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The story of an amazing God's work in our family.

Tuesday, May 11, 2021

Run To The Father

 Everything within me wants to start this out with “It’s been a really difficult year…”

But then the logical side of me says…”Well, duh.”

EVERYONE has experienced some level of change to their regularly scheduled programming in the last 365 days.  No one has been exempt.

So, I say all that to say….It’s been a really difficult year for #TeamThomas.

Last March, when the world essentially stopped turning, we were smack dab in the middle of buying our first home.

It was a NIGHTMARE.

Seriously.

I have PTSD.

I’ve half decided that I want to be buried in the back yard, because I NEVER want to go through that process again.

During this, one of the most stressful and trying times of my life, this extrovert was devastated at the fact that I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere or see anyone or be near friends or go to church.

At first, like most churches, we tried to stay connected via online platforms. However, after your 50th Zoom call of the week, that gets old really quickly.

It doesn’t help that I’m REALLY slow to process emotions (and that’s IF I let myself feel them). So all this anger, and frustration, and hurt, and distrust that I was experiencing made me feel like I was drowning.

It was so easy to check out and say that I needed “down time” to avoid another web conference that left me feeling even more isolated than before.

The novel idea of church in your living room was fun, and exciting, and innovative at first. But I couldn’t maintain the momentum.  Watching the service as a family became “well…we will at least watch the sermon, even if we skipped the worship portion.” That (not so) slowly morphed into…”We can all watch it later….on our own time.”

Who. Was. I. Kidding?

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. I was starting to believe that we were never going to be allowed to live a ‘normal’ life again.

All this time away from the people that spur me toward righteousness, and all this time away from a genuine connection with God caused a breakdown in my soul.

Things that hadn’t been temptations in decades were slowly creeping into the edges of my mind. Old struggles became current struggles which became downright disobedience.

I’m not proud of that.

But I’m not surprised either.

The pull of conviction wasn’t lost on me, but it’s easy to stop listening when you turn the volume down.

I stopped trying to hear from God. I actually didn’t want to hear from him because I knew how far I had wandered.

So I hid.

I kept the volume down.

I cut him off from speaking to me.

Shame is real. And even when you KNOW that you’re in the wrong, and even when you KNOW that you should run back to Jesus, shame tells you that you can’t.

When our church opened back up, and we could attend services again we went.

But I felt empty and hollow.

I knew I needed to repent, but I was…scared.

I grew up with a dad who was exhausted all the time. That exhaustion manifested in frustration and anger. Sometimes it felt like walking through a minefield because you weren’t guaranteed what you were going to get.

(As an adult I look back and realize I could give you 8 millions reasons why the exhaustion was completely valid and where the frustration and anger came from, but that’s his story, not mine.)

Because of these interactions with my earthly father, I was scared to approach my heavenly father.

I knew who I was when I walked in relationship with him. I also knew who I was now.

I was scared that God would tell me all the things that I already knew. That I had failed. That I was weak. That I couldn’t possibly be used in the capacity that I had been before. And I knew actually hearing those things would break my heart.

I got to the point that the loneliness and isolation that I was feeling was starting to physically affect me.

So I turned the volume up.

I turned to my heavenly father and braced for impact.

Instead of being met with disappointment, and shame, and regret, and harsh words I was met with:

“My girl. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so very glad that you’ve chosen to have a relationship with me. Come, crawl into my arms and let me tell you how very much I love you.”

So I did.

I allowed myself to be embraced.  To be loved on and nurtured. And to be sung over.

Instead of hearing all the things that I already knew, God chose to speak over me the things that I’d forgotten.

That I’m his.

That I’m precious.

That I’m beautiful.

That he adores me.

That he loves me….no matter what.

This past Sunday I was able to lift my hands in worship because they weren’t weighted down by chains.

I was able to sing at the top of my lungs and allow my soul to be overcome with joy in the presence of the Father.

I was able to speak truth into the life of a friend.

I was able to remember who God is and be in awe of how he chooses to use us.

All I had to do was turn around.

 

 

“I run to the Father. I fall into grace. I’m done with the hiding, no reason to wait. My heart needs a surgeon. My soul needs a friend. So I’ll run to the Father again, and again, and again, and again.”

– Cody Carnes, Run to the Father

Monday, April 19, 2021

Shout To The Lord

 This weekend I watched “A Week Away” on Netflix.

