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December 3, 2014 by Karin 3 Comments

A Mother’s Prayer

We rounded the corner blinded by the scorching desert sun. Our necks craned until we saw the red dome in the distance. There’s nothing like an outing with Daddy. While the rest of the world seemed to be veering in and out of lanes leading them to and from the daily grind, we breathed the taste of freedom. My warrior, our six-pack, and I.

Countless days, weeks, and months of separation brought by deployments lingered in our memories as we relished this taste of freedom on a regular old weekday.

We spotted our destination in the distance and the kids bubbled with glee. The Adventure Dome – this red-roofed capsule of childhood memories. Don’t we all pray for these memories for our little ones? Don’t we look into their newborn faces and hope for endless fulfilled dreams? We fall to thankful knees and pray blessings over our young broods. Deep down we know He has unimaginable good in store for these young ones who walk this earth carrying pieces of our hearts.

That’s when we saw him… {please join me over here at my dear friend Elisa Pulliam’s place today for the rest of the story}

Philippians 4:13

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

April 11, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

The Party You Are Invited To Join

It’s easy to hole up inside, isn’t it?

It’s easy to find a comfortable spot, close the door, and lock out the rest of the world.

It’s easy to do this when you’re tired; and it’s even easier when you have to start all over again.

It’s hard to leave your real life friends. It’s hard when they have to leave you.

It’s hard to pull yourself together for a coherent conversation when all you want to do is hide, or sleep, or survive.

But, we weren’t made to hide or just survive.

It’s hard to get out there and be real.

But, it gets easier with each step toward the door… with each new friend.

Come meet us at the park…

4-ish?

The text lit up my phone; a smile lit up my face.

We’ll be there…

We fall into the trap believing God doesn’t care about the in’s and out’s of our days. Those minutes in the day when we wonder,

What difference does it really make?

The truth… it is in the smallest details of our lives where we really live. In the daily duties, routine requirements, and sometimes mundane monotony – this is where our breath meets the breath of God. The small things matter to Him.

The children we feed, and clothe, and teach, and adore. The spouses we support, and battle, and love. The places we wrestle and realize what it really means to sacrifice. The places we carry our crosses, and realize sometimes we are someone else’s cross to bear.

The friends who carry us through care-free laughter to crying discouragement. The real life ones and the ones we seek in the quiet recesses of late night stillness. Somewhere behind computer screens.

The internet. This generation’s backyard picket fence. The way we find each other. The place we meet, hearts on our sleeves, to remember we are not alone.

So, today I throw my dance card out there with a group at 5 Minutes for Mom (and, man, do we sometimes need 5 minutes… or 50). They are hosting the 2014 Ultimate Blog Party. And, we could use a good party.

If you are visiting from the Ultimate Blog Party 2014, welcome! You’ve found the place I rise at sunrise (or something like that) with my pack of six. I write about faith through the eyes of a mom, military wife, and woman who spent more than three decades believing in a distant God. This is the place I re-live the moments of madness in motherhood and genuine gratitude.

I’m glad you’re here.

If you’ve been reading along with me for a while… I want you to know, I am grateful. I am truly thankful you have taken a few minutes from your day to meet me at the picket fence. I hope the words I etch in this place bring you inspiration and encouragement.

I’m a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world. ~ Mother Teresa

Thank you for being part of my sunrise.

Proverbs 17:17

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.

November 13, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

When We See There Are No Small Deeds

31 days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 31 ~

Piled onto one bed.

That’s how we do it. That’s how we say our prayers at night.

I’m not sure which challenge is greater – fitting eight people onto one bed, or getting six little people to hold still long enough to finish our words to the One who holds this overcrowded bed together.

…and, please keep Daddy safe on his trip.

Little voices piled on request after request.

Mama finished with one final prayer,

Please, God, let something really cool happen on his trip. Please let him have an experience he can share with us when he gets home.

Please put him in front of someone.

I’m not sure why I asked for that. I’m learning to love the unexpected – the thrill of this journey.

Babies tucked in, bottoms patted, lullabies hummed, lights out.

It was a day trip for my warrior; a long flight in the morning with a return late into the night. These trips are a treat – the nights I know he’s coming home. Remembering endless evenings – and months upon months of nights alone – with these slumbering little ones.

He walked in the door just before midnight.

Squeezing me tightly, he said,

You’re not going to believe this story.

My eyes widened in anticipation – I love a good story.

I was sitting next to a woman on the plane. She was typing away at something.

Those airline seats. There’s nothing like being stuffed into a flying tube with one-hundred-fifty strangers, as we try our best to maintain personal space. Not much personal space in a two-by-two seat. We face forward hoping all goes well as we are propelled through the air in a chair. No wonder my warrior likes a single seat jet.

She was typing something and I could see that she was crying. I handed her a tissue and said, “I hope those are happy tears.”

