tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-173891032024-03-06T21:09:54.176-08:00The Sharp LifeCrissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12666870777399086180noreply@blogger.comBlogger584125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-17230495583599571572022-04-19T18:22:00.001-07:002022-04-19T18:36:48.536-07:00Grateful Introspection<p>Sometimes when a person is expressing gratitude, others call their words a "humble brag". Ty explained this to me. The person is actually bragging but contriving to make it appear as simple, and humble, gratitude. </p><p>This phrase, "humble-brag", while it may be accurate, has a negative effect on other people. One cannot be truly grateful for something and express that joy without fearing how it might appear. This, in turn, leads to much less gratitude in the world. FOMO (another word from my children meaning "Fear of Missing Out") <i>paralyses gratitude.</i> Or at the very least, the expression thereof. </p><p>There are moments in life (mine, at least, I cannot speak for others), when the thankfulness wells up and spills over. My friend, Quinn, told me these are moments of Shalom, when things are as they should be. </p><p>I stood outside tonight as the sun was setting. I stood under the Party Tree, now well over twenty feet tall. I stood under this oak tree where the birds were flitting from branch to branch, where the shade was just so, where the small iron chairs from Uncle Don are positioned, and let the peacefulness of the moment soak into my heart. This is the tree I ordered from the Arbor Day Foundation and Chris planted when it was 12 inches tall. This is the tree that started growing when there were no other trees in the man-made hilltop of our front yard. This is the tree my kids used as their pivot point when riding their bikes. This is the tree we hung lights in for Brendan and Rhema's reception. This tree marks the starting point of our life in this house; a measurable, significant, assessable gauge of time. </p><p>My childhood was chaotic and lonely with moments of tranquility. This is probably because my mother was chaotic and, I suspect, lonely, but with moments of tranquility. As I near my 49th birthday next week, I am introspective. I can't help but draw comparisons between my life and my mother's life. I cannot say what she felt on her 49th birthday, but I know it was only three years before she died in a way that gave me PTSD. I know she was mentally ill and angry and almost destitute. I know she exhibited a frantic obsession with leaving us a legacy. </p><p>Today as I stood under our tree I looked at my house. The house Chris, with the help of others, built with his sweat and exhaustion. The house that is now over twenty years old. The house that Maggie said the front of was "#goals". And as I stood and looked around me, I couldn't stop my words.</p><p>Thank you, Father, for this house. Thank you for the gift of a home for my family.</p><p>Thank you for the flowers that you taught me to grow.</p><p>Thank you for the tree that towers over me and gives shelter to the birds.</p><p>Thank you for Uncle Don and the generosity of his heart in giving us these sweet chairs. </p><p>Thank you for the cats and the dog who want to be near me.</p><p>Thank you for the grass that grows without prickles and is soft under my feet.</p><p>Thank you for the woods that surround me and shelter me from the world.</p><p>Thank you for the gift of family close by, volitional and other.</p><p>Thank you for the sidewalk that my grandchildren will one day draw on with chalk.</p><p>Thank you for stillness of the air and the blueness of the sky.</p><p>Thank you for this... life. This sweet, precious, peaceful life. This life that I could have never envisioned when I was young and lonely and confused. This life that is also filled with worries and cares and fears and opportunities to trust You.</p><p>Thank you, Father, for this taste of heaven until I can be with you in the true and complete Shalom. </p><p>I am so grateful.</p>Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-60479933369597231022021-11-03T19:57:00.000-07:002021-11-03T19:57:01.579-07:00A Different Kind of Grief<p> My friend has died. I have tried to convince myself that he was <i>just</i> a resident and that our relationship was firmly within the boundaries of old person/caregiver. But that is all rot. He was my <i>friend </i>and it was not his time.</p><p>It is strange to so deeply grieve a person no one outside of work knew. To wade through the molasses of grief on my own, with no one to comfort or to be comforted by. When the grief snatches my breath, I push through because the ones who love me best did not know him, do not grieve him.</p><p>He was so funny. He was clever, witty, smart, snarky, and sassy. He had a habit of forgetting to glue his dentures in and having to talk around them while they flopped. He was known for his dancing. He snickered and shook when trying to tell a story he thought was particularly entertaining. With one raised eyebrow, he expressed his horror or disbelief or mischief. One quick side-eye and I was hard pressed to keep my composure. His sarcasm was my delight.</p><p>He shared his sorrow over never having children and his relief at never remarrying after his one disastrous attempt. He told me about the red-haired woman his grandfather ran away with and the beauty of his mother who died when he was just a teenager. He was dismayed by his own snobbery and impatience with people, and he was quick to apologize when he lost his temper. He was fiercely proud of his twin, even while trying to seem detached. </p><p>He spoke his mind. He spoke only the truth and displayed what it looked like to not shrink back. He loved Jesus and sorrowed his own sin and failure. He had a teddy bear he named "Dumb-ass" who made sure to remind him of all the Dumb-ass things he had done in his life. He lived with his pride and his repentance held openly and firmly for anyone to see. </p><p>I will miss helping his remake his bed every week because the housekeeper never did it to his liking. I will miss the conversations while he sat in his favorite chair and I sat on his blue velvet sofa with CrimeTV blaring in the background. I will miss his encyclopedic knowledge of Birmingham's Southside. I will miss his sarcastic comments under his breath during every concert. I will miss his go-to phrase of "Oh, hell". I will miss him trying not to smile at my antics and costumes and bad puns. I will miss his tenderness towards his friends, the way he helped them out of their depressions. I will miss his smile and the twinkle in his eyes. </p><p>We were three weeks away from him getting to meet Chris. Three weeks away from the Covid booster that would have probably have saved his life. Three weeks from Halloween when he would have laughed at my Wonder Woman costume. Three weeks. Just three small weeks. </p><p>I fell in love with him. Never romantically, but the way a daughter falls in love with her dad, or the way two friends with like-souls fall in love when they finally meet. I loved him and cannot wait for the day when I walk into heaven and hear him say with his hand on his hip, "Well it's about damn time." </p><p>It is strange to grieve so alone. It hurts a little extra for it. </p><p>I will miss my friend. What a gift he was. </p>Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-58020142608579868832020-12-27T11:09:00.001-08:002020-12-27T11:09:07.433-08:00Don't Listen, Then Listen<p> I listen <b>too</b> much to what other people say about me and expect from me. </p><p>I've been told so many times that I'm not a baker or that I'm not crafty or that I can't cook. I remember being told that I'm not athletic. Or that I'm messy and disorganized. I heard it, absorbed it, and believed it. I have said those things about myself many times. I even named one of my Pinterest boards, "Yummy Food I Will Never Cook". </p><p>The truth of the matter is that I'm not as good a baker as many people are. There are people I know who are craftier than I am. I don't have high levels of body awareness and athleticism. Etc, etc.</p><p>But...</p><p>I have discovered that by eschewing those judgments I can achieve things I never dreamed. </p><p>In the past few months I have:</p><p>1. learned to bake bread </p><p>2. baked cookies and made pies</p><p>3. decorated entire areas beautifully and to other people's delight</p><p>4. allowed myself to try new things</p><p>5. created art </p><p>6. organized a huge work area that makes life easier for my co-workers</p><p>7. found exercise to be fun</p><p>8. made lots of Christmas bows</p><p>9. designed and made more than a dozen centerpieces for the holidays</p><p>10. begun to learn to not listen to negative voices, whether those voices are in my own head, or in the form of jokes and put downs. </p><p><br /></p><p>I don't have to put disclaimers on myself. I don't have to tell anyone. I can just do the things I love and try things I've never tried. Without shame. Without fear of failure. Without worry. I have learned to ask myself, "What do I <i>want</i>?" It is exhilarating and exciting and freeing. Chris has been trying to tell me this for two decades. I'm slow, but I'm catching on.</p><p>I'm learning new languages. Trying new recipes. Baking cookies. Painting. Running. Trying new things. It took being very alone for a long time to finally wake up and look around. I truly don't need anything from anybody. I have everything I need in Christ. I have approval (there's no shame here). I have delight (no disappointed looks or put downs). I have the smile of Creator God (why not try something new?). I have his constant presence (I am not rejected.) I have forgiveness and freedom in every area of my life. What have I to fear?</p><p><i>"Don't fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine." Isaiah 43:1</i></p><p>Do I mess up the bread or burn the cookies or misplace the photo backdrop? Yes. When those things happen are they confirmation of all the things said about me? No. Those things cannot touch me. Not the real me. The loved me. I am still broken, screwed up, sinful. But I am so loved. So very, very loved. He has called me by name. By. My. Name. I am his. And his voice is louder and truer and closer and more real than the others. What have I to fear?