Overwhelming art.

On the morning of September 21st, the day after our churches annual meeting, I woke up with an idea. It was an idea that was so clear, and so fully formed that I knew it wasn't my own idea, so I welcomed it and knew eventually it would happen. However, life is busy, and sadly most often my art is what loses out. This was however, an idea that was birthed of the Holy Spirit so it would not sit quietly and wait for long. Shortly after, with some not so gentle nudging from God,  I approached my pastor about putting up some artwork at church and just vaguely explained the idea and got his approval to hang it.

Next was deciding where at church to hang it so I knew what size canvas to get. The wall we chose is quite large, so a 5x6 foot canvas is what I purchased. (getting it home was surely an adventure I won't soon forget). I made my templates and started working on cutting out some paper dolls in my spare time. I was still sort of just taking my time, figuring that I wouldn't need to hurry and I could just do it at my own pace, I had no deadline.

Then the day came when I had decided I would tackle my back ground. I had a feeling I was in trouble when I started to unwrap the plastic from it and I was overwhelmed with emotion and began to cry. However, I just chalked it up to the fact that it was so large and it had been a while since I'd done any canvas work, (never mind the fact that I cry often and easily).

I picked my paint colors and began painting on the background colors. As I was painting, an idea that had come to mind a few days early showed up again. The idea that my church family should be part of this. Since this was to represent that we were all moving together, yet, in our own uniqueness, in disciplining others to know Jesus and experience life in Him, maybe this was truly bigger than just me. However, as I had earlier, I dismissed the idea as ridiculous and moved on. Well, about half way through getting the background painted,  the overwhelming feeling that I was supposed to share this idea with my pastor was almost crippling. I set my paint brush down, emailed my pastor, nearly begging him to not like the idea so I didn't have to be responsible for all that. Of course he loved the idea and then all of the sudden I had a deadline.

So I figured out how many dolls I was going to need to cover the canvas the way I wanted it. To say I was shocked that it was going to take so many was an understatement. Good thing I have so many good, and willing friends and family that can cut out paper dolls while we have great conversations or watch TV together. Forever grateful for them all.

All the dolls were all brought to church for 2 Sundays in a row and set out for people to sign them. I then had 2 weeks to get the canvas done. To say that I greatly underestimated the amount of time this would take to complete is an understatement. I would spend hours getting the dolls onto the canvas only to step back and take a look and it wouldn't look any further along than it had when I first started it. Outlining them after they were all on the canvas took an entire 8 hours. I never anticipated that.

Another thing I didn't anticipated is the way that God spoke to me through it. He asked that I pray for each person as I put them on the canvas. Not just general prayers but real true personal prayers. For most of them there was no way for me to know who this person was who had written their name. As I placed each one on the canvas  I placed my hand over it and He spoke to me about the needs of each person. There were some that were quick easy prayers and then there were some that flooded me with emotion and I had to pause and pray fervently as the tears would flow.  I was extremely overwhelmed by the weight of  this piece and truly in awe that God had chosen me to be part of this.

That part, the part right there, when it becomes not merely something I do, but something that God does through my art that I so desperately wish I could fully and adequately explain to people in such a way that you could get a glimpse into the experience. Holy Spirit lead art, for me, is a more personal and intimate than any worship experience, and prayer time, and any time in the word that I have ever experienced. No Jesus Culture concert, no Women's conference or Good Friday or Christmas Eve service comes even close in comparison. It is no longer I that am creating, but God creating through me. Each stroke of the brush is from God, each color choice, image placement, medium used, is Gods.

At the end of it, when the piece is completed, when it is given away, hung up or presented I walk away humbled from the experience, and wishing I could just blend into the background and not be part of the recognition of it all. I'm emotionally, physically and spiritually spent and it usually takes me a day or two to recover from the experience. I so desperately want to sit in that space forever, to feel the closeness of my Maker, to feel His hand in mine, to so clearly hear His words guiding me along. Sadly the noise of the world and the every day grind creeps in and takes over....until the next time. I can't wait for the next time.

A Warrior? Who? Me?

Some time ago God told me He sees me as a warrior. I thought that was the silliest thing ever. Me, a warrior? Ridiculous! For the life of me I couldn't see what He saw so I tucked it away for a later time when maybe it would make sense. Well, it's beginning to....

