Five Minute Friday – stay

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Sometimes Kleenex, or in this case, a paper napkin, and words go together beautifully. Poignantly.

Our hands were still clasping around the circle. The ladies in my writers’ group had just finished praying. So many words, a few tears, precious, tender moments shared by women who love the Word and words. We don’t even hang out aside from our monthly meetings. I don’t know anyone’s birthday unless it’s on facebook. If I had a Christmas card list, they’d probably all be on it but we don’t speak very often or ever but once a month. Yet I love them so.

We are missing one of our beloved writer moms, Kristi, but we had Flat Stanleyette join us!

And when we enter into that holy, sacred place for about 90 minutes, our hearts are entwined and are pens are prolific, it is majesty. I learn that I’m not the only one who feels inadequate, discouraged, beaten down, anointed, driven and terribly imperfect, compelled to write and express.

“Wait. Stay. We have to get this moment.”

So after the “Amen” in our group, I felt the Lord speak to me. Hang on, ladies. Stay. I grabbed my camera and asked the ladies for one more brief moment in their midst. I didn’t want it to end. I had to capture our time together. Click.

Even got the Hubs to take pictures.
Words join us together and we acknowledge the Giver of words.
Nothing…autism, anxiety, illness, finances,
family woes, Alzheimer’s, aging parents, childhood memories,
these things do not separate us, they unite us.
Those extra moments of staying together carry me through today.

Seriously, you should do this. You have five minutes of voice and words. http://lisajobaker.com

Every Friday at 12:01am a few hundred (or is it closer to thousand?) women pop on over to Lisa-Jo’s page to find out what the word of the next 5 minutes will be.

No over thinking.
No editing.
No extreme planning and linking and photographing.
Just FIVE minutes of writing to see what comes out.

Here are a few of my writer’s friends’ blogs, check them out!

Still Delighted
Joy Goggles

A Matter of Grace
Sharing Life

Five Minute Friday – quiet

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Glamming it up at the lake – NOT

You won’t see me wearing “buds” in my ears when I’m walking or pretending to run around the lake. I have been assaulted in two countries – mugged in Peru and spit upon by a total stranger in France, I like to see and hear things before they approach me. Gotta be watchful after those kind of experiences, trust me.

Instead I enjoy hearing the ducks quack, the white swan bellow and the squirrels skitter. Dogs patter by and of course the people scuffle or rush past me. That’s all the earthly sounds I need.

I enjoy all those sounds but the thing I enjoy most, ironically, is the quiet. I spend a lot of time talking to God on these walks/jogs. Yesterday I logged over six miles around the lake and all the while, the Lord and I discussed life and my struggles. If I had music blasting in my ears, I’m certain I wouldn’t hear his voice. Instead the peaceful surroundings afford me a chance to reflect. To be still even though I’m walking/running if that makes any sense.

These are the sights and sounds I enjoy as I walk around the lake

Contemplative times around the lake

In the quiet, the Holy Spirit gets my attention. He bestows insight and courage. To move forward, to grieve, to heal, to contemplate, I need the quiet. I’ve asked the Lord why He has me going to a lake to exercise. It’s cold outside, not especially picturesque with the trees becoming barren.

And I believe He is telling me He wants to spend time with me alone. Just Father and daughter time.

Five Minute Friday – roots

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Attacking roots

Picking weeds
Attacking roots
Anger, anxiety, bitterness, jealousy, shame, fear
Regrets

Firming rooted in my faith in Christ
I now have the courage to get my hands dirty
Digging deep and hard

childhood home on Roosevelt Road, I did a lot of weeding and dug out many roots

As much as I hate weeding
I do enjoy that satisfied feeling
Grabbing ahold of an ugly, unwelcome root
Victoriously
Knowing it no longer lives where it does not belong

A recent visit to Chicago to drop my middle OS (olive shoot) off at Moody Bible Institute, allowed me to return to my roots.
I visited two of my childhood homes
I do not think it is humanly possible to visit a childhood home without tears

Aaron took some pictures of my home
Cars speeding past as fast as my life
The Hubs took me to my first home as a baby
Pangs of grief but love
Time stood still there

I was relieved and blessed to see my grandparents’ home well manicured. It was sad to go back to my roots but it would have been miserable if it had been in shambles.

Visiting roots, keeping the good
Pulling weeds, removing the bad

Every Friday at 12:01am a few hundred (or is it closer to thousand?) women pop on over to Lisa-Jo’s page to find out what the word of the next 5 minutes will be.

No over thinking.
No editing.
No extreme planning and linking and photographing.
Just FIVE minutes of writing to see what comes out.

