Think Pink

Simply Natalie

Natalie

I don't remember when I met Natalie.  All I know is suddenly, she was an irreplacable part of my heart. What is there to say about Natalie?

She sparkles and shines. 

To be smiled at by Natalie was to catch a glimpse of a rare and transcendant beauty.

She wore purple nailpolish

and tiaras

and do-rags

all with impeccable unmatchable style.

She lived and loved simply, abundantly, deeply, sparkly.

She loved Friends. "How YOU doin'?

She took pictures of her stacks of books from the library and sent them to me.

She made me read and love Anne of Green Gables.

God is her husband, and I am merely a friend.

It is right that a bride should be with her husband, even if it leaves me empty handed, for awhile.

She loved her children. She fought for her children.  She adored her children.  She didn't have enough time with her children.

One of the last things she did was brag to me that she could finally turn a row and crochet more than a chain.

She dyed her hair pink once for me. then orange, then brown then blond again, but only the pink was voluntary.

She loved me, an often times monumental task.

She honored me, for what I'll never understand.

She was my best friend, one of the best friends I will ever have in my life. One of my special group of women that aren't supposed to die.

But then, Natalie was never one to follow the rules.

She lived in a hobbit hole and was a hopeless romantic.

She had books stacked to the ceiling.

She was determined, faithful, gentle, wonderful, funny, silly, unique, creative, generous, beautiful, inspiring, encouraging, did I mention beautiful?

She made me laugh.

She made me cry.

She didn't want to die, but she was ready to go home.

She loved british comedy

and British tragedy

and British literature.

Natalie loved all things British.

She had Bible verses hanging up all over her house.

She shared her bed with a child almost every night.

She loved chocolate and daisies and praise music, and funky rhythms and dancing and blue.

Her eyes were blue.

I rarely heard her say a mean word about the person who broke her heart.

I wish I had the words to share Natalie.  All these words are just....small things.  Little snippets of a heart and life so large that it touched every person who came in contact with it, with her, with my Natalie Rose.

Thank you God, for my friend.  I wanted longer with her, but even a tiny portion of her life is worth the grief of her leaving.  I am blessed; I am changed; I am better for having known Natalie. I will miss her always, and I will never forget.

Onward and Upward, Nat. I love you!!!11.

It only sucks for us

Natalie Rose woke up in heaven today.

Hope...sometimes it is blinding like the spring sunshine. Sometimes it is a gentle warmth that comes with kind words. Sometimes it washes over you like waves in the ocean and sometimes it just envelopes you slowly. Sometimes it is like water in a dry land, but it is there if you look for it.

-Nattie Rose York, April 24, 2007

Praise God for Hope. Praise Him for Heaven.

I'll see you there, Nat.

Wordless Wednesday (with some words)- A Belated Easter Gift

I don't like to feel that people have rifled through my blog and taken things, so I want to be sure right away that I give credit where credit is due.  I did not take this picture. I found this amazing photo on the blog of the delightful Miz Booshay and it touched me so deeply, I wanted to share.  If you enjoy it, please, take the time to also tell her how much.

and now, the picture:

Les disciples Pierre et Jean courrant au seplulcre
le matin de la Resurrection

Eugene Burnand

Musee D'Orsay

photo by Donna Boucher

And now, the reason:

I was too busy and self absorbed to enjoy any part of Easter, too absorbed with services and family duties and practices, and responsibilities, and kid obligations and a million other little, and not-so-important things.  I missed out on the reverence, the sorrow, the awe, the wonder and the power of both the death and the ressurection, through the fault of no one but myself.  And that's ok, because the last time I looked, Easter was not about me.  I understand that.

But that picture, discovered by me on Monday, the day after Easter.  A day when the office was closed; Craig was home; the rain fell; it was as cold as ever it gets in winter here in Central Florida; and we all had some time to just be.  After all that was left of most people's Resurrection Fete are strings of fake easter grass and some slightly smashed candy, I found the wonder. 

It's written there on Peter and John's faces.  That hope beyond hope that what could never actually be is indeed real.  When all seemed lost, we all were found.  Where hurts are deepest, joy runs deeper.

He is Risen. 

Still.

Today.

Alleluia!

Isn't She Lovely?

Aren't we all?

*larger pics can be found at Flickr*

Party Time

So it's true, I can't resist a good party, and my butt needed a good blogging kick start, so what-the-hey! In for a penny in for pound and all that jazz. I even put on some summer party clothes.  I live in Florida and am so so so so so SO SO ready for sit in the sun and bask at the beach weather that I reverted to my happy summer blog banner.  It's a rough life living with paradise 1.5 miles from your front door, but someone's gotta do it.

