One Sorry List...

Social networking has brought sympathy seeking to a whole new level. Happenings in the lives of people that I know, things I would've never known about, suddenly flood my daily consciousness through Facebook, twitter, and even Instagram newsfeeds.

Sometimes it's terrible things like deaths in the family or catastrophic illnesses. Sometimes it's merely the loss of some prized possession or boyfriend. (not to minimize losing one's boyfriend or one stuff but in light of catastrophic illness or death I see that is definitely something less painful)


There are times when I feel really overwhelmed by the hurt I see flooding in over my social media and I feel like sometimes I just want to turn it off but I hold closing my eyes in tension with the desire to care for other people.

Then this happened; I started reading what other people's comments were. Come on people! We need to pull ourselves together and do a better job of moderating our compassion.

Posted on Facebook last night was a sad expression of the loss due to theft of something's of value. I have absolutely no clue why I thought I should read what other people said. Could have been boredom (I was fighting insomnia), it could have been a weak nosey moment, who knows???

What I found was very telling about how we "so called friends" give comfort. Nestled among the many "I am sorrys" were a plethora of comments that were not helpful. I am posting 

My Top Five Comments NOT to Post to Someone Needing Sympathy on Social Media.

1: "I am going to you to do exactly what you have already done" - approach. Not helpful, people. In this case telling someone to call the police about a theft seems little demeaning. Don't you think???

2: "I am going to call the perpetrator all kinds of terrible names, maybe even accuse someone in public" - approach. Most importantly accusing someone in a public, for example, can only create hurt feelings and trashing someone can't possibly make someone feel better.

3: "The throw a third party under the bus" -approach. In this case the police that never watch or property were indicted out there on the internet but as I researched further looking at others misery postings, I found the absolute worst. Someone had asked for prayer in the death of a loved one. A goober "friend" had the insensitivity to suggest she file a law suit against the hospital, doctors, etc. because no one should have to die like that.

4. "The I am going to tell you how to fix this and move quickly forward" - approach. This could be okay when talking about replacing stolen property especially if you will take on the responsibility of actual doing the leg work, not just talking. But telling someone where to find a puppy when the beloved family pet of 16 years is out to sleep may not be helpful. Or worse yet where to find a new man when the current one is gone...

5. "The I am going to say sorry AFTER I tell you the story of how it happened to me but was so much worse in my case" - approach. Do I even need to tell you his is WRONG. This is CRUEL. And this is NOT helpful. (End rant)

There are many other poor examples, you can check them out if you dare. But let's do better. Sure there are people that need advice. And yes, doctors, law enforcement and other third parties may need to be held accountable but in that moment, that place, is it really the right time to do anything else but say you feel sorry.  No one wants or needs unsolicited advice when we are sad/grieving. 

Better yet, if you really are sorry, message them, call them, see them. Be a friend.

Tackling Turkeys and Memories

Thanksgiving, well any holiday really, is a time for memories. please allow me to share a very prominent Thanksgiving memory for me; "Timmy the Turkey."

As a child Thanksgiving was celebrated at my childhood home, my Grandma Dorothy's home. I lived there with my Mom, my Grandma and my Aunt. My Grandmother, a widow was the boss, she made the plans and ran the household with a large personality. My Mom and I moved in when I was 4 1/2 after my Mom's second divorce. Also living there, temporarily, was my Aunt Judy while her husband was overseas in the Viet Nam war. We lived in a modest three bedroom suburban home in North Tulsa. 

Thanksgiving Day 1968

My Grandma Dorothy was a proclaimer of great ideas. If she could weave a way to make me stand out, shine or perform her ideas were golden. (In her mind) I will never forget my 7 year old Thanksgiving Holiday. It started the Saturday before. The day usually set aside for heading to the local grocery store and picking out the ginormous turkey she would baste and bake for Thanksgiving. This pre-Turkey Day Saturday started like the others before it. Get up early to go to the store before all the turkeys were gone. But the day soon took a turn for the crazy; by crazy I mean "what-the-heck-is-happening-here-crazy." As we pull into the parking lot I see what I hopefully anticipated to be a pop up carnival or festival. There were many people standing in the parking lot with eager, smiling faces. I saw hay bales in a large circle and people gathering around it. there was music playing and a man selling tickets. "Boom! I was riding something today!" If I had only known. As we approached the people Grandma uttered the words I longed to hear, "Let go find the ticket salesman." I spotted him right away and dragged my Grandma there. It wasn't until I held the ticket in my hand that I turned and saw what was encircled by the hay bales. TURKEYS! Live turkeys. Running around clearly disoriented by not being either in a barnyard or neatly packed in the freezer case of Reasor's Grocery Store. I saw this scenario going down hill fast.