I've been involved in ministry in one way or another for about the last 8 or 9 years, kids ministry, host team and small group ministry. I have loved it all! However, until now it hasn't really been all that challenging.

Now, I've stepped into a role in ministry that seems to consume me. I should preface this by saying that this consumption is a good thing. It's this thing where it consumes me because I want so desperately to do well that which I've been called to do at this stage in my journey. Growing the Kingdom of God is not something to be taken lightly.

As I look back it seems to have begun in Costa Rica when I asked God to reveal to me just how exactly He expected me to lead. He gave me Ephesians 4:1-3, '.....walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.' Doesn't seem any less of a daunting task now than it did then, however, I have come to understand that He doesn't expect me to be and do all those things on my own, for without Him, I cannot accomplish anything.

I have stepped into a role in ministry as a coach of small group leaders. Being a leader of leaders, oh my! When I sit down with these men and women that have embraced their ability to love on others, to encourage others and through all this are making a Kingdom impact, I'm humbled to think that God has positioned me in such a place to come along side these people and lead them. This is not a role to take lightly, something that I should be consumed by, something this important cannot be a part time commitment.

So when through my studies God repeatedly takes me to passages of battles, that term warrior keeps making an appearance. Through every battle there is a reoccurring theme, if they listen and obey God and do as He has commanded, they win. If they follow their own strategy and stray from the path that God has set before them, they lose. If their leader, the warrior in charge, doesn't fear God and lead his army to do the same, defeat is inevitable. However, when they listen to God and obey His commands they win battles in sometimes ridiculous ways that one cannot question that it is a battle won by the Lord.

This mornings reading took me to a place in my Bible that I had journaled as I was preparing to go to Costa Rica,  Joshua 1. It is the passage where Moses has died and God has commissioned Joshua to take his place and lead His people into the Promise Land. In this passage God reminds Joshua not to stray from what the Book of the Law says, in verse 8 God says 'This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous and then you will have good success.' A perfect reminder that I cannot fight this battle, I cannot win this war, if I am not consistently immersed in the Word of God.

So okay, I suppose Warrior might be a "thing", however, one thing is for certain, it is a not a role I take lightly. I believe that I am in the most important battle of my life, growing the Kingdom of God and leading others to do the same. All the while praying, reading, listening and obeying the commands of the King, for it is only through this that I will be successful.

Being eaten, one nibble at a time.

So there's this thing that's been gnawing at me for a while. I keep feeding it snacks in hope to keep it at bay, but it's becoming ravenous and pretty soon it will consume me entirely. The problem is I cannot for the life of me figure out how to fit it in.

I have this deep, burning, needful, desire to totally throw myself into a great big giant messy paint filled canvas of amazing awesomeness. I have visions of rolling out canvas in the middle of my living room floor and painting with my fingers, my hands, my elbows, my knees and my feet. To feel the coolness of the paint just seeping into my pores. To spend days finding paint that I didn't know was there to wash off.

I have ideas and thoughts and visions in my head of things to do, big, bold, colorful, loud fabulous ideas. Things that I'm trying so desperately to appease into calmness by doodling my refrigerator, journaling in my Bible and random doodles left willy nilly all over the place at work.

Life keeps happening. Work keeps happening. Time keeps sucking away. How do I fit it all in?

Always A Choice.

ADOPTION:
1: to take legally as one's own child
2 : to take as one's own 
3 : to accept formally 

Adoption plays a big part in our life. We have 1 daughter that we adopted when she was a year old, and another that we adopted as an adult. I myself have been adopted by my Dad. My husbands side of the family has had several adoptions through the years. Adoption is an awesome thing!

Along with my 2 adopted children I also have 3 biological children. So I have experienced both ends of the spectrum. We planned our pregnancies so none of them were a surprise, although we'd have welcomed any had they been. Here's the thing though, adoption is 100% ALWAYS a choice. NEVER can anyone say, "oops, we thought we were careful but, we adopted". Sure, there are probably times when adoptions happen that weren't planned, our first adoption was that way, we weren't looking for it but the opportunity presented itself and we gladly accepted it. However, we still had a choice, we could have chosen not to. When we said yes to adoption we said yes to giving these children a loving, safe, forever home. These children have come into our homes looking for a family, for a mom and a dad and possibly siblings. People to love and be loved by always. Not a temporary home, like foster care or orphanages can be, but a forever home.

