Being the Interruption

In the 80's, I was an awkward 5th grade girl. My teeth pointed in every direction but down. I had thick pentagon shaped glasses. My hair was long and in a ponytail 7 days of the week. My twin sister and I were squeezed in the middle between two older siblings and two younger siblings. Yep, you counted correctly. 6 children! Growing up with so many siblings always gave me a playmate or partner to endure consequences with. I am a child of two alcoholic parents. Due to certain decisions of my parents and the economic times, my siblings and I grew up not only as children of alcoholics, but also children of the welfare system. My 10 year old dreams were simple: eating a meal in a restaurant, having a closet with clothing options, and having my own room. The latter would not come until my senior year of college. 

During that 5th grade year, I was introduced to the Decker Family. Myrtle Decker came into our home as a home health care physical therapist. She saw children close to her own children's ages living in a situation beyond their own awareness. My sisters and I were invited to spend an afternoon with the Deckers at their local pool. One afternoon lead to countless days, nights, and weekends spent with them. They took us into their home, on their family vacations, to their church, and most importantly, into their hearts. Yet, the Deckers would never describe the Kelly girls as an "interruption." I have often said the Decker family was the hand of God in my life before I ever knew the hand of God. 

25 years later I am grateful and challenged by Myrtle Decker and her family. They allowed their lives to be interrupted. They opened their home, hearts, and time to meet us where we were. After numerous conversations with this wonderful family, I realized that the Deckers did not set out to "save these poor" girls. But what they did do was show us love, consistency, and a difference. Because of their time, conversations, hugs, and prayers my life was never the same. Being poor financially was nothing compared to being poor in spirit. I began to taste the goodness of God at the Decker family dinner table. 

As a result of being the "interruption" in the life of a family with whom my own family now has relationship, I am more able to see the value of a life interrupted. I am a loved wife of a man who pursues the Lord, a blessed mother helping raise two amazing and active children, completely involved in a community and church body and the foundation for my choices being the unconditional love, hope, and redemptive power of Jesus Christ. The generational cycle has been broken! The Deckers were and continue to be the hands and feet of the Lord's character. Being in the presence of this family has left an eternal imprint on my life. I saw a difference. I felt hope. I was forever changed. 

So, as you follow my entries, I wanted you to know where and how my story began. I began as the interruption. And I am forever grateful, thankful, and humbled by the willingness and generosity of a family open to an awkward 5th grader. 

I pray that you and I may have the eyes and ears to see the opportunity of an interruption. 

"Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations..." Deuteronomy 7:9

- annie

the mess

I hate glass top dining tables. I don't like the sound a drinking glass makes when it hits the table. I don't like when leaned on, the suction cups let loose and the table comes up. And the fingerprints!

My friend Stacey LOVES her glass top table. She loves it so much that she talks about how much she loves it-while she is cleaning it. Bleh.

Our family spent a couple of months in Panama last year. Beautiful high rise apartment, rooftop pool, doorman... glass top table. Really? I remembered very quickly that I hated the table. A two year old, a four year old and the fresh fruits of the Carribean... mess. Toward the end of my time I really began to dissect this hatred.

What did I hate the most: that it got so messy or that I could see the mess? When the top was wiped, the underside was still gross. I mean, my regular pottery barn cafe table gets messy, too. But I can't see the mess. How much had I missed on the underside of my table at home?

This is what I decided: the mess reminds me of how much work I still have to do. I can't ignore the mess if it's glaring at me. I can't walk away from the table if it is obviously still dirty underneath. And there's my life... admittedly open, authentic, see-through. I can't get frustrated when I see the work I still have left. When I think I've gotten it all, there's the underside. At the end of the day I, more than anything, want to be clean. Usable for the next experience. Ready for the next thing.

Get you dish rag ready, Jesus. We got cleaning to do.

the forbes boys in panama,  christmas day, at our glasstop table

- jill

i love a wedding!

Thought I would take this Monday and share with you some pictures from TIFFANY and BRYN'S wedding.  The new Mr. and Mrs. Alexander were in a "Before I do" pre-marital life group that Heath and I facilitated.  We love them and are so grateful to have shared in this day.  

and i do love a wedding...

Congrats!

entering their reception at The Lighthouse on Shem Creek.

Mr. and Mrs. Bryn Alexander.

love watching a groom get adjusted to his new wedding band.

gorgeous and delicious cake made by tiffany's aunt.

the helpmate thing has already started!

Security in the Uncomfortable

On June 15, 2007, we moved to Mt. Pleasant and into our apartment. 