Somehow in the midst of total confusion, bewilderment and disappointment I hear that the "Turkey Grab" was about to begin. The next thing I know the ticket was snatched from my hand, I am lifted over a hay bail into the turkey circle with a handful of other kids. The announcer instructed us that when we heard the whistle we could begin to chase the turkeys. The first of us to tackle a turkey got to take it home. Then before I could think that thought through, "Tweeeeeet." My competitive adrenaline coupled with the constant requirement to perform sprang to action, I tackled the first turkey and WON! 

My Grandma scooped up the turkey, tossed him in a burlap bag. Yes, she had it with her. In one swift movement she poked his head through the hole she had pre-cut in the bottom, and tied the bag shut with rope and tossed him into the back seat of her huge, red land yacht. the next thing I knew we were making the 45 minute trip to the country to my great-grandfathers farm. I assumed it would be Timmy's (yes, I named him) home. Grandpa had barns and fences and chicken coups so I knew Timmy would be right at home.

This is me and Grandpa Dasher inspecting my new pet turkey, Timmy.
(Notice the huge, red, land yacht in the background)

As we pulled in, grandpa came out and quickly began to inspect Timmy. He was impressed at his size, his health. He told me I did a good job! I was pleased! Then Grandma wanted to commemorate the the occasion with a photo op.

This is my Grandma Dorothy, me and Grandpa Dasher with Timmy.
He is posing as a turkey in a bag would.
Me, I am in perfect pretty foot.

And then the moment when the world turned upside down. My Grandma started boiling water, my grandpa starts sharpening the chicken head axe. I begin to sweat, panic, and worry. Why would we be chopping off a chicken head right before Thanksgiving? You eat turkey on Thanksgiving..."OH NO!" I then realized the awful truth.

This is me comforting Timmy pre-slaughter.
Grandma is photo bombing or hovering in the event I am about to stage a turkey release.

For the next, agonizing hours (maybe minutes but it seemed like forever) I stood there, petting Timmy, crying and telling him how sorry I was for getting him onto this. Grandma, paying no attention went along with the plucking prep and Grandpa was waiting for his moment to swing the axe.

Headless Timmy, being scalded to make plucking easier.
Uncle Harold supervising.
Me still apologizing and crying.

Why is this memory one I still carry? It could be because it was the moment I became a vegetarian, at least until next Thanksgiving. It could be the day I decided it was my job to save the animals of the world (have I mentioned I have 3 dogs, a chinchilla, a bunny and a guinea pig named Steve?) Or it could have been the day I decided my family was NOT like me, at all. 

The reality is, this moment is a special moment for me, now. When I look at the pictures in my head and these actual Kodak moments, I am reminded of how my Grandma was always the one who thought I could do anything, even tackle the best turkey of the bunch. How my Great Grandpa thought I was "spunky." He meant that as a compliment. He didn't give those out often. I remember that, while this was not the first time I cried over the plight of animals, I learned that for some people, meat to eat is a blessing from God. Timmy served my family well that year. I also look back and realize that I had a great sense of style, even at seven. I would wear that outfit today.

Oddly enough this is one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories. Although I didn't eat any turkey that year, in fact, I barely ate at all, I felt good about helping, about pleasing, about tackling a challenge that would send a lot of kids running. Rest in Peace Timmy. Well done good and faithful servant. How do your memories shape you?

Looking Beyond Dislodgment

I asked the boys to come to charge conference last night. Charge conference is when we come together as a church body and celebrate the ministries and affirm the leadership of the church. I am all about "inspiring the youth in seeing themselves as part of the church. This was the texting dialogue with my oldest son Kota.


Me: "Please."
Kota: "You really should tell me these things before."
Me: "Never mind I thought dad did."
Kota: "He didn't"
Kota: "It interrupts what I'm doing."
Kota: "And I really don't like that."

I love that Kota has come to a point where he can communicate what he really feels without a meltdown. This is a huge accomplishment. I don't always like what he says but I honestly rejoice that he is finding his voice...mostly.