If you were raised on contemporary Christian music in the 90’s then this will hit you RIGHT in the feels. Think High School Musical meets Christian Youth Camp (there’s even paintball and a blob!).

Yes, it’s a musical…BUT the unexpected twist is that the music is dripping with nostalgia from artists like Steven Curtis Chapman and Amy Grant. (Y’all, I died…it was so epically cheesy and amazing.)

This walk down memory lane inspired me to scrounge Spotify for the music of my youth. I’m now armed with a playlist that my 17 year old self would have DIED for.  (And I don’t even have to have a 5 disc CD changer!)

Listening to these tunes on repeat today has made my heart happy. Each song reminds me of cruising around Panama City, Florida in my blue Geo Prism with all the windows rolled down.  For me, it sounds like summer camp with World Changers, and Vanilla Malts from Sonic, concerts in our small town civic center (where the floor almost collapsed) and the endless miles that we put on Big Red and Old Blue (our church busses).

One song hit me especially hard. Just like smells can trigger strong memories, so can music.  And this one nearly knocked me on my butt.

It was 1997. Summer. Somewhere between Peoria, Illinois and Panama City, Florida.

Our youth group had joined with World Changers and had spent the week working on homes, replacing roofs, loving on people and their pets, taking showers in a trailer, and sleeping on the floor. We were getting ready to head home, and were visiting a local church.

The song “Shout To The Lord” had been chasing me all summer. I felt like it was EVERYWHERE.

But on this day, God revealed himself to me through this song in a way like he had never before.

You see, I wasn’t in a good place.  I was an awkward teenager (I mean, I’ve still not grown out of my awkward phase). I had just come out of a nearly year long relationship with a boy I genuinely thought I was going to marry. (Y’all, it wasn’t a pretty breakup…) Did I mention that he was in my youth group?  Uggh. Kill. Me. Now.

Additionally, things weren’t going super well in my family. There were some legal issues with my little brother (and that’s his story…not mine). All of these circumstances had left me feeling isolated and alone. I didn’t feel like I was “part of the group” (I know, typical teenage girl). I was lonely and just needed someone to SEE me. And no one did.

But God.

In a church of thousands, he bent down from heaven and held my sad little heart in his hands.

He reminded me that in everything he is holy, and he is present, and he is aware and not a single thing in the universe can compare to him.

As I sang that chorus from the depths of my soul I was telling my Jesus and my savior that there is none like him. In that moment he was my comfort and my shelter and a tower of refuge and strength.

As tears streamed down my face I promised that with every breath and all that I am I would never stop praising him because nothing compares to the promises that I have in him.

This moment – this meeting with Jesus in the valley would carry me through the next 8-12 months as God called my family away from the church we had attended my entire life. Once again Jesus held my broken heart in his hands as we dealt with rumors started by people that we thought were friends and a new loneliness as it became clear that we had just been another family in the pew, rather than people who were invited into the church community’s lives.

It sustained me as I attempted to find myself in this new group of youth (and even through never really feeling like I belonged there either).

What I didn’t realize at the time, and what 17 year old me could have never foreseen, was that this moment where God clearly lifted my eyes to him was a process that would be repeated frequently over the next two decades.

Each time I began drowning in my circumstances he reminded me of the promise that I made to sing for joy at the work of his hands and praise the wonders of his mighty love.

Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Only The Good

 Maaaaannnn……It has been A. Year.

I think that most people would agree that 2020 has been…well…a dumpster fire.

It’s so easy to look back over the year and mourn for all the things that were lost or completely different than our expectations.

Concerts, competitions, and vacations cancelled.

Countless hours lost trying to get refunds for services that could no longer be performed.

Trying to focus on a church service in your pajamas from your couch.

Never. Ending. Zoom. Meetings.

Isolation.

Depression.

Fear.

By now, everyone in the world should be well acquainted with the five stages of grief, because in some way, shape, or form, we have all been on a grief roller coaster since March.

Focusing on the good has to be a conscious decision.

A year ago my last grandparent went to be with Jesus.

We….didn’t have an amazing relationship.

It would be easy for me to remember the time that we screamed at each other and almost ruined family vacation. Or the multiple comments that she made about myself and my kiddos that hurt feelings.

But…

I could also remember that she would always let us help in the kitchen – even when we were less than helpful.