At the time, our apartment seemed huge! 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, 1000 sq ft. The place felt like a mansion. There were three of us Forbes then and the space was "temporary.” Now there are five Forbes. The master bedroom became a storage area. (Looking back, I should wonder why it was ok to risk my life and the life of our unborn child as i precariously would make my way to and from the multiple middle-of-the-night bathroom trips;  stepping over shoes and boxes of clothes the boys had outgrown, while Heath soundly slept.)  The walls began to close in. If I had a nickel for every time I said, "Please stop jumping. Respect Ms. Linda downstairs, please!” 

Almost 5 years later we have bought (just about) the perfect house for us. It is twice the size, has extra rooms, work space for everyone... A new mansion.

We have begged the Lord for this place. I mean, on my face, lose my mind, screaming at the wrong people kind of petition. (Sorry telemarketer lady, but I'm SLEEPING IN A STORAGE UNIT!)  And here it is. The perfect place. So why am I sad? 

I didn't realize how many expectations I wrapped up in this. I thought there would be cartwheels at closing, high fives when the apartment keys were turned in and angels singing as each box is unpacked.... Nope. I have just felt sad... (and overwhelmed and tired, but that's my life... and that's a whole other show.) Even as I write this, I can't really figure out why this has been so difficult. 

Is it the memories? Maybe. Is it learning a new part of the Charleston area? Could be. Is it my neighbors? Not sure. All I know is that even in the chaos of the apartment, I was comfortable. I could find the popcorn at my Publix. The beach was a bike ride away. And it was exactly 7 minutes to the church building. Not so much anymore. I nearly cried at our new super Bi-Lo, the boys complained about the itchy sand on their feet as we made the 20 minute drive home from the beach AND WHAT'S WITH THE DON HOLT BRIDGE! How many accidents can there be?! I can't get anywhere in 7 minutes! UNCOMFORTABLE. 

Isn't this what I'm called to? A life on the edge, just waiting for Jesus to push me off? A life of insecurity is a constant reminder of the security in a Father that is FOR ME. FOR me. For ME. He is right beside me in all of this, luring me inviting me into insecurity "because when I am weak, He is strong." 

I will continue to have a hard time. I will probably always feel like a fish out of water, keeping my eyes open to the interruptions that remind me He, the Author of all of this, is here. And secure. And purposeful. 

- jill

Zumba Obedience

What is Zumba ? See the following from the official Zumba Fitness Website:

“THE WORD ZUMBA^® DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING
The word ZUMBA^® was coined by our company, and is an arbitrary or fanciful word we selected as the original brand name that identifies Zumba Fitness' dance fitness programs and related products.”

Who can resist something for which its branders chose a word that “doesn’t mean anything” and at the same time is “fanciful”? They go on to say that using the word “Zumba” as a noun or verb is incorrect. It should be referred to as “Zumba Fitness”. (That was free for all of you English language nerds, like me)

So, official definition aside let me tell you what “Zumba Fitness” is to me. It is the first type of physical exertion that doesn’t feel like “I can’t wait for this to be over” exercise. It is an hour of high energy, fun dance movements that allow me to bring out my highly imagined inner Latina. As a bonus, I get to wear cute, sparkly shoes as opposed to bulky, clunky tennis ones.

And yes, for me, it has become an exercise in obedience. (No pun intended, but if you appreciated it—all the better.)

Sounds like easy obedience for something so enjoyable, right??!! Wrong. Whereas it is a great deal of fun, I am HORRIBLE at it. Now, before you start thinking, “I’m sure you’re not that bad. You’re just being hard on yourself”. Let me assure you --I am that bad. As anecdotal proof, I’ve talked with two different instructors (after class) and told them how much I loved the class, but how dreadful I consider myself to be at it. I was, of course, secretly hoping, for a “That’s ok. Keep coming. You’ll get it” response. What I got instead: “So glad you enjoyed the class”. Big smile, followed by awkward silence!!

My historical fall back would be, “Ok so I’m not good at it, I’ll find something I’m better at and do that instead... Appreciate those instructors as ‘truth-tellers’ like the ones you wished some of the contestants on American Idol would have had in their lives before they made it to the national stage”. It has, however, not proven to be quite that simple in this case. I don’t just feel the freedom to move on. I am sensing from the Holy Spirit that He is using “Zumba Fitness” to get to something much deeper in my heart.

