Gracefully Frank

Maybe I was somewhere between 4 and six years old?  I made a decision of something I was going to do, so I walked through our little open plan living room with multi-colored orangey shag carpet.  Stepped down one little step, passed my dad where he was watching the news (boring), then stepped up another little step in the dining room kitchen area where my mom was at the stove making dinner.  I'm fairly certain some canned corn would have been in one pot, along with a recipe calling for ground hamburger meat in a skillet.  

"Mom, I'm going over to Wendy's house."  Wendy was a few years older than me and the coolest. We lived on opposite sides of a cul-de-sac where every house was filled with either an elderly couple or a young family.  Wendy had a big black dog named Bosco that scared the ever-living out of me, but Wendy letting me play at her house was worth facing the fear.  And, I decided right then was the time to get on my big wheel and go see what was up.  

"Not now.  We are getting ready to have dinner," mom said. Whaaatt?  I'm not sure if I sassed her right to her face or not, but apparently, it was brewing inside of me.  I turned from her.  Walked back through the dining/kitchen area, stomped down the little step into the living room and over to my Dad.  

"Dad, can I go over to Wendy's house?"  He said, "I just heard your momma tell you no. So, no, not right now, dinner is almost ready."  (Some of the recreated dialogue here may or may not be exactly accurate.)  So, I turned from him.  Started to stomp back across the shag toward the little step up out of the living room, when the evil spirit of back-talk overcame me, and I made a poor choice.  I turned back to him and said, "Fine, now I hate you and momma both." You guys, my dad can get up out of a recliner so fast!!  If recliner dismount were an Olympic sport.... 

I had a little time in my room with a bit of a bruised ego, self-indignation, and red backside to think about the turn of events that had just played out.  And now, we have had years of using that line in much more light-hearted moments with each other.  

I was making plans without their input.  They already had plans for me.  Plans for dinner with corn and hamburger.  Plans to sit with me at the table and talk about the day.  Plans to put a little pat of butter on my bread and pour me a glass of sweet tea.  Good plans for me.

Maybe they would have let me go to Wendy's house all along when the time was right.  But, I jumped ahead and wrecked it. 

I had a conversation this week with a friend and we talked about making plans.  We try to make so many plans based on our own understanding.  Based on how cool Wendy from the block is.  Based on where we want to be, in case we don't get to do what we want to do.  We need money. We want purpose, and we try to figure out all the ways to make that happen.  And, we make our plans.

We stop by Jesus at that stove making us dinner and announce our plans, and then when he tries to shepherd us from the recliner as he sees us walking toward trouble... we stiff arm and back talk because we wanna do what we wanna do.  Or, we want to do what we think we need to do because we aren't sure he has the best intentions for us.  I neeeed to go to Wendy's. That's where the cool is at. In my own understanding that is the right next move.  Don't tell me no.

What plans are you making?  Who are you talking to about them?  His Word tells us He has plans already in the works, and they are good.  Sometimes if feels like we should be taking a little more charge over our plans.  Take a few big kid steps.  But, you might miss dinner if you do.  

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." Proverbs 3:5  

He can only make your paths straight if he actually does have a destination planned for you. And, you will only get there if you actually trust him and allow him to lead. I wish I would have fully learned that lesson right there in that shaggy carpeted living room. But, it has taken a little history between us for me to learn that what He has is best and that He will get me where He has planned for me. 

If you can identify at all, then reading all of Proverbs 3 may be encouraging to you today.  Read Proverbs 3  

Think about things, but let the Lord establish your steps. 

I've begun packing again. Not for a trip, but for a move. The move back to Oklahoma. Happy sigh. It was 7 years ago this month that I committed to moving to Texas and beginning that long haul at Seminary. And now as these boxes get taped up, I'm committing to move home. It's kind of hard for me to believe, but it is definitely happening. 

I have certainly not been shy about how much I love home (definition home: Oklahoma, where I come from, the general vicinity where most all my family live - "most" is for you Lane). Where the waving wheat smells sweet. (Disclaimer:  I haven't actually spent a lot of time smelling waving wheat in Oklahoma). Home is where my parents are.  Where cancer is present, and even more importantly isn't present.  Where my grandma's voice can still be heard in person. Where my brother and the 4 people he brought into our life, live and love and are in plays and ballgames and like to drink coffee on the porch. Where some of my life-long and favorite friends are a couple of miles away instead of a state and a couple of months away. (Some of my other favorite friends will remain here in Texas.) Home is where the Lord first called me, second called me and now for the third time has called me back to serve Him. That is where I am moving. The place where I can live life to serve the Lord, and be the daughter, sister and friend I love to be. Oklahoma.  I know the step toward home isn't always the next one.  I cannot type out words to explain how grateful I am for this to be the next step for me.

