A "Pitcher" is Worth a Thousand Words

I have a brand new "pitcher" in my household. It was inspired by a blog I was referred to from Angie Smith (Todd Smith's wife...Todd is the lead singer of the Christian group Selah and this past year, they lost their little girl). I would recommend reading her blog entry before you get to mine...you can find it at http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008/05/past-and-pitcher.html. I highly encourage you to read it and let it challenge you.

I came to know the Lord as my personal savior in July of 1997. Now mind you, I grew up always going to church. I was involved in youth group and I went through all the things you are supposed to go through...I was baptized as an infant, received my first Bible in the 3rd grade, communion in the 6th grade, confirmation classes and then in the 9th grade, I was confirmed. An affirmation of my faith that although was great to have my entire family there to celebrate, I wondered "was there supposed to be something more I should feel?" Well it would be several more years before that "feeling"...an emptiness I never knew existed, would be filled. For years I tried to fill it with "stuff" - anything from the guy I was dating (which was quite a few in high school and college), sports, grades, and then I reached college and began to fill emptiness with drinking, partying, and after I gained some typical freshman weight, I also began to fill that void with the goal of becoming "perfect" physically. I knew I could control my weight if only I could become disciplined. After several failed relationships, I believed the failure was because of how I looked...I wasn't pretty enough, I wasn't thin enough, I wasn't...well you get the picture.

Then the summer of 1997 happened. I was working at my college campus at Gustavus Adolphus College and an FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) Boys Camp arrived in July. I thought I had just won the lottery...I was their staff contact at our campus and there were 30 of the cutest college guy athletes I had ever seen at my disposal. Little did I know that the Lord had different plans for me that week. Every night I was in charge of the lights at their evening worship services. I remember seeing these guys who would pray out in the open and not only that, they would pray in groups with their arms around each other. They would pray for the kids at the camp...and when they worshipped, they did so with their whole hearts, streams of tears falling down their faces with arms uplifted to the sky. I wanted what they had but I didn't know what it was. Here I stood...a girl who believed in God and believed in Jesus...so why did I feel so different from them? But I lacked that peace, that perfect peace that transcends all understanding. The final night of the camp, the guest speaker made an altar call...I desparately wanted to join in but figured it wasn't my place because I wasn't part of the camp...I hadn't paid to be there. Slowly but surely the time of the night was nearing it's end. I thought I had missed my chance and life would go on as normal the next day. But God saw me...in the back of that room and in the middle of my tears and everything I was holding onto...He saw me and He reached out to me. In the form of a 6'4" Football Player from the University of Nebraska who tapped my shoulder and took me downstairs to pray, he SAVED me. I remember thinking as I followed my football angel, "Why on earth do you want me Lord? I'm too much of a failure and my actions and behaviors are not lovable in any way..." But I continued to follow. My football angel and the Director of the Camp prayed with me to receive Christ as my Savior. I didn't know what that meant exactly but I do know my life was never the same after that day.

Why do I retell that story...so I never forget where the Lord brought me from. That is where I sit tonight...trying to remember where the Lord has brought me from as I sit and look at my "Pitcher."

After reading Angie's blog several weeks ago, a friend from choir and I decided we wanted to go shopping for our own pitchers and break some pottery. However our schedules didn't work out to get together for quite some time. Little did I know that I would be smashing some pottery at a very important breaking point in my own heart. I had reached a point where I needed to feel the loving arms of my savior enveloping me with his peace as He had in the summer of 1997.

The day to shop for our pitchers began...we started up and down Broadway Avenue sneaking a peak in several antique shops. After the first few pitchers with price tags ranging anywhere from $100-$300+, we were about ready to call it a day and settle for something at Walmart. That is when I noticed a pitcher on the sale shelf that caught my eye. It was in the back of the room and was very heavy and pretty plain. Though I didn't end up purchasing that one (even though it reminded how I often times feel about myself - that I'm just not pretty enough or I'm simply just not enough...it gave my friend and I hope that we could find some pitchers that would work because this one was priced at $15). My friend found a beautiful gem for $30. I appeared to be striking out and as we went into the last shop, I thought about going back to get the first affordable pitcher I saw. We walked upstairs in the last shop and my friend kept telling me that I should settle for a whiskey jug, since the shop we were in seemed to have a ton of them. All of a sudden I saw a pitcher I really liked, but it was FILTHY! There was dust all over it. We weren't sure the color or if it had any distinct markings on it (or if that was simply the dust) but I brought it to the counter to discover it was only $5.

We went out for a great lunch and then headed back to my place to break our beautiful pitchers. We wrapped them up in tissue paper and put them in bags. My friend stood there with her camera ready to capture me letting go of my pitcher...but do you know that was probably one of the hardest things...to simply let go of it. Inside that bag was a perfect pitcher...it was whole, it served a purpose - to hold water, I had cleaned all the dust off it to realize it was a beautiful brown color with marble markings...what on earth was I thinking just letting it go to smash to the ground into a hundred pieces. I guess I looked at that as how hard it is for me to let go of my already shattered life and trust it to a loving Father who created me and knows my inmost being. My pitcher was still in tact from the handle up but the bottom had been shattered. I think I feel that way too most the time. I look like I have it all together when you see me in person but many times underneath I'm a mess. I don't want anyone to get too close or they may soon see all the flaws I see everyday. As I looked over my shattered pieces, I knew it was going to be a long afternoon.

