Home is where your Mama's heart is...

I have a little Mama.

She is short, petite and fiesty.

Truth is, she has not always been this way.  It has been a battle of hers to be a little Mama.....

But, little she is now.

What is interesting to me is that if/when asked to describe her, her size never enters my mind. It has never entered my mind.

I think if you met her, it would not enter your mind either.

This is what I see when I think of my Mama...

*  Large heart - I can remember actually getting frustrated with my mother when I was younger because she was "too nice".  I would say, "you let people run over you.  I felt this way a lot...and, even about relatives".  Now, I understand that she was not weak in her heart area...she was large.  She loved others more than herself so giving was natural to her.  She saw the bigger picture...she "got it".....she knew that people were more important than things and battles were saved for important things...life or death things...not silly, immature things.
*  Eyes so blue they cause you to catch your breath the first time you see them.  Literally.  My Mama's eyes have a

Home is where God awakens you in the early morning to spend time with Him…

I am not sure why, but for some reason, I find myself waking up in the early morning with the inability to return to sleep and the need to talk with God…these early am prayers are precious to my heart.  Time alone with just me and God…time to reflect on my life and the life of my family.

Time alone to think about the past and to rejoice in the future.

It’s quiet in my home at 4 am or 5 am or whatever early am time I am awakened by God.  It is a unique quiet…a different kind of quiet.  I do not awaken frustrated that I cannot sleep as sometimes I do…rather, I awaken with the knowledge that if I will get up and make the time to be “present” with God, I will receive a blessing that only He can give.

            God chooses very interesting times in my life to draw me to this early am prayer….not at all what I would chose…when I had little twin babies and so very much needed my sleep, I would be awakened in the wee hours to spend time with Him.  When I have been up all night with worry over a daughter who was out with friends and she comes in…I remained awake….with God.

            When I had a big project at work and needed my rest so desperately so that I would do well the next day, I could not sleep until God and I talked.

            And, very early on I learned that IF I would obey his calling of my name and make time to be in prayer and talking, He would carry me through whatever came my way the next day.

            God is like that.  He loves it when we sit beside him, lay our weary heads on his shoulder and talk.  He loves it when we kneel beside him and share our joys and our tender moments of life.  He loves it when we share our happy moments and he loves us through our sad.

            Like a good parent, God just likes us to be with him.  He knows the more we are present with Him, the more of Him is present WITHIN us. 

            And, Him being God….blesses us in ways no other can bless us….

            I have a favorite quote, “when you get to the bottom of yourself, you get to the beginning of God”….this is not a thing you do one time in your life.  I believe you do this again and again, because in our humanity, we forget to keep God front and center.  We don’t heed his calling and go be with Him…we try to take on things alone.  And, we cannot.  So, He allows us to get to the bottom of ourselves so that we are forced to come sit at His feet and take time to be with Him…to talk with Him…it’s not a thing He does so much out of discipline of us, although I think it can be, but mostly He does this out of love…because he knows that the more we are with Him, the more of our worth, value and purpose can be made known to us…

            Each of us is here on earth for a brief time and for a Holy purpose.  Some of us “get it” early on that God has a purpose and from early on, we head that direction.  Some, not so much.  Some of us take time to grow, develop.  The great thing is, God loves us regardless of which we are..all He asks is that as we search for our purpose that we use Him as our guide…and live it out in His name.

            We do that by using those gifts He gave us to use…His Word, the avenue of prayer, the gift of family, the treasure of church fellowship, and other things.

            Those who are wise…or maybe who are humbly aware know the value of using these gifts to draw themselves closer to God.  I love those who have this figured out…I love sitting in the presence of a Godly man or woman who is authentic in his/her walk with God.  They seem to have a peace about them which is found through many, many hours spent with God.  They are humble…they are gentle, their eyes are kind and their hearts are soft.  They don’t seem to talk a lot…maybe because they do all their talking with God.