I had a friend ask me why I didn't just move there already, if that is where I want to be. I've had other people ask me the same type of question. My decision is to believe in who God is, and trust His Word, His plans and His Spirit to guide me. That when He says He has plans for me, for life, for ministry, for relationships, for purpose, that He means it. That it's concrete, not in theory, not in general to humanity...but for me (and for you). And I (you) can rely on His timing and trustworthiness to reveal it. I could have chosen to move home several times over the past couple of years. When Dad got sick, when other family were hurting beyond what I would consider reasonable. When I experienced difficulties and trials here. I could have said God would want me to move home. I could have dug to justify, and to run home. But, there wasn't peace. Peace came in the "be still." There wasn't firm direction. Had I gone home before, it would have been in my own strength, my own wisdom. Like a loving Father he would not have abandoned me...he doesn't do that. He would have still worked. He would have still shown me, but there probably wouldn't be the joy, like there is now, in knowing it's Him that is making the way. Instead of me digging one out.  I have decided several times, that I would stay and root here in Texas, say "yes" to everything, dig in be present many times, but again His ways are higher than mine.  A good reminder to not resolve myself to what I think is the plan, but to resolve myself daily to the Plan Maker. You don't waste as much time that way.

When I took my current position with Hope For The Heart last year, I thought that was the final plan: I would be in Texas. (I'm always trying to get to that final answer moment) I knew for certain on 8-16 that this job is where God was leading. I had no idea that this job, that I thought was locking me in, would be the very way God would bring me back to the land where I know He wants me to serve, and love and be loved, and live. He brought me to Texas, but from all the way down here, he kept making my heart new up there. I am not who I was, at all, 7 years ago. I am not who I was, at all 4 years ago. God is good. And faithful. He gives the wheat and the honey. Just like He told me He would.  Getting to work from home, and move to Oklahoma isn't the proof that God is good or faithful.  That truth was never contingent on where I live.  God is good. Believe and See. The rest is just gravy.  Good gravy if you will.

I'm so thankful to continue working for Hope For The Heart, as I move to Edmond to join the works-from-home crowd. Because of the nature of this work, and the heavy travel involved, my position has been opened to be a remote work position to allow me the opportunity to be surrendered to the work He has called me to, and have time to build into home and family. Now as I continue to go to lands he calls me to, Where The Trees Talk and Hope is needed, I will get to come home to the people I love. I will continue sharing about discipleship and transformed lives over there, and can live that out back here with the lives and family God has given me. I don't know exactly what that will look like...but, I know that's what He is doing. My life is transformed through my relationship with Jesus Christ and the power of God's Word. I'm not who I was, because of who He is. And I like it. I like to share it. I like to talk frankly about it. I like to show others it is possible. I live to honor who Christ is and His authority in my life through living out this change.   I am getting to serve Him in ways that are incredibly difficult for me, and I love more than I imagined possible.  And now I get to do that from home sweet 'homa. I might burst. I will still cross the Red River southbound often, thankfully. But, I like to drive, I like to sing in the car. I like to stop in Ardmore and get a coffee. I have a few deeply sweet friendships that I love here that I already look forward to seeing on my visits back, because I have already started missing them.

In our staff devotions this week we were asked what we think of when we hear the word surrender. I realized that 7 years ago surrender to me meant: giving in, loss, insecurity (leaving my job and going to school), fear...but I was committed to it, because He had made it so ridiculously clear. Surrender meant obedience. I thought mostly about what I would have to do in that surrender. But, the first words I listed on my paper this week were: release, freedom, new life, letting go.  Like Elsa walking up a snow covered mountain.  It immediately struck me how different surrender looks now.  Now I think more about what HE will do when I surrender.  It's not loss anymore, it's life. It's gain. One step at a time. Blind and weak; bold and certain. It's no longer just about obedience. I surrender, because now, even when its hard, my heart wants to be wherever He sends me.  I don't ever want to be anywhere else; whatever wave He tells me to step on. (and there have definitely been some hard waves that have been scary to step on.)  But, case in point, sometimes those waves are exactly where you want to step, and you kind of do the happy dance as you put your foot down.  Guess what I'm doing right now.  God is good. 