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-80926120414552061452020-12-19T19:52:00.001-08:002020-12-19T19:52:15.928-08:00 A Snapshot of My Evening<p>Tonight is the night before Ty's wedding. We spent most of the day at the Bartz's house, putting up the tent, setting out the candles, getting ready. We stayed over for supper of Election Lunch. </p><p>Now we are home. Chris and I prepped thirty potatoes to bake tomorrow. Chris ironed dress shirts for Ty and Zac while I prepped all the brunch food for the wedding morning. Now we are sitting in the living room. Chris leaning on the white couch. John sitting on the white couch. Ty in one wing back, me in the other. Zac and Gracie are on the orange couch and we're watching the SEC Championship game (Alabama vs Florida). Well, we're actually chatting while keeping up with the game. Every time someone says something funny, Brody laughs from his room where he's playing video games and "participating" with us. Zac says it's like a having a laugh track. </p><p>It's a sweet night. Only missing Mags and Scott. </p><p>Tomorrow The Boy gets married. What a sweetness.</p>Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-16902762563691817192020-07-23T18:08:00.001-07:002020-07-23T18:08:59.165-07:00A Day in the Shady Sunshine with My FriendToday started as a bad day. A hard day. A day that tears kept leaking out against the will. Today started as a sad day. But today, this afternoon, I sat in the shade of lovely trees and the scent of flowers and held the hand of a gentle and kind elderly woman who misses her family and was also having a hard day. Today, we walked outside, sat in metal chairs (me with a cushion, blue, and her without a cushion at all) underneath an oak tree and held hands. It was perfectly silent. Perfectly peaceful. We looked at the clouds, with my friend pointing occasionally to a particularly fluffy one and we smiled at each other when the wind would pick up and cool us off. Today started as a bad day, but today ended on a peaceful, hushed note of perfect soul communion and I was reminded of my Savior looking down at me and smiling because I am His and He is mine. Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-23290699844195414412020-05-24T20:08:00.000-07:002020-05-24T20:08:08.130-07:00Faithlessness and FaithfulnessI've been thinking a lot during this quarantine about faithfulness...<br />
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What faithfulness means and what it looks like. The faithfulness of God and the faithfulness of friends.<br />
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I think faithfulness and loyalty often get muddled up together. Someone can be disloyal with a single action or careless word, but it takes time to determine if they are no longer faithful. (I'm referring to friendship and not marriage - I can be disloyal to Chris without being unfaithful.) We all have broken, fallen moments of unkindness, of turning away from someone's pain for whatever reason, of saying something thoughtlessly. But those moments do not have to define the relationship. Not necessarily. The true test is if you ever go back, ever re-enter into the mess, whether it's of your own making or not.<br />
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Some of the synonyms for faithful are: dependable, devoted, loving, constant, resolute, steadfast, true...<br />
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The faithfulness of God is mixed up with loyalty as well. But God is never going to be loyal to me. He is loyal to himself and his own glory. It's the only thing in the universe worth being loyal to. BUT he is always, always, always faithful to me. He will always love me and resolutely, steadfastly lead me onto a path that leads me to himself.<br />
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What this looks like most of the time is that my heart gets broken, my knuckles get bruised, my faith gets shaken... because I think I know what is going to happen and then it doesn't. Or I think I'm trusting God, but then he takes something away that feels vital and I don't know what to do. I recognize his disloyalty to my desires and it's so confusing. Until I realize that his disloyalty IS his faithfulness.<br />
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Confusing, right?<br />
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I still don't understand why people I love and respect are the ones to break my heart. Maybe it's their sin, or just their weakness. Maybe they weren't intentionally trying to be evil. But God uses evil for my good and his glory. So what have I to fear, really? As God wounds, he also heals.<br />
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More than ever before I do not understand the Father. I don't understand his path or his means. I don't understand why it hurts SO MUCH, but I suspect I was trusting in the wrong thing all along. I also don't understand where my own fault may lie. Evil whispers in my ear through the harsh words of others, and sometimes by their silence and averted eyes, that I am useless and I've brought it on myself. But the words of Scripture, and faithful friends, and a wise therapist say otherwise. Christ bore the brunt. Their reproaches have fallen on Christ (PS 69:9). There is no condemnation for me (Rom 8:1). When others, people, friends, treat me faithlessly He will never forsake me (Heb 13:5). Others will fail me, my own strength will betray me, but I have a faithful High Priest who never cease advocating for me (Heb 2:17).<br />
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One thing I do understand as never before: my weakness. My faithlessness and unbelief. My fear. I am afflicted. I am perplexed. I am struck down. But I am not, and will never be, crushed, despairing, forsaken, or destroyed (2 Cor 4:8). I have never felt more unsure of myself, except maybe when I was about eleven and my whole world had fallen apart. I don't know how to talk. What to say. What to do. How to relate. How to return to a normal that no longer exists.<br />
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But one thing I do know: Jesus Christ and him crucified (1 Cor 2:2-3).<br />
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He took my sins and pride and unbelief and failings on himself on the cross. And there, my sins died with him (Rom 6:11). I am no longer identified by them. I have a new spiritual DNA. No matter the condemnation and accusations thrown at me, it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me (Gal 2:20). It doesn't matter who tells me otherwise, Paul says "whether angel from heaven", they're wrong. <br />
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The Father is steadfast in the midst of the storm. He is my hiding place (Ps 32:7). My flesh and heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever (Ps 73:26). And even though I am faithless, to him and to others, He is always faithful.<br />
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"if we are faithless, he remains faithful - for he cannot deny himself." 2 Timothy 2:13 - that's beautiful.<br />
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It is because of this that "we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed" (Heb 10:39). Immediately following that verse is a chapter on faith, more specifically, the faith of our forefathers. It is because of God's great love, loving-kindness, faithfulness, that we are not afraid or destroyed or put down. We see only his kind face, only his approval, only his delight in us (Zeph 3:17). No matter what is happening around us or to us.<br />
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In the end, my prayer is that I can more quickly distinguish between God's faithfulness and loyalty. And that I will accept whatever comes from his hand. And that I will forgive others faithlessness to me as He forgives my faithlessness to him. I pray that my heart will be tender for the right reasons and not for selfish ones. I am so glad he never gives up on me and that he pursues me relentlessly. What a mercy.<br />
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<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-45488617564357253702019-08-11T13:41:00.000-07:002019-08-11T13:41:51.984-07:00New Found Feelings I am sure there is a post on this blog about laundry. I'm positive. I haven't looked for it but I'm sure it's there. I am equally as sure that it is not a happy post. It is a complain-y one. Bet your bottom dollar on that, my friends. My loathing for socks is well documented.<br />
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Today, my feelings are very different. I love a good laundry day. I love that my laundry days are Monday and Friday. I love emptying the hamper. I love hanging the clothes on the drying rack. I love the smell of the detergent. I love walking past the clothes and giving them a quick turn and check. I love the ease of folding them straight from the rack. I love the smell of fresh, clean sheets. I love putting them away.<br />
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But most of all, I love being at home long enough to complete this process and having the space and time for it in my life.<br />
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Gone are the days of a full load of laundry EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. I finally got into a habit years ago of the kids throwing their dirty clothes in the wash every night at bedtime. I would wash, then throw them in the dryer before I went to sleep. The morning would start with them folding their outfit and pj's. But mostly, I hated it.<br />
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I hated the sorting, folding, putting away.<br />
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That's probably because there were so many clothes. So many socks. So little time. My life was one long rush from one task to the next. It never ended.<br />
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My how different my life is.<br />
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I know you may be expecting me to say, oh how I miss the days... nope. I do not miss the laundry. Or the weird objects in the pockets. Or the torn door gasket from the pencils, etc. Or the constant pain of finding sock pairs. Not even a little.<br />
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Y'all. I even stain treat now. It's amazing.<br />