She smiled, nodded, and took the tissue from my hand. “Oh, yes, my husband and I are flying out to adopt a newborn baby.”

My warrior went on,

Oh that’s great! How many kids do you guys have?

She smiled and said,

This will be our fourth. They are all adopted.

I love a good story about happy families, happy children, and happy endings. Then, he went on,

Karin, then she told me that this new baby… was born without a brain.

I froze and my eyes filled. My thoughts ricocheted between mommy love and speech pathologist truth. My mind went to countless souls, young and old, that I have treated with one brain disorder after another. No brain? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing,

He only has a brain stem.

The brain stem. The part of our brain that provides basic functioning: heart rate, breathing, sleeping, and eating. The basic functions that, on the surface, seem like the only things a newborn wants to do. But, there is so much more going on in a new healthy brain after it signals that first breath of life. So much hidden from our eyes in these new ones we bring into the world.

But, not this little one. Only a brain stem. No more.

My warrior, this daddy of six, continued,

She told me about the baby – she showed me his picture. He’s beautiful. He looks perfect. His mother has already signed him over. She can’t do it. She can’t take care of him. So, Karin, this lady and her husband are flying out to pick him up. They are taking him home.

I couldn’t quite believe what he was telling me, and then there was more,

So, we compared family photos. I showed her the kids and she showed me hers. Her older two are teenagers now. They also have a two-year-old. This toddler only has half of his brain. The left side is missing. She told me that he makes noises and climbs with his one functioning side. He loves to climb on his daddy. Karin, he’ll never talk.

The doctors told them that he would never walk; but he’s proved them wrong.

My mind spun. The left side of the brain, where language finds its home, is the reason our babies can whisper,

I love you.

He told me that she was worried. Not about the long-term. She was concerned about the things every mother of a new one wonders. How will I take care of a newborn and a toddler? She had done it before. Sometimes knowing what’s coming gives us pause. She spent her flight in the pause – thinking, talking, wondering. Until she and her husband would land and wrap arms around newborn life. This life, short of a miracle, would be brief.

Brief… but loved.

The young mother went on to tell my husband that they had only just been notified of this baby’s birth. It was a last-minute thing. He needed a home, and they got the call.

And, they said,

Yes.

She added,

I was just writing to my sister to tell her about the baby. I don’t know yet what we will name him. I wrote to her as you handed me a tissue… I told her that a good Samaritan next to me had just given me a tissue.

I smiled, as he told me,

Karin, I just gave her a tissue – she was crying. I’m no good Samaritan. They are adopting a baby with no… brain. I just gave her a tissue.

I hugged him hard,

To her, honey, you were a good Samaritan. It takes all good deeds, big and small, to change this place.

You know, I asked God to put you in front of someone. Someone with a story. He not only gave you a story…

He also dried her tears.

And, this… this is how it rolls. How this place spins. One good deed after another. One story more magnificent, more heart-wrenching, more eye-opening, more life-altering than the next. We all have stories. Stories pass us by day after day… as we move past each other.

The trick is… to open our eyes. Open our hearts... our ears. To find the space between.

To lay down our watches, our expectations, our previous notions.

There are no small deeds – in this world of great needs.

His watchful eye will place us face to face with soul after soul…

and, sometimes, all that is required is an open heart…

and a tissue.

Hebrews 10:23-25

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

November 11, 2013 by Karin 4 Comments

When There Is More To The Story {for the Veterans}

31 days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 30 ~

I was expecting something. Someone, really.

After weeks and weeks of eyes opening to people right in front of me – these people waiting with open hands – I’ve begun to expect. I don’t think they expect – I suppose a better word would be hope. They hope someone will notice.

But, I was on a mission. The gray hairs that force their way onto this mama’s head had arrived… again. One by one they show up and stand at attention. Like little gray soldiers demanding the right to be seen after years of deployments, endless work hours… and six kids. Well… and a little heredity thrown in, too.

No matter. It was time to subdue those determined (and multiplying) suckers.

Mission… hair dresser.

I was off and had no time for distractions during this sacred mama “me time.”

I don’t know how I ended up on that road. It wasn’t the road I intended to take. You know that coma driving we do when there are no distractions. I drove on in this grid-town. You can get anywhere if you know how to drive a square.

I looked up and saw him. He was an older man. He shuffled back and forth next to the cars. The red lights are the best places to get our attention. We have to actually try to look away.

I saw him wander back and forth as I glanced at the clock. No time. And, I drove on.

He registered in my mind as I drove past,

If You want me to stop for him, please remind me later. I don’t want to be late.

Hairs tamed, grays smothered, scalp massaged, and ends trimmed; I handed her the check. She’s a spunky local girl with a heart of gold and a lifetime of stories, though her life has been much shorter than mine. I hugged her neck and went on my way – delighted that suffocating gray hairs is much cheaper in this town than the last.