My heart is just so grieved by the local news of a family who chose adoption and then chose to abuse their adopted children. My heart is grieved by the fact that for one of our daughters, this is her 2nd adoption. My heart is grieved by the gruesome stories of sweet babies that could have been put up for adoption but were aborted and are now being sold as parts.

Worse then my heart being grieved is that it grieves the heart of God. A loving, caring God who adopted us all into His family if WE choose to be. The enemy is so cruel, he doesn't care how he goes about getting his foothold and spreading hate instead of love. No one is safe, not even the children.

Prayers abound from my heart for all of this. I rest in the promise that Joy will come in the morning, because He is good, all the time, He is good.

A Letter to the Oldest Child

One Sunday as I was sitting in the lobby of our church doing some Bible Journaling, there was a group of young mom's gathered on the couch in front of the fire place sharing stories. One of the things they were talking about was how spoiled their youngest sibling is/was. About all the things that were different about how they were raised vs how their youngest sibling is/was. How they got away with so much more, how they have so much more. Being an oldest child, I totally get this, I too had those same complaints when I was younger, then....I had children of my own.

I have 5 kids, some born to me, some not, some I raised from infancy some didn't become mine till they were older, they're all mine just the same. As I listened to the complaints of the Moms around the fireplace that Sunday morning things stirred in me. As I listen to my own oldest complain about similar things, I feel compelled to explain. So here goes:

That oldest child, the very first born, a culmination of first time excitement and fear all rolled into one. You discover you're pregnant and get to experience that for the very first time, It's all new and strange and fascinating. For the very first time you get to feel the joys and pains of pregnancy and labor and delivery. You have nothing else to compare it to so you do what you think is right based on what the doctor tells you, the countless books and articles you read and advice of women who've been through it before. You make what you feel are the best choices about it all, learning as you go along. However, when the next one comes along, you learn what worked with the first one, what didn't and you start from there.

As you raise your first one, you've never done this before, you have no point of reference for any of this. It's all trial and error. Which bottle to use, what diapers work best, strict schedule or fly by the seat of your pants? What schools are best? Do you spend the money on expensive clothes/shoes or will they grow so fast it's not worth it? Do you let them stay up late on weekends? Can they drink soda? Hold old is old enough to stay home alone? Can they stay at friends houses? When should they learn how to ride a bike? The list is virtually endless and for the most part, you don't have any of the answers.

The next ones come along and you've got the basics down but each child is different and what worked for one may not work for the others. Praises that mean something to one child, another may not care about that. Punishments that worked for one, may not phase the next. Encouragements in certain areas may send one child zooming to excel and the next one may not have that same love language so you have to find one that works for them. There is no magic formula that you can employ to raise each child the same, because thank God, each one is so different.

So, by the time that youngest child comes around, lots of things have happened, your parents have grown older, hopefully they've also grown wiser, but they've certainly grown tired. When that youngest child comes along you've discovered, for the most part, what battles are important, what ones, if handled properly, can be avoided, and what ones aren't even worth having. The things we thought were important when the oldest was young we've come to discover isn't really worth the struggle. Would I like his room to stay clean, yep, sure would, but I'd much rather just shut the door than have that fight. When my oldest was younger I thought that it was important for her to have a clean room, how could I possibly teach her how to keep a house when she's older if I don't make her keep her room clean? Never mind the fact that mine is almost never clean. (do as I say not as I do right?). However, I've learned that when they move out they manage to figure it out and all those battles about the messy room weren't really worth it after all.

The other thing that happens as the oldest grows up and moves out and you only have 1 or 2 left at home that seems to make the oldests think the youngests are spoiled, is as parents we now have more money. The one thing that I remember being so excited about when my oldests moved out was suddenly my shampoo lasted me WEEKS!!! Literally, I used the same shampoo for almost a MONTH!!! Toilet paper was another, by the time grocery day came around again I still had some left from the last grocery day and I didn't go buy any in between!! It was glorious. My water bill went down, my electric/gas bills went down, my grocery bill went down. So things that we gave up years before have now crept back into our lives. We got cable again, we go out to eat more often, we buy steaks more often. We're not spoiling our youngest, we're spoiling ourselves!

