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October 17, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

The Good Seed

31 Days of Good Deeds 31 Days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 15 ~

Sometimes it isn’t until they are gone.

It isn’t until they are gone that we realize how they changed everything.

Most of the time we didn’t even realize we needed to change something… or we didn’t really want to.

It isn’t until we look back on what was, that we realize what is.  The turning point in our lives.

the good seed

It isn’t until we can see pieces of life in the rearview mirror that we can see how our pieces have come together.

It isn’t until we look back that we can look Up and see the truth.

The lives we live like this woven tapestry.  Threaded piece by piece… never having seen the bold thread of this person that held it all together.  Until we could grow stronger.

My dear friend, missing her uncle, remembers him…

Twenty-two years ago a couple took in a troubled 18-year-old girl. They had a lot going on in their own lives; two daughters in college and high school senior still at home. The husband worked crazy shift work that eliminated any type of normal sleep and life of his own. The woman was a school bus driver at the time. She volunteered at church and played taxi to her daughter’s activities and ran all over the state trying to make the college sporting and extra curricular events.
 
Their niece was “lost”. Running nowhere, but constantly running. Circumstances led her to their home – it had always been a safe place – a place where the door was always unlocked. It was often left wide open; an indication of the busy lifestyle where love provoked the revolving door to remain more open than closed. 
 
There was only liability in inviting her in. Her lifestyle was far from theirs – they knew it and opened the door and their arms. They opened themselves up to the questions and judgement from others. Why? “She should learn on her own… she’s gotten herself into this after all!”  
There were no lectures or shame here. Everyday there was support, encouragement, company, and love for the girl. She continued in her life choices, but now felt a twinge of wanting what they had… a simple, steady, not so exciting, but full life. The love of Christ permeated their home and their actions – they actually believed in her and began a flicker of belief in herself.
 
Their kindness gave her hope. It slowly turned to motivation and value; and one day she left. She had been given wings – much like the cousins who had gone before. She didn’t necessarily go on to do great things in the eyes of the world… but ever since, she has been flying and often flies back to the home with the revolving door. 
 
The couple has recently separated in body. The husband flew home to His Lord. His memorial celebration was filled with stories like hers – and now a question. Will the good deed live on? Can she do this, too? Can her door offer a welcome, safety, and the simple glimmer of hope? She is realizing this was an act of bravery on their part… there were no guarantees with the chance they took on her. A good deed is risky – there may not be a good turnout. But then that wasn’t their job, was it? A good deed is simply a good “seed” and all they did was sow it. 

The good deed.  Sometimes it is the good seed… sown in faith.

The voice that whispers,

My door is open.

You are welcome here.

 

Matthew 7:7-8

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.

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Filed Under: Faith, Family, Good Deeds, Grace, Hope, Love, Together Tagged With: open door, the good seed, the good stuff

October 11, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

This Is What It Looks Like

31 days of Good Deeds 31 Days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 10 ~

I watched her as she shuffled around the kitchen.

She reminded me of my mom.  I guessed she was probably about the same age.

The kids ran wild that evening.

Tunes from the guitars, keyboard, and drums rang a distant memory of the days my warrior wore his rock star hat.  Voices belted out Three Doors Down, Sarah McLachlan, and Buffett. Food and joy overflowed.  There is just something about music.  Music speaks to hidden memories and connects us without words.  Just the lyrics and the melodies blanketed the room.

I saw her eyes glisten as she smiled into the young exuberant crowd.

Her eyes met mine as I bounced my squirming two-year-old in my lap.  Baby girl clamored for hands full of candy corn.  I obliged.  These nights don’t roll around too often.

She slid into the chair next to me.  As her fingers stroked the strawberry blonde wisps on baby girl’s head, she told me her story.  The music faded to a framing mural as she began,

I don’t have any family.  I was the baby of my family.  They are all gone now.

Her blue-green eyes sparkled with memories of decades gone by.