            The words which they use when they do speak are provoking because of their insight…

            People who are close with God are different…you can feel their love of God is greater than their love of life….

            They have answered the call many early mornings to go be with Him.  They have stayed on their knees more than on their feet.  They have laid down their burdens at the feet of the only one who can really remove them.  The know the value of spending time with the only one who can truly make a difference.

            I want to be one of these people…

Blessings,

Lesa

Home is Where You Go….To See Yourself Reflected in the Eyes of Your Husband

Home is Where You Go….

                        To See Yourself Reflected in the Eyes of Your Husband…

I haven’t written much about my husband, Ian, and there are many reasons for that…but,

It is time…

Ian gave me the plaque below which he made (obviously, by hand) after we married.  He gave it to me so that every day, I would have in black and white what he sees when he looks at me.

He knows that I love words..

He knows that I believe you are what you read..

He knows the power the words on those you love…what you call them, how you describe them, how you view them changes how they view themselves.

I hang it in my bathroom so that it is one of the first things I see each morning when I awaken..

My morning goes like this…Ian awakens..showers…dresses…comes to pray, hug me and then kiss me good day as he leaves for work.

I get up, go to brush my teeth and see his words…

How HE views me…

What he thinks of my heart…my spirit…my soul.

Words like

 Precious….Mommy…Compassionate…Considerate…Expressive…Priceless…

They melt my heart..

They fill my heart with joy.

Mother, Valuable, Daughter, Friend, Good, Pure…

They draw sweet tears of humility.

God’s….

Ian’s reminder to me of exactly whose I am so that I never have to doubt.

God’s.

God’s child.  God’s Girl.  God’s woman.

This plaque touches my heart in a very real and authentic way because it has renewed my view of myself.

As has Ian.

For many many years, these were not words I heard when being described.  In fact, the opposite…

So, this gift from him has much more worth than a mere plaque with words on it.

It is how my husband sees me…views me…knows me.

THAT is a powerful gift.

What I love about Ian is that he tells me that while the words were placed on a plaque by Him…they come from God…my creator, my redeemer….my Savior.

He was merely the vessel used to remind me how valuable I was to My Heavenly Father…

And, to him.

It’s not that I didn’t know God loves me and sees me as His…it is that that knowing was buried….as life will sometimes do…

Like a treasure, Ian dug for and found exactly what I needed to remind me of who I really am…daily…sweetly….lovingly.

And, for that, I will be eternally grateful.

I would add one more to this list..

Grateful.

ILYFAOD

Blessings,

~Lesa

Top Row, Right

June 7, 2008. 

Through the front door of Dr. Jackson’s office, to the check-in window, through the door with the sign “for patients only” , turn to the right, first door on the right…

Top Row, first cubby on the right

“lesa” printed out on a small index card, waiting.

Normally, I would enjoy seeing my name in print…I like the unique spelling, a portion of my Daddy “ Chester Lee” invested in my name.

But, on this day, it was a shock to my soul.

L e s a

My person, my self, my being had cancer.  And, not just any cancer, but breast cancer.  Unbelievable.

Until now.  They would not put my name on the cubby if I didn’t need to have a cubby.  I wouldn’t need a cubby if I didn’t need the treatment.  I wouldn’t need the treatment if I didn’t have cancer.

In my breast. 

I love my breasts.  They came to me at an early age when my girlish figure was that of twelve but my breast knew themselves to be twenty-one.  I confess it was not love at first budding.  It was more like womanhood possessing me and taking over my body.

But, as age walked me down my life’s path, I grew to love, appreciate and even enjoy my breasts.

No one ever had to guess that I was a girl.  Rather, they more often than not had the surprise of knowing that I was a “young” girl.  Confusing to many, especially boys, because my breasts were determined to always be about eight years older than my birth age.

As time would have it, I eventually grew into my breasts and my age caught up with their maturity.

I enjoy the femininity which comes from being a full figured woman.  Dressing in lovely, low cut blouses with just enough cleavage peeking through makes me smile.