Five Minute Friday – VOICE

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It’s a “flash mob” of writers. Every Friday at 12:01am a few hundred (or is it closer to thousand?) women pop on over to Lisa-Jo’s page to find out what the word of the next 5 minutes will be.

No over thinking.

No editing.

No extreme planning and linking and photographing.

Just FIVE minutes of writing to see what comes out.

I wrote this on my kitchen blackboard last night not knowing that today I would be writing about VOICE. I think that is interesting. Thank you, Lord.

It’s not ironic or a coincidence that Five Minute Friday’s writing prompt is VOICE.

Hearing God’s voice can be difficult.

Sometimes it comes to me as thunder.

I’ve learned that Psalm 29 was probably a song. A majority of the song describes the sounds and impacts of a severe thunderstorm. The word “voice” is an ordinary Hebrew word which can also mean sound. These are the notes in my Bible this week.

Like literally thunder. Scary, booming and intimidating.

Other times it’s a soft whisper.

Did you just say that, God?

Are you sure?

Tell me again, please.

A private communication shared by daughter and Father.

I’m in a weekly Bible study and we’re studying Psalms.

This week I’ve been reading contemplating the voice of the LORD.

What that means to me in many ways.

When I was a child and prone to nightmares, the only voice that seemed to soothe me was my father’s voice.

Not an award-winning father, (understatement), my dad’s voice was the perfect blend of stern and caring

Not always, mind you (see above parenthetical comment),

But when the shapes were crashing in around me

Triangles, rectangles and circles whirling toward me like meteorites in my dreams

I really did have those kind of visual nightmares often as a little girl

I was only comforted by his voice

The same is true today

Though I look up and listen heavenward

Through the din and clamor of this world,

I’m inclining my ear to the One who understands and hears me

My moans and aches and prayers

He catches my attention in the way only a Father of the eternal kind can do.

Raising sons with a spiritual heritage when you didn’t have any

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As I watched my orange hair, freckle face OS read Psalm 110 before the congregation today, I couldn’t help but wonder how a formerly agnostic, almost atheist, feminist, existentialist, abortion rights activist (yep) could find herself in a moment such as this.

This is one of my sons’ Bibles. I never owned one when I was his age. I’m amazed at the Lord’s kindness to give me children who seek God’s Word.

A few weeks ago, at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, sitting in Ernest Gray’s The Gospel of John class, the same thing happened. Another surreal experience as my middle guy Aaron casually pulled out his Bible and it was filled with notes in the margins. What am I doing here, I thought to myself.

A redeemed mama and a cherished olive shoot just before class. So proud of this olive shoot/sugar boy.

And then there’s Nate, the 2012 West Point guy who has Scripture engraved in his graduation ring. Sometimes when he calls and is struggling, without hesitation, I will just break out in prayer. Not because I’m an amazing mom (fail miserably) and not in a speaking tongues, snake handling way either for those who might have been totally creeped out imagining this. Just a real and honest exchange of a mother and son speaking to the Father and the Son. Kinda cool actually.

3 John 1:4
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

You see I did not grow up in a Christian family. The only time I remember seeing the Bible was after my dad died. Oddly enough, we were looking for some verses to use at his funeral. We picked some fishing verses because my dad like fishing. Not because he was a fisher of men actually he was a fisher of fish(!), trout exactly, but I digress. From my recollection, the Bible was retrieved from underneath the bed. That was where it was kept for safekeeping as to not be scorned by my dad when he was on a spiritual tirade. His understanding of Christianity amounted to watching the Jim and Tammy Faye Baker show on tv or some other wild evangelist while waiting for the next episode of Soul Train. Not joking. To him, the Bible was a source of mockery and pity, something a strong man would never rely or depend upon. But I have to tell you, it’s still weird for me seeing my family so comfortable with God and Jesus. I’ve been a Christ follower for 15 years, a church attendee for over half my life but I remain awestruck to dwell in a home with men who earnestly live their faith.

For more than half my life, I thought the Bible was for sissies. You only pulled that thing out if times were REALLY bad and you needed a crutch. Maybe if you were dying or needed to slay someone verbally who called you out on sin but other than that, normal people didn’t read the Bible. It was only after I began dating the Hubs that I realized that real men can actually admit to believing every word contained in Scripture. The Lord had some work to do on the Hubs but he was a genuine Christian guy who actually OWNED a Bible and it even had his name on it! WOW!

While dating the Hubs, I sheepishly asked him what was up with the guy holding the John Three Colon 16 sign up during a football game. He’s always been a person I can trust with embarrassing spiritual questions since I do not have a rich Christian heritage. I never learned the Sunday School songs, the hymns or the Bible stories. At best, my religion was dogma and rules that did not match up with my sinful lifestyle.