When my friend and I began the process of piecing back together our pitchers we shared a lot about our own shattered lives. We didn't know each other very well before that afternoon but there's something humbling about being broken before the Lord and sharing that brokenness with others...there is a similarity between you when you realize that everyone has had heartache, pain, disappointment, etc. My brokenness stems from years of self-image doubt, growing up as a dancer who never quite had the "dancer" figure but more the athlete build and trying to mold myself into perfection, whether that meant by taking diet pills or exercising myself to death. I also realized how shattered my heart is from disappointment in failed relationships and how many times I suffer from utter loneliness and not feeling like I "fit" anywhere. I shared a lot about always wanting to seem like I had it all together and I want to be pretty and perfect but most of the time I feel shattered and broken. As I put my pitcher together, I realized how difficult a task it was on my own. How painful it was at times when I could see a piece and where it needed to go but I simply could not get it there on my own. As I thought about my loving Father in Heaven, I realized how painful it must be for Him to watch up as we try to take matters into our own hands. How many times I've agonized over a problem or a heartache and I don't bring it to Him to mend it...I try to fix it on my own. In regards to my pitcher, sometimes I had to tear apart something that I felt I had spent so much time putting together, only to see it torn apart yet again. Do you see where this is going...that is what we try and do time and time again.

We make a mess of our lives and so often don't think God will understand where we are at and He won't care about all the broken pieces. There are simply too many broken pieces that are worthless. Yet He wants to be there for us when we need mending and we need Him to be. He used broken vessels throughout the Bible to carry out His work. How on earth would we have ever been able to relate to people who weren't broken. It's because they were broken and flawed that He was able to use them. I reached a point with my pitcher yesterday where I simply wasn't able to make any more of the leftover pieces fit. There are several gaps in my pitcher and that is where I realized that the Lord needs to fill those gaps. He is the only one who can fill them and when he enters this broken pitcher, in spite of all the gaps, He will be able to flow through those gaps and pour out His love. It's only because of those gaps, those flaws, those imperfections, that He can flow out of me.

A scripture I read tonight is resonating loudly..."These people worship me with their mouths, but their hearts are far from me...it is not what goes into a man that makes him unclean but rather what come out of the man's heart that makes him unclean."

While I still am on the mend of a shattered heart, I am trying to make myself a broken vessel that only the Lord can piece back together. I pray that He will do it in a way that no one else can. That in spite of the flaws, that I will still be able to see His beauty and His creation as He flows through me and out of my heart.

So if you are in that place of brokenness tonight, I challenge you to smash some pottery as well and see what the Lord will reveal in your own life.

The Couch that Comforts..

Earlier this week, I came down with a cold...and not just any cold but a doozy! Is that how you spell doozy? Anyways, I am a pretty tough cookie who rarely gets sick and when I do, it hits hard! Last Sunday afternoon I was at work and we were hosting our annual Howloween party. 80 dogs showed in costume and all the proceeds went to the Humane Society. While I was admiring how my fierce diva dog (who dislikes almost everyone on the face of the earth) was all of a sudden in the middle of a circle of dogs letting people pet her (this is a MIRACLE in and of itself - those of you who know Chelie, you know what I'm talking about), I was also sneezing. I felt fine but couldn't stop sneezing. I passed it off as maybe I was allergic to the haybails we brought in for the event. By the time I got home, I realized it might be more. And boy, was it ever!
Monday morning I woke up and made my way to my couch. Other than having to find the energy to let my dog out, my couch was my best friend that day from 8:00am until almost midnight. I was thankful that I was off work. Tuesday came and even though I made it out to golf I spent the rest of the day recovering...on my couch. Wednesday I made it into work only to have to turn around and head out after a half day...and then I found my way back...to my couch.
Do you have a couch like that? That no matter how awful you feel or how bad your day is, it brings you a sense of comfort. Now don't for a moment think I am trying to overspiritualize what I am about to say as I relay needing to fall back on the Lord for our comfort - our peace. I don't view my stationary inanimate couch as anything comparable to a loving Savior who died to save a wretch like me. But at times when I am sick, hurting, or things just don't make sense, that I can turn to my Savior is my comfort. He is always there and he will never leave me or forsake me. I may have to face several troubles I don't understand, but I choose to face them in faith with Him leading me.
I'm thankful tonight that I feel about 90-95% better. I don't sound like a freight train when I try to breathe nor do I cause people to turn the other way when they simply hear the sound of my voice. It's true I could have easily sang baritone the other night at choir but think the way that I feel I will gladly be an alto at tomorrow night's choir concert.
I'm thankful the Lord decided to let my health return and I'm thankful for my couch of comfort but even more, the comfort of my loving Father!