It was then that He reminded me,

Go back to the guy at the corner.

I’m learning to listen, so I turned the truck in the direction of the old man with the cardboard sign.

I’ll tell you, once you give once, it becomes something you want to do again and again. As if He designed us to give… to love.

I was prepared to give the man a bill, when He interrupted my thoughts,

You know what you just paid for your hair? Give him that much.

I can’t say that I argued, but I did ask Him for clarification,

That much? Is that what I should give?

Truth, I had never handed someone a wad of bills like that… it’s different went you write a check or swipe a card.

Do you only trust Me $20 worth?

And that’s really where the truth lies. Do I only trust Him 20 dollars worth – or as much as my comfort will allow?

I smiled as my hand began to shake. I knew. I didn’t want to be that person. The 20-dollar-truster… the only-this-much-but-no-more giver.

I pulled my car around to the light and rolled down my window. I glimpsed his sign – Vietnam vet. Please help.

What’s your name?

A smile appeared on his weathered, tired face. He could have been my father, my father-in-law, my uncle.

Jim.

Of course it was Jim. Just another version of James.

Jim, I’m going to pray for you. Thanks for your service. I hate that you are standing out here asking for money.

He looked at the bills in his hand as his eyes widened,

Thank you! Oh, God, thank you.

He walked away as I waited for light. I saw him turn back in a hurry. He had just counted his bills,

Oh my God. Thank you! What is your name? You have no idea what you’ve just done for me. I’m not getting my social security. You have no idea.

I smiled as I felt my heart surge,

I wish I could give you more, Jim.

His teary eyes bore into mine as he replied,

Oh no. This is just… unreal. You are going to heaven, Karin. I won’t ever forget this.

There is something about giving, about doing good, that begins to transform a heart. It shamed me for ever having been blind to people around me, and it reminded me of how much I have to be grateful for.

My husband is a veteran. My brother is a veteran. My brother-in-law is a veteran. My father is a veteran. This man, someone’s family, is a veteran.

So, just when you think you know the whole of a story… God gives you more to take in.

Weeks went by. Then, yesterday, of all people, I saw Jim.

He stood there on the corner, same sign in his hand, and waited. Vietnam Vet. Please Help.

Did you know that the US Department of Housing and Urban Development estimates that 62,619 veterans are homeless on any given night? On top of that, about 1.4 million other veterans are considered at risk of homelessness due to poverty, lack of support networks, and dismal living conditions in overcrowded or substandard housing.

I rolled down my window and smiled at the familiar face,

Hi, Jim.

His eyes brightened as he beamed,

Are you Karin? I’ve been thinking about what you did. Do you know that you paid my rent for the whole week?

I grinned and answered,

I hoped it was for something like that. I’ve been praying for you, Jim. Why are you out here?

He leaned in and told me the story of his wife passing away, of things going wrong, of life turning upside down.

This is so embarrassing, you know.

I nodded,

Jim, you could be my dad, or my father-in-law, or my uncle. Do your kids know you are here?

His eyes went to the ground as he shrugged,

Actually, my daughter told me to come out here.

What do you say to that? I looked into the old man’s eyes and gave him a handful of rent.

Here, Jim, this will cover your rent this week. I’ll keep praying for you.

His eyes filled as he touched my hand,

Thank you, Karin, the prayers are working. Things are turning around. God bless you.

I’m going home now.

I smiled as the light turned green. Time to go. He waved as I turned the corner. My friend, Jim. The veteran dodging homelessness on a street corner. The man who dodged bullets for his country, now begging handouts on the street – at the urging of his daughter.

I’m not sure which wrecked me more. A veteran serving, now begging; or a father sacrificing, now breaking.

I drove home to my warrior, my very own veteran. The house bustled and brimmed with a daddy and his two sons… and four daughters.

I watched those little ones wrap arm after arm around their daddy’s neck, and I whispered to Him,

God, bless this veteran… and his children. And, may his daughters never forget their daddy’s sacrifice.

Happy Veteran’s Day – and endless thanks to you and your families for your sacrificial service.

1 John 4:9-11

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

November 10, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

Any Given Sunday

31 days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 29 ~

The more we have searched for good deeds at our house, the more our kids want to see them.

Many times we put our kids up to the deed and show them how to put the other person first.

One of the best parts of being a mom is watching them be kind on their own. No pushing. No prodding.

We have watched this story several times.

No one prompted these kids to do what they did… they just did it.

The best part is at the end. When we go from thinking about ourselves and our friends – to thinking about someone else…

Any given Sunday… an awesome football story about some awesome kids.

Happy Sunday.

(If you are reading this in an email, please click to the blog to watch the 3 minute video)

Matthew 7:12

So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

A Mother’s Prayer

The Party You Are Invited To Join

When We See There Are No Small Deeds

When There Is More To The Story {for the Veterans}

Any Given Sunday

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