Before my precious grandma died while she still lived by herself in Florida, I remember her proudly stating to me that her Bible had dust on it. She thought that was a good thing. It wasn’t. There was no way she was going to just randomly open it so she didn’t. This broke my heart as I pleaded with her to give God’s Word a read.

So seeing my children, sons, no less, actively pursuing a life of faith in Christ grabs a place in my heart like nothing else. Watching one of my bairn at ease with proclaiming God’s Word as truth is like a bowl of slightly warmed vanilla ice cream with caramel topping and multi-colored sprinkles served with a non-sticky spoon. I don’t deserve this. We fall short. I stumble. My olive shoots are not perfect. The Hubs snores. But yeah, today I saw my youngest  reading Scripture with reverence and maturity.

This is my prayer and it’s for you, random reader or sweet friend too. May images like this emblazen hearts forevermore. May we never grow tired or bored with seeing our family seek God’s face. Lord, if it’s in your will, give us more of this. Glimpses of grace and faith. Rays of hope and redemption.

As Jesus did for me, I pray for the Lord to speak into your life.  I know for some of you all of this might sound awkward and feel uncomfortable, yeah, I’ve been there. God changes things. He transforms people. He heals. He redeems. He blesses. How do I know? I’m living, undeserving proof.

My Soldier wearing his new cav hat! He loves El Salvador (the home of his bonita) and Jesus, they both hold the key to his heart.

I realize not everyone owns a Bible, it was a big decision for me. I remember being scared when I bought my first one! Here’s what I’m wondering – if you have a Bible, do you ever read it? Did you grow up in a family where the Bible was read? Can you relate to my story in any way?

Five Minute Friday – Look

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LOVE this, join us! http://lisajobaker.com

It’s a “flash mob” of writers. Every Friday at 12:01am a few hundred (or is it closer to thousand?) women pop on over to Lisa-Jo’s page to find out what the word of the next 5 minutes will be.

No over thinking.

No editing.

No extreme planning and linking and photographing.

Just FIVE minutes of writing to see what comes out.

Ok, here’s my FMF…

Who knew Ohio could be so scary? Long regarded in my mind as a place of beauty and Americana, nothing prepared me for the treacherous journey the orange hair, freckle face olive shoot and I would have both coming and going to Chicago.

Fog hung in the air like mucus and there was no relief from the patches of blindness. I couldn’t pull over because I couldn’t see any exits and I was terrified to stop my car off the side to the shoulder because I was certain a truck would plow through my vehicle. Only a rail would have possibly shielded Ike and I from driving off the deep ravines but I’m not even certain there was a rail. It was only after telling a friend of my harrowing travels that I learned there was something like this on the stretch of highway. I’ve been driving since I was 16 years old and never been more frightened behind the wheel in my life. (This experience was only matched by the drive back from Moody Bible Institute and I’m not prepared to write about it yet).

My nerves were frazzled and we stopped after the fog had cleared. Hungry and needing a potty break, Ike and I paused at a restaurant at a nearby exit. I had forgotten that we had entered Amish country but judging from the simply clad little boys in the front of the restaurant and the young lady working behind the counter, I soon realized seeing me with my pink highlights surely gave them reason to pray.

Praising God for THIS rainbow in the sky!

As we returned to our car, it was my sweet Ike who pointed in the sky…”Look, Mama! A rainbow!” Sure enough off in the distance that beautiful reassuring arch (not McDonalds!) blazed through the powder blue sky.

I had been seeing gray patches of nothingness that only held fear and pending death. My son had been in the car with me and I was gripped with anxiety. It was when I paused, physically and emotionally, that the Lord provided a symbol of His presence. God knew at just the right time when I needed to see a sign of His glory.

Five Minute Friday – Race

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The view from our 10th story apartment

While watching the Chicago marathon from the 10th story of Jenkins Hall, I was inspired.

One of my favorite signs!

But when I went downstairs and came face to face with the thousands of runners, I was overwhelmed. Tears welling up in my eyes and throat, I know I’m an emotional person but it surprised me the wave of feelings that waft over me.

I just imagined being one of those runners and having legions of people cheering me on. Honestly I need that kind of encouragement in my daily walk of mortal life let alone a 27 mile run which will never happen this side of heaven. Hearing someone calling my name, seeing a sign with MY name on it, or a treasured friend or family member, I’ve never done a marathon but seeing the Chicago marathon up close and personal tugged my spirit. We all need a pep squad to help us run physically, emotionally, spiritually. When we’re downtrodden, discouraged, beaten up, don’t we all desperately want someone to say, “Hey, you matter! Go, you! You can doey it!”