I enjoyed the intimacy of mother and child when I nursed my babies and remember being grateful that my children and I were able to enjoy early morning and late night feedings.    I came to know the hearts of my little babies while nursing them.  Precious to my heart are those little milk mouths sucking and glancing up at me with milk-mouth smiles.

I love the God blessed intimacy my husband and I share in loving one another by loving each other’s bodies.  There is a sacred bond which comes through our relationship and tenderness of touch, especially of my breasts.

So, when I saw my name listed, top row right, and knew there was a very real possibility I might lose my two sweet friends, it was devastating.

I was afraid.

No, I was more than afraid, I was broken hearted.

I love and want to keep my breasts.

So, I soldiered-up…and took many right turns…right into the doctor’s office, right to the check in where LeeAnn greeted me with a warrior’s welcome, right through the door marked “for patients only”, right to the first door with the cold knob.

And, then I did what all of we breast cancer warriors do…walked up to that tag labeling me a battler, removed my bra and shirt, warmed my breasts with my hands and laid down the gown to cover them up.

I walked out that door, down the hall and began the journey which would give me back many things I had not known I had lost.

My courage

My heart

My soul’s desires

My prayer life

My tender family moments

My growth in faith

And, just as important, my realization that I was more than just my breasts.  My breasts were simply reminders of my feminine core, beautiful symbols and worth fighting for.

But, that whether they stayed with me as a part of my body or whether they left me and took a piece of my heart along with them, I would survive.

I am grateful for “top row, right” for that simple little cubby symbolizes many right things in my life.  Lessons learned only because I fought the good fight, battling in pink and learning to love every precious day I have.

Committed to Our Garden....

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as though you were working for the Lord and not for people.   Colossians 3:23

Ian is a man who loves the out of doors and I am a woman whose family raised her on a country farm.  He loves to till the soil and I love to watch things grow.

Thus, we have decided to have a vegetable garden in our back yard.  Not just any garden, but a fairly good sized one.  The soil is virgin, never having been tilled for gardening before….it will take a labor of love to get it ready to plant.

Ian explained to me prior to our marital agreement to have a garden that he cannot do this alone.  I will have to step up and assist.  He encouraged me to think about it before we cut ground.

Now, my experience is that Mama and Daddy tilled our family garden, planted the seeds, weeded, feed-ed and harvested the fruits (and vegetables) of their labors with we children being sent out to weed the garden only in an emergency or as punishment.  “If you are not going to do your laundry, then go weed the garden”  “If you have time to stay out on a date until midnight, then you have time to get up early and pick the beans before the sun gets up.”   You know…those kinds of fatherly/motherly encouragements when you are young and impressionable.

And, dag gone it, Ian knew this gardening history of mine.  So, he made me think about whether or not I really wanted one and whether or not I was going to pull my load in our gardening efforts.  I think this came about when I began making the list for what we were going to grow….the longer the list grew, the longer grew our conversations about commitment and work ethic.

“Baby”, says Ian, “I will plant you whatever you want.  I will till the whole back yard and help you ready it for the garden you desire.  I will till it, I will prime it, I will plant rows so straight you will feel you are living in the Garden of Eden, but there is one thing you have to promise….”

I demurely and sweetly ask in my most southern lady-like drawl…”Pray tell, what is that Dearest?”  All said while twirling my sweet little pink umbrella bought just for the purpose of resting on my veranda while watching his big, strong, muscular arms till my “Tara” yard.

“Baby”, says Ian, “You have to commit.”

“Oh Ian Honey, why I AM committed.” Says I

“No, baby….I mean you have to get off your pretty little bottom, put on your cute little pink gardening gloves and actually walk from the veranda a/k/a our deck and come h-e-l-p me prepare this garden.  You will need to help me break dirt clods and set straight rows with string and water and fertilize and daily…daily weed our garden.”  “Honey, can you commit to that?”

“Oh my”, says I…..”I may need to think about that, Ian.” “that’s NOT how my Daddy did it when I was growing up.”  “Daddy did all that messy, manly stuff and he was glad to do it for us.” 

“Well, darling…..I aint your Daddy.” Says Ian

“Hmmm….I can see that…” says I

“Think on it sweetheart and let me know.  If you decide to commit, then you shall have your garden and I will be delighted to “help” you get it ready.”

Now, let me tell you, my mouth had been watering over the thought of ripe, juicy tomatoes and crisp, cold cucumbers since last summer when Ian promised a 2012 garden.  I had images of yellow squash and onions and melons dancing in my head all winter long.  But, never once did Ian mention the degree to which my own personal involvement was expected.

Oh my, what is a girl to do?

I thought, I pondered.  I looked out my kitchen window imagining my back yard garden-less and then garden-full, and oh, the site was so much lovelier with it garden-full.

As tiny little tears stung my eyes, and sweetly rolled down my pink cheeks, I turned to this garden-monster of a man I married and asked him….”Sweetheart, didn’t you promise to love and care and nurture me forever and one day last May 14^th and doesn’t that include growing our little garden?”

Unmoved by my tears (if you can even dare to imagine that), Ian said, “yes, Baby, I did….and, I will.  You can even call your Daddy and Mama and ask them if need be….because I promised them I would care for you all the rest of the days of your life….care for you in such a way that when time came, you would be ready….”  “I promised to love you, nurture you, protect you and love you as Christ loves his church.” “I promised that I would share life, share joys and share sorrows.”  “I promised to be your help-meet” and that means not doing things for you, but doing things with you.”  “So, baby, on this gardening adventure…are you in?”  “Now’s the time you have to commit….the soil must be readied.”

Well, I was beginning to see that he was not going to let me sit on the veranda this gardening season…

Yes, yes, yes….I want the garden, I want those ripe, red tomatoes, those green crunchy cucumbers and those bold yellow squashes.  My heart leaps at the thought of fresh picked scallions and bell green peppers and lovely fresh herbs.

“Okay”, says Ian….”then remember this….just as our life is a reflection of our commitment to God, our work in our garden is a reflection of our commitment to our family.”  “It will be a testament to many things…our work ethic, our ability to envision our final crops and our desire to encourage one another and to work together.”

And, therefore, we need to work this family garden of life with all of our hearts….as if we are working for the Lord…

Because we are.

Blessings,

Lesa

In the Garden of Life Grows Hope.......

“And you have put on a new self which will progress toward true knowledge the more it is renewed in the image of the creator…as the Chosen of God, then, the Holy people whom He loves, you are to be clothed in heartfelt compassion, in generosity and humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with one another, forgive each other…over all of these clothes, put on love…the perfect bond.  And, may the peace of Christ reign in your hearts….Always be thankful.” 

                                         Colossians 3: 12-15

Grateful I am that I am a picture taker, both in reality with a camera and in heart, in mind in spirit.

Grateful I am that I had a precious season of total joy watching the tulips Ian gave me for Christmas go from gift box to ground as Winter took over the foundation of our home.  Photos of the gift box….the opening of each tulip bulb bag and the official planting into the ground are all commemorated on paper.

I have always wanted pink tulips as a part of my homes décor.  I don’t know why, but I can remember even as a little girl enjoying and being slightly envious of those homes who were blanketed in the delicate beauty of tulips.

So, it was a lovely gift from Ian who remembered my love of tulips from my youth…his memory of these smallish details is amazing.  And, even more so lovely is that he would pick out, purchase and plant these brownish-golden bulbs knowing the my heart would leap and bound with excitement and anticipation of waiting for their first bloom.

He planted.  I watched and waited.

He watched me.

Our winter being unseasonably warm brought worry to my heart…I could see green peeking through the ground way before I knew it should.  Early bloom was a clear risk of early demise.

I ran down the stairs and out to our yard each early morning to see our tulips progress….first the leaves, then the stem….then baby buds.

Love love loved it!

I took photos every few days ever wanting to document God’s precious handiwork!

Little miracles happening right there in my front and side yards.

“prettiful” as Madison says.

There is something just absolutely magical when you take the time to watch God at work in your garden and in your life. 

And, those beloved tulips were not just pretty.  They were absolutely abounding with beauty.

I admired their strong stems and thick blossoms and remember telling Ian I wanted to be like that.  Strong, firm yet delicate and beautiful…not my physical presence, but my soul…..

That that was my goal as I hit 50…..to be a reflection of God in such a way that when others look at me they see not a wilting flower whose life has beat her down, but a strong and lovely flower in full bloom and reflecting His glory.

And, these beauties…three different shades of pink from demure pinkish white to bold and beautiful pink were constant reminders of my goal each morning as I tumbled out of bed, ran down the length of stairs to view them each morning.

One thing which continually puzzled me about my pink lovelies was that while some and frankly most of them were quick to grow and blossom and bloom, there were and still are several “late bloomers’ who have yet to reach their peak.

I asked Ian, “why is it that there are some buds which have not even grown tall yet?  Are they bashful?  Is their soil still too cool?  Does their location determine their bloom season?”

Ian told me that he truly didn’t know why some bloomed so boldly while others stayed home in the ground.  But, he did tell me to watch and wait and that time would show us the story of the non-blooming buds.

And, he was right.

Just one day after my and Ian’s conversation, a bizarre event of life took place.  We had a hail storm, the likes of which I have never seen in my 50 years.  I sat at my kitchen table with good friend Morgan and waited out the storm.  Hail the size of large peas pelted my home, deck and yard.  It was surreal in how quickly it came and how quickly it passed.

I told Morgan not to fear…that while it came out of nowhere, my limited experience was that it would not last long, and I was right.  Within minutes the storm brought its dark, mean-spirited hail right down and then left as quickly as it came leaving sunshine and glistening lightness in its wake.

Then it hit me.

My tulips.

Tulips can withstand a lot of things....cold ground, early spring, spring rains.

But, tulips cannot survive hard hail.

My beautiful and lovely pink tulips were not just beaten and broken by the hail.  They were destroyed.  Gone was their sweetness and perky attitude and remaining was broken green stems and torn petals.  Pink petals were scattered all over our flower bed.

It was very sad to me.  I was just beginning to enjoy them.  They were only a week old…

And, I remembered Ian telling and preparing me when he planted them that the good thing about tulips is that they are one of the most beautiful plants God makes.  They have lovely color, they are bold flowers growing tall and delicate yet their stems and leaves are strong and green.  But, he also told me that they have one life per season.  If anything were to happen to them, they were gone until the next blooming year.  In addition, he explained that while you waited all year for them to bloom, they only had a life of about two weeks…..

Two weeks?

So, of what value is it to grow them if you are only able to enjoy them two weeks?

Immeasurable.

Let me tell you…their value to me was and is immeasurable.

I enjoyed my tulip-gifts from Ian and God.

In ways I cannot explain.  They were a symbol to me of many sweet and precious things.

So, I am sad that their life was cut short.  As I tend to them now, picking up pink petals and caring for broken stems, I am very sad.

Even the “Mama and baby tulips” which I photographed and posted to my Facebook page were not able to survive. 

But, as I cleaned out my tulip bed, I noticed something.  Those “late bloomers” remained.

Seven of them.                                                                                                                                                

Out of 36 tulips planted late December, Seven had survived and would eventually blossom and bloom and grow lovely.

I am grateful for each and every one of them.

They are God’s reminder to me that we are to be and grow and become our very best blossoms in this Garden we call life…to reflect His glory in such a way as to touch the hearts of those who witness our lives.  But, they are also His reminder to me that life and its hurts and tragedies will bear down on us in  ways in which we will die little deaths, break into little pieces, temporarily lose our hope.

But, I know as well, that He never leaves us.  Never quits on us.  Never takes away all hope.

He, in His infinite love and wisdom and compassion will send us gentle reminders that He is There with us always and forever.

And, that is what I see and will remember as I watch these hail storm survivors.

They are God’s handiwork….His reminder to me that we are to always keep the faith, always abound in joy and always find hope in Him.

And, always always find ways to be grateful.

So, I will.

Blessings,

Lesa

I Turn 50 in Three Days....

I turn 50 in three days.

5 0

Fifty

One-half a century

And, the question that comes to my mind is of what value have those years been?  If you had asked me this question a few years ago, I would have been hard-pressed to give you any kind of positive answer.  I had lost my way…allowed others to tell me my worth or lack thereof…I had forgotten to measure my worth by God’s view rather than man’s.

And, easy as it would be to blame another or others for that, I have learned that no one is to blame but me.

When you are centered around God, you, in humility know that you have great, precious, wonderful worth. 

You lose the need to force, to pull, to tug….you no longer need to gossip, critique, naysay.

When God’s view of you is seared onto your heart, you are able to fully understand your worth in a true and honest way which brings peace to your heart and joy to your soul.

I know that now.

I knew that when I was a young girl and even a young woman….innately, I knew God is love and that He loves me.  I knew that in His eyes, I was not only worthy…I saw me through His eyes….and, this is what I saw…

Lovely

Earnest

Sincere

Authentic

Sissy

Holy

Elegant

Real

Young

Lord’s (the)

Marvelous

Intelligent

Loving

Laughing

Special

Tender

Eager

Amiable

Daughter

Yeilding

Only

Unique

Natural

Grateful

Lesa Sheryl Millstead Young

I know these things to be true.  I forgot them for a season and even if I had remembered them, I would not have allowed myself to write them for fear of being thought vain or conceited or self-absorbed.  But, that was wrong –thinking.

How can we go about reflecting the Glory of God if we don’t see the value of ourselves?

How am I able to share His love with others if I am unable to love myself?

You cannot.  You cannot pour out to others what you do not have full up in yourself.

And, no one, not parent, nor spouse, nor sibling can make you love yourself.  Only God can lead you to seeing yourself worthy of such a deep thing.

And, He does so delight when we “get it”…..We Are Worthy…We Are Beautiful….We are Precious

And, the more we love ourselves, the more that love grows and grows and overfills our soul.  When our love overflows, then we are able to not only pour it out on others, but we are able to heap it up large and tall on others.

Not only on the loveable others, but on the unlovable others.

God’s love heals many a wound.  His love fills many an empty heart.

And, in the so-doing, a magical thing occurs…

We share our selves because we understand we actually have something worthy of sharing.

We share our lives because we know we make a difference.

We stoop to smile at the little child in a wheelchair; we pay to fix a cleft palate.  We adopt those who would be motherless; we nurture those who are mentally unable to survive without our help.

We open our wallets and give financially to improve the lot of the needy; we open our homes to those whose head has nowhere to rest.  We pray for the lost, the sick, the dying.

we do little sweet kindnesses. We slow down and listen to our elderly friend who just wants to share.

We do…

We give..

We share…

We love…

All in the name of God and all because He first loved us.

It is a gift, this love we are given.

It is a gift to be able to finally….finally….finally see ourselves through the eyes of the only one who truly matters.  And, to know in the viewing that we see how beautiful we truly are.

And, what I find particularly sweet is that the more I see myself through God’s eyes, the more lovely you become.

The more precious….the more beautiful you are.

So, as I hit the “big 50”……I am grateful.

I have been to the end of myself, and in so-doing, have gotten to the beginning of God.

Fifty….it is not the beginning of my end.  It is the beginning of my new start.

A clean slate.

A deeper understanding.

A clear view….from the stained glass windows of God’s eyes, looking down on me through Jesus’ life, I see something very lovely.