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I am adjusting to this new phase of life and finding the small joys in it.Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-20707626328404450872019-03-22T15:28:00.001-07:002019-03-22T15:28:46.932-07:00Another List: Part 2<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Gracie was looking at my blog for the first time today. It goes all the way back to 2005. She's never looked at it before. She read this one to me and I didn't even remember writing it! It's a Bucket List. I have completed 7 of the 10 and removed one from the list entirely. I think it's time to strike the last 2 off the list, don't you? And maybe make another list?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Things I want to do before I die:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">1. Learn to Tango. Can't be with my husband, he giggles too much when he dances.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="color: red;"> Ty, my oldest son, taught me. I am terrible at it. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">2. Go to Europe: Paris, castles in Germany, Pompeii, etc.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">Ireland, England, France, The Netherlands, and Italy. Prague and Germany coming up in Nov.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">3. Make a documentary of my Dad's life. He's very interesting. Does anybody have a really good movie camera I can borrow?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">Haven't done it and NEED TO DO THIS!!!!!!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">4. Have a book published.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">Check. Amazon. Crissy Jones Sharp, <u>The Green Glass</u></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">5. Write a book. This </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">should've</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;"> been #4 I guess.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">See above.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">6. Learn Spanish.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">This is the one I have lost interest in.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">7. Learn more German. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">Ich habe ein Buch... and also I practice German on an app every day for 10 minutes at least.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">8. Plant and cultivate a good vegetable garden.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">Did this two years in a row and found I prefer the Farmer's Market.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">9. Go to the Louvre in Paris. I know that seems like it should just be part of #2 but it's not. I would fly over there for a day just to be able to go to the Louvre.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /> <span style="color: red;">I have now, amazingly, done this twice! Once with my friend Ginger and once with my family.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">10. Listen to Yo-Yo Ma in person. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;"><span style="color: red;">I NEED TO DO THIS, but it costs like a million dollars. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">I can't believe that I've actually done most of the things on my list. Pretty amazing. I just told Chris today that if you don't have a goal you never accomplish anything. I think it made him tired. He'll be thrilled to know that....</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b><u><i>Now I need to make a new list!</i></u></b></span></span><br />
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Here goes:<br />
1. Ride in a hot air balloon. Doesn't have to go anywhere. I am content to go up and come back down.<br />
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2. See a whale in the ocean. (Not in captivity)<br />
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3. Go to Iceland and attempt to see the Northern Lights. Ty wants to do this too.<br />
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4. Run another 5K. PR.<br />
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5. I want a doll house. With lots of miniature furniture.<br />
<br />
6. Build a tiny house. Not like the above doll house, but to live in or for our kids to stay in when they come to visit.<br />
<br />
7. Learn to play a song on the piano. Just one. And it will probably be a Gnossienne by Erik Satie. Maybe Brody can teach me.<br />
<br />
8. Go to New York City and visit lots of museums.<br />
<br />
9 and 10 are reserved for the two items from my last list that I haven't done yet.<br />
<br />
Let's check back here in another 12 years and see what's happened!Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-55945695632084048182019-02-05T20:10:00.000-08:002019-02-05T20:10:19.187-08:00Gus Was A Friendly GhostThis post was originally written and saved as a draft in February 2013. I don't know why I didn't publish it. Maybe it was too personal? Who knows...<br />
<br />
~O~<br />
<br />
When Maggie and Ty were in 2nd grade and not too keen on reading, we recorded an audiobook. Not just any plain old audiobook, but one complete with sound effects. <u>Gus Is A Friendly Ghost</u> was their favorite at the time. Ty was the voice of Mouse. Maggie was the voice of Gus. I was the Narrator. <br />
<br />
*subject change<br />
<br />
Last week I had the flu. I am a great big baby. You may not know that, but it's true. I'm a lot whinier than I like to think I am. So on Thursday, my wonderful sister came and got my two youngest. Then that night, Maggie and Ty left for the Youth Ski Trip. Chris was working. I was alone. I slept a lot. I watched a lot of movies... Stranger Than Fiction, Pride and Prejudice, My Fair Lady, Singin' in the Rain, The Artist, Sherlock (the BBC tv show). I slept some more. <br />
<br />
As I started feeling better I noticed that the things I had cleaned were.... <em>staying clean.</em> The food level in the pantry was no longer magically disappearing. The toilet paper roll stayed full. It was <em>quiet.</em> Like, really, really quiet. <br />
<br />
Chris and I talked about it. Talked about how strange it will be when the kids are gone from home. There were some definite perks. Money, tidiness, etc. But then we stood quietly and let it sink in. Then we cried a little and were very grateful that it's not time to turn them into the world yet. <br />
<br />
*subject shift<br />
<br />
Tonight, all my kids were home again. We sat around the table after eating our spaghetti and talked for hours. Maggie and Ty told stories from their trip. Gracie told stories about Kim and Nana. The youngers drifted off to their rooms and devices. Maggie and Ty, Chris and I sat and spoke of faith, leadership, servant's hearts, Springville Church. Ty said, with tears in his eyes, that he really loves Springville church. (a balm and blessing to this mother's heart). Maggie talked about sharing the gospel with a couple of girls and asked advice. <br />
<br />
After dinner Ty helped we clean the kitchen and then we got talking about books. The book we're reading now for school (Heart of Darkness) and what we should read next (The Old Man and the Sea?). We talked about books we studied/read over the years. His favorites were Danny and the Dinosaur, Ferdinand, and .... Gus Was A Friendly Ghost. <br />
<br />
I pulled out that old cassette tape and tape player while Ty grabbed the book. Before we were three pages in, the whole family was standing at the kitchen counter, listening and laughing. It was precious and wonderful and one of those rare, beautiful, <em>perfect</em> moments. <br />
<br />
They asked me to read them a bedtime story (Sylvester and the Magic Pebble). Now they are all tucked into their beds. And they are happy. <br />
<br />
I am grateful. Grateful for the today we've had, but also so thankful for the precious time that I spent with them as little ones. The hardship, tears, trials, exhaustion, selfishness and fears have faded away into a haze and on nights like tonight, all I know is that it was worth it. <br />
<br />
~O~<br />
<br />
I read through my old drafts tonight, of which there are 40. This one was the most complete and the most nostalgic. I used to blog about my kids all the time. And about motherhood. I don't much anymore and I've been asked why. For the longest time I didn't know why I quit blogging about my kids and about motherhood. I think it's because my kids got older and it became an invasion of their privacy. As they got older, their struggles, questions, relationships, well... everything got more personal and the chance of shaming them or betraying them was more than I wanted to risk. Even now, the things they talk to me about are too... what's the right word? Important. The things they struggle with are oftentimes someone else's secret or their own private struggle. I could never share that.<br />
<br />
As my family has gotten older life has grown exponentially more complicated. Money is tighter with college and cars. Relationships are harder to navigate. Decisions become life-altering. Mistakes can easily lead to shame apart from the gospel. Making the transition from the mother of a child to mother of an adult is daunting and awkward and confusing on both sides. Sometimes I feel as unsure of myself now as I did when my oldest was a baby. Maybe even more.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for God's faithfulness to me. He is still faithful to me as a mother and as a wife. He shows kindness to me through my children and when I see their faith maturing I feel such joy and gratitude<br />
<br />
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<br />Crissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12666870777399086180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-53130738640653680852019-02-05T19:58:00.001-08:002019-02-05T19:58:21.880-08:00MarriageWhat does it mean to be one flesh? Marriage, I know, is more than just a legal contract. More than a committed agreement between two parties. More than the cultural view. Scripture calls it "one flesh", but what does that mean?<br />
<br />
Chris and I are coming up on 25 years. I could type out the banal thoughts that flow into my mind, but I'll spare you. Yes, it's flown by. Yes, it's hard to believe. Yes, we've been through so much together. But it cannot be just the passing of time that brings oneness. If it did then you would never see divorces after 15 or 20 or even 40 years. There is something else.<br />
<br />
I look at couples who mentored us and walked us through the early years; they've been married 35+ years now. I look at my in-laws who were married for over 50. I see a sweetness that I never knew possible. There is a depth and camaraderie, a knowing and liking. When I ask them about this, they shrug and profess themselves amazed at the mystery of it as well.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Chris left his food in the fridge on Friday morning when he left for his two days at the hospital in Anniston. I didn't really have much going on so I drove it up there. It's about an hour away so I don't go there often. Plus he stays super busy so he wouldn't have time to see me even if I did. When we were first married, and even after the first two kids were born, I would sometimes drive up there for lunch. It's been over a decade since I've done that. ... there is something altering about seeing Chris in his medical element. It's a side I don't ever really see.<br />
<br />