What my son is expressing is not unique to people on the spectrum.

"It interrupts what I'm doing. And I really don't like that."

Most of us don't like interruptions. As a "Mom/Pastor my life is filled with interruptions to my daily plan of action. One would think that the more I am interrupted the more I would roll with the flow.

I am not convinced it works that way. I find when my day or life or plans get interrupted more frequently I dislike <insert a stronger word of your choice> being interrupted. In fact, disruptions, if allowed, could wreck my day.

Is it the actual disruptions of life that wreck our day...or...our response (attitude) that wrecks our day?

For Kota, he had a plan:
Come in from school.
Go to his room for decompression time.
Emerge for homework.
Be forced to eat dinner. (Supreme waste of time.)
Finish homework.
XBox 360!!!

I interrupted xBox. Really?!?! The nerve. But for Kota it was worse that his well crafted plan for his evening was "dislodged." "Total dislodgment" His word. Not mine. He was in his nighttime pants, with a bowl of chips, controller in hand, disc engaged and then BAM! Plucked out of his comfy world and tossed to the wind like a feather from a Thanksgiving turkey to float aimlessly to the ground. With a thud. (Drama added for Kota's benefit.)

How often do we feel "dislodged" from our plans, our day, our way of life. Sometimes, the interruptions are God's way of moving us into a new place; a better place.

I look back at the times I have been stopped, moved or re-directed. There have even been times when I WAS the feather crash landing in a new place; lost, disoriented. Always, after whining, complaining, cursing comes the need to look up; around, beyond.

The true test that comes for a person is do we stay lost in our own little pity party or do we look beyond the experience of being dislodged to what lies beyond. Perhaps something greater - something better, something that grows us into what God sees within us.

NOTE: Kota did come to the Charge Conference meeting. One giant step for compliance; one giant leap for looking beyond. He didn't love it but more importantly he didn't hate it.

Of Tornados and Treasures

Today is the day that our family celebrates two little boys coming to us making our child total to the number seven.)Isn’t that the number that means complete? That's what I'm counting on.)

The journey began when my husband and I thought what a great ministry we could share if we became foster parents. Our county was struggling with a deeply embedded drug problem and foster parents were in short supply for the children from homes of parents struggling with addiction. We had hoped that while we kept the children safe, fed, warm, and loved, we could also be a presence in the life of the parent that was trying to rebuild and regain their children.

I have always heard that if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans! Our first two foster children stayed…forever. We stuck with our plan but God showed us that that was not the completion of His plan.

The boys came to us the day of clean up from a devastating tornado. We had spent the day at a friends home, finding family photos and mementos that were strewn across their property. At one pony our dear friend, Rachel realized her wedding rings, her mother’s and her father’s were missing form the place she always left them. She was heart-broken as she looked at the missing walls and roof and the vast area her belonging were scattered. My daughter, Jill, never one to give up and always the first to turn to God, began the process of looking past the big mess to find the small treasures. Hidden under a wall, in the grass and under a bed, Jill found all three sets of rings.  We often correlate the confusion and mess from the tornado with the confusion and devastation we faced the first few weeks of adjust meant to having these two little creatures. Nine months later, their mama relinquished her rights because she just couldn't find a way to get clean. At the ripe old age of 41 for me and 44 for Joe, we became the parents of two bouncing baby toddlers. We tried hard to find the small treasures in the big mess.

With them came new experiences having been the mother of girls. I never allowed violence or guns in my home but with the boys came constant wrestling that turned into vicious fighting and everything was turned into a gun; even an upside down Barbie became a make-believe weapon (legs make a great gun barrel, apparently.)

I have had to learn to let a few things go. I used to worry more about matching clothes, weather appropriate attire, and bedroom organization. I have had to learn to endure stepping on Legos in the middle of the night, finding Tostitos and tub of butter under my child's bed (don't ask) and walking into the basement to find my son skinning his latest critter and he trapped so he can sell the pelt. (I did make him promise this wouldn’t lead to a life of serial murder a la Silence of the Lambs.)

I have learned about sports injuries, individual education programs, dirt bikes and video games. There are days when I feel like I have become an expert in autism and advocacy for classroom accommodations and then there are days when I feel like I'm absolutely helpless in the lack of knowledge that I possess.