Cuddle up with a Malt

It's a bi-annual tradition...my dear friend Jan and I went to Gunther Toody's tonight for birthday malts. Tonight we celebrated Jan's birthday. Though almost a month after her special day, I guess it's time to say better late than never. It's always the same order, two chocolate malts, and then we'll take one to go (for her dear husband Ty at home). For those who have never been to Gunther Toody's, you never quite know what you are going to get. It's a 50s diner with a waitstaff unlike any other. For my birthday back in June, we had a boisterous, outspoken gal who made me wear a funky hat and get up and dance a jig with her. Tonight we had sweet Cuddles, who left an impression on both my friend and I as one of the sweetest servers we have ever had.
Those malts came and they did not disappoint. We caught up on two months of needed girl talk and just let the Lord minister to our hearts through an amazing friendship He put together years ago on a church praise team. Cuddles asked if we were sisters...though not by blood we certainly are by faith.
Tonight I'm reminded of the Lord's goodness and of His love for us. May the Lord pour out so much blessing on each of you this year that you simply would not be able to contain it.

Changing Seasons...

Fall is absolutely my favorite time of year...and one of the reasons why is because of the changing of the color. I grew up in Minnesota and I always loved seeing the many shades of color fall would bring...reds, oranges, yellows...and as a kid I also loved raking leaves (or waiting for dad to rake the leaves) so I could jump in. But part of the fall that gets me is "change". In our lives, we are constantly changing. I moved to Colorado nine years ago - it's hard to believe I have been out here almost a decade of my life.

Fall in Colorado...it's definitely different than Minnesota, that's for sure. For starters, it happens a lot earlier than the midwest, and when the leaves change, it can be in an instant, and then they're gone. It doesn't mean that I like this time of year less...it just means you have to pay more attention to it or it can be gone before you know it. Storms seem to blow across the Rockies faster than the Road Runner in a Bugs Bunny Cartoon. Fall is kind of like that as well...there's so many sights, sounds, smells, etc to take in that I don't want to miss any of it.

And the change happens whether we would like it to or not...there are moments I would like to pause and take in forever. This year a friend of mine and I went up to Mt. Evans, my all time favorite spot in the Rockies to see the leaves change (or at least, one of my favorite spots and it is close enough to home that you feel like you are a million miles away, yet you are still within an hour from Denver)...and you don't have to quite make it up to Eisenhower Tunnel, which with traffic can be a real bear to fight.

Anyways, where am I going with this. For the last five fall seasons, I have been the Junior High Volleyball Coach at a wonderful Christian High School. I have learned so many lessons from coaching, more than I can ever go into. What I didn't expect was all the memories I would recall while coaching. I remembered past coaches I had, ones I loved and ones I would rather forget. Plus I saw glimpses of my competitive nature come out a bit too much and remembered that coaching is about so much more than winning or losing. If I am going to really make an impact in the lives of these young volleyball players, then I need to let the Lord shine through me. The hard part was my fall coaching season seemed to be like the changing colors of the fall season in Colorado. It always snuck up on me before I was quite ready for it, and before I knew it, the two months of the season flashed before my eyes and the season was over. And I was left wondering, did any of this make a difference for the Lord. Are these girls better off now than they were at the start of the season.

This past spring, I went to the Athletic Director of our school and resigned as the Junior High Coach, immediately followed by bursts of tears as I had to let go of part of my life I really felt the Lord had given me as a gift. In turn, I went to our Varsity Coach's home. Tina and I have become dear friends the past five years. Not only are we both from MN but we sisters in the Lord with the same competitive spirit. Instead of coaching the girls directly, I was on board to help out Tina with the varsity team this fall. The greatest part of this arrangement was that the varsity players (most of them seniors) were all girls that I had coached my very first year when they were 7th graders. By the time tryouts were complete, I realized that I had coached nine of the ten varsity players. I knew it was going to be a fun season.

And it was...we had some incredible matches - a lot of nail-biting five game matches where we came out on top and a lot of games we could have played better than we brought to the court that night. That is where I am afraid this blog leaves me tonight. We played our final match of the 2008 season and we didn't fare as well as we hoped. The season is complete and I am left a little disheartened as I had really hoped for a better outcome. Not only because it's fun to win, but also because this group of girls is such a great group of girls. There is a humble spirit about them that is an absolute delight to watch. And I believe the league would have been blessed to see our team do well at regionals and state. Plus it was Tina's final game as the head coach. After 12 years, she is going to spend more time with her two little ones and her husband...I love you Tina. It has been a joy serving along side you. May the Lord bless you as you continue to trust and follow Him.

But the Lord had other plans in mind...tonight was not about a victory for our team, but hopefully a building of our character to take beyond the court. And that is why we play, so that the Lord may be lifted high and that He may draw all men unto Himself. We serve an incredible God!

I'm not sure what these blog entries are for...I believe I am supposed to journal what the Lord is doing in my life. This is a changing of seasons...the fall is here and I don't want to miss a moment of the Lord's greatness. I live in a state where it truly is hard to deny that a mighty and powerful God created these majestic purple mountain majesties I get to see everyday.

I hope these blogs are a blessing to you and I also hope you enjoy the pictures of God's incredible artistry from Mt Evans. It was a breathtaking drive a few weeks ago - one a camera cannot capture. God - you are so good!