In 1928 the Head of E.W. Marland’s gas pipeline network built a house on a lot given to him for naming his firstborn son after the man responsible for handing out city lots. His lot was in the 800 block of North Fourteenth Street, in Ponca City, Oklahoma, directly across the street from the fence boundary of Marland’s estate. Dan Kygar, who was a hunting companion of E.W. Marland had made a run into the Ponca City area during the Cherokee Strip of September 16, 1893. He was a Barber, the President of the Kay County Gas Company, and a few years after building this home became Mayor of Ponca City.[1] During his time as Mayor the famous 101 Ranch was up for sale, and Al Capone who was in prison at the time, made a run at purchasing 2,000 acres of the Ranch. When asked about Capone’s offer, Dan Kygar responded with this:

          “I have no information in regard to the purchase of the famous 101 Ranch by
          the Capone brothers. But we have outlived the Dalton’s, Al Jennings, Ben Cravens,
          Henry and Belle Starr, Al Spencer and four gubernatorial impeachments. If the Capone’s
          can give us new thrills, send them along, but advise them to bring their bodyguards. All
          Oklahomans excel in steer juggling, bronc busting, and bulldogging. They take theirs
          straight. Advise them to spike their weak beer with some of our hill corn and make their
          advance. The old ranch has already been tamed by the encroachments of civilization. A
          little Chicago culture will do no harm. Inform the Capone brothers they should see me
          first. I’ll extend them an Oklahoma welcome where children cut their teeth on 45s and
          30-30s and the keys to the city and assure them protection until they have become
          acclimated. After that, they look out for themselves." [2]

The deal fell through, and the Capone’s didn’t come to Ponca. On the night Dan Kygar was quoted as saying these words, he went home to bed at 816 North Fourteenth Street. He rode up into that driveway, walked through that front door and maybe told his wife about the Capone’s wanting to buy the Ranch. Same front door. Same floors. Same walls. Same stairs. Same fireplace. That home was a setting for his scenes. Although no Kygars remain living in the home (we’ve looked in all the closets) their story is part of the story of the home. They are integral to its history, but not the other way around.




As a little kid in the late 70’s and early 80’s the main thing I noticed driving by that house was the Cain’s Coffee truck that usually sat in the driveway. Our house, our church, my school where all down other streets, so if we were driving by 816 North Fourteenth Street, it usually meant 1 of 2 things:  we were either coming or going from Barnsdall, or Lessert field. Either we had a car full of suitcases, or Chris or I were in baseball uniforms with a ball glove on our hand. The house looked big and a little dreary with moons cut in the shutters. I bet the house smelled like coffee (at least once a day it still does). While the Cain’s Coffee Man owned it, they were robbed blind one day...

Mrs. Vance, who was elderly by then, but as a young woman had worked for Marland Oil and was the first female executive for an oil company in the United States, lived in the home she and her husband had built next door to the south of 816.  She walked over as a large moving truck pulled into the driveway and began unloading the house in broad day light. She told the movers she didn’t know her neighbor’s were leaving. The official looking movers reassured her they were. They weren’t. (There is an alarm system now.) Thankfully they didn’t follow Mrs. Vance across the yard where treasures from her life travelling the world in the 20’s and 30’s as an Executive with Marland Oil sat behind her front door. Audrey Vance. She was amazing. She and her husband Joe, who had been coach for the American Legion Baseball teams after leaving pro-baseball, never had children, but she felt like she helped raise "100’s of Ponca's sons" as her home was always full of them. She had memories and stories from around Kay and Osage counties and around the world. She went from being a teenage school teacher in a one room school house in Osage County to witnessing a school of white whales swimming alongside the ship she and a group of Marland's people were travelling on off the coast of Alaska. That was one of the most amazing things she ever saw. As I sat across from her at the little table where her solitaire cards were usually laid out, listening to her tell me stories from those days I didn't fully appreciate how precious those scenes were.

We don’t know about all the scenes that have taken place in our house. Many more people that I don’t know have lived and walked through those doors.

But,...

I do know one day we moved in. I still remember that day. It was the 4th of July between my 4th and 5th grade year. I was “packing” in my room undisturbed by what all was going on in the rest of our house on Oriole Street. I had closed the door where my poster of Bo and Luke sitting on top of the General Lee was taped up, and was supposed to be loading the 2 or 3 boxes sitting on my bed with my stuff. Seriously, my room was basically untouched, and in no way would make one believe I wouldn’t be going to bed there that night. I think I still didn’t really get it. I fiddled with all of my little girl trinkets I was pulling out of the drawers….until all of a sudden Daddy swooped in and told me to go find mom. As I walked out of the room, he started to pack…not taking time to find delight in my Smurfy figurines and sticker collection. As I walked into the living room, every thing was gone. Next thing I know, I lived somewhere else. The Cain’s Coffee Man’s house. 816 North Fourteenth Street. Our family had a new setting for our scenes. We became part of the history of this house, integral to its story…but not the other way around. Regardless of the setting, God made us a family. Our scenes are part of His plans for us. Scenes for His glory and our good, in any setting. (PS "integral" is a word that I can type, but that I cannot say. Even as I sit here and practice it aloud. It nevers sounds right, but it types right.) 