So oldests, you got the best and the worst of your parents. You got the best because you were the only child that could ever say they were our only for a time. You are the only one that got our full, undivided attention at all times. You got us when parenthood was a new and fun, an exciting adventure. You were the only one that didn't get sibling hand me downs. You got the worst because you were also the one that we learned what not to do. We're so grateful for those learning experiences with you and hope that as you have children of your own we can share those trials with you so you may learn from them as well. Know this for sure though, we love you all so very, very much, and from oldest to youngest I wouldn't change a thing.

When healing isn't part of God's plan

In July of 2013 my Mom was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. We were devastated. Her oncologist was insistent that we start treatment immediately, which we were grateful for, yet, also concerned about.

The scans they did showed tumors throughout her liver and her lungs. My Mom didn't want to even see her scans, it was all very frightening to her. We were later to discover that it had also gotten to her bones, and quite possibly her brain.

We all started to say our prayers, asking for God's healing hand to reach down and erase all signs of the cancer from her body. Praying continuously for just that. Our God is the Great Physician, there is nothing He cannot do and we were trusting Him for it.

Several treatments later, her scans were repeated and the tumors in her liver were all but gone, and the one large tumor in her lungs had shrunk considerably. Praise God!! We asked for healing and that's what we were getting....or at least more time with her.

You see, during one of my prayer times with God, as I prayed desperately, pleading for the life of my Mother, God shared with me that healing was not part of His plan. I was devastated. I couldn't understand how His plan didn't include her healing. Further more, how could He share that with me? It took some time before I could ask Him, if healing wasn't part of His plan, what was?

His answer was so beautiful, to this day I can still hear it just as He spoke it, "let me show you My Glory". God had something He wanted to do and my Mom's illness and death was to be part of how He did it. I wish I could say that I was immediately excited to see what He was going to do, but I wasn't. Especially after seeing those scans, I have to admit I thought maybe God had changed His mind. However, it wasn't long after that that we began to see evidence that it wasn't going to "stick". I needed to change my perspective.

So as God had reminded me repeatedly, He was going to show us His Glory, I started to be intentional about watching for it. It wasn't big earth shattering things, just small things, but things that added up.

My Mom's Faith had suddenly blossomed. She was saying things I'd never heard her say before, she had a new Hope that seemed to just run through her. Not only was she saying things about God to us, her family, but it seemed that it just flowed into conversations with everyone. One of my favorite things I remember her saying to one of the chemo nurses was "I see cancer as a win-win, either I'm here on earth praising God or I'm in heaven praising God". God's Glory.

 There was a shift in her attitude and her demeanor, and because of that shift there was also a shift in mine with her as well. Suddenly I found myself having conversations I wished I had been able to have had with her throughout my adult life.  A life time of hurt and misunderstandings gone in a matter of weeks as we sat though her chemo treatments together, talked on the phone, and visited with each other. I suddenly had the relationship with my Mom that I'd always wanted. I was so completely grateful for that opportunity. God's Glory.

My brother had a bit of a falling out with our family for a while, hurt feelings, misunderstandings and things just seemed so far from repair. I missed my brother something fierce and had just resigned myself to understanding that the relationship we once had would probably never be again. Personal conversations just weren't going to happen any more and things were just stiff and informal. Our family would just have this tear in it that we'd all step over and be grateful that it hadn't ripped completely and that we had hung on to small shreds still attached.Then, Mom got sick and suddenly things changed. There was an urgency to make things right, to make things better, to agree to disagree and just love one another. It wasn't a pretty or an easy mending, and there are still some gaps here and there, but we all got a taste of what is important, what matters. I suddenly had my brother back and I am overjoyed. God's Glory.

Through all this I learned to shift perspective. I learned that no matter what I'm going through that if I just try to find God's perspective that I can see things differently than I do through my own eyes. I have found that through Mom's illness I was able to learn how to trust in God in ways that I never had before. I had trusted that He would provide for me and my family, that He would make things good, often times even better than I expected. This was the first time that I knew that He wasn't going to make things all better and good. In the end, my Mom was going to die from this terrible disease. I learned to trust Him in ALL things, even the things that don't turn out all pretty with a bow on top. In ALL things God is good. God's Glory.

My Mother died on January 21st 2014 in a hospital bed in Janesville Mercy Hospital. She was surrounded by her children who all sobbed as we gave her permission to let go and land in the arms of her Heavenly Father. She took her last breath as I read the last line of Psalm 23. It was a beautiful passing, and as much as my heart broke that she was no longer with us I had blessed assurance that she was in Glory, God's Glory.