Or how she always made sure that I got the center biscuit, and that my brother had a spot of sweet potato casserole without pecans.

Or how she sewed me a bathing suit out of one of her old ones because I hadn’t packed one for our visit.

Or how she would let us decorate cool-whip lids with leftover icing and then eat it all off.

Or how she was friends with LITERALLY everyone.

Or how she served in the church nursery with the babies until she couldn’t anymore.

Or how she volunteered to go as a chaperone on a youth trip because they needed one more, and she didn’t have any plans that week.

Or how she was the most adventurous 70 year old ever.

Or how she wasn’t afraid to take a trip by herself because she didn’t need anyone else to have a good time.

Or how she sewed my wedding dress (complete with 10,000 beads).

I could say that she was stubborn and bull headed, or I could acknowledge that she was strong-willed and determined, which are qualities that women of her generation earned the right to be.

I could say that she was stuck in an antiquated mindset, but then I remember how she loved on inner city kiddos and sang them songs about Jesus.

I could say that she wasn’t my biggest fan, but then I remember that she made sure to tell my mom the things she wanted me to have after she was gone because I was the one who “made her a grandma.”

So today, as I’m piping egg yolk mixture into boiled eggs I’m thankful that she taught me how to use  a piping bag and a star tip.

And as I’m enjoying Thanksgiving lunch with my work family I’m thankful that she passed down her recipe of sweet potato casserole (that I had to make a double batch of because so many people requested it).

And next week, for family Thanksgiving, I’ll make Apple Salad (in the green bowl, because it doesn’t taste the same in any other bowl) and I’ll be thankful that who she was has influenced who I am.

 


 

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Essential

It’s official.
I’m essential.
Well, at least the government thinks so.

This pandemic has thrown us all into situations we never really thought possible.

 All of a sudden, in addition to being the primary earner for our family, I’m the only one who actually has to get out of bed in the morning.

Mark is furloughed until further notice and Camber and Cooper are now home-schooled for who knows how long.

 It’s weird.

 Everything is so weird.

There are those who feel like life should carry on as normal and still pack their teacup Yorkie into their purse and head to the grocery store for their weekly shopping.

There are those who are convinced that this is how humanity meets its maker, and are hoarding toilet paper (why though?) and not leaving their homes at all.

Then there are those who realize the extent of this pandemic, but still have to carry on as normal as possible because our livelihoods depend on it.

I mentioned to a friend yesterday that I feel like I have a very different experience that the majority of the universe right now.

If you’re also “essential” I bet you do to.

We’re torn.

We are SO. VERY. THANKFUL to have a job.

Yet, we’re jealous of those who “get” to stay home during this time.

To be honest, this has been one of the most stressful seasons of my life.

We’re in the process of buying a house. We have no idea when Mark will go back to work. Our 20th Anniversary trip to Europe has been cancelled, but we’re not entirely sure if we’ll get any of that money back – because travel insurance doesn’t cover pandemic. (Don’t even get me started on the fact that we LITERALLY are not allowed in the countries that we were supposed to travel to).

At work I’ve coordinated the layoffs of over 2,000 people. We tried to make it as seamless as possible, but I speak to about 100 people a day who are LIVID that the state is taking so long to process their request (Did I mention I don’t work for the state?). 

I get home to a house full of introverts that are THRIVING because they aren’t being forced out in public.

Our tiny apartment is covered in boxes because we’re supposed to close on our house today (which likely won’t happen #ThanksCorona).

Our dog is having a nervous breakdown at the clutter.

And I have about 900 ZOOM meetings a week to “try and stay connected.”
During which I get to hear all about how everyone has all this extra emotional and mental energy and how they have never felt better or more connected to their families, and how they are organizing, and doing yard work, and getting everyone on a schedule. They’re cooking wholesome and nutritious foods and working out and sun bathing and reading and day drinking. Their skin is glowing and their hair is made of sunshine (Ok, I may have made that up). 

Meanwhile my stomach is in knots. I’m a giant ball of anxiety and have said on more than one occasion “I’m not ok.”

Yet – I keep on.

Now, I get that this sounds like a pity party complete with a full round of “I guess I’ll go eat worms.” 

And yes, it kinda is.

 But more than that – I want you to be aware of what some of us are walking through.

 So – I say all that to say – check on your “essential” friends. They may not be ok.

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Now And Then


An interesting “aging challenge” has popped up all over Facebook recently.