I don’t mean not integral in the way of not appreciated…but more so in the way of not essential to our story because our story is about family, and while we are family on this earth our story is to be about: doing justice, loving kindness and walking humbly with God. The setting can be anywhere...even Texas. Trusting Him with the path before us, as we grow in relationship with Jesus Christ and reflect His gospel in our lives…seems like a tall order, but its mostly about just saying yes and living faithful…which we learn more about everyday. 816 North Fourteenth has been a great setting for family get-togethers, prom pictures, sleepovers, movie watching, coffee drinking, healing, laughing, crying, visiting, reading, cooking, yard work, working on cars…not unlike any of our homes on any other street. We have loved almost every bit of it! I say almost because by the time we moved in my parents had to do some pretty major work, and apparently that isn’t always fun. We didn’t have central air conditioning until well after I graduated Highschool, and our heater was a boiler in the basement with radiators throughout the house that had pipes that banged so loud we would joke about maybe calling the Ghostbusters. (If we didn't joke, we might have run out screaming.)  All of that uncertainty about the house is gone now. If there were ghosts, they left when the boiler did. Now, it runs like a machine. It has been a fascinating and beautiful setting for our scenes. Mom and Dad have been good stewards of 816 North Fourteenth Street, taking care of what did not come to them without coming through the Father’s hands. They will definitely be leaving it better than they found it, and ready to be a setting for another family, because it is time for our scenes to be set someplace new.

The setting isn’t integral. (still can't say it) The scenes are the point. And as God does in my life, as He is doing in lives we witness, as He is able to do in your life, God is graciously leading Mom and Dad in a new direction and a new setting (we do not know the address yet). Each step toward Him, is the right direction for them. Their new scenes will still be filled with family, our Magnolias family and Grace, but will be set somewhere around Edmond, Oklahoma where Chris, Leigh and two third’s of their grandkids live and where they will have some new neighbors to get to know. They are following the scenes and not demanding to hold onto their current setting and force scenes to take place there to grow tired and weary of it. They are leaving it with a willingness of heart, evidence of God’s grace in these plans for their next home. They are saying “yes, Lord” like they have so many times before because they know that…”Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23:6 This is where, in times of change, peace stems: from knowing the Shepherd, and where He ultimately leads.

So, the stake that Kygar put down on Fourteenth Street will be passed to the next family to hold steady. To keep the Capone’s out of town, the coffee brewing, the pipes from banging and its story from being untold. Someone new will walk through the front door each day, and imprint their scenes into the story of this house. It is time for the history of the house to take a new path, and it is a precious time of trust and faithfulness for Mom and Dad.




“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But, seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Matthew 6: 26-33

Peace always begins with seeking God, so usually does the battle, and so usually the adventure.

House for Sale: Historic home in Ponca City, Oklahoma. 816 North Fourteenth Street.



[1] Walton, John Brooks, and Kathy Adams. More Historic Homes Of Ponca City and Kay County. Tulsa, JBW Publications. 2005.

[2] Brumley, Kim. Marland Tragedy: The Turbulent Story of a Forgotten Oklahoma Icon. Tate Publishing. 2010.

On June 9th, 2011, I sat still for a minute to write.  It was the birthday of one of my best friends who has appeared in this blog before, but I decided to write a post for Father’s Day that was coming up in a few weeks. I had only written two blogs so far and didn't really know how this blogging thing would work out.  The weekend before, I had been in Austin with Ryan and Jessica, and all of a sudden it looked like I was going to Ethiopia!  I didn’t end up finishing or posting this Father's Day blog that year, and the next blog that was posted was the one sharing the plans for that trip to Africa. Was that yesterday, or years ago? If you have been reading my blog since then, or know my family, you know that while I was in Ethiopia Dad was diagnosed with cancer. This post has been on my desktop since.  A few times I’ve gone back and read it, tweaked it, saved it and closed it.  Sometimes laughed and sometimes cried over it, knowing each time I was still feeling a little too...whatever I felt that kept me from sharing it. But, today is Dad’s 65th Birthday and I feel like celebrating!  I don't feel whatever, I'm just thankful.  He will probably be a little annoyed (he's kind of a private guy) and pleased (hopefully) all at the same time.  Maybe as you read this you will think of your dad, your step-dad, uncle, brother, husband or friend who has been a dad to you or is being a dad to someone you love. It's good to celebrate them, rather or not they sit beside you.  It's good to think on these things. Phil. 4:8-9.  Thanks for reading this for a minute as I celebrate mine. 