My birthday is next week.  I’ll be 83.

Yes, just like my mom.  I looked into her eyes and pretended for just a moment that I could have this conversation with my own mom.  Memories intact.

I moved a few times and came here about 15 years ago.

I’ve been alone for a while.

I nodded, sliding closer.  The crescendo of notes wrapped around us as a beautiful voice began,

in the arms of the angel…

Songs catapult us from memory to memory like rabbits scurrying down a hole… only to pop up somewhere else.

My baby found this to be the ideal moment to squirrel candy corn after candy corn.  I was riveted.  How did this dear soul come here?  What story brought her to live with these new friends of ours?

She went on,

I fell one day.  It was a Thursday.  I lived alone, you know.  No one found me… until Sunday.

The doctors told me if it had been any  longer I wouldn’t have made it.  I was dehydrated.

I stared into her alert eyes.  Three or four days.  She lay on the floor in her kitchen for days.  Hour upon hour… alone.  Afraid.  I could only imagine what the scene must have looked like.  I thought again… of my mom.  Four days alone, desperate, and in pain.

She smiled gently,

When I woke up in the hospital there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a note.

In this note, they told me I was going to come live with them.  I knew them through church, you know.

I still have that note.

That was six years ago.

That’s what it looks like.  All the stuff Jesus says.  Do good.  Help others.  Be kind.  Give.  Others before yourself. 

This is what it looks like.  It can have so many faces, and stories, and eyes, and hands… but, this, is what it all comes down to.

love the lonely

Our new friends didn’t tell us about her story.  As far as we knew, she was a kindly grandmother who lived with them and their children.  They never told us.  She did.

This kind of giving captures me.  I had to know.  What brought them to this step?  To this offer?

So, we asked.

Our friend, soft-spoken and humble, replied,

Yea, well, that’s what we are supposed to do.

That’s what we are supposed to do.

One step in love gave this one beautiful soul with the sparkling eyes… a home.  No… it gave her more.  The most.

A family.

Psalm 68:6

God sets the lonely in families, he leads out the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

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Filed Under: Compassion, Faith, Family, Good Deeds, Love, Together Tagged With: obedience, the lonely

October 7, 2013 by Karin 4 Comments

It Just Keeps Giving

31 Days of Good Deeds

(click here to see the series)

31 Days of Good Deeds

~ Day 6 ~

We have those friends.

The ones who serve, give, and go out of their way to help.  They appear at just that moment when we need an extra hand… an extra heart… and just one kind word.

Then, they insist that the whole thing is no big deal.

We have these friends that show us how to be better.

They help us open our eyes to people around us. They drop a note and a gift at the door after a miscarriage. They bring a home-cooked meal during a deployment.  They drive through walls of snow just to get goat milk for a mom with a house full of kids, an empty refrigerator, and a husband… deployed again.  They text a message just when we think God isn’t listening anymore… and they let us know that He is.

We have these friends.  They grow our hearts and pick us up.  Sometimes they are a life line.  These friends. They are some of the greatest gifts He gives us.

Cheer on love

Then, we hear a story about someone else who noticed our friend. Someone who just wanted to show love. Someone who saw the gift that this friend is, without even knowing her.

And, the story grows our heart just a little bit more.

Thanks for sharing this story, Jill, my dear friend…

I was traveling with my three kids, and at the airport this guy (who was with his wife and two kids) kept trying to offer help in the security line. Very nice, but my kids had done it a million times so he saw they knew the drill. Somehow he figured out my husband was military and continued to help us as we were gathering our things from security, thanking me for my husband’s service. We later ran into each other at the food court as I looked up with my hands full of bags and ALL the tables full. He motioned over to an empty table that ‘magically’ became open, and said he found a spot for us. I left the boys at the table and took my daughter to get our food and drinks. When I came back, I saw him leaving the table and talking with my boys which freaked me out a little. As he walked off he said, “Your oldest son has something for you.” He explained that he told my son that he knows they shouldn’t be talking to strangers, but he wanted to do something for our family. He put something in my son’s hand and said, “Don’t open it until your mom is here at the table and I am gone.” (Still a little odd). Well, I got to the table and my son opened his hand and it was a $50 dollar bill! Thankfully, we saw him on the way to our gate and we thanked him.  He said he just wanted to buy us a lunch or some treats for the kids to thank us for us being a military family.

