung and it's a good mix of Santa, Scrooge and the Son.

Tonight my son Zackery's grade 3 class did the "ABC's of Xmas". My heart was touched when the young boy with the letter J around his neck proclaimed that "J is for Jesus ... it's all for his sake". And it is.

Advent

The Advent Season is upon us. My Advent Wreath has been prepared and one candle has been lit and the Advent Calendar has been hung on the wall. I love the Advent Season ... I enjoy the preparations for Christmas and the anticipation that comes with it. That's not to say I enjoy the shopping and the crowds ... I don't. I avoid the malls and the stores on the weekends if at all possible!

I picked up a pointsettia this week and at the greenhouse where I got my pointsettia they have a beautiful display of Christmas trees, wreaths and ornaments. I picked up a bare wreath of greenery and some decorations and made my own wreath for the front door. I just wish I could hang it on the inside of the door so that I could enjoy it from inside the warm house!

Far too often the Advent Season is jam packed with concerts and get togethers ... sometimes in the busyness of it all we don't sit back and appreciate what the season really means. Last Sunday as we were preparing to light the first Advent candle, I talked a little bit about Mary with the boys. I've been thinking of her often in the last few weeks; how she must have felt when the angel Gabriel first paid her a visit; her unwavering trust and faith and willingness to be the servant of the Most High. What an amazing testimony of obedience to the fulfilment of God's will. It begs me to ask the question, "Am I ever that willing to be obedient?"

I hope that when the Lord asks something of me, I would reply as Mary did: "Yes, I see it all now. I'm the Lord's maid, ready to serve." (The Message)

A new thing

In the last couple of weeks, it was decided that our little house church group disband. One couple felt it was time for them to move on in a different direction, and since we're a small group, we felt the loss in numbers quite keenly. There were other issues which I won't go into here ...

Until we know where God would have us go from here, we're having a true "home church". Our family is meeting for "church" as a family and in our own home, and it is just our family. Last week was the first Sunday for this. The week prior I had posted some "Who Am I" questions on the white board in our dining room, and the boys had to guess who the person from the Bible was. Then on Sunday we talked about the different clues and about how God used this person (it was Joshua). The boys really latched on to the "Who Am I" idea and already last Sunday, they were finding their own Bible characters and were posting their own questions on the white board.

So today we made our guesses as to who the people were and and then each person shared a little bit about that person and a particular Bible story about that person. We talked about Paul (in jail with Silas), the prophet Joel (a tougher one to figure out), David (lots of stories there!) and Zechariah (chosen of course by Zackery since his name is derived from Zechariah!). It was such a good morning -- the boys were enthusiastic about learning and reading the Bible!

So even though I am feeling some internal pain from the loss of the house church, I am excited about the passion being birthed in my own kids for God's Word. It's a new thing ... and a good thing. A very good thing.

Learning life lessons

So it finally happened. At least I think it finally happened. Or I don't recall it ever happening in our house before. What I'm talking about is one of my kids (my youngest, Zackery) taking a pair of scissors to his hair. At least he didn't butcher it too badly -- just made the bangs fairly short. Unfortunately the rest of his hair was quite long all over. So today we had to do a "fix-it" cut. He seems to be doing quite well with it, especially considering he's been wanting his hair to be longer and he fought me about getting a trim a couple of weeks ago.

But I think he understands now about what happens when you take a pair of scissors to your hair -- it's gone for good until it grows back in a few months. Sometimes it takes something like this for him to fully understand the consequence to the action. I actually think that's how he learns best. He learned a similar lesson once before when he was about 2 years old -- he flushed his soother down the toilet. There was a visible look of understanding on his face when he realized what he had done and that the soother was gone for good and wasn't ever coming back.

So how many more of these life lessons will we be in for with him??!!

Living with Depression -- Lesson #2

Lesson #2 -- Learn, learn, learn.

The Internet is a wonderful tool. I can recall back when we first got hooked up to the world wide web -- one of the things I researched was depression. It was so helpful to me to read the experiences of others and to learn about common symptoms, expressions and manifestations, if you will, of depression. One thing that I read stood out to me ... You never say to a depressed person, "Snap out of it!" Whenever I hear that phrase I think of Cher in the movie "Moonstruck"! When I learned about the illness, I started to understand the behaviour a little bit and I was able to recognize the signs when Eric was starting to "crash".

In our second year of marriage I also took a course at the seminary where Eric worked. Since Eric had his degree in Biblical counselling, I took what was known as Core I, which taught the basic principles of counselling. My purpose in taking the course wasn't to become a counsellor, but to understand better where Eric was coming from and some of the terminology that he was using! I know it has been a valuable tool for me to use to challenge Eric and to listen beneath his words.

To reiterate lesson #2 ... learn, learn, learn!

Living with Depression -- Lesson #1

Hello. My name is Lisa. My husband suffers from Major Depressive Disorder. I know there's Al-Anon, but is there a support group out there for spouses and family members who live with people suffering from depression? I have thought for a number of years that perhaps other people could benefit from my experience and what I have learned living with a depressed person. Perhaps it's time I started sharing those things here.

I'll start at the beginning. Eric and I were married on June 17, 1989 -- on Eric's 30th birthday! I don't think I realized at the time the extent of Eric's depression. But I knew without a doubt that I was to marry this man. I believe that God placed Eric in my heart even before that first blind date we had. Eric would likely say that he has battled depression since his late teens. It's been a long road for him.

The first couple of years of marriage were typical -- sorting out the workings of a marriage. Eric was working at a Christian college and seminary as the athletic director and was also teaching counselling labs, so obviously his hours varied from my standard office hours. There were days that he just couldn't get out of bed and that was my first experience with him when he was depressed. I didn't quite know what to do with him -- I had little or no understanding of his depression and how best I could love him. I often tried to talk to my mother about Eric when he was depressed, but she had no understanding of the illness and her response ("What do you mean, he can't get out of bed? You just get up and go to work!") wasn't really helpful to me. I loved my mother dearly, but at one point I made a decision that I couldn't talk to her about Eric's depression because it negatively affected my response to Eric. I have to say this about my mother ... She passed away just over four years ago and in the last years of her life, she made a real effort to understand the illness of depression. She was so committed to praying for Eric because she realized that was about the only thing she could do. One of the last things she told Eric was that she would pray for him until she had no more breath -- and that was about a week before she went home to be with Jesus.

So lesson No. 1, if there is a series of lessons here, is that it is actually helpful to talk to somebody, to share about the difficulties, and to pray together with someone. But it is important to choose someone who will really listen to you, someone who has an understanding of what depression is about, and someone who can give you wise counsel.