P.S. Dad, This is your homemade birthday present. I don't knit.

That's baby Dad in the middle wearing a diaper and leather zip up boots. That's how he rolled with Uncle Jim and cousin Joy.

He probably never even thought about being a dad someday. While he was riding Cushman’s, working on cars with his dad, learning to play ball, going to Coalton, OK where he was a grandson hearing the Italian accents of the immigrants, getting locked out of his grandpa’s living room once wrestling came on, and driving Uncle Sam’s old pickups while sitting on lawn chairs in the cab.  As he was being a son, and a brother and a buddy living up at Wrangle Heights, he probably never thought of being a dad someday.



Uncle Jim, Grandpa John and Dad.  That's the ghost barn in back.  I would tell that story, but it scares me.



Wrangle Heights morning.  Uncle Tom, Dad, neighbor friend, and Uncle Jim.



The Cushman.

As he became a Barnsdall Panther playing baseball, basketball and playing football in the 1966 State Championship game; driving a '36 Ford, taking mom out on dates, throwing fireworks off of the roof of police station as the police drove up and down Main Street trying to find where they were coming from; and doing a lot of other things he was never going to allow his kids to do...he probably never even thought about being a dad someday.


Barnsdall, OK Homecoming '65-'66 school year.  Mom and Dad are Tim and Glenda.


He might have thought about being a dad the day he married mom and thought about their life together. As they moved to Ponca City to begin working for Conoco and build a life, he might have thought about being a dad, maybe a dad like his dad. But, even as he held his first born son Christopher Shawn and became a dad; he probably had no idea what all being a dad would take.




Motorcycle Mechanics.




Wife and Son...and '36 Ford.  The same one in his garage today.




"Wait a minute!  Let me pull up right here.  Ok, take it."

When I was born he had a five year old son, so he had an idea what being a dad would take: some patience, work, laughter and family, but he probably had no idea what being my dad would take. He would have to hold my hand a lot. Sometimes just to make me sit still. He had to wipe the red lipstick off my mouth when I was 4 and he told me to go get ready to run errands and I came out of the bathroom my version of ready. He had to spank me sometimes, mostly for sass-mouthing like when I told him “Ok, well now I hate you and momma both” after they told me I couldn’t go to my friend’s house 10 minutes before supper. He then had to come and make up with me because friends don’t stay mad at each other. He had to take turns with mom telling me bedtime stories about leprechauns and rainbows. He would quietly say “Haley just because your teeth are green, doesn’t mean you have to like leprechauns.” He had to endure me “making up songs” on the piano. He had to pick me up after school in whatever old car, Harley or truck was running. Sometimes I would strut to my ride, sometimes I would duck and dodge hoping no one would see me getting in or on. He had to give me the “that is enough” look, when I wasn’t catching on that enough was enough. He had to follow through with what he told me, because I was going to try to reason a way around it. I've always been a talker-outter.  He had to teach me to drive a stick-shift, even after the first time when after grinding the gears so hard he didn’t say a word…he just opened the passenger side door, got out of the car and walked in the house. "Sooooo, are we not going to do this now?"  As he taught me to check the oil in my car (I won't mention the Dodge Stratus here), and he figured out with mom how to pay for my college, and put up with some swings in my mood.

He probably never knew how good of a dad he was being as he would get up to go work his midnight shift, talk to our coaches, feed Captain Nicholas J. Midnight, and prioritize time in Barnsdall with family.  He maybe didn’t realize that keeping the cars running, showing us right from wrong by example and learning patience would be part of the deal. Or, how much time would be required to take us to church, tell us no and tell us yes, go on a few vacations, go to ball games, teach us to shoot pool, like Westerns, and love our family.  Probably like all parents he may have thought at some times his best wasn’t good enough. But, it was, Dad. Not perfect, but way beyond just enough…all the way to good. He probably never considered how much his daughter would love him, and how thankful I would be to have him as my dad. He probably never considered I would have a deeper trust in God, and thankfulness for His goodness because of the dad He gave me. He probably never thought as he was disciplining me, teaching me, loving me, that even as an adult I would still need to hold his hand sometimes…just so I can sit still. I’m certain when we were born he had no idea what all being a dad would take.  He's still finding out, and he's still way beyond just enough...all the way to good...him, "and momma both."