I see someone very lovely.

And, her name is….

Lesa Sheryl Millstead Young

For she is God’s Girl.  God’s gift. 

She has great worth, great value.

And, standing right beside her

Is YOU

Someone very lovely, very worthy, very valuable

And, all God really asks is that we take our time here on earth, whether it be too short such as with Bethany Anderson or Beth Morris, or whether it be very lengthy such as Herschel Young or Sister Cook….

All He asks is that we recognize our time is to love…to share…to shine like the sun….and His Son.

And, to use our life to be His reflection to others.

Do my 50 years have worth and value?

I think so.

As do your years.

Celebrate each and every one! 

Blessings and much love,

Lesa

 

The HEART

Καρδιά

It is the most used muscle of the body.  The heart beats an average of 72 beats per minute, 2.5 billion beats in an average life span.

 The heart of the matter.  From Latin “Cor” the core of the issue.  The heart is referred to as being the center of whatever issue is being talked about. 

Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  We know it as the organ of love and emotion; I love you with all my heart.  God wants us to love Him with all our heart, to write His commands upon our hearts.

I knew 31 years ago Lesa had a good heart.  When she was 13, I could see her “Cor” and knew it was good.  With her 50^th birthday approaching, I see the center of decisions she makes come to life through her heart.  Her heart is still good, no better.  Is she perfect?  No, as with all of us she makes mistakes.  But she has not allowed the hardness of life to dim the glow of her heart.  At my age of 55, in many areas my heart is soft and pliable.  But in many areas I have allowed life to harden my heart.  She lovingly encourages me to think on matters as we discuss everyday life, and I vent frustrations sometimes. I trusted her heart 30 years ago; I have found her heart is even more trustworthy now.

Our kids are ornery, as all teenagers are; but like their mom, they have good hearts.  They have had a great teacher and example to follow.  I see her take life moments and turn them into teachable-heart opportunities.  And not only to her children, but her husband.

We pray at night when all of the kids are in bed and the house is locked down.  I hear Lesa pray, asking God to renew her heart. I know God must smile when He hears her request.  Hers’ is the heart God searches for; a humble heart that wants to do better and is repentive when mistakes are made.

I am grateful and thankful to KNOW where Lesa’s treasure is.  It’s easy to see.  Her treasure is in God.  Her number one desire and goal is to be “God’s Girl”.  Everything else flows from this treasure; her love for me, her children.  How she treats others, even when I would bristle and be ready to return act for act.  God’s girl is willing to try and be Jesus.

I know what a heart of gold looks like.  My hero has one.  I know what it is to be married to God’s girl, to be second in her life……I am thankful for coming in second.

I love you more than all of the 1,589,940,000 beats of my heart. 

Ian

March Madness 2012

March Madness

Today is a big day for Kentuckians.  It’s “March Madness” and our beloved C A T S are still in the “DANCE”. 

I didn’t grow up in a big sports family.  I don’t have memories of my parents and siblings and I sitting around biting nails as we wait for our favorite team to win.  I have thought back over my life and no, I don’t remember a single time of doing that for a single team.

I do remember cheering on the local teams on which my different siblings play, but March Madness was not in the library of my memories.

Not until 1984.

That was the year everything changed.

I was introduced to a family who lived and breathed basketball.  And, generally speaking, it was  not just any basketball…..it was UK basketball.

I remember one of this family’s members telling me “in our family, you are an athlete…you are either a good athlete or a bad athlete, but you ARE going to be an athlete.”

Now, I was not too overly concerned because I was a pretty serious runner at the time.  And, while I would not have really considered myself overly athletic, I did consider that I would be able to slide under the term athlete.

I am not sure I ever did.

But I did learn to “bleed blue”, spell C A T S and find the locations where UK blue items could be purchased in quantity.

To say I became immersed in the UK frenzy is an understatement.

It almost became my religion.

And, that was something with which I struggled.   Really struggled.