Most of my readers know all there is to know about me (scary indeed), but I am sure that I will get some hits from those who don't know me well.  So the pertinent facts are as follows:

• I am 33
• 11 in cancer years-- Breast Cancer years to be exact
• also 11 in saved years
• I came to Christ as an adult
• after an absolutely horrible exposure to "religion" as a child
• my salvation predates my cancer--barely
• my marriage also predates my cancer--barely
• married 12 years (15 years together) to the hunky hubby.  He is literally the most amazing man in the world
• Mom of three beautiful princesses in training-they do not predate cancer
• started life as a PS teacher married to a PS ATC
• currently a stay at home homeschooler married to a youth pastor
• we are both the same people--sort of
• I sing on the worship team
• at an absolutely fabulous, alive for Christ, making it hard to go to hell in our generation church called Tomoka Christian Church
• I'm pretty passionate about worship
• I'm pretty passionate about everything I do
• It's a blessing and a curse
• I also help run an online ministry called Women at Home
• I've been blogging for over 5 year

I guess that's enough to get any newcomers started.  The left hand column (gestures to the left like Vanna White) has links to more about me and a little further down things that I have written about my cancer experience. On the right are various and sundry links that you can click--or not.

In other more random conversation, I just returned from a breast cancer survivor conference in Washington DC and am rapidly approaching a 10 day mission trip to the Arizona Indian Christian Mission in Show-low, Az where I will have an altitude headache and difficulty breathing for about 72 hours.  It's a 7,000 ft elevation difference- killer. You can view last year's pics here.  Not all of them are public, but if you have a flickr account I can allow you to see the rest, just send me a little e-mail.

Bed time calleth and I must make a speedy departure to round up the chickens and deposit them in the coops.  If you would like to join the party head on over to 5 Minutes for Mom, or click the button in the right side bar!

PARTY ON, WAYNE!

Wordles Wednesday - Christmas Eve revamp

This is just a teaser - to really see how Tomoka Christian Church celebrates Christmas

click this link!

New Year's Aspirations

Do you hate resolutions? I hear everyone say that: "I hate resolutions," and there's a certain tone they say it in. Everyone does it, and it makes me laugh.  I don't hate resolutions because I like having a goal to work towards, what I don't like is falling short of the resolution at the end of the year.  They seem so..concrete.  If you don't meet them exactly then you have failed, despite the fact that you may have made immese progress towards the goal, if it falls short, it's failure.  I think that's why people don't like them, don't make them and use "that tone" when referring to them.

However, I, personally, do well with a measurable goal.  I can't simply say, "I want this year to be better."  I need to be able to measure it and quantify it with goals and standards, not because I am perfectionist (I am a recovering one), but because it is a motivational tool for me (God made me geeky that way).  One of my goals this year is to be a more focused person.  I really don't feel that God is calling me to drop or slow down the activities I am already involved in, though I am certainly not led to pick up more, but I don't like feeling all at loose ends all the time while trying to accomplish them.  The answer then, obviously, is a need to focus my attention to the task at hand and be able to complete it quickly and efficiently.  To that end, I have started a quest of sorts to set up a household notebook, and I have invited some of my closest friends over at Women At Home to join me. There's still time to join us if you want to register (it's free, you simply have to register a membership).

The first assignment I set for myself and anyone who wanted to join me was to be bold and share all the things they would like to do this year.  Without worrying about time, or practicality, or schedules, but what would you do if everyday had all the hours you needed to get it all done.  This is what I came up with:

Personally:

• Exercise.  I say it EVERY YEAR and I don't do it,  This body ain't getting any younger.
• Weight Lifting.  Just being honest.  I'd like to get a weight routine that tones and shapes.  I don't want to be body builder sculpted, but getting rid of the chicken arms and a little 6-pack wouldn't be too shabby.
• Learn to knit.  Last year I taught myself to crochet, and I love doing it.  I don't think knitting is going to come as easily, but I still want to learn it.
• Write more regularly.  Whether it's this medium or in a journal, I need to do more writing. There's simply no excuse
• More purposeful reading.  I need to not flit about and reread so much.  There are tons of books here to choose from that are unread.  I need to read those and read with a purpose.  I will be sharing my plan on my book blog.
• Draw.  I did very little last year.  I love it, and, dadgum, I'm good at it.  I have a motivational tool to do it, but I can't share here because it's gifty.
• Become a better friend.  I'll be sharing more about this in few days when I blog about my "theme" for the year.  But I can be selfish and standoff-ish in my friendships, and that's just not going to cut it anymore.  In fact, I've already been presented with my first opportunity to reach out, not 5 minutes into the New Year.  God isn't messing around.
• Deepen my prayer life.  I've blogged before that prayer is not something that comes naturally.  It's really hard for me to focus and stay in a place of prayer.  This is my hardest aspiration and the one that is most important.