The “challenge” is to post your very first Facebook profile picture and your most recent selfie to see how you’ve changed over the years.

Of course – there’s always ‘those people’ who remind the rest of us that in the last 10-15 years technology has come a long way. So while we may be deluded into thinking that we’re not aging we’re really just reaping the benefits of advanced technology.

I still thought it would be fun to see the difference.

So – Here I am. 2006 to 2018.

















I will say – I don’t think I’ve aged terribly.  It seems that I’ve learned how to wear makeup and groom my eyebrows – but it’s what you can’t see that is really astounding.

That girl on the left doesn’t know that there is so much more. More life, more to experience, more to fall in love with. She has no idea what her eyes will see, or where her feet will walk, or how much love can fit in her heart.

She has no idea who she is, or how her day to day life fits into God’s bigger picture for her. 

She can’t see the perseverance that is being fashioned, the groundwork for her children’s faith that she and her husband are laying, or how the ability to be content is being grown.

She can’t see how “just being a stay at home mom” is even remotely effective in the grand scheme of the universe.

She sees no end in sight when it comes to her degree. She doesn’t think that they will ever be financially “ok.”

She is overwhelmed with having littles. She has no idea that everyone who ever told her that “they grow up too fast” was SO.RIGHT.

She doesn’t fully realize that God has a perfect plan. She is desperate for community, although she wouldn’t be able to recognize that desire.

She has no idea that in a few short years her life will drastically change.

She will sell everything she owns and embark on an adventure of the best kind. She will learn, and grow, and see God move in a way she never really thought possible. She will have her heart and her dreams crushed with a single sentence.

She will wrestle with God. She will watch her husband become a shell of the man he was. 

She will pray, and cry, and pray some more.

She will remind herself over and over again that God’s call on her life doesn’t come with an expiration date.

She will move half way across the country just to find her “tribe.” Although she doesn’t know that’s why.

They will love her, and encourage her, and continue to pour into her even when she is a brat.

They will pet her hair and tell her she’s pretty when life is just too much and pain is just too real.

They will remind her that she loves Jesus when it seems that she has forgotten.

They will turn her eyes to the cross and to the one who holds everything in the palm of his hand.

They will council her.

They will laugh with her.

They will cry with her.

They will stitch together all the things that have been ripped apart. They will shine a light into the dark places and declare that the enemy has no holds on her anymore.

They will help her heal – and she won’t even realize it’s happening.

They will help shape the woman on the right out of the broken pieces. 


Thursday, December 27, 2018

Tap, Tap, Tap....is this thing still on?


My last blog post was July 27, 2017.

I can assure you that was no accident.

The last 18 months of our lives have been a roller coaster that even Cedar Point wouldn’t want in their park. (However, those stories are deep, and personal, and painful, and won’t be shared with the world)

So – Here’s an update on #TeamThomas before we slide into 2019:

Mark
Mark is the local drug coffee dealer. He’s been a barista at the Starbucks in our local mall for over two years.

He loves his job and the people that he works with!

Our friends and family love the fact that we don’t drink coffee, therefore have about a million pounds per year to give away!

His goal for 2019 is to ride in the MS150. So you can look forward to us doing some fundraising for that in the near future.
Cutest barista around!

Camber
Camber started high school in August of 2017. I’d love to say that she adapted well and that sunshine and roses fly out of her butt on the daily….

However, the transition was…rough. Weeping and gnashing of teeth actually sounds like a fun vacation compared to hell that we walked through with this child.

Thankfully, after about a million and one ‘Come to Jesus’ talks, the waves have subsided and the sun is shining again.

The one constant for her these last couple of years has been band.

Clear Brook High School Marching Band 2017-2018

Like momma and dad before her, she is a band nerd! (We have waited our WHOLE lives for this)




She plays the trumpet that her dad played when I met him and she is a proud member of the Clear Lake High School Marching Band. (Watch them march in the AlamoDome here)

Camber and her support squad
Y’all, band has changed….or maybe it’s just Texas.

The schedule is INTENSE and the payoffs are enormous.

We have spent MANY Friday nights at the local stadium and then done a quick turnaround so Camber is ready for a Saturday (all day) competition.

Thankfully, she is just as excited about the program as we are and she looks forward to having her brother there next year.

Cooper
Coop is the same sarcastic, loud mouthed, joy he always has been. 