It was so awesome how the announcers just randomly picked out names they spotted on the runners’ jerseys and encouraged them! Loved the Moody Mile!

On this blustery fall morning, as we were getting ready to meet Aaron and the other two OS going to Aaron’s new church in downtown Chicago, I witnessed these people, every hue, body type and outfit race past us. I heard praise music filling the streets, everyone was of one accord motivating the runners to keep going. Tears.

The most awesome writing gig on Fridays! Where a beautiful crowd spends five minutes all writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here. Join us!

What got me the most emotional was the encouragement. As the runners jogged by the Moody Mile, they were greeted with cheers, posters and horns. It felt like a New Year’s Eve celebration. The announcer randomly called out names of some of the runners, I saw signs in many languages, what must this have been like to among the crowd? I felt blessed, moved and stirred. Lord, help me run THIS race of life…

Here’s a snippet of the event…

Something NOT to debate about…updated

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I’ve been driving for two days to get to Chicago. I’m exhausted and crabby. Spending two days in an SUV, I can say with great authority, everyone is talking about the debates. I can’t take it anymore. Who’s going to win? What does BHO have to say to the American public? How about WMR, what strategies must he employ to garner the country’s confidence? Blah, blah, blah.

1LT Samuel Van Kopp

As you are listening to the debates tonight (or not), I have a challenge for you. Pray for this guy. According to all sources, including my oldest OS, 1LT Samuel Van Kopp was a gifted orator.

But now this West Point ’10 grad, has been critically wounded. On September 26th, during his tour of duty in Afghanistan, a suicide bomber detonated an explosive-ladened vest. Shrapnel hit Van Kopp in the head.

Frankly, I don’t care what your personal opinions are about the war. Not today. I’m tired and don’t have the patience to argue. We probably agree on many salient points anyway. Considering I have a son who is in the Army and a cousin, an Army Chaplain who just returned from Afghanistan, I’d say my family has a lot of skin in the game. Each time I hear of another casualty or serious injury of someone serving in harm’s way, I sink literally. Part of being a West Point mom is the tragic realization that these things hit very close to home and heart and will get even closer as my 2LT and his buddies set to deploy in the near future.

When I hear of a West Point grad being killed or injured, I always ask Nate, “Do/did you know this person?” His voice is heavy and somber as he replies and sometimes sadly I must offer yet another condolence to my young olive shoot. This time when I asked about Sam, Nate said, “he was a really good debater.”

Lord, please sustain and restore this young man to full function for your glory and honor.

As I listened endlessly to BOTH sides speak about the debates, Sam came to my mind. I sprinkled in a sermon, an audio book, a few songs and a smattering of bickers with my orange hair, freckle face OS too for good measure. But I kept thinking of Sam each time I heard the word “debate.” How about if we all prayed for Sam and his family each time we hear the word “debate” in the coming days? Pray for Sam and his family. His mom is like me. She has three sons! Surgery is planned for Friday at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., to remove pieces of Van Kopp’s skull from his brain.

God bless you and heal you, Sam. May you feel Jesus’ presence with you at this very moment and be reminded that the God of All Comfort is your Rock, the Great Physician and your ever present help in times of trouble. Amen

For more information about 1LT Van Kopp, click here. Here’s a more current update. Praise the Lord 1LT Van Kopp is improving.

Also, if you are so inclined and have words of encouragement for Sam and his family, send them here…

Get-well cards, starbucks cards (for mom) and letters to for 1 Lt Sam Van Kopp, USMA 2010.
Walter Reed Army Medical Center
8901 Wisconsin Ave
Bethesda, MD 20889 under the address put:
1 Lt Sam Van Kopp, Building 10, Ward 4 East

Five Minute Friday – Grasp

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2/3 of my olive shoots live elsewhere. At 22, my oldest has graduated from West Point and is doing officer training at Fort Benning

Being the mama of a Soldier means I grasp pride – tightly

Nate in a tank. He isn’t deployed yet but he’s still in a tank.

And when he sends me pictures of him in a tank, that word grasp (and gasp) take on a whole new meaning

Jesus, hear my cries for his safety and for all those who serve

The other is 18 and a freshman at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago

He desires to be a bi-vocational pastor

This means that I grasp fear because I see how congregants can be so cruel to a pastor, how we in the pews can quickly judge, how those in leadership can go astray, become arrogant or lazy

And when he boards the train

and heads out to Kedzie each Friday

from about 3-7pm

to work with inner city boys,

he journeys to a part of Chicago where guys of his meager melanin level usually go only to score drugs and get high

That’s when that whole grasp thing is magnified for me as a mom too. Father, extend your protective hand to my/our precious child.