We celebrated a little early a couple of weekends ago with Daddy's brother's Jim and Tom, aunts and cousins.  We had Mexican food for lunch and strawberry cake, a few favorites that Granny Toots used to feed us.  Dad doesn't have a mustache now, but he used to, and we played it up a little...






Jordi, Leigh, Katie and Chris

Brenda and Stephanie

                                       


I just wish they could let loose and have a good time.



Shawn Bon Jovi.



Me and Leigh



Greg, Stephanie and Ian carrying on the red hair! :)

Birdie makes even a mustache look pretty.



Winner of Best Use Of Mustaches:  Jagger McCloud.

Caleb, or "Calup" as Granny Toots called him, Aunt Treva and Colton, my cousin Shannon's boys. They brought their own mustaches to the party, but still played along.

Chris pulls this look off.

Good Sports: Tim, Tom, Jim



Incognito Scullys.  Just missing Jimmy, Steely and Jet.

 

In case you didn't recognize us.

Opening a few presents.

This is her 45th year celebrating his birthday as his wife.  Cutey McCutersons.


Happy Birthday Dad! 

Love,
Haley

I recently started trying to write some of my back story.  Some turning point moments.  I didn't have a blog when I was Baby Frank and first became a Christian, or when I was very much UnGracefully Frank and a little off course by a thousand miles.  Usually, I share about what has just happened.  But, here are a couple of stories of things that just happened a long time ago, and brought me to all of the stories that just happen now.  I wrote these a few months ago, but a few hours ago I got out of a counseling session where a woman several years younger than me, basically told me the same story you'll read below.  Different cars, different street names, a few different roads; same Jesus, some of the same questions.  Today she sat before me on the Couch.  Tonight I get to praise God I'm off of it, and had an opportunity to listen to her as my mom did me.  So, if she and I have both been here and there, maybe some of you have, too.  

The Cadillac

I’m sitting in the front seat of a cream colored, two-door, 1981 Cadillac Coupe de Ville with wire rims and cream colored leather interior. It’s night. It’s just me and mom in the car. I can see a million stars looking out the windshield over the roof of our house sitting in the cul-de-sac on Oriole Street, and I just asked Jesus into my heart.

My 2nd grader heart felt fear and relief as I asked Jesus into it. I know that language is getting some debate today, but in that moment for me it was real. I loved Jesus and I knew he loved me, and now he was mine. So with that done, we have to get inside because I have to take a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow is a school day. Whine a little bit, get my parents to bring me some water, tell me a story about leprechauns and rainbows (my favorite bedtime tale), decide which stuffed animal would get to sleep in the big bed with me, curl up under my yellow Holly Hobby bedspread and go “night night.” A Believer. On the path of redemption with roads way ahead already preparing to diverge.



Mom and I have swapped hair color, Chris doesn't wear brown suits anymore, and Daddy  has shaved since then, but that is the car I was sitting in when I asked Christ to be my Savior.  This is an Easter morning picture a couple of years before that night, and I'm pretty sure Dad didn't wear that t-shirt to church.

I don’t remember the exact day or words, but I remember the exact spot where I asked Jesus to be my Savior. I still drive by our old house sometimes to reminisce and see the mailbox my dad put in and the tree in the front yard we planted about the same time I started kindergarten.  It wasn't all that long ago.  We were church-goers. I don’t remember Sunday School lessons about heaven and hell. I remember loaves and fishes. Giants and slingshots. Angels and a manger. Walking on water, and that Jesus loved me because I was a little children. But I don’t remember being taught about hell. I do remember a few times tuning into a sermon about Hell though. And I do remember lying in bed, listening to the alarm clock radio mom and dad let me have where in my memory Glory of Love is always playing, and thinking that even Heaven sounded a little bit scary…going up so high and staying so long…like forever. But, I liked Jesus and every time they talked about him my heart would just about pound out of my chest. I wanted him to save me. I did lie sometimes. I looked my parents in the eye without flinching and told them it was not me who put the loaf of bread in the microwave with the metal twisty still holding it closed, which sparked a fire burning the plastic bread sack all over the bread and microwave. And, it was not me who just threw it on the counter and ran. I’m pretty sure they had to of known the truth, but I didn’t crack. I was a no good dirty liar, and if lying was a sin, and Jesus saved sinners, I needed saving. I also sometimes said (said/say, whatever) dirty words, and went into my brother’s room when he wasn’t home and played with his stuff. Specifically Luke, Leia, Han and the Millennium Falcon. The depth of my depravity knew no end.