Chris-at-work is different from Chris-at-home. And seeing him there, in that work setting, sparked something in my heart. When he sees me standing on the porch waiting when he drives up the driveway, or when he walks in the door while I'm rushing around getting ready for work, I visibly see something in him relax. Like all the tension just drains away.<br />
<br />
When his Daddy was dying, he needed me beside him, not because I'm good at medical things or have encouraging things to say, but because my presence gives him strength and stability. He tells me this a lot.<br />
<br />
Sometimes young married women remark on my marriage and chalk it up to me being an amazing wife or Chris being this perfect husband. I've known for a very long time that that cannot be it. We're both selfish and grumpy and willful. And I've been trying to figure out what makes this marriage of ours so beautiful.<br />
<br />
I wonder now if it's because we've become each other's safe place. To know that this other person, this man, has seen me groaning with the pains of childbirth and crying with the confusion of a mother with mental illness. He's called me out when I have lost my temper with our kids and been bewildered by my wildly fluctuating hormones. He's endured 15 years of tedious homeschooling and my whining about a million dumb things. He's fought and screamed with me, loved and laughed with me. And he's died to himself over and over and over and over and over and over...<br />
<br />
That's it. That's the thing, isn't it? It's not the experiences; it's our response to them. It's not that he's seen me at my worst; it's that he's seen me at my worst and then responded to me with faith. He's humbled himself and given up his felt needs in order to serve me. He's forgiven me, truly forgiven me, time after time. And it's not just on his part. I have forgiven him over and over, and extended grace to him when I just wanted to demand my rights.<br />
<br />
This "one flesh" business is hard work because it goes against everything fallen in us. To crucify my flesh is, by its very nature, a bloody business. It's not excusing him. It's not forgetting about it. It's a concerted effort by faith to forgive and "let love cover a multitude of sins". It is repentance, individually and as a couple. It is hard.<br />
<br />
My friend June says of a mutual interest of ours, "Don't tell people it will be fun. Tell them the truth: it will be hard, but it's worth it."<br />
<br />
All truth is God's truth. Marriage is hard but so worth it. And sometimes it really is fun.<br />
<br />
Now, ask me again in another 25 years, if this theory of mine holds true.<br />
<br />
<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-47161081823920824422017-12-18T19:47:00.001-08:002017-12-18T19:47:35.534-08:00Prayer<p dir="ltr">"And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints." - Rev <u>5</u>:8</p>
<p dir="ltr">For a long time I struggled with the idea of prayer. For me, it was either a way to manipulate God, or a means of setting myself up for disappointment. My response was to give up. Hide behind the providence, omnipotence, and sovereignty of the Lord. I mean, He can do what He wants, right? What does he need MY prayers for? And if I can change his mind? Well that scares me. I'm too fallible, changeable and fickle. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So where did that leave me? </p>
<p dir="ltr">The Lord sent a dear, dear friend to me. Mrs Karen is an older woman who attends the Springville church. Her suggestion to me was that we just... pray. Sounds simple. But shouldn't I know the point of it? The reason behind it? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Nope. She said, let's just pray. So we did. Every week. For years. We still pray. Not as often as I wish though. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Through this simple exercise of faith- these stuttering, flailing, confused, contradictory prayers - something mysterious happened. No mountains were moved and it's difficult to even quantify it, but I think it's that I changed. I stopped viewing God as a far off, disinterested being and began to see him as a Father with Personhood, interested and involved in my life. He told me to pray in scripture. It's a command. But he WANTS me to pray. </p>
<p dir="ltr">As the verse above illustrates, He values and treasures my prayers. He breathes them in like incense. My prayers. My confused mutterings. That can only mean that he really, truly, ACTUALLY loves me. Why else would he care? He doesn't need me in order for him to be perfect and complete, but he desires relationship with me. </p>
<p dir="ltr">It also shows his glory. He is worthy of my prayers. He alone should be worshipped. My prayers should be to him alone. When I set my hopes in money to rescue me, when I depend on other humans to answer the longings of my heart, it's like giving them the incense that should be in those golden bowls. That's what idolatry actually looks like. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I love this beautiful picture in Revelations. I love the other passages, too. Ones that tell us we have a Great High Priest who identifies with us in our sufferings. So when I'm crying out, he's not rolling his eyes or pushing me away. Or like in Zephaniah where he says that he will quiet us with his love and rejoice over us with gladness and sing over us. So when I'm praying my heart out because of my failures and fears, he's got that big golden bowl of prayers and his love pours over our hearts. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The more I meditate on these things the more I WANT to pray and the less I feel the need to intellectually figure it all out. It's enough to simply pray and add more incense to the bowl. <br>
</p>
Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-58321778520328744002017-07-29T15:06:00.003-07:002017-07-29T15:06:51.142-07:00So Many PlatesThis morning I told Chris how overwhelmed with details I felt. His response was a worry free, "But you're really good at it. You'll get it done." So far he's right. The fear is always there though that I won't be able to get it done.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This month has been... I can't even think of an appropriate word. "Overwhelming" sounds too dismal. "Jam-packed" sounds too exciting. Maybe I should just show you a compilation of my lists...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<strike>Find Ty a desk</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Go to Gadsden to pick up desk</strike></div>
<div>
Paint desk</div>
<div>
<strike>Find Ty a dresser</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Go to Anniston to pick up dresser</strike></div>
<div>
Paint dresser</div>
<div>
Stock Ty's kitchen</div>
<div>
<strike>Get tires for the van</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Get tires for Ty's car</strike></div>
<div>
Pay for Ty's parking decal</div>
<div>
Check Maggie's financial aid</div>
<div>
Check Ty's financial aid</div>
<div>
<strike>Take Maggie shopping for her new classroom</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Go to Brody's pre-op appts</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Surgery for Brody</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Doctor with Maggie</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Post-op with Brody</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Deal with insurance</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Find Brody's English curriculum</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Buy Brody's science and english</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Buy Gracie's textbooks</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Apply for Jeff State for Gracie</strike></div>
<div>
Request transcript</div>
<div>
<strike>Organize MDO work emails</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Email all new students</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Print out student handbooks</strike></div>
<div>
Make copies and assemble student packets</div>
<div>
Help teachers with room set-up</div>
<div>
Sell laminator</div>
<div>
<strike>Contact all Children's Ministry Teachers</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Schedule Teacher Training</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Plan training content </strike></div>
<div>
Teacher Training</div>
<div>
<strike>Meet new renters</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Tweak and print out new lease</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>Schedule meeting to sign lease</strike></div>
<div>
<strike>FIND THE KEYS (ugh)</strike></div>
<div>
Get the trailer ready for new tenants</div>
<div>
Call the dermatologist </div>
<div>
Plan food for potluck at church</div>
<div>
Research and decide MDO book study</div>
<div>
Margaret's surgery</div>
<div>
Pick up pain meds from WalGreen's</div>
<div>
Register for school!!! (for the love)</div>
<div>
Find boxes for Ty (but not until next week. no space)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All this plus regular details like buy groceries, pay bills, clean house, answer emails, etc. The above list is copied from my actual lists. I have them divided into urgent/important/maybe-I-can-get-to-it. See what I mean? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm honestly not complaining. It's just life. At times like this it is so easy for me to slip into super-woman mode and MAKE IT HAPPEN. "I will do the work. I will get it done. I will lose sleep and stress out about it." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm learning there is a better way. The way of rest . The way of faith. And it starts with the belief that <b>my identity is not connected to my ability</b>. It continues with the understanding that God truly is sovereign. His plans are good and cannot be thwarted. His yoke is easy and His burden is light. His steadfast love endures forever. He will accomplish all His holy will. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's okay for me to keep taking one step in front of the other. It is also okay for me to take ten minutes of down time to meditate on His word. It's okay to rush around. But it's also okay to snuggle with Chris on the couch and forget it all for a bit. Jesus is with me in the crazy. He reminds me of truth, and sometimes he even reminds me of appointments. </div>
<div>
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<div>
#itsallgood</div>
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Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-12014009014517390212017-05-03T20:48:00.002-07:002017-05-03T20:48:34.781-07:00How Deep the Father's Love for Us"Why should I gain from his reward? I cannot give an answer. But this I know with all my heart, his wounds have paid my ransom."<br />
<br />