But as I sit and look at my two boys who were almost ferrel when they came,  I realize that God knew more than I did.  The two boys came into my home the day following the biggest tornado that swept through our County, covered in the debris of the brokenness of drug addiction, damaged by the storms of unattended health and developmental issues, and marred by the challenges that they had to face in there very young lives, have grown into near-men, accomplished in so many areas. They have brought a sense of balance to our lives. 

Through the clean up, emotionally and physically, I have learned how to heal my personal scars. Through working through living with challenges I am better equipped to help others with their hurdles. Through letting go of standards that really don’t matter, I am beginning to discover what really does matter. And the big lesson is that God has a plan that supersedes our narrow focus on life.

Where are you open to the tornados of life? The places when God sweeps in and leaves debris and damage behind that is not of His doing but a place where you can come along and clean up using only the power and might of God. 

Clean up, Clean up, Everybody, Everywhere

Whoa Nelly! Sassy girl is a hot mess these days. Everything about her is a giant mash up of life and development. Eating, dressing, singing, moving from place to place is nothing more than a proving ground for new skills. It is as though she has become a test pilot for toddler hood. Sad thing: she is three months shy of 2!


Walking involves tip toeing, then walking on a curb to quickly switch to stomping to kick walk, with something that resembles a Nazi goose step. The song she sang in the car on the way to lunch was as follows, "A-B-C-D-No Jack - No Jack- tomorrow- itsy spider up waterspout." Playlist; ABC song, Hit the Road Jack, The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow and The Itsy Bitsy Spider. She has a future in mash up producing for cheer squads. 

And Eating?!?!? Wow! When ordering she has become vocal. The other day, at the local donut shop she ordered coffee (Mom vetoed.) And yesterday at lunch she ordered "molie" (guacamole), salad, rice and beans." She ate that and chips and salsa and cheese dip and some of her dad's vegetarian nachos and some of my avocado and so on. Sassy not only enjoys her food, she experiences it; something that makes Papa a little crazy. He wants to wipe her hands after each squish of a new handful of food but he trusts that her parents have got this figured out. She is experimenting with utensils but don't you pick up your food and stick on the fork? Her Mom and I just let go at it and clean her up at the end. I have noticed Dad sits at the other end of the table. Hmmmm

When finished eating/experiencing all she wants, she begins to sing, Clean up, clean up everybody, everywhere. Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share. She sings as she picks up the stray mushy chips, rice pieces and other debris from the gastronomic tornado we just experienced. She occasionally stops to "rediscover" a bite of something she had laid aside and forgot about.

If only...

If only we caught the parallel between the development of this growing baby girl to those growing into maturity as children of God; both are eager to experience, both fall back and make seriously interesting choices; choices we "mature" people would never make. 

Sassy's parents are smart. They know when to let her explore and experience the feeling of walking on her toes or kicking rather than rush her from here to there or tell her it isn't proper to walk like that. They let her get a little messy knowing that all the while she is learning that what ever mess she makes she will need to clean up. 

Our Heavenly parent is the same. God gives those that are just discovering all the richness that comes from Him a wide open field to explore and discover. God doesn't stop people from tip toeing in to a life in Christ or kicking their way into a full blown relationship with Christ. God allows for spiritual development to happen at an individual pace. God allows for poor decisions (or at least questionable ones.) Decisions are part of the growth process. However, God will try to steer us and nudge us into a better choice. And more importantly, we are left to deal with our own messes we make. 

What is important to note. We are called into the process of letting children develop and we are called into the process of allowing Christians to mature. growing children is called parenting. Growing Christians is called discipleship. In parenting, rigidity and rules stifles exploration, creativity and more importantly enjoyment of growth. Too much control creates a spirit of rebellion in children; worse yet, a crushing of the spirit.

In discipleship - the same. If we approach people with rules of what is right and what is not right, not allowing them to explore with God what is hoped for them we can take away the enjoyment of growth in Christ, the creativity found in God is stifled. Too much control creates a spirit of rebellion in children; worse yet a crushing of the Spirit; a crushing of their desire to allow the Holy Spirit to move, shape, guide.


Sassy's parents are smart. God, as a parent is the ultimate in wisdom and knowledge. Why do we Christians sometimes feel we need to control what the parent is trying to do? Experiencing life can be messy but messes are ok. But there is also learning in the cleaning up.

Clean up, clean up, every body every where. Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share. 