After asking Jesus into my heart and life, I remember being so excited to get to church on Sunday to tell my Sunday School teacher that I was saved! I finally did it!  I couldn’t wait to go down the aisle in big church and let everyone come by and shake my hand. One of the deacons came over to our house and talked with me about what I had decided: that I was a sinner and I believed who Jesus is, and I wanted/needed him to save me. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whosoever believeth in him will not perish, but have ever lasting life. John 3:16  So they scheduled my baptism for an upcoming Sunday night, which mom and dad followed up with some ice cream at Braums, which is how we celebrate in Oklahoma. I couldn’t wait to get to school the next day and tell everyone. I’m SAVED! However, neither me nor Jesus were the scuttle butt on the playground. A couple of my friends knew what I was talking about, but no one really cared. They were lining up to get a drink at the water fountain, not to shake my hand. “Uh…so who wants to play 4-square? Anyone up for Red Rover or House?” Maybe one of the first of many times I kind of scooted Him back behind me.

I had asked for His life in me, and he gave it. It would be years before I would give my life to Him. 

Another brief aside...We can't just stop at John 3:16 and we can't throw it out either.  It's no less true today than it was when written..."whosoever believe..."  But, we have to be sure what we believe.  Do we believe in a prayer?  Or in WHO Jesus Christ truly is.  That is a really important question.  If you can say "I prayed a prayer" but you can't say "I have a relationship with Christ," even a strained one, then start asking questions. My relationship with Him has been strained before...

The Couch

Mom and I were sitting on the couch. Still in our pajamas. Again, I don’t remember the exact day. We were a long way from that starry night in the front seat of the Cadillac. I was on a big peach colored couch in a room with mint green walls, and dark wood trim.  Our living room in Ponca. My senior picture hung on the wall next to my brother’s, and it had been many years since the nails were driven to hang them. Probably almost ten. I’m sure I was holding onto a pillow, as per usual, and drinking coffee. (Weak coffee.) I don’t know my exact words, but as I spent several years sounding much like a broken record, it is not hard to retrace my verbal steps. I’m sure I reminded her how much I used to love the Lord. Probably listing my resume from youth group years, how I didn’t get into that much trouble and tried to share Jesus with friends so they wouldn’t go to Hell. And all the love I felt for Christ at Falls Creek, where my relationship with Christ grew each year.  I always learned so much, and surrendered to live my life for Him.  I actually went forward one year to be the wife of a preacher. True story. I surrendered to be a wife. Cute. I knew God was calling me to live for him, but I was not going to go to Africa (which basically just symbolized all places beyond the borders of Oklahoma) and I am not called to pastor a church, so I must be called to be one’s wife, to help him in his ministry. Missionary or Preacher’s wife were my only known choices. Heart pounding out of my chest again, I went forward and surrendered to God...and the husband I’ve still never met.  :)  My teen years.  Good times.

I’m sure, as I sat there talking to Mom, I even confessed the years that I turned from the Lord and followed my own will. Knowing I sinned against him in relationships and actions but that I was a lot better than a lot of other sinners, and repenting of those things I had lived as best as I could. I know that led me to a discourse on the reasonable doubt that God must not exist, because I knew him in my youth, I had been trying to live a good life, and my life still was not what I wanted it to be. Where was He? (I thought that having a relationship with God meant Him giving me the life I wanted; not about me giving back to Him the life He gives me.) The Christians I was surrounded by (I was not in church, but worked with some professed Christians) were some of the meanest people I had ever been around; and the people of other religions, and of no faith, were the people I was growing in relationship with, and saw their hearts to do good. I didn’t see God in my life, I didn’t see good in people who professed God in their life, and I was tired of the struggle. I didn't realize then, that I was justifying and passing blame off on others for me not having a growing relationship with God. I let their hypocrisy be my scapegoat. I kind of don't think Jesus is going to say "Oh what? Are you serious!?!?  They were hypocritical so that is why you didn't follow me?  I totally get that.  It's totally ok that you looked to their life to justify yours...instead of looking to Mine." I know that now, but it was a long road to finally see it.  My 20's.  Good times.