Part of why I share this story, is to say, that sometimes God's plan is painful. Sometimes healing isn't part of His plan. Sometimes He has plans that are bigger than healing. I look at all the things that have occurred through my Mom's death and if God had chosen to just heal my Mom, yes, we would have had the testimony of a miracle, but we would have missed out on so much more. Over time I imagine that a miracle of Mom's healing would have lost it's luster, it would have become common place in our lives and eventually it may have even been forgotten, or possibly, we might have not even seen it as a miracle. The lessons I learned, the things that God showed me through all of this, continue to help me grow in my walk with God. They have given me wisdom to share with others, a testimony that speaks volumes, one that I think of and repeat often. God's Glory.

God's plan is often nothing like our plan, God's plan, is ALWAYS perfect. God's Glory.

24 Years

24 Years, 24 years as Mrs. Lisa Gifford, that's a glorious thing! I'll be honest when I said I do and imagined 24 years later, this isn't what I imagined. There's no way I could've. Our lives are so much different now than they were then.

The day we said "I Do", in 1991, it snowed. Yes, it snowed. Gotta love Wisconsin weather. Man, we were just kids. I look at my own kids, and yes, I know 2 of them are engaged, yet, I think, you're not old enough to be thinking of getting married. They're just kids. There is so much they don't know yet!

However, I wouldn't change getting married to Jerry at 23 for the world. At the time, I truly felt like he was saving me. Saving me from the mess that I felt my family was, saving me from the financial disasters I'd created, and in essence saving me from myself. He was my safe place. Probably not the healthiest way to step into an life long commitment, but it's what I felt the time. I wasn't wise enough, or mature enough, and no one had taught me that marriage was to be something more than a life preserver.

The first year was exciting and stressful all at the same time. Still kids trying how to figure out how to do all this, then on our first anniversary we brought home our first child. The next year, we adopted our 2nd, the 3rd year we gave birth to our third. Those first years of our marriage is a blur of changing diapers, chasing toddlers, pinching pennies and qualifying trips to the grocery store while my parents watched our daughters for an hour, as a date.

Now 24 years later, all but 2 of our 5 kids are out of the house, 4 of them out of school with our youngest just finishing up his Junior year in high school. Our lives have gone from chasing toddlers, kissing boo-boo's and eating pretend food, to praying that the things we taught our kids along the way will have stuck as they step into adulthood. Trying not to focus on the areas of our parenting where we wish would have known so that we could have done things differently, and trusting that God will fill in the gaps. As for dates, we can date when ever we want to, no sitters, no "need to be home by" time, heck not even planning ahead if we don't want to, we just decide to go and we do, it's a beautiful thing.

In year 24, I no longer feel as though I need him to save me. In the 24 years we've been married, he's encouraged me, he's come along side me, he's given me courage, shares his wisdom, and loves me more deeply that I ever knew was possible.  So yes, I guess he did save me, but in ways I could never have imagined. He saved me by showing me I had worth, by showing me that I could be strong, he saved me by loving me.

In talking with one of our engaged daughters and her fiancee, he told them, "you think you're in love now, and I'm not doubting that you are, but the love you feel for one another now, is minuscule compared to the love you will feel when you've been married as long as we have". Oh so true.  It's like trying to describe what chocolate tastes like to someone whose never ate it. There just aren't words.

One of the biggest, and greatest changes from year 1 to year 24 is that God is the center of our marriage. Not that we weren't both believers when we were first married, however, we just didn't understand that there was more to it than just believing. We didn't understand that whole relationship with God thing. Our marriage might have been good up until we figured out that God needed to be the center of it, but nothing compared to how it is now. It's like comparing a pair of boots from Walmart to a pair of  Frye leather  boots. I thought Walmart boots were good, and cute and yay, they were cheap. Until I got my first pair of Frye boots and oh my goodness, mind blown!! No way would I ever want put a pair of Walmart boots again. (no offense to those that like Walmart boots, just had to speak my language there for a bit LOL).

So, as we start the next 24+ years of our lives together I look forward to all the adventures that await us. I'm already resigned to the fact that it most likely won't look anything like I imagine it will. I cannot presume to know God's plan for our lives, but He's faithful and He's good and I know that no matter what the next chapters of our lives look like that it's what He has in store for us. I'm so grateful each day for the gift of being Mrs. Jerry Gifford II, it's been better than my wildest imagination!