Showing love to people we don’t even know… gives love to them, and everyone else who loves them.

It just keeps on giving.

John 13:34

“A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

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Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Community, Good Deeds, Love, Military, The Good Stuff Tagged With: it just keeps giving, that friend

September 30, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

When It’s That One Time That Matters

It’s time for the 31 Days series.  Every year in October The Nester hosts a link-up for writers and bloggers from all corners.  The topics are as varied as the writers.  This year I will write for 31 days about Good Deeds.  The story that prompted this topic is one that I will post on day 2.  Most days we are overcome by our chores, tasks, and to-dos.  These stories inspire me to look beyond myself at the world around us.  We could all use a hand sometimes.  Every good deed touches a heart in ways we may never see.

You can follow the series by clicking here to find all 31 days of posts.

Hebrews 10:24

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds 31 Days of Good Deeds

~Day 1 ~

I could almost hear a voice.  It was really just a thought that pierced my daydream.  It was the kind of thought that really doesn’t make any sense, so you are pretty sure it didn’t come from you.  The thought rang again,

Take the $20 from the bathroom counter and put it in your pocket.

I puzzled over the request and shrugged.  My thoughts replied,

Ok, I’ll do it.  If I can remember.

I dressed and got ready for the very important outing to Costco.  Supplies were running low.  Detergents, diapers, breakfast sausages that my 11-year-old can prepare all by himself.  The sausages are crucial because they buy me just a little bit more sleep.  I love sleep.  I grabbed the keys, kissed my warrior, and snuck out the back door.  Alerting the six pack to my departure would only bring tears and clamoring to come along.  Any mama knows that special “me time” at the store cannot be interrupted by tag-a-longs.  I stealthily climbed into the truck and sped off (at a screeching 15 mph).

The journey through the store could bring many valuable truths to light.  Pushing that oversized cart through the crowded aisles on a Saturday opened my eyes to one thing.  I wasn’t really there.  I was certainly there in body, squeezing between carts and past temper tantrums, but my mind was somewhere else.

Is this how we cruise through life?  Half in the space where our feet are planted and half somewhere else?  My mind drifted to what the kitchen would look like at dinnertime, to what the kids might remember they wanted to add to the list before I left, to what we might do on the weekend.  My mind drifted to friends back home, to the list of to-do’s that were undone, to just about anything and everything except for the cart… and the people in front of me.  It seems the more people are around, the less we look at them.  City living can bring us to close our minds, our doors, and our hearts just a bit more than country living.  The more faces we are surrounded by, the less we want to be bothered.  Maybe it’s all just too overwhelming and we find a safer, quieter place behind the shut door.

Finding myself in the back row of the swarmed parking lot, I remembered,

The $20!  Sure enough, I forgot.

I whispered under my breath to the One I knew was listening.  He is surely accustomed to my forgetful nature.  I like to blame it on the kids.

Ok, I’ve got something.

I dug into my purse and retrieved the only $4 I could find.  I shoved them into my pocket.

I’m not sure where You are going with this, and I’m sorry I forgot.

I heard You and then got distracted.  I hope this will do.

I checked out my small fortune of groceries and struck up a conversation with the cashier.  If I were the cashier I might like to talk to the sea of faces passing me by with crates of supplies.

She was a nice lady and told me that she had lived here for over 30 years.  She really wanted to go somewhere else, where the trees would tower and the water would glisten.  She was a little nervous about the change of climate.  The humidity anywhere else might be just too much, but she really wanted to go.  Sometime. 

Thirty years is a mighty long time to wish you could go somewhere else.  I wonder if our hesitation to try something new always stems from our resistance to the uncomfortable?  I wonder what else our comfort might be keeping from us?

Helping Hand

The cart swerved and wobbled its way to the truck as I scrambled for the keys.  I pried open the tailgate and began to unload the goods.  It was only about one minute.  One minute passed before I looked up and saw her.

She appeared old.  I doubt that she was as old as she looked.  Her face reminded me of a face I had seen years before.  She reminded me of a meth addict I had treated in a hospital here over a decade ago.  The woman back then had a stroke.  Just one of the many horrors addictions can bring.  It can age you, too.  The kind of aging that rips and robs any glow from the skin and light from the eyes.

I looked at the woman in front of me and really saw her.  My mind zoomed to the sight before me.  She was dressed in flannel and jeans.  The clothing was no match for the 98-degree temperature, even though the feel of dry heat does not match its number.  Her hair was a gray mat of strands running halfway down her back.  The blue-gray eyes appeared dusty and sunken in her loose skin.  She mustered any amount of dignity she could gather and spoke.  The one tooth remaining in the front of her mouth pointed like any accusing finger at all the wrongs and neglect that left it alone to hold a crooked,  forced smile.

I wonder if you could help me.  I need money for a bus.

I knew there were no buses cruising this side of town, and there were certainly no buses in the parking lot of city suburbia waiting to pick up disheveled and desperate souls.  I had been expecting her.

I replied as I dug in my pocket,

I do have something.

She seemed almost stunned at my response.  It didn’t appear she got too many responses to this same question I am sure she had asked countless times.

Oh.

She whispered as her eyes met mine.

I handed her the four crumpled dollars.

I’m sorry it’s not more.  I was expecting you today.

Her smile curled slightly as her eyes flickered.  Maybe she was not accustomed to conversation, or maybe the thought of someone expecting her presence caught her off guard.

I continued,

I kind of knew I would meet you today.  Good luck to you.

She nodded and disappeared into the sea of cars.

Why in the world did I say ‘good luck’?

My hand went to my forehead to thump some sense into it.  It was pretty obvious that ‘good luck’ had not gotten this lost soul very far.  What I really wanted to say was,

God bless you.  Do you have anywhere to go?  

I didn’t say any of those things.  Just, “good luck.”

I climbed into the comfort of my big red truck and stared out the window.  How many handfuls of dollar bills would it take to get this desperate woman to the place she was longing to go?  Where in the world could a bus take her to find the answers?  She didn’t need a bus ticket.  She didn’t need ‘good luck.’  The lost soul with the sunken eyes and the wry smile needed something much more.  She needed a hand.

I was glad she had interrupted me.  I was frustrated I had ignored the Voice that prompted me to pocket the $20 on my bathroom counter.  I remembered the voice of my friend’s dad,

Nine times out of ten, the person asking for money is probably going to use it for no good. 

Nine times out of ten it won’t take them very far. 

It’s that one time… that one time, that will make all the difference in someone’s life.

The difference one time can make.  It matters.  It may matter to one life out of ten, but that is one whole life.

Just like mine.  Just like yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would love to hear your stories.  Do you have a good deed to share?  A story about you or someone you know?  

If you would like to share your story, you can email me at sunrisewithasixpack (at) gmail (dot) com.  I’d love to post your words (and you can remain anonymous) here for others to read and be encouraged.  Bad news gets all the headlines ~ let’s spur each other on in love and good deeds…

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Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Hope, Joy, Love, Uncategorized Tagged With: 31 days of good deeds, that one time

September 25, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

Why We Should Tell It Like It Is

It’s hard to find your voice, isn’t it?

There are so many thoughts spiraling through our minds, but putting them into words isn’t so easy.

Most of the time, my most profound, eloquent statements come out a little bit like…

uh. hey.