But, as I sit here today writing this, I have to confess to a changed perspective.

I realize now that most of my CAT fans and other major sports fans use their sport as a tool…a source of commonality to foster camaraderie between them and their friends and acquaintances.

Just a fancy way of saying, “sports are the glue which binds them in friendship with others”.

Yes, I do know many sports “Catfanatics” who love “Catlanta” and all things blue and white…and, some are frankly “over the top”,

But, as I think about most of my sports friends, they are some of the most good and Godly people I know.  They love their basketball hard and serious.  They can quote UK basketball stats as simply as they can say the alphabet.  They know the players names, numbers and barbers.

And, they have great passion.

Many of these same people parlay their love of sports on others as a way of bringing them into the fold of their friendship.

You see, once you be-friend someone, really embrace them into your life and into the things for which you have passion, then is your real opportunity to share your faith.

And, many of my UK friends do just that.

Along with their Cats Paws, they take time to Prayer Pause.

Next to their game strategizing is their care planning.

These same people who can whip up a pre-basketball/football feast are the same ones who can prepare an elegant baby shower, memorial dinner or youth banquet.

And, as I started making a list of my favorite athletic fans, I realized something.

Every single one of them was a person I would consider a strong Christian.

Amazing.

Not just a bench warming, pew warming person/family but a bold, strong warrior for God.

These are the people who you call at 2am in a crisis, who kneel beside you when your child is sick or your parent is dying.  These most beloved athletes do love their sports…..especially their CATS or Cardinals, but you know what I realized?

They love their God even more.

And, they use sports as a way of giving honor to Him.

They use their couches, their leather chairs and their tvs to invite others to come to know HIM as they come to know them.

To these friends, even better than a “slam dunk” on the court of basketball is a full dunk in the baptistery at the front of our church.

Better than the choir of C A T S at Rupp or C A R D S at the Yumm Center are the cheers you hear over one new baptism into Christ.

Standing Ovations are amazing to these people….who raise hands with each goal and each Immersion.

Many many people have come to know our Lord who would not have otherwise if not for my friend’s love of sports.

Many are now Christians with their own favorite team because one of these special folks invited them to a “pre-game” party which led to a post-game devotional, teen activity or prayer service.

These people have it figured out.

You sometimes have to meet people where they are in life….

On the court, in the field, at the theater.  In the school, in the hospital, at the foot of a grave. 

And, you have to share the Good News of our God in a way which others who don’t know him can understand.  That may mean, you don the blue and white or red and black or whatever other your favorite team may wear.

And, you share.

You share laughter, foot stomping, yelling at the Refs.  You share wings, a spot on the sofa and friendship.

And, more importantly, you share HIM.

And, I cannot help but believe that that “Great COACH in the heavens” looks down upon us, his sports fanatical children and smiles…..

Because He, even better than us, sees the impact on a human heart which a healthy love of sports can make.

Isn’t He who said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”  I Timothy 4:7

I believe with all of my heart that these same “Cat-fanatics” will do just as this verse says…..

They will fight the good fight of life, they will finish their race…and, they will keep the faith with the same love of God, with the same deep-seated passion that they demonstrate with their favorite team.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training.  They do it to get a crown that will not last; but WE do it to get a crown that will last forever.  Therefore….do not run like a man (woman) running aimlessly; do not fight like a man/woman beating in the air”  I Corinthians 9:24-27

“Seek first His kingdom and righteousness.”  Matthew 6:33

I don’t know what Heaven will be like.

I don’t know if there will be an Arena for Cat fans and a separate Arena for Card fans.  I don’t know if we will all fill one arena and will become common fans.  I don’t even know if ….gasp….we will not even have sports for which to be a fan of.

So, as we cheer on our fans, this week and in the future…..let’s do it with great Fanfare!

Let’s do it with our whole hearts.

Let’s do it with a purpose.

Let’s get a “W” for the only team which really matters.

Team God!

Blessings,

Lesa