This song, How Deep the Father's Love for Us, is circling in my head. Over and over and I find myself in tears. God has been opening my heart to be moved by his kindness. I remember several years ago, coming to him in such despair and brokenness, and finding sweet, gentle, whispering kindness from Him. I was an utter failure and yet, He did not condemn; he gently showed me the box I was trying to stuff him into. I had expectations of how I could be of use to Him, how a church plant "should" look, how things "ought" to be going, how my worth was measured... He freed me from the slavery of my expectations.<br />
<br />
Then a few years later, He soothed the wounds of failure again, only this time in the context of relationship. Again, He came to me like He came to Elijah- with a still, small voice in the midst of wind, earthquake and fire. He breathed his sweet breath onto my crushed dreams and lifted my chin. What a gentle Savior. He freed me from the slavery of other's expectations.<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago I watched a YouTube video someone had posted to Facebook. I can't find the exact one now, but I'm sure you're seen similar ones. It was a montage of acts of kindness: a disabled child making their first basket while the entire gym cheers for them, a professional athlete giving his game jersey to the severely disabled man in the wheelchair, a professional runner who tore his hamstring mid-race whose father jumped the barricade to help him finish, etc. I found myself sobbing. Sobbing. Why? Why was I so moved? It was the kindness shown to people who were utterly helpless and incapable of attaining this thing alone.<br />
<br />
How can a YouTube video move me to tears when I can yawn when thinking about the Atonement? What greater kindness is there in the universe? I think I can gloss over God's kindness to me in Christ so easily because I don't see myself as the disabled 10 year old basketball player or the injured and weeping runner; I want to identify with the professional athlete who won the game. How quickly can I forget my brokenness? How easily do I slip back into the slavery of functioning out of my measly strength...<br />
<br />
And yet,<br />
<br />
He is kind to me. He knows my ineptitude. He knows my complete inability to make the basket on the first, second, third try. He sees my weakness and brokenness and He did something so far beyond running across the field to give me His game jersey. He took on my weakness and suffered alongside me. What other god in the history of the world has so identified with his people in their pain? None.<br />
<br />
May His eternal kindness always bring tears to my eyes. Tears of gratitude and joy. Tears of relief and humility. May His kindness to me pour out of me into the broken and hurt people around me. May He remind me of my freedom, "It is for freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." Gal 5:1.<br />
<br />
<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-3291343624950162632016-10-15T21:33:00.004-07:002016-10-15T21:33:44.152-07:00Ty-TyMargaret Atwood once said, "But how can you have a sense of wonder if you're prepared for everything?" This quote is, to me, at the crux of parenting. On the one hand, to be prepared for every eventuality is sanity-saving. On the other hand, to sit in wonder at the beauty and mystery of the child of your heart is transcendent.<br />
<br />
Nineteen years ago today Ty was born. He was my biggest baby and my firstborn son. I felt like, in him, I had a tangible piece of Chris, a masculine part of him that brought me pride. Today, almost two decades later, as I am fast approaching my middle 40's, we celebrated.<br />
<br />
I am a planner, a scheduler, a problem solver. I researched parks we could picnic in, museums we could visit, activities we could do. I made lists and sent out texts. I stayed up late last night and cooked and prepared dessert. And in my secret heart, I longed for a few quiet moments of heart to heart conversation and connection.<br />
<br />
The park was closed and under construction. The museums were going to take too long, but Ty had his own idea... Shakalaka, a trampoline center. Did I mention I am forty-three? I contemplated sitting out. I weighed the risks of injury to myself or my pride. Then I looked at my son.<br />
<br />
He is no longer a chubby baby, or a mischievous and destructive toddler, or the serious adolescent. He is a stunningly handsome, fun-loving, strong, smart man. His eyes were shining with delight at the idea of bouncing and he was so happy to be doing it with the ones who know and love him best.<br />
<br />
I had a choice. I chose to enter into the wonder. To remember the thrill of flying. To not be a middle-aged woman. I did flips. I climbed walls and stepped from swing to swing. I bounced from trampoline to trampoline. I entered into the Ty's sense of excitement and wonder and instead of watching it from the fence, I participated. It. Was. Amazing.<br />
<br />
In that one shining hour, I was my children's playmate again. I ran from activity to activity. I cheered when they succeeded and smiled as they cheered for me. On this, Ty's 19th birthday, I got to play with him again.<br />
<br />
Ty brings out the best in people. He draws people in; he had a couple of fans follow him around today. Ty makes people laugh; even the bored employees cheered for him. Ty is thoughtful; he kept an eye on everyone and suggested some recovery time at his dorm. Ty is brilliant; he can talk about black holes, music,<br />
and spiritual things in the space of five minutes. Ty makes people better for having been around him.<br />
<br />
He is a joy to be around and I am deeply aware of the privilege it is to be his mother. I am glad that I could witness his joy today and that I could join in. I pray that he never loses his sense of wonder. Not even at 43.<br />
<br />
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<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-59858905694764971292016-09-13T11:16:00.001-07:002016-09-13T11:33:17.807-07:00Homesickness and GloryI have started multiple blog posts and either never finished them or never posted them. My brain has been alternating between moving at the speed of light and the speed of molasses.<br />
<br />
A synopsis: all of late winter and early spring was spent preparing for our big family trip. Then after the trip, two days after, I started work. The summer was spent recovering from jet lag, preparing for Ty to move out, getting college paperwork and finances in order for Maggie and Ty, trying to acclimate to working again, and planning for this year in homeschooling. <br />
<br />
So now two of my kids are not at home, my job is becoming more routine, and the school year is evening out. The jet lag is completely over and money is non-existent. Where does this leave me?<br />
<br />
A little lost actually. Out of place. I feel irrelevant a little bit.<br />
<br />
It could be the crash after the big push. It could be that an almost 20 year day after day task is completed and my hands still go to the same motions... only the motions aren't needed. It could be the fear of newness. The fear that all this new stuff marks me as old and propels me into a great unknown that frightens me. When I stepped into the newness of motherhood, I was so young and ignorance was bliss. Now... now, I am not as ignorant. Now, I have learned to watch the women older than myself and I don't think I can do it. It could be that eternity looms bigger and then things here just seems smaller. Maybe it is all of these things.<br />
<br />
Whatever it is, it is new and disconcerting.<br />
<br />
I am looking for my new footing. I am taking one step after another and waiting for this new gate to feel normal. I really think that it will. Things will even out.<br />
<br />
But I miss Maggie. I miss Ty. I miss the excitement of planning a big adventure. I really miss traveling. I miss my friends overseas. I miss airports and taxis and trains and ancient history. I miss watching my babies learn new things and being underfoot.<br />
<br />
Maybe... maybe I'm really just homesick.<br />
<br />
My friend Laura says to sorrow the things that need to be sorrowed. Sometimes the sorrow needs to come first to make room for the happy. It is okay for me to miss all of those things. It is okay for me to long for things - I know I am really longing for God and the perfection of his being. I am longing to be with him when all the sin and the sorrow and the goodbyes are over. To be able to see him face to face and participate in his glory without anything getting in the way.<br />
<br />
"Soon"<br />
by Hillsong<br />
<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
My King is coming<br />
Robed in righteousness<br />
And crowned with love<br />
When I see Him<br />
I shall be made like Him<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
I'll be going<br />
To the place He has prepared for me<br />
There my sin erased<br />
My shame forgotten<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
<br />
I will be with the One I love<br />
With unveiled face I'll see Him<br />
There my soul will be satisfied<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
See the procession<br />
The angels and the elders<br />
'Round the throne<br />
At his feet I'll lay my crowns My worship<br />
Soon and very soon<br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><span style="background-color: #38761d; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #333333; line-height: 17px;" /></span></span>Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-21589424737646418412016-09-13T11:16:00.000-07:002016-09-13T11:17:39.410-07:00Homesickness and GloryI have started multiple blog posts and either never finished them or never posted them. My brain has been alternating between moving at the speed of light and the speed of molasses.<br />
<br />
A synopsis: all of late winter and early spring was spent preparing for our big family trip. Then after the trip, two days after, I started work. The summer was spent recovering from jet lag, preparing for Ty to move out, getting college paperwork and finances in order for Maggie and Ty, trying to acclimate to working again, and planning for this year in homeschooling. <br />
<br />
So now two of my kids are not at home, my job is becoming more routine, and the school year is evening out. The jet lag is completely over and money is non-existent. Where does this leave me?<br />
<br />
A little lost actually. Out of place. I feel irrelevant a little bit.<br />
<br />
It could be the crash after the big push. It could be that an almost 20 year day after day task is completed and my hands still go to the same motions... only the motions aren't needed. It could be the fear of newness. The fear that all this new stuff marks me as old and propels me into a great unknown that frightens me. When I stepped into the newness of motherhood, I was so young and ignorance was bliss. Now... now, I am not as ignorant. Now, I have learned to watch the women older than myself and I don't think I can do it. It could be that eternity looms bigger and then things here just seems smaller. Maybe it is all of these things.<br />
<br />
Whatever it is, it is new and disconcerting.<br />
<br />
I am looking for my new footing. I am taking one step after another and waiting for this new gate to feel normal. I really think that it will. Things will even out.<br />
<br />
But I miss Maggie. I miss Ty. I miss the excitement of planning a big adventure. I really miss traveling. I miss my friends overseas. I miss airports and taxis and trains and ancient history. I miss watching my babies learn new things and being underfoot.<br />
<br />
Maybe... maybe I'm really just homesick.<br />
<br />
My friend Laura says to sorrow the things that need to be sorrowed. Sometimes the sorrow needs to come first to make room for the happy. It is okay for me to miss all of those things. It is okay for me to long for things - I know I am really longing for God and the perfection of his being. I am longing to be with him when all the sin and the sorrow and the goodbyes are over. To be able to see him face to face and participate in his glory without anything getting in the way.<br />
<br />
"Soon"<br />
by Hillsong<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">Soon and very soon</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">My King is coming</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">Robed in righteousness</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">And crowned with love</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">When I see Him</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I shall be made like Him</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">Soon and very soon </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #333333; line-height: 17px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">VERSE 2:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">Soon and very soon I'll be going To the place He has prepared for me There my sin erased My shame forgotten Soon and very soon </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #333333; line-height: 17px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">CHORUS:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I will be with the One I love With unveiled face I'll see Him There my soul will be satisfied Soon and very soon</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #333333; line-height: 17px;" /></span>
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">VERSE 3:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">Soon and very soon</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">See the procession The angels and the elders</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #38761d; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">'Round the throne At His feet I'll lay my crowns My worship Soon and very soon </span><br />
<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-7632849641021586602016-06-18T20:15:00.000-07:002016-06-18T20:19:54.752-07:00Weakness and Faith I've been spending a lot of time in the last two weeks reflecting, meditating and studying weakness and faith, and subsequently, sanctification. I've had some enlightening and disturbing conversations with fellow believers and this morning it is all converging on me in a wave. I, as you may know, process best when I write it all out. Bear with me...<br />
<br />
*deep breath*<br />
<br />
Weakness.<br />
I usually associate weakness with shame, failure and renewed effort. This is unbiblical. For real. UN-BIBLICAL. Need proof?<br />
<b>Read Romans 8:26:</b> "Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness." Footnote in ESV Reformation Study Bible says, "The Holy Spirit strengthens us in our state of weakness, of which we are constantly conscious. Perplexity as to how to pray for oneself is a universal Christian experience. Our inarticulate longings to pray properly are an indication to us that the indwelling Spirit is already helping us by interceding for us in our hearts, making requests that the Father will certainly answer."<br />
<b>Read I Corinthians 1:25 </b>"For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men." Why am I even <i>trying</i> to do this life on my own? My best effort is foolishness.<br />
<b>Read II Corinthians 12:5-9 </b>"...I will not boast, except of my weaknesses... 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."<br />
<b>Read Hebrews 4:15 </b>Christ sympathizes with us in our weakness.<br />
<b>Read Hebrews 5:2 </b>He deals gently with our weakness.<br />
<br />
I know that was a lot of reading, but I hope you read it. SLOWLY. Reading it slowly turns it from skimming to meditating.<br />
<br />
From these passages I realize that God not only doesn't condemn our weakness, He encourages us to acknowledge it and BOAST in it.<br />
<br />
This blows my mind. I work really hard to cover up my weaknesses. Know what happens when I do that? I am actually using my own strength to deal with my flesh. "Trying harder is attempting to add your works to the work of Christ." - World Harvest study on Grace (lesson 4.2) Yep. I do this partly because I don't want others to see it, especially those unsafe people who will use it against me. I do this because I am afraid. BUT this is rooted in the false truth that Jesus is not enough for me in that moment.<br />
<br />
This takes me to <b>I Corinthians 1:18-31. </b>Do you know who God chooses to accomplish his kingdom work? Oh, I know," you say, "It's those people with degrees who have all their sh*^ together!" Nope. He chose what is foolish, what is weak, what is low and despised. So what about those people with the outward togetherness? Well. No one was more competent that Paul. He had all of his crap together... and yet... "And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. <i>For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. </i>And I was with you in <b>weakness</b> and in <b>fear</b> and much <b>trembling.</b>" 2 Cor 2:1-3 (emphasis mine)<br />
<br />
So Paul set aside his gifts, his eloquence, his pride, his togetherness and it left him nauseous. Sick feeling. Shaking all over. Why?<br />
<br />
"So your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God." 2 Cor 2:5<br />
<br />
This brings my feverish mind to faith.<br />
<br />
But can I first just say something? I feel a little nauseous too. I like to function out of my strength, not my weakness. I like to conquer an issue and then stand at the top of the mountain and yell for others to get it together and join me. I do not like the idea of weakness. Here I am reminded of the scene on the slopes of Mordor's Mt Doom. I am Frodo and I've done all I can. I've collapsed in <i>weakness</i>. Sam comes along and picks me up and carries me across his shoulders up the heated, crumbling slope. ... THIS is faith.<br />
<br />
Faith is resting across the shoulders of my Jesus and letting him carry me to where I need to go. Francis Schaeffer calls this "active passivity." Not a sheer passivity, but an active yielding of ourselves to God. "Faith involves a choice to yield to the work of the gospel and the Spirit on our part. It is not resignation. We are called to live in dependence on God by choice, on the basis of the finished work of Christ... by faith."<br />
<br />
In a study that I have done many times and that has been taught by many of the godliest pastors I know, there is a section called Vague Feeling/Truth. One in particular sticks in my mind. And I quote:<br />
<b>Vague Feeling: </b>Justification is an act of God. Sanctification is what I do.<br />
<b>Truth: </b>Sanctification grows as I focus on my justification. That focus or looking to Christ is called faith. Faith is at the very heart of my becoming holy. While justification and sanctification are two distinct concepts both are a work of grace through faith.<br />
<br />
Go get your Bible. Imma bout to blow your mind. Turn to <b>John 6:28-29. </b>For real. Go do it. ...<br />
<br />
....<br />
<br />
They asked Jesus what they were supposed to be <i>doing</i> to be doing the works of God.<br />
<br />
Did Jesus say tithe more? Nope. Did Jesus say go to church? No. Did Jesus say read your Bible more? NO! What did He say? Read it. Out loud.<br />
<br />
"This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent."<br />
<br />
Jesus said believe.<br />
<br />
Against all appearances. Against all other hopes and strategies. Against the mounting evidence to the contrary. <b>Believe.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
And if you're having trouble believing, turn to Hebrews 11. What did those lying, cheating, adulterating, murdering, whoring sinners have in common? They <i>believed.</i> They believed that God loved them and chose them and set his love on them. They believed that God would raise their dead and rescue them from certain death and that God was bigger than their physical pain. They were stoned, sawn in two, flogged, mocked and imprisoned. But they also, right there in the middle of verse 34, "were made strong out of weakness."<br />
<br />
They were losers, just like me. They screwed up, just like me. They didn't know what the heck they were doing, just like me. But they had a God. A God who chose them above all the peoples of the earth. A God who rescued them from this fallen world "so that they might rise again to a better life."<br />
<br />
Oh my heart! Oh my soul!<br />
<br />
He is real and He loves us.<br />
<br />
My faith is made stronger as Paul says in 2 Cor 12:9 when, "I will boast ALL THE MORE GLADLY of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."<br />
<br />
The weaker I am, the bigger He is. Can you see that? Can you see what I'm talking about? If I can do all the good things, without ever feeling my weakness (aka fear and trembling) and having to depend on the indwelling Spirit, who is glorified? Me, that's who. Good job, me! The Westminster Confession says that even if we could attain to the greatest height possible in this life of good deeds we would never be able to do any more than our duty and our duty is mixed with sin and corruption. And yet... "Yet notwithstanding, the persons of believers being accepted through Christ, their good works also are accepted in him."<br />
<br />
The Westminster Confession also says of this, "Their ability to do good works is not at all of themselves, but wholly from the Spirit of Christ." (chapter 16, section 3)<br />
<br />
What I like to do is try harder. What we are told to do many times is to try harder. What trying harder involves is us relying on our will power to break bad habits and our gift packages to do ministry. We experience zero freedom and just manage our sin.<br />
<br />