Organizationally:

• Develop an effective house work routine.  By effective I mean fast, efficient and kid friendly.  I had kids for slave labor, it's time to use it.
• Develop a menu and meal planning system.  I'm tired of trying to figure out what to fix at 4pm and then copping out and going to get something.  It's not good healthwise or financially.
• More frugal spending.  We are facing lots of financial changes this year that are going to require me to spend better.
• Have free time for hobbies and activities.  Accomplishing the above items will help me to be able to do this

Parentally:

• Enjoy my children.  Too often I feel like their needs or wants are interrupting my "Agenda."  I have to get over that and enjoy my kids.  They won't be here underfoot that much longer.
• Use nice words.  This is actually something my entire family is working on with each other.  We allow our words to be sharp and cut down rather than build up and encourage.  So. not. good.
• Plan more fun activities.  We never do much because we don't "make plans" together.  I want to do more fun things as a family.
• Be a more organized educator.  I truly don't feel like my girls are behind where they should be educationally, but I do want to do a better job of mapping their progress.

Spiritually/ Ministry

• Fulfill my obligations without complaining.  Too often I volunteer to do something and then complain about it.  God doesn't need that kind of service, and it certainly doesn't bless me.
• Continue teaching or taking a Bible study.  I need the accountability or I drift.  Teaching or taking--that's the way it has to be.
• Begin a scripture memorization plan.  There's just not better material to have in my head than scripture.  I can sing every 80's hairband song ever written but God's word just leaks out like water.  It just ain't right.
• Spend more focused time at Women at Home.  I visit there a lot and visiting is good, but my time needs to be constructive and instructive.  I am either leading a ministry, or I'm not.

So there you have it.  A list of general aspirations that I will begin to prioritize and make specific plans to push forward to make them happen.  This will be a year long project and somethings may not even be touched for months, but I have a list now to refer to when I feel myself drifting.  Most of this month will probably deal with the in-and-outs of planning and organizing and dreaming about all the wonderful things this year will hold for me! I'm so excited to get started!

Sharing

I was planning a post about how busy I am, how much remains to do before leaving for Christmas.  About how my month continues to be crazy.  And then Craig sent me this:

Featured Article: Tears to Denver-A Personal Christmas Note from Jonathan

by Jonathan McKee

I can still see the disappointment on my daughter's face. The image stabbed me like a knife as I boarded my plane to Denver... I cried the whole way there.

Time is passing much too quickly.

Last month I was thinking about how much time I have left with my family. Sure... if all the life insurance companies have their statistics right, I should make it to age 79. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about time with my kids in the house before they move out and start ‘phase two' of their life (some of you already have experienced or are experiencing this phase).

My oldest son Alec is smack dab in the middle of 8th grade this year. Next year he'll be a freshman in high school. I'll have one kid in high school, one kid in jr. high and one kid in elementary. What does that mean? I have less than 5 years left with all the kids in the house. That's barely 1700 days.

You usually don't think of these things until you've already blown it.

That's what I did. That's why I was in tears on the way to Denver.

I probably wouldn't have cried if I had been giving my family my 100%. This year as our ministry grew and our busyness increased, I had to be proactive, guarding our family time. Tuesday nights are our family night- nothing is booked on Tuesdays. And I only travel 6-10 days a month away from my family. Anyone wants to book me for more than that... they have to bring out all five of us (and thankfully that happens from time to time). So I felt like these parameters were protecting us. Somewhere on the surface I felt like I was doing a good job.

I wasn't.

The night before I left on that particular plane to Denver, my youngest daughter Ashley asked me if we could just hang out as a family that night. I love family nights. But honestly, on this particular night my first thought was, "It's not Tuesday-it's not family night!"

I looked her in the eyes and told her, "I'm tired Ashley. I think I want to just sit here." So I sent her upstairs to play with her sister.

I can still see the look of disappointment on her face. It hurts to even think about.

I had been burning the candle on both ends. Traveling, writing, administrative garbage... I was swamped. But do you know what's really ironic? I was leaving the next day to teach at a huge "parenting" conference.

So as I sat on that plane ride to Denver crying, I knew it was time for a change. Nothing drastic... nothing that many people would really even notice. But I would notice. My kids would notice. I knew I needed to pay more attention to "the important" and stop being enslaved to "the urgent."

When I got home I took some steps to make this happen. I made some key changes to my calendar. I blocked every Tuesday morning for a one-on-one breakfast with my son Alec. Then I blocked Wednesdays for my girls. I told a publisher of a potential book to not even talk to me until after March when I finished another deadline.

Finally, I went to the bank and bought a little over 1700 nickels. I have a nickel for every day I have left before Alec goes off to school. I put them all in a huge glass jar. Each day I take out a nickel and shove it in my pocket. The nickel is a reminder of the five places I need to give non-negotiable attention that day: God, my wife Lori, and my three kids Alec, Alyssa, and Ashley. Ministry, friends, and everything else all follow those five. Each day when I complete my time with God and my family, I give the nickel away.

This isn't a simple decision. It's a daily commitment.

Just last weekend I had the opportunity to go screen the new film "We Are Marshall." If you know me, you know I love movies. And this was a free screening a week before the film's even released. But it was on a night I was going to be with my family.

I told them, "No thank you. It's family night."

The jar of nickels is getting emptier every day. But I'm living each day, struggling to put the tyranny of the urgent aside with my focus on loving God and loving others.

My prayer is that you all take time during this busy season to slow down and remember what's important. Above all, remember the greatest Christmas gift of all... the "Christ" of Christmas.

Have a wonderful Christmas! And if you ever see me in person... maybe I'll give you a nickel!

Sincerely,

Jonathan McKee

Beautiful Child

Do you not know, that every year breaks my heart even more?  No one told me that loving you would be the most exquisite kind of heartache, and yet I wouldn't trade even one second.

I'll be Home For Christmas- G.I.F.T. #1

I'm sitting here tonight feeling a little sad, a little lonely, a little tired of crocheting like a fiend.  The kids are in bed; the hunky-hubby is gone; the end of a very hectic week has been reached, and I feel melancholy, for reasons I don't entirely understand.  Anyway, in order to pass the time I went blog trolling and wound up being enchanted by blog after blog sharing their fondest Christmas memories and traditions.  I couldn't resist.  The next four days will be remembrances of some of the most life-altering events in my life.  They are reminders that nothing, not even the most sacred of things, are untouched by change.  But in the midst of change, traditions are the things we count on, the things we hold dear, the things we look forward to most, when all else fails us.

I have never in my life been away from home for Christmas.  I believe my first Christmas was spent in company outside my Mom and Dad, and later, my brothers, but I have no memory of that Christmas.  In the summer between my first and second years my parents moved 600 miles from their families, and from then on Christmas was spent with my family, in our home, every year.  Presents from family were opened all together on Christmas Eve and then to bed so Santa could visit.  He still visited, long after any of us really believed in him any longer.

Christmas ranged from lean to bountiful in my years growing up, though I couldn't look back and pin point now which year which was which.  My parents always made it special, from boot prints and red yarn snagged in the fireplace, to carrots in the toe of a stocking, we knew we could always count on Christmas being special each and every year.  Mom would cook, and eventually we would all gather around the tree and presents would be handed out to one and all to be opend, exclaimed over, passed around, shared, and admired or laughed at.

Eventually, as the oldest, I grew up, and it fell to me to be the first to leave home.  I was married on December 22nd, but even marriage couldn't keep me from home.  Our honeymoon was  delayed, and I woke up Christmas morning in my childhood home with my new husband where we would receive presents beyond number outfitting us for our own move of 700 miles only a few days later.

Still, life as a school teacher enabled me to continue my tradition of returning home for Christmas.  I can still see the grey sky and feel the excitement as I loaded my suitcase up in my truck late in the afternoon that last-day-of-school-for-the-year and began my journey home to be where I belonged at Christmas.  The following year I would return home barely more than bald after the year of cancer.  Then came the year I stepped off the plane with my ten-day old in my arms for her Grandma and Grandpa to see for the first time.

Christmas 1998 would prove the most bittersweet in my memory, with the death of my father only twelve days prior.  This would be the year that I would wrap my mother's gifts from him to her.  The year my daughter would become lost among the packages piled 2 and 3 feet deep.  The year that would be the saddest and yet the most joyful as my oldest daughter understood Christmas for the first time in her young life. 

Christmases since contain a sweet sadness, but not enough to keep me from anticipating the journey home once again each year.  Barely has the Thanksgiving dinner digested, then my thoughts turn to the sights and sounds of Christmas at home.  Even in the midst of holiday madness of parties and kids' shows, events and obligations, I am child inside when remember sitting in the living room lit only by the lights of the Christmas tree, when I hear the voices of my younger brothers, now grown men, arguing, discussing and laughing as we gather 'round the table once more. 

My Mother often asks me when I am going to stop coming home and start traditions of my own.  What she doesn't realize is that I already have.  A rich tradition of friends and family, love and laughter made all the sweeter by the underlying spirit of those gone before.  Having been given the most magical of Christmas experiences growing up, it would be a disservice to my own children to deprive them of that experience for themselves, and having known nothing else, they also would have it no other way.

I'll be home for Christmas.  You can plan on me.