Taking the train in Chicago

Use Nate and Aaron today in their respective lands to do good for your kingdom.

Take their hands through the challenges they will face and the people they will encounter.

Even though they are young men, I know they will allow you and only you to grasp their hands just like I did when they were younger.

And while you’re at it, hold my hand too after all, because I’m their mom.

The coolest writing gig on Fridays! Join us! http://lisajobaker.com

Are you a Soaky McSoaker?

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“The treadmill routine of the week is: washing, baking, ironing, fixing dried fruit, airing clothes, sewing, cleaning, baking and cleaning again. So it goes week after week. Eating and drinking, cooking and cleaning, scrubbing and scouring we go through life; and only lay down our implements at the verge of the gravel!…You bake, and boil, and fry, and stew; worry and toil, just as if the people’s principle business in this world was to learn how much they could eat-and eat it.” Jane G. Swissholm, Letters to Country Girls, 1853.

I love Helen Nearing’s book Simple Food for the Good Life. Filled with recipes and pithy sayings, I selected the above quote from Nearing’s book because it sums up my average day. I try not to find drudgery in homemaking and consider a skill, a privilege and a science. Our world has belittled the career of motherhood and domesticity. Most of us don’t teach these skills to our children and then don’t understand why our kids can’t take care of themselves, eat horribly and have homes in disarray when they are older. My three sons are ages 22, 18 and almost 16 and they know I’m on a mission to change that. They make a mama proud. God gave me three olive shoots for a reason and in general, I like how they’re sprouting up to be competent, Jesus loving, strong men who can also throw down.

But today I want to write about pre-soaking grains and seeds literally. I am a total neophyte in this arena. A caveat, please correct any of the information I am going to share as my desire is to contribute to the discussion. Add to the conversation also, I want to learn.

But first, did you know about 15 years ago, I had a funny flax seed story published in a book? It’s true! I shall soon share. It’s about Nate, brownies and a little bit of trickery on my part.

Do you want to hear a super creepy story in the interim? I had a friend whose boyfriend had his wisdom teeth extracted. He ate pizza a few days post-surgery. A few days after that, the guy went into the bathroom and screamed to his girlfriend to come right away. She rushed right in and there he was mouth agape. He said, “@*&@!!,” pointed and she spotted it. Back where one of the wisdom teeth had once lived, a tiny sprout had grown in its place! Can you imagine what it would have been like to pull a small plant out of a hole in your mouth! I would have Instagrammed it.

If you thought the only time you sprouted a seed was before you planted it or following dental surgery (!), here are some things to know.

Sprouted seeds

Sprouting biologically activates the seed and makes the plant proteins, essential fatty acids, starches and vitamins bio-available.

Flax seeds are hard for our body to digest. They have natural enzyme inhibitors which prevent digestion. There is much to love about flax seeds – their crunch, color, flavor, even tactically, put your hand in a bag of flax seeds before and after you buy them from Whole Foods and you’ll notice their silky texture. Let’s just say I “know” someone who does this. You’d really like her. 😉

Despite a flax seed’s many attributes, though I don’t need a stomach ache. My family will usually try anything I make but if they have a bad reaction or don’t like it, I’m done. They won’t revisit it. Ask them about kale cake. Gigantic epic fail. If you’re sensitive or allergic to certain grains, soak your whole grains beforehand, in a salt brine, anywhere from 7-24 hours and it will probably lessen the symptoms. Oh, and don’t ever make kale cake. Ever.

Use warm water. It coaxes the enzymes out of their little crusty shell. Don’t soak them too long or they will grow bacteria. I think I did this for you, so trust me. Last year I made a batch of granola. I was a Soaky McSoaker and soaked the oats in a mixture of keifer, coconut oil, butter and water. Recipe said overnight but I pushed it a little. This resulted in a granola which brought facial expressions reminiscent of kale cake. I fed the trash can, not the Hubs or my OS that time. Duly noted.

SueGregg.com puts it this way,  pre-soaking, “allows enzymes, lactobacilli and other helpful organisms to not only neutralize the phytic acid, but also to break down complex starches, irritating tannins and difficult-to-digest proteins including gluten.”

Here are some great websites with additional information. I’m giving them mad props for their discoveries and information. They’re not quite as humorous but super helpful.

Passionatehomemaking.com

The Nourishing Gourmet

and in case you’re interested in soap nuts, which are not edible but organic, biodegradable and incredible, 100% natural laundry soap, there’s always

Olive Shoot Institute!

Let’s be Soaky McSoakers, kk?