Parenthood...you're killing me!

By the title one might think that I struggle with parenting. Duh! Any parent that says otherwise is lying to themselves or others. Doing parenting well, whatever that looks like, is hard. Caring creates questioning. I should be a pro. I am educated on the subject; I have a double undergrad of elementary education and early childhood development. I am experienced; other than the 15 years I worked with children professionally, I raised my younger sister, gave birth to two daughters that are grown and Joe and I adopted two boys. People have actually been known to ask me parenting advice. But as my daughter put it at the height of her pre teen snarkiest, "Mom, you always blow Mother of the Year right before nominations." Parenting is hard.

Not whining here but my challenges have not been small; oldest daughter had all kinds of weird health issues, youngest daughter had all kinds of weird control issues, (both grown and awesome now!) divorce, remarriage, adoption of two boys from a horrible situation and then BAAM! The one challenge that is daily, hard, funny and puzzling all at once. Our oldest son is on the autism spectrum. He has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS to be exact. What is even more fun is we didn't get the diagnosis until he was at the end of 5th grade. To our defense, he is very intelligent, and we had to wade through some lingering emotional issues from his "previous life."

Enter Parenthood, the television series on NBC. I started the show at its beginning and haven't missed an episode. Granted it doesn't take much to get me hooked on a television show but the character Max intrigued me from the beginning. Max has Aspbergers on the show. And like our son Kota, it took a while to get a to a diagnosis, some answers. In fairness, many friends had said, "Have you seen Big Bang Theory?" For so long, my no answer was followed with you should because Kota is like Sheldon Cooper. Yes, Sheldon and Kota share so many traits, particularly in their need to impart vast amounts of information and similar fashion sense. But as much as I have grown to love BBT, it is Max and Parenthood that has been so helpful in parenting Kota in so many ways.

L: Max Burholder and R: Dakota Jack Mowdy

First of all, Max's age, development and interestingly, appearance has mirrored Kota's. Watching what his TV parents went through to get to first, a diagnosis and then acceptance and finally becoming a facilitator and advocate for your child. Many of Max's challenges have been Kota's challenges. Please understand, they are not identical. The biggest mistake most people without a spectrum person in their home makes is to think all Autism looks and acts the same. Even within similar categories of spectrum conditions don't share identical traits. All people with Aspergers are not Max, all people with Classic Autism are not Rainman and technically Sheldon Cooper's character is not identified with any issues on the spectrum according to the writers. (The same is true for many adults that are possibly on the spectrum, it has never been identified.)

Although not identical, I have been able to explain what a new teacher may experience if they have watched Parenthood. I can watch Max's parents, Adam and Kristina try, fail and still love each other and Max through each and every challenge. Their successes give me hope.

Parenthood is killing me. This is the last season. I find myself as I watch each episode how my son will end up with out know what is in store for Max as he enters his teen age years. Max has found a girlfriend. While we aren't there yet, Kota is 15 and girls are inevitable. Max and Kota both entered high school this year. How will I know how that will go? Way to go Parenthood. You are taking away one of my parenting tools.

Other spectrum parents, please don't attack me for equating our struggle with a fictional show on television. I get it. It isn't the same. I know. Trust me I know. And yes, Max is no where near what many of of you face. But struggles in parenting are struggles and any insight is winner winner chicken dinner in my books. Any way I can help those that are charged with teaching and interacting with my child is a bonus. Kota is in neuro-typical classes in high school. His teachers are often the honors teachers and the advance course teachers. WARNING: generalization ahead! In our school system these are the teachers that have less understanding of working in an alternative way. Rarely does Kota come in contact with Special Education faculty; you know, the people trained to work with those on the spectrum. Being able to say, "Have you ever seen Parenthood?" is finding a starting place for conversation. Especially when I get questions like: "Why don't you cut his hair?", "Why does he throw so many fits?" Or statements like: "He won't look at me when I am talking to him" or "He spends way too long in the bathroom."

So Parenthood, I understanding the concept of going out on top. I get that your actors want to do other projects and break outside of the characters that have almost become who they are. But for this one mom, I have to say, "You're killing me." But seriously, thank you for all you have done for us in this house hold.

Extra Jesus: A Book review "God Made Light"

I went to seminary when my boys were little. Like many seminarians I used words I rarely use years after graduation; words like "exegesis," "eschatological"...you get the picture. I wