Gracefully Frank

For my nieces’ graduation gifts, (Jordan from High School, and Kaitlyn (Birdie) from Jr. High), I asked my brother and sister-in-law if it would be ok to buy them train tickets to come visit me in Texas. The train is a straight shot, Jordan is 18, Birdie is 15, and I’m a grown-up, so Chris and Leigh thought it would work and be fun for the girls to get to do that on their own. Jordi is into art and has wanted to visit the Kimbell Museum for a long time, and Birdie is easily pleased wherever she goes. So, it was all set: A weekend with cool Aunt Hay in Texas! (see below for examples of how cool I am) Chris and Leigh know I would run into traffic for the girls, and the girls are both cool, so they can make a fun day out of anything… even if my plans turn out dumb.

First stop: Kimbell Art Museum. There is no travelling exhibition right now, but Jordi saw some paintings in their permanent collection she learned about in school, and was pretty excited to get to see them in person. Success!

Second stop: Fort Worth Museum of Modern Art. There is a travelling exhibition, so there would be a little more to look at. The artist isn’t someone I ‘ve heard of and all the paintings on the advertisements are just faces in black and white that look a little boring, but we are wearing cute museum outfits, we are Scully girls out museum-ing for the day. Whatevs. We’re cool. We’ll check it out. We walked upstairs to the travelling exhibit from Europe. Fort Worth is the only US city where it will show. Fancy. Like us. Jordi branches out ahead of me and Birdie, and soon returns with eyes as big as saucers and her serious face telling us we do NOT want to go on to the next room. Great. I brought my nieces to some dirty European art exhibit. First of all, I hope the artist finds help for what is obviously broken deep down inside of him. Second of all, let's mention it downstairs that I’m getting ready to walk my baby nieces up to Grody McGroderson’s Dirty Doodles! Epic Fail. (Saying things like “epic fail” is a little example of me being cool.) With eyes straight ahead we went back downstairs and walked through the gift shop taking our time to examine all the museum gifts we had no means or intentions of buying. I think the museum staff could tell we were just pretending to belong there.

Third stop: Daisy’s Barn and Grill. It is this cute little neighborhood grill across the street from my apartment. I like to go there to have breakfast, read and write.  They have Wi-Fi, and big screen TVs. I do not have cable or internet at Stars Hollow (thanks to my nieces...the new name of my apartment of which some of you will understand the reference), and Friday night was the Olympics opening ceremonies night. So we walked down there to have some appetizers for dinner and to watch the ceremonies. We had perfect seats for one of the big TVs, and we had fried pickles and pop. That sounds like summer vacation right there. Things were going great, until the Karaoke guy set up right as we got to the “M” countries of the opening ceremonies. All we wanted was to see Kevin, Russell and James walk in for the USA. But, big drunk guy who obviously did not begin his evening at Daisy’s, decided to kick off the karaoke party with some 80’s rock song way out of his range and began to be unsettling as he wanted more audience participation. Birdie looked at me with a little bit of a concerned look on her face and said “I’ve just never been in this situation before.” Check, please. 

Saturday was way better. No complete failures. We had lunch then went to the outlet mall and just hung out. My car makes a really loud squealing noise every time I turn the air-conditioner on, and the brakes squeak embarrassingly loud, but fortunately none of their friends were here in Plano for the weekend, so the girls weren’t too humiliated. I put dinner together and we watched movies.

Sunday was precious to me. I love these girls. I love seeing my brother and sister-in-law in them; their faces and their personalities. I love that they share my blood, and memories. I love their hearts. I love that they love Jesus. I love their quirky, sassy and sweet sides. I love that I can remember the days they were born, cute things they did as babies, and that they wanted to come see me. And I LOVED sitting next to them in church on Sunday morning. If you get to sit next to someone you love in church on Sunday mornings, don’t take it for granted. It is a gift to share worship with those you love. Be so thankful they have chosen to worship Jesus, and they have chosen to sit by you.

PS…I have the best nephew in the world. He didn’t get to come down this time, but I sent a Rangers t-shirt home to him and I hope he gets to come down soon and maybe catch a game. His name is Shawn Michael Scully. I like to call him Shawn Bon Jovi, or Shawn Michael Montgomery…and he lets me. That’s how cool he is.

Some morals to stories from this weekend:

- Don’t be so busy being cute that you don’t read the fine print. You may end up having to stab your eyes out.

- As long as the car is running, keep driving it, and be thankful for it.

- Don’t get so used to having one sided fights with those you would consider incompetent drivers that you forget how to act when you have your baby nieces in the car with you.  Ugh. And sorry girls. Thanks for reminding me to be nice. ;)

- Get with people you love and sit by them in church.

We went to the zoo one time when they came to see me in Tulsa.  I could say things like "dance like a flamingo" and they would do it.

Some of my favorite memories have begun with walking toward these girls.

And P.S…I know they aren’t babies. At one point I lost visual on Jordan and thought about yelling for the guards to lock the building down, even though she goes a lot of places now where we can’t see her, and even though we can be standing next to them and not protect them sometimes. They are very much not babies anymore. But, I’ve loved them since they were, and I now get how they kind of always will be, even though they aren’t anymore. They made me cry like one as we were leaving to take them back to the train. Jordi will move to Stillwater this weekend and start college. I did that one time. Birdie will start High School in a couple of weeks.  It's just not possible.  I don't know how Chris and Leigh can take it.  I love being their Aunt, listening to them, playing with them, and praying for them as they begin these next phases in their lives.  

There they go...

I recently mentioned in a previous blog the time that I was the first one to dive off the high dive, and then never willing to do it again. I was probably in the 2nd or 3rd grade when I was enrolled in swimming lessons with my babysitter’s kids. The lessons were at Wentz Pool. (If you aren’t from Ponca, it’s an interesting google.) We’d learned to dog paddle. Learned to float. Learned to jump in off the low diving boards with our legs tucked and holding our nose, or not, depending on personal preference. I was a nose holder. It came to be time to try the high dive. I ran to the front of the line with my red, white and blue American flag-esque halter swimsuit. It was a cousin-hand-me-down with tie straps that had let me down during one lesson as I came up for a dead man’s float and found them floating alongside me instead of tied around my neck. Awesome. I don’t know if I had mullet yet, but that is about the same time, and in my mind the story is more humbling if topped with a mullet. Did I mention I was also a head taller than anyone else my age? Those were good years for me. Not awkward at all. Sometimes I’m still that kid.  

So I climbed the ladder to the top diving board. All guts and glory. And I jumped. I survived!  Cheers! Other kids got in line, as I swam to the side of the pool and decided I never wanted to do that again. Ever. “Haley get in line and do it again.” Nope. I had rustled up and gathered courage, but burned out quickly. I knew I could do it, but then didn’t want to press my luck. I needed sustaining courage. Guess where I’m going with this…

I am still in need of sustaining courage. I think I could muster up through adrenaline and grit, the courage to do almost anything I find a worthy cause. If I see the value I’m in…at first, but my knees tend to get weak later down the road. “Walk away from it all and follow You to Texas of all places?” I’m in. I can’t claim I was first in line that time…but I got in line. Then I got done with school and wanted/had anticipated I would go right back to Oklahoma (swim back to the side of the pool with wobbly knees). I was praying for God to make His will clear to me though; that I wanted His will not mine. “Lord if You tell me to jump off the high dive, and it’s not just my own dumb idea, make it clear to me.” I was talking to two places about employment. One in Oklahoma = with family and friends. One in Texas = Not. I slid the business card for the HR Manager of the place I am now employed here in Texas into my bible after my first interview. Later, as I was praying over the two opportunities and beginning to have a slight sinking feeling like Texas was fixin' to be home...I randomly opened my bible to the page where her card was and here is the verse my eyes fell on: “If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” Hebrews 11:15-16. I could go back to Oklahoma if that is where my heart was, but I longed for someplace better that has nothing to do with Texas or even my family. I laid down and cried my eyes out. I’m not dramatic. Not because I at that point realized I was not going back to family and friends for that time being, which was then confirmed by the opportunity in Oklahoma not materializing, but I cried because God was again answering my prayer for clarity and courage. He was my confidence in this decision (Proverbs 3:26). He was leading me. The relief and peace and joy that these were His plans were again confirmed through His Word. I could say “coincidence,” but I will never again explain Him away. I will always choose to believe, because He does some pretty amazing things when I do. By faith I would follow Him, and in His faithfulness He makes His plans known to me. He keeps teaching me to not lean on my own understanding, certainly quit telling him what I don’t want to do, to be still, and to be brave; waiting on Him to make his path for me clear. Not because of who I am, or for my purposes; but because of who He is, for His purposes that He created me for (Ephesians 2:10). Be Still. That’s always been a hard one for me.  Sometimes I just want to be normal. Sometimes I just want to go home. But, more than either of those, I just want to be faithful.

What I wanted to write about when I sat down here was the upcoming trip to India. I’m going in November. I got in line first thing, and I am now fighting wanting to swim to the side. I don’t know if this is how it works with all people who are called out to do this, but I am certainly struggling with “am I really able to do this?” “Who am I to do this?” “I should just hand the Hope For The Heart materials to them, and then sit at their feet. I should certainly never open my mouth.” I struggle with wanting to be brave, beyond my own strength. India feels a lot like a high dive, and I am unprepared, and yet here is what I read yesterday: “‘Ah, Sovereign Lord,’ I said, ‘I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.’ But the LORD said to me, ‘Do not say, ‘I am only a child.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,’ declares the LORD. Then the LORD reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, ‘Now, I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.’ (Jeremiah 1:6-10)’ When Jeremiah voices his hesitation and fear, God–the God of the galaxies–reaches out and touches his mouth. It’s a gentle and affectionate gesture, something a loving parent would do. Through this illustration I realized that I don’t have to worry about not meeting His expectations. God will ensure my success in accordance with His plan, not mine.“ – Francis Chan in the book Crazy Love. Oh how I want to be faithful and brave beyond my self-centered insecurity.  Ugh. I wish this would just click for me.

As of now I’m going alone. I would counsel someone that the truth is they are not alone. That the Lord himself goes before me and will be with me; he will never leave me nor forsake me. I don’t have to be afraid, I shouldn’t be discouraged (Deuteronomy 31:8) but, sometimes I talk too much.  That scripture is absolutely the truth, and in God's time he will commit it to my heart as I let him.

So for now would you pray for me? I will share more about this trip and the many ways God has confirmed it in a future post, but for now would you pray for me even just once after you read this, as I am feeling a little bit like I’m in an American flag halter swimsuit with a mullet climbing a ladder that I probably have no business climbing. Would you pray that God would allow someone to travel with me? Maybe that is you? And would you read about Rev. Dr. Christopher David and his wife Hepzi. They are the wonderful servants of the Lord whom I will serve with in India. They have an abandon to God that I pray for, and a ministry I am honored to share with you. They've given me the ok to share their ministry letters.



Thank you for your prayers for me, for this trip, and for these people Jesus wants to know of His love and freedom not only in death, but also in life. Thank you for reading what is sometimes uncomfortable to be gracefully frank about. Thank You, Lord, for the sustaining courage that comes only from You, and the joy and peace that truly passes understanding that follows that courage. Thank You for high dives.  Thank You for this ministry I work for, filled with people who have surrendered their lives to bring God's word to the hurting and his hope to the hopeless; and for letting me be a part of it. And thank you, mom, dad and my babysitter, that there are no pictures to share from my swim lessons at Wentz Pool.