In his book, <u>When Being Good Isn't Good Enough,</u> Steve Brown wrote, "People become antinomian (wild, immoral) for the most part, not because they are rebellious or because they don't care but because they are tired. They become antinomian because they just can't keep on keeping on anymore, because they have tried and failed so many times that trying again seems pointless, because the flesh is weak and they can't deal with the guilt anymore."<br />
<br />
I'm here to tell you that if someone, no matter what their title, leaves you feeling condemned, exhausted, joyless and frustrated, rest assured that they are not speaking the gospel of grace to you. An admonition, an exhortation, always starts with a reminder of who you are and ends with who you are, with freedom sprinkled in the middle. We are freed to obey. We are gifted with faith and our lamest attempts and best efforts are accepted because of Jesus.<br />
<br />
I had someone ask me once, "If you teach your kids grace, what will keep them from going wild as teenagers?" This reminded me of Romans 5 and 6. Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more! What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means!!! You know what has kept my teenagers from going wild? The same thing that has kept their momma from going wild, or from giving up - grace.<br />
<br />
Grace alone. By faith alone.<br />
<br />
In our 5 Solas, there are no 'by works alone'. Or 'by trying harder alone'. Or by doing our best. Or by striving.<br />
By <b>faith </b>alone<br />
By<b> Scripture </b>alone<br />
Through<b> Christ </b>alone<br />
By<b> Grace </b>alone<br />
with <b>GLORY to God alone.</b><br />
<br />
I'll leave you with this thought. The Law of God is good. But when the Law begins to rage at you, set it aside and cling to the Cross. And go read Galatians 5:1 and repeat it to yourself over and over and over again.<br />
<br />
More on spiritual disciplines later. Don't worry about that right now. Give yourself permission to bask in the glow of God's acceptance of you. Learn to gaze upon the face of the One who loves you. <u>HE</u> will add the works that He's prepared for you before the foundation of the world . Relax into his embrace.<br />
<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-44912670374908319712016-06-05T06:40:00.001-07:002016-06-05T06:40:17.532-07:00The Imperfect ChurchWhy am I looking forward to church this morning? Why does anyone look forward to it?<br />
<br />
I'm not talking about the need for church or the biblical mandate to faithfully attend; that's a whole other thing. A whole other, true and serious thing.<br />
<br />
This morning I am looking forward to attending church. Not because my church has perfect anything. We don't have that perfect building- the one with the comfortable, numerous bathrooms. Nope. We have one toilet, unless you want to wade through the babies in the nursery to get to toilet number two. We don't have a Women's Meeting Room or a room strictly for the use of our Session. We don't have a great and beautiful space for showers and teas. Nope. None of that. What we do have is a leaky roof and a prayer closet/copy room.<br />
<br />
Our church doesn't have great programs. We attempt children's events and women's events and men's groups. We don't have an award winning worship team or a youth group that travels the globe.<br />
<br />
Our church is a teenaged church, meaning that we aren't fully formed yet. We don't have our own elders and deacons yet. That is coming.<br />
<br />
Our church doesn't have members who have it all together. Nope. Our congregation is actually pretty broken. Divorced, widowed, depressed, confused, disabled, and anxious- this is our group.<br />
<br />
So why would I look forward to this bedraggled and ragamuffin gathering?<br />
<br />
Because Jesus is there. In the midst of a broken people who are all out of options, Jesus is leading the way. Our musicians might mess up a song, but they just want to worship the only Hope they have. Our prayer team may look weak, but we have a strong and mighty Father who listens to us. My church is my family. We pour the Spirit back and forth between us and see the Father's pleasure in each other's smile.<br />
<br />
And because this is truly a means of God's grace to me. To hear the Word, to respond in praise, to pray together, and to run to the Sacrament of Communion. This is the day that I get to hang out with my Father and my fellow misfit children and be reminded that it's all gonna be alright. He's making all things right.<br />
<br />
<br />Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-49408153178664923852016-06-03T15:22:00.001-07:002016-06-03T15:22:14.296-07:00RomeI think I will start this post with a list...<br />
<br />
Things I Remember Most About Rome:<br />
<br />
1. The air. The air felt like home. After being cold and slightly damp for a week, it was nice to step out of the Da Vinci Airport and feel the warmth and the humidity. I even got a bit of a sunburn. I didn't realize at the time how much I would miss it when we got to the misery of Culcheth.<br />
<br />
2. The dust of the Forum. The Forum was amazing. To stand where people I've read about from thousands of years ago stood was simply overwhelming. To see where Julius Ceasar was killed and burned, to see the Arch of Titus, built by the captive Jews after the fall of Jerusalem, to see a 3000 year old bronze door, wow! But I will also remember the small detail of the dust devils. You're just walking along, wide-eyed and amazed and ouch! Dust all up in your eyeballs. Not pleasant. Not at all.<br />
<br />
3. The armed soldiers. Everywhere. Armed soldiers in every subway station, outside every ancient building that would attract a tourist, at the airport. I told every one of them that I could, "Grazie." I truly was grateful for their protection.<br />
<br />
4. The noise. From our apartment to the subway to the monuments to the restaurants - lots of noise. But after the eerie silence of London's subways it was welcome. Our apartment was noisy with street traffic, crosswalk alarms, and emergency vehicles' sirens. The subways were noisy with the conversations of people, the restaurants with chatter between the customers and wait staff, the monuments with the sound of the tourists. It was different than the other cities we visited.<br />
<br />
5. Simone. She was the daughter of the owner of the restaurant where we ate twice. The food was delicious, probably the best we had the whole trip aside from Bayeux, but the service made it exceptional. She sat with us, joked with us, recommended good wine. She is my only contact on What'sApp. She made us feel like family. Wait... isn't that the ad line from Olive Garden?!?<br />
<br />
6. The laughter. We laughed more in Rome than anywhere else. The kids were happiest there. The history was most interesting there. We cooked, we ate, we walked, we giggled. By this time in our journey, we were all experienced and knew how things worked. There was no nervousness on the subway or going through security check points. We knew exactly what we were doing and stopped having to think so hard about it all. I guess we really just relaxed.<br />
<br />
7. The pharmacy. Or should I say, "farmacia"? Chris and I found one and bought hand sanitizer, nasal spray, deodorant, ibuprofen and sunscreen. This was a process that included two nice Italian speaking female employees and the Asian pharmacist who spoke decent English. Definitely an adventure!<br />
<br />
I may come back and add to this list, but for now I'll leave it at this. We loved Roma.Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-60307668717217624462016-05-08T05:40:00.001-07:002016-05-08T05:40:16.481-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmjacLweZrVKyVl1-lNYzRr61q6N9cdmcV8f63jW86D_q0nJPOEO23zy5jHJZBkpI30m9x960KgJEfqtTMjr67Z0nuhQugpkNA2qa6B5numfMYLDhcXZOM-HnIM-DMxywaIZUlQ/s1600/kidsinlondon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmjacLweZrVKyVl1-lNYzRr61q6N9cdmcV8f63jW86D_q0nJPOEO23zy5jHJZBkpI30m9x960KgJEfqtTMjr67Z0nuhQugpkNA2qa6B5numfMYLDhcXZOM-HnIM-DMxywaIZUlQ/s320/kidsinlondon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I know in just one short year this photo will be hopelessly outdated. I know they will look so different, again. In a year, Brody will probably be taller than his sisters. But for now? This is my favorite picture of my kids.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo cred to Gracie</span>Crissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12666870777399086180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-29399411999536926312016-05-07T16:26:00.000-07:002016-05-07T16:26:08.392-07:00Where to Begin... Alright, Paris It Is!I don't know how to organize these posts about The Trip. Should I go day by day? Favorite memory first? Worst then best? What I Missed? No idea.<br />
<br />
I think I'll start with the things I'm afraid to forget...<br />
<br />
like the look on Ty's face when he raced ahead to have a private moment staring at the Eiffel Tower. He had that look often. Awe. Transcendence. Joy. Peace. I don't know that I've ever seen him look that way, except maybe after a really good day flying. And all the times he smiled at me. Just for me. A thank you smile. A I'm having so much fun smile.<br />
<br />
like... Gracie's excitement at ushering us into the last room at Harry Potter. Her eyes were so bright, her eyebrows raised, her smile wide as the moon. Not for her own joy, but for the joy she knew Brody would have.<br />
<br />
like... seeing my husband laughing in the Wren's kitchen, joyous and relaxed. I didn't realize how really stressful his life is until I saw him out of it for a while.<br />
<br />
like... watching my Dad walk with his hand on one of my boy's necks. It was pure affection. He is an adventurer, my dad. A Bilbo Baggins at six feet tall. He loved the new places, the photo opportunities. And he NEVER sat on the subway if there was a lady standing. Not even once. Even with arthritis in both knees.<br />
<br />
I loved watching the sun set in Paris. Everywhere you look is a different sunset. The buildings reflect it in a million different ways. The park across from the apartment had a playground and the sounds of the children diminished with level of the sun. But once the sun was gone, it was like the city took a deep quiet breath and then, poof, lit up like the Milky Way. It's the prettiest city I've ever seen.<br />
<br />
I was surprised at how much I loved Sacre Couer and Montmarte. We wandered around, Maggie, Chris and I, on a Sunday afternoon and walked through the flea market. It was a carnival. I don't know that Chris enjoyed it like I did, he was busy being my watchdog. But oh, Sacre Couer, what a beautiful place. It ties the Eiffel Tower in my mind.<br />
<br />