We trip over words. We trip over opinions. We trip over I-don’t-want-to-offend-but-that-is-just-all-wrong. Or maybe, I am… all wrong.  We trip, stumble, falter, and flail. The best of our intentions can step right out in front of a bus… and become road kill.

It’s hard to find your voice. You know, the voice you are really supposed to have. The one that is buried beneath proper decorum, benign pleasantries, and vacuous blather. I don’t mean small talk. I don’t mean pleasant conversation.

I mean… the stuff we really mean. The words we battle between our mental gymnastics and our vocal release. Lack of tact and crass ramblings are not the answer.

It is hard to find your voice.  It is hard to be honest.

Not the don’t-tell-a-lie kind of honest.

The honest that reaches into the depths of our souls. The words that murmur in our spirits and long to be released. Not hurtful, rage-filled spatter. But, instead, words stirred in us by the Spirit that drives us.

I wonder why it is so hard to tell the whole truth.  I wonder why we can’t own up to all the painful insecurities and just call them out on the carpet. We could then take that carpet and pound the dusty mess right out. Until the flittering specks of our dusty insecurities vanish into a forgotten mist.

Desert Storm

We could just say,

I compare myself to you and it makes me feel like less.

I think I have it figured out, then I slip; and I just want to quit.

I want to be a good mom and wife, but I am worn out.

I feel like so much depends on me, and I just fall short.

I am plain old sick of my own voice.

Kids have it all figured out. They say just exactly what they mean. They mean just exactly what they say… until we tell them not to.

It’s just not polite. Don’t say that.

Oh, hush, don’t let them hear you.

But… it’s the truth.

Mom meltdowns sometimes bring a beautiful truth to light. Sometimes it gives these little ones a chance to step up and voice life-giving words,

You are a great mom.

Everyone gets tired and stressed out.

Mom, you’re the best.

I wonder why we can just get it right?

Glimpse of Light

I know, it’s that whole fallen world thing.  It is, you know.  Fallen.

Why don’t we just step up from the dust with our God-given hearts and speak truth, love, and honesty into the souls we pass. We are all suffering. In one way or another. We pull that heavy old worn security blanket over our heads and stifle the life-giving words of truth.

The Storm Out Back

Sometimes, we should just tell it like it is.  With kindness. With grace. With these sincerely broken souls that have been given the most sincerely priceless gift.

The gift of words. The gift of the Word. The life-giving, soul-healing, love-drenching gift.

Words.

Maybe we should take a cue from these little ones who speak truth without a thought to lie.  We could stop covering the screens with illusions of I’ve-got-it-all-together.

We could whisper,

Me too.

My little baby blue-eyed boy climbed into my lap.  It was bedtime and mama was well past any patience that could be mustered.

I need you to go to bed.

He ignored my frazzled words.  Clinging to my neck, face nuzzling in tighter, his words…

Mom, it’s all about the love.

It’s just all about the love.

How is it that they just get it?

Nuzzle In

I smiled and squeezed.

A delay tactic, maybe.  The truth, definitely.

It is all about the love.

Simple words.

For the Love

Maybe we don’t need to dress up our big adult words. We could just remember to say the simplest of things.

You are not alone.

I know it’s hard for you.

I will pray for you (and do it).

Remember who you are.

I think you’re a really cool person.

I love you.

We are in this together.

God loves you. Yes, even when you don’t.

It’s all about the love.

Maybe I should just forget about finding the right voice. Stop talking… and listen to my boy.

It’s all about the love.

 

Philemon 1:6-7

I pray that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints. 

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Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Grace, Love, Motherhood, The Good Stuff Tagged With: finding your voice, tell it like it is

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Meet Karin

Hi! My name is Karin Madden. Writer. Warrior wife. Mom of six pack. Homeschooler. German-blooded southerner. Welcome to the place where I explore what it means to grow stronger - spirit, soul, and body. I write to inspire and encourage - to remind you we are not alone. By being bold with grace and speaking truth in love, we can become who we are meant to be. I'm glad you are here.

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