This quote from The Calvary Road,, by Roy Hession, is what the Lord used to get me thinking in that direction, “Anything that springs from self, however small it may be is sin”. The author goes on with a laundry list of the usual suspects: “self-indulgence, self-pity, self-seeking”: but then he comes to one that I wasn’t expecting: “self -consciousness”

That’s it—“Self-consciousness” It seems so innocuous, certainly not in the “sin” category—right??!!. And yet as God started to drill down into my life on this point, I was dismayed to discover the all-too-familiar hallmarks of a trap of the enemy of my soul. It is the reason I don’t speak Spanish better—afraid to put myself out there with Spanish speakers. It is why I over-prepare for meetings at work, and freak out when my boss asks me a question to which I cannot provide a thorough and immediate answer. It is why I am not fully myself in every relationship. Shrinking back from ALL of the freedom that God has for me, and stopping short of ALL of who I was created to be. All of this in order to protect an image, or not be embarrassed, is most definitely not God’s choice for my life. In a word, that would be “sin”.

So, for a while at least, it looks like my Saturday mornings will be ones of stepping to the right while everyone else is going left. Facing the wrong direction when everyone turns and my row is suddenly at the front. And making sure I am out of the way when it is time for my neighbor to kick in my direction. All the while growing in dependence on the blood of Jesus to cleanse me from self-consciousness and dance me into a whole new level of freedom.

- Brenda

To Struggle

The hard outer shell is cracked around the upper circumference of the egg.

Then there is movement beneath the thin membrane.


Suddenly we see a small damp face breaking through.

Then with a quick push, a chick emerges, head, feet, and body.

Before long it gets its feet under it and fluffs up a bit.

And I sit and wonder, "Is the chick like a butterfly or moth?  Does it have to struggle in order to live as it was intended?  Must it break through the hard parts on its own to survive thrive?  Is the struggle a vital part of life?"

There are men who struggle for a day and they are good.
There are men who struggle for a year and they are better.
There are men who struggle for many years, and they are better still.
But there are those who struggle all their lives.
These are the indispensable ones.  
From the song "In Praise of Fighting" from The Mother by Bertolt Brecht

If I'm completely honest, I don't like to struggle.  I actually avoid it when I can, but the thing about life is, that it's filled with struggle.

During the past couple of months, I've been reminded of this over and over.  Reminded as I read the autobiography of a woman named Malalai Joya.  Reminded as my mother-in-law endured a lumpectomy and radiation therapy.  Reminded as my husband works to build his own business.  Reminded as I tend to the daily needs of my household and four children.  Reminded as a friend deals with her ex-husband.

We all must struggle.  And once we are free, living "outside the shell", it takes time to adjust to the new reality.   The chick never looked back at its old shell.  It didn't try to climb back inside what had once been comfortable.  It did make quite a lot of noise on the outside, as though cheering for those chicks that were still pecking on the insides of their shells.

As I observe, I see this truth, and I pray that I will struggle with grace and truly be content, no matter the circumstances.  I pray that I will have the strength do to my working out while another works within.  And I pray, that in the places that I know freedom, I will call back encouragement, not judgment, to those still behind the hardness of a shell that contains them.

lorie

I met  Lorie Park in Gainesville, FL.  Five of us girls signed up to participate in a ministry called "Apples of Gold."  We were all relatively new to the area, had no friends and were struggling to find a place.  What a life long bond we made.  Lorie is eloquent, funny and a hardcore sarcastic girl in the shell of a sweet, loving, missionary-type.  Homeschool mom, Dentist wife, care taker of many...

expressions of a 9 month old

happy girl; complete with chin dribble

this is my wink

and i clap

the birdie

i'm done because...

i'm tired

why am i so excited?

because i'm riding a vacuum cleaner!

the professional chin tilt

backward wave

and i'm out.

jill

HUNGER PAINS

a couple of weeks ago a friend posted on a facebook group that she saw a tweet from Oprah that made her stop and think... "until you can be thankful for something that is not enough then what you have cannot be multiplied into more than enough (BishopJakes)" she then challenged us to list something that was a blessing to us, but something that was out of the ordinary, different from the norm.


after thinking for a couple of days i became starkly aware of my hunger pains.

i am thankful for hunger pains... the kind you get when you are so hungry it hurts and you are starting to feel sick and then food enters your system and you can feel the life seeping back into you. hunger pains. 

when you are made aware of the fact that you are lacking so when you are filled life is breathed into you. hunger pains. 