After the almost silent world of London, all of Paris felt painfully alive. Music everywhere, on the streets, in the subway tunnels, even in the trains themselves. People talk to each other in Paris. More so than in London. More than in Springville. There is art and music and the smell of good food (and urine, lest I forget). The senses cannot be dull there.<br />
<br />
Our waiter in our favorite restaurant in Paris wanted to marry Maggie. He was a small thing, sweet, silly. He made Maggie smile. He flirted like a Parisian. She asked me what to do about it. I told her to flirt back. She was shocked. But it is okay for her to smile and be young and remember that there is still hope for love. What better place to do that than in Paris?<br />
<br />
Our apartment in Paris was my favorite. It was an ancient building with a central courtyard and a winding staircase, with floors that slope and not a plum line in the place. It was perfect. Plus, it had two toilets and that's important. The supermarket was half a block away and sold everything we needed. Soap, deodorant, kiwis, milk, cocoa crisp cereal and the most amazing chili flavored tortilla chips ever. Ironic. The coffee in Paris was all espresso, all the time. I didn't know until later how to order what I wanted. The people in Paris were kind, helpful and responsive. They smile if you smile. They help if you are humble.<br />
<br />
We spent a day in Bayeux, on the Normandy coast. It had the potential to ruin my trip. I had my heart set on seeing Mont St Michel, but after over an hour and three phone calls, never could find the rental car place. They refunded my money after the national representative was also screamed at in French by the local manager. Chris gathered my tearful self in his arms and led me into a beautiful day. He and I and the girls wandered through the same stone streets William the Conqueror walked. We explored the crypt of the cathedral and ate the best food we had the whole time in France. It was glorious. Freezing cold, but glorious.<br />
<br />
But of all these things, Chappelle de Nesle was my favorite. Pronounced Sha-pelle de Nell, it is a reformed evangelical church plant in the heart of Paris. We worshiped with brothers and sisters we never knew existed. And some of them, our first conversation will be in heaven when we can speak the same language. What a glorious day that will be.<br />
<br />
My hand is tired and I'm barely even started. I guess that's enough for now.Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-18668113180297512542016-05-07T15:49:00.001-07:002016-05-07T15:49:21.464-07:00Trip Post Number 1, or Getting My Toes WetAs usual when blogging my mind is in a swirl. I can only seem to tame it when I write it all out.<br />
<br />
We've been home from Europe for just less than a week now. And yes, I am aware of how pretentious that sounds, but keep in mind I had to look up 'pretentious' to know how to spell it.<br />
<br />
We were gone three weeks and even knowing that those three weeks could change me did not really prepare me for how they actually did. I experienced freedom from details, chores, maintenance of material possessions, obligations, and even freedom from goodbyes to my immediate family. I experienced the simple quiet relief of being with my dad every day. I experienced watching my own country through the eyes of the rest of the world and the grinding sorrow that it brought. I lived out of a backpack for three weeks, and although not exactly easy, it was freeing somehow. Now all my possessions feel slightly claustrophobic.<br />
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To have three weeks with a daughter recovering from heartbreak, a son about to leave home for college for the first time, a husband whose job sucks the joy from his body and a father who serves the Lord relentlessly - it was a gift. A beautiful, rose-tinted, amazing gift that I will treasure in my heart for the rest of my days. To hold my baby/almost-teenager's hand through the streets of Rome and take silly selfies and share raised eyebrow glances at the world around us was a treasure. I could almost visibly see my youngest daughter's wings unfurl.<br />
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I think I said in a post once before that everyone should travel. I think, looking back now, that I was defending myself from criticisms but all I did was deflect the criticism onto other people. I feel ashamed. Travel is like a sweet jewel to my heart that I wish I had never shown anyone because my jewel is different from your jewel. My sweetness is not the sweetness others feel. I should shut up more often.<br />
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And yet, here I am, not shutting up.<br />
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I want to write all the details of this trip so that ten, twenty years from now, I (or my children and grands) can read them again and remember. There was so much love on this trip. Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-47416088665536861022016-03-25T13:28:00.001-07:002016-03-25T13:31:17.473-07:00Foreshadowings <p dir="ltr">"Plenty, misery, recriminations, sympathy. All such an exaggerated picture of the man-made way of life in a God-made world. If it all didn't prove the necessity of Heaven, I don't know what it means. I believe that all this loveliness (of Spring) showing through the rubble and wreck are just foreshadowings of the joys we were made for." <br>
      - Walker Hancock, from the book The Monuments Men </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hancock and the other men saw the beauty of the European countryside and the world's most beautiful and enduring works of art. They saw these things in the midst blood, death, and destruction. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Sometimes I feel the same way. One friend bitterly rejects me while another comes alongside and comforts me. The flowers at a funeral can bring a smile among tears. My heart can be broken and blessed at the same time. The joys and blessings are the foreshadowing of what I'm created for, or rather, whom I'm created for. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword separate us from the love of Christ? No, in all these things we are more than conquerers through him who loved us. </p>
<p dir="ltr">If he is for us, who can be against us?</p>
Crissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12666870777399086180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-76584783045357020082016-03-24T16:24:00.001-07:002016-03-24T16:24:44.767-07:00Hopefulness<p dir="ltr">https://youtu.be/q68QRLGTfxM<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Mrs Darcy from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack is one of the most hopeful pieces of music I've ever heard. </p>
Crissyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12666870777399086180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17389103.post-39334201251240309442016-03-08T08:07:00.000-08:002016-03-08T08:07:51.328-08:00SympathyMany years ago, we led a small community group. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago, but the young couples with no children now have multiple children. That means it was almost a decade ago. Gee whiz, I'm getting old. Anyway... many years ago in that small group, we made deep friendships that still make us keenly aware of each other in this life. Nowadays we are spread out. One family in Oklahoma, one in Leeds, one in England, and then us in Springville. We are all over, but those early days of eating together and forgiving each other when our kids (ahem, my kids) would make a mess. They learned to parent by assisting us with our four and learning from our mistakes. I remembered to focus on my husband by watching these newly married women and their devotion to their men. It was a marvelous time. I look back on it very fondly. <div>
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About a month ago, Melody (the one in Leeds) posted one post after another as each of her four little ones fell ill with fever. It wasn't all at the same time, but drawn out. One would perk up and another would fall. This resulted in weeks of sleeplessness and isolation for her. I prayed diligently for her because I remember when that was me and I felt all alone in the world. </div>
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Over the last week or two, Michelle (in England) has kept us updated as one child after another has fallen ill. Ruptured ear drum, fever, colds... leaving her exhausted and lonely. Melody commented with a response that resonated with deep love and sympathy, having just begun to emerge from her own cave of maternal duties. The interaction, though small and seemingly mundane, has resonated in my heart. I keep going back to it. I think it is because I know that Melody's understanding of Michelle's situation is deeply personal having so recently experienced it. It was also because I know them. I <i>know </i>that her words were deep, heartfelt and tinged with grief that she could not be with Michelle in person. These are women who truly love each other and are separated by distance. I think is was also because there was a profound spiritual truth lurking at the edges of my mind.</div>
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Jon Piper said in his book 50 Why Reasons Jesus Came to Die, "A lifetime of temptation climaxing in spectacular abuse and abandonment gave Jesus an unparalleled ability to sympathize with tempted and suffering people... therefore, the Bible says he is able 'to sympathize with our weaknesses' (Hebrews 4:15). This is amazing. The risen Son of God in heaven at God's right hand with all authority over the universe feels what we feel when we come to him in sorrow or pain..."</div>
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When Chris read this passage to us in family worship time this morning, it all clicked for me. Just as I sympathized with Melody and as Melody sympathized with Michelle, Jesus sympathizes with us. He feels what we feel. He knows. This gives me such boldness in prayer. I don't irritate him or weary him with my prayers, any more than Melody rolled her eyes at Michelle's dilemma. No! He never tires of hearing us. The main difference though is that he CAN do something. Mel can't leave her 4 little ones and hop on a plane, no matter how badly she wants to. But Jesus, through the ministry of the Holy Spirit, can comfort us. He can strengthen us. He gives life and hope and peace. </div>
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What an amazing thought! We can never overburden Jesus. His arms are always ready to receive us and he does so with a heart bursting with sympathy and compassion. What wondrous love is this. My soul aches with it. </div>
Crissy Sharphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16868445984610283331noreply@blogger.com1