Coop and the "baby tuba" (Euphonium)
After 2 years of perfect scores on standardized tests he was contacted about taking the ACT to really measure his intelligence.

At the ripe old age of 13, he scored on average with high school juniors and seniors on this college placement test.

This year the leaders requested that Coop write a short devotion and speak at #OLY (OneLife Youth) summer camp. Our concern was that he wasn’t taking it very seriously, however we were shocked to learn that he had been praying about this opportunity for weeks.

#OLY Camp 2018
He spoke on temptation, and outlined who tempts us, and how God enables us to deal with the temptations that come our way.

It wasn’t polished or professional, but his sweet heart showed through and it’s been a building block for him to become more of a leader in the youth group.

About a month ago we finally made this kid an orthodontist appointment, KNOWING that he needed braces for a few years.

Before treatment. I can't wait to see the after!

Much to our surprise, he is a candidate for Invisalign! He got his first set of “trays” yesterday and will change them weekly to adjust his smile. 

The treatment lasts for 2 years, just like regular braces, but they aren’t as intrusive or painful. He’s still a little leery about the finished product, but we have assured him that he will have a beautifully straight smile.

And for me – I’m still hanging in there.

I’m still working for the industrial scaffolding company and I’m still loving it.  The people I work with are amazing and I don’t think this job would be near as fun without them!

The whole crew - Including the infamous #BossLady

As of this second – I’m half done with my Master’s Degree in Accounting. (It has been SO MUCH EASIER than my Bachelor’s ever was!)

I don’t know what comes next…but I know we’re excited about it!


Thursday, July 27, 2017

Three Million, Six Hundred Seventy Nine Thousand, Two Hundred Minutes

Today, seven years ago, our little family stepped out into an adventure that would change our lives.

If you’re new to the #TeamThomas show you can read all about it here.

Believe it or not, that’s not what I want to talk about today.

Shocking…I know.

The thing about life changing events….especially ones that start off with trauma….is you don’t know they’re life changing until you’re on the other side of them.

When we first came home I felt like I was looking through a fog.  I felt disjointed, like my body didn’t belong in this space anymore.  Relationships seemed choppy and took extra work.  Church was hard.  Like, really hard.  I was desperate to hear from God, but the static in my head was so loud I didn’t know if I could anymore.  Everything felt like an out of body experience.  It was all JUST. SO. DIFFICULT.

Fast forward seven years (and unlimited tears and prayers) and I can look back on the experience without bitterness, hurt, or resentment.  I can take what was good and store it away to smile about another day, and the bad….well, like the fog that I felt strangled by in the beginning…it dissipated.

So….I say all that to say…

I see you.

Yes, you.

Right now it’s all so hard, and you’re feeling alone, and broken beyond repair, and empty.  I know.  I remember that hollowness that seemed to swallow my entire being.

I can confidentially say….this is not the end for you.  This thing, whatever it is, will not end you.  I promise there is freedom. (Pinkie promise)

Cry if you need to.  Scream into the pillow.  Purchase a punching bag.  Eat an entire cake. (Ok, that’s actually not super helpful, but you get the point)

Just do me one favor.

Don’t unpack there.

Don’t intend to stay.  Don’t even bring a carry-on.

Do something every day to work toward forgiveness (for yourself, not them)

Take every thought captive. (Yes, EVERY.SINGLE.ONE) 

I know.  I know what I’m asking you to do.  I know how hard it is to not wallow, even when all you want to do is curl up on your pile of pity and take a nice long nap. 

Ask for help.  Yes, having a friend to vent to is great, but chances are they won’t understand every aspect of your pain. 

Ask the one who created you.  The one who sees it all.  Every piece of your beautiful mess. 

Y'all, not only does he see the mess now, but he sees the mosaic that he’s created for you.  He sees the tears you’re crying now as fuel for the joy to come. 

One of my favorite passages of scripture is in Mark 9.  A father brought his son to Jesus and asks Jesus “If you can help him.”  Jesus responds with a question…”IF I can?”  The father immediately says “I believe, but help me overcome my unbelief.”

Y’all…is there anything better? 

“God, I don’t know what you’re doing….but I know who you are.”


Put that on repeat.  Say it every time you have to take one of those thoughts captive.  Cry it into your pillow at night.  Let those words heal you.  Let God start to re-position the pieces of your mosaic.