like when you move to a new place and for three years you pray for women who you can live in real authentic community with to surround you, who will regularly interrupt their lives for you and you them, and after three long years the LORD grants your request. then you are filled and life is... so full... hunger pains.

like when you search desperately for a job to provide for your family, and it takes a long time... much, much longer than you ever expected... and you almost give up and try something else... but then, the phone call comes and you are in. hired. and blessing after blessing after blessing comes. hunger pains.

when you feel like GOD is so... far... away... and who are you that He would listen to you anyways... but still you cry out to Him. and HE IS FAITHFUL!!!! hunger pains.

i am thankful for the hunger pains because i know now what a blessing it is to be full. SO FULL!!!!

may you recognize your hunger pains so you may be fully aware of your fullness! and praise the LORD in his faithfulness!

-tiffany

the journey of unknowables

"If knowing answers to life's questions is absolutely necessary to you, then forget the journey. You will never make it, for this is a journey of unknowables, or unanswered questions, engimas, incomprehensibles, and most of all things unfair" Madame Jeanne Guyon quote from Amazing Collections.

In the Women's Bible Study I attend, I had the pleasure to study the book of Job.  Not the most exciting book to read but very eye opening.   During the book study I came across the quote above and just loved it. The Christian life is truly a journey. There are highs, and lows, twists and turns, screeching halts and pressing of the gas pedal.  It is a journey that I think if we knew what we would face along the way, we would not have chosen that path.  But once at the end of the path we look back see that we are stronger, faster, more secure, more loving, humble and may I say refined.  As I studied the book of Job, I could not help but think back on my "Job-like" times in my life.  I think back to when I was in 4th grade and I could not figure out why I was so stupid. I think about in high school when at cheerleading camp, four girls tried out to cheer at the Macy's Day parade and only three got it, I was the fourth girl. I think back to college, falling in love and planning a future with someone who in the end, told me I just wasn't good enough or godly enough for him and broke up with me...in an email.  I then think about being on church staff for the first time and being hit on by the minister that was supposed to be mentoring me.  I think about December 2004 when my family's world was rocked with the most heart wrenching, faith challenging time in our lives, when God chose to take Tucker home to be with Him.  Then most recently, I think about the year and half we struggled to concieve a child, the weeks on bed rest and the two months our precious baby being in the NICU.  Would I have chosen those paths?  Absolutely not!  Am I glad I took these paths?  Yes.

sweet ava, now 3

abbey, ava and adam

Yet, I am lucky. God has shown me a glimpse of His plan in allowing me to see why I had to go through these struggles. Because I had a learning disability in fourth grade, it made me a more patient and understanding teacher. As for the Macy's Day parade, that year New York had a record snow, on the day of the parade. brrrrrrrrrrr! Why did that guy I was so in love with not want me? Because God had already created and was preparing the most wonderful man in the world for me to marry and be the father of my child. (I love you Adam). Just recently, a friend of mine had a miscarraige and I was able to both sympathize and empathize with her. And just this past Thursday God gave me a glimpse of why I had to endure infertility: a lady in my Bible study has a daughter who is my age and is experiencing a similar situation as I did. Will we ever truly know why God gives us trials and tribulations? I don't know. What I do know is that "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked will I return. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord."

abbey

This week's guest writer is Abbey Cooler.  Abbey was a college acquaintance turned Senior year prayer partner.  Wife to Adam.  Mom to Ava and Baby "A."  Seminary grad.  Former Gardner-Webb cheerleader.  Sandi Patty wannabe.  (She can do a lot, but she CANNOT sing.)  Thanks for sharing, Abs!

#1

pastor max wilkins challenged the congregation at the family church in gainesville, fl to live "interruptible lives."  i had no idea what that would mean this many years later.  it is easier to leave margin in my day for a broken down car or a diaper blow out, but a blog?  really, Jesus?  write?

there are many reasons as to why i am just now writing, but they are interruptions.  and these women that will be joining me, the girls interrupted, they are here because of other road blocks or unplanned events.  interruptions.  the "God bless the broken road" effect.  

the timing of all this is crazy.  we have just bought our first house and it is in disarray, the kids are out of school and my plate feels so full.  this is where i am writing from:

this will be my office.  sooner rather than later, i hope.

and this is where i will read from.

so i will write.  and these amazing women will write.  and guests will write.  and hopefully, you will be blessed and intrigued and responsive.  even as i see those words i'm nervous.  this is a whole new level of vulnerability.  my hands are sweating as i finish this up.  insecurity is lurking.  anticipation is high.  expectations are low.  here we go...

jill