As my mom listened to me telling her that I didn’t know if God was real and why, she cried. And, so did I. She’s not usually one with a lack of words, but she didn’t say much that day. I was a little unsettled she didn’t try hard to fight me on it, because I was ready with my defense. She knew I hadn’t been in church for years, and the only thing she asked is if I would just commit to going to a women’s bible study like one she had been going to for a few years. To listen there and actually try to hear from God and not just the people I had been surrounded by. She was as discouraged for me as I was.  She didn’t lecture me, she just asked that I do a little bit more leg work before I called it quits. The road I was on was diverging again, and she pointed, didn't push, me in a direction that led to Life.  She knew Whose words I needed and that her words wouldn’t have worked that day. She went to Bible Study Fellowship in Ponca, and there were a couple of women’s groups that met in Tulsa. I told her I would go.  (And, I did.)

I had sat by her in the Cadillac and prayed to accept Christ, and then I sat by her on the Couch and renounced him.

(Thanks for always sitting by me Mom.)


"You do not fail in obedience through lack of love, but you have lost love because you never attempted obedience."  C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength

And so this is Christmas…

This morning I woke up, put on my new sweater robe that feels like cashmere and cost like cotton, and went straight to the window to see how much snow we got overnight. Here’s how much: none. But that’s ok. Then as we one by one got out of bed, fixed our cup of coffee or hot chocolate and found our way to the living room, we got ready to open gifts. Youngest to oldest, Shawn Bon Jovi to Grandma Bonnie, one at a time so we can see what everyone gets. I got a little sign to hang about being an Aunt that made me tear up, because I love being an Aunt because I love my nieces and nephew...even when they severely beat me at Farkle. I got the perfume I asked for, and an Oklahoma coffee cup to drink coffee from while in Texas. Happy sigh.

Comfort and Joy.

This has been a really good week. Mom’s birthday was Tuesday, and I was able to make it to OKC in time to have dinner with her and Daddy, Chris, Leigh, Jordan, Birdie and Shawn. On Wednesday we shopped and drove around a few neighborhoods in Edmond just checking things out. We had a Christmas concert, and a church party to attend Wednesday night. Then a little time was spent looking at Christmas lights. Happy sigh.

Comfort and Joy.

On Saturday we had a Christmas get-together with the Harmon side of our family. We missed Kyle Ray, but everyone else was at my parent’s house for soups, snacks and sing-a-long. We are cheesy, and we are ok with that. Growing up, on Christmas Eve, we always sang Christmas songs together in my grandparents little living room. Piled on top of one another. In pjs. Some singing harmony. Pa singing base. Cigarette smoke wafting (eventually everyone kicked the cigs). Coffee. Usually at least one person sick, and one kid crying, and some of us being told to sit down and calm down. Some things don’t change. We had a great day together on Saturday. Happy sigh.

Comfort and Joy.

Katie, me, Shawn, Chris, Mom, Dad, Jordan, Leigh

Here is our serious group picture.

My brother Chris, and my Dad.



Uncle Mike and Ryland

Lane and Isaac

Isaac, Jennifer, Macy, Emily, Sloan, Riann, Parker, Jordan

Mom and Macy

The piano. Happy sigh.



Grandma Bonnie



Aunt Jeana, Mindy and Hope



Our musicians.

Baby Sloan.  This was her first time.

Sunday began with seeing the church family I grew up with and ended with a night with friends I grew up with. Seeing their faces in the faces of their kids is ridiculously cute to me, and laughing like we were still in high school is ridiculously fun to me. We closed down Mazzio’s pizza which our friend who owns it was gracious to allow us to crash. I love these friends.  Happy sigh.

Comfort and Joy.

Dawn, Sarah, Me and Tiff. Thanks for this picture Justin. :)

Seeing all of these friends and family makes me remember just how much I have to love. There is just something about this time of year, especially after the year we’ve had: the cancer, the trials, the trips, the reminders in this world of how short life can be that makes me stop and just soak in love. Be thankful for love. "Love with urgency, but not with haste." Appreciate love. Enjoy love. Express love. Celebrate Love.

The Love that brought heaven to earth. God to man. Born to die, so we may live. Freedom from death and sin. Abundant life that has nothing to do with things, and everything to do with our heart. So that come what may, we may have Peace, because we have Hope. Jesus. God rest ye merry gentlemen. Let nothing ye dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day. To save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray. Oh tidings of comfort and joy. I've had the refrain from Jami Smith's version of this song in my head all week.  Maybe you will like it too. Click here to go to her video: Jami Smith - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Happy sigh.

Our family nativity.

Merry Christmas.  I'm so thankful to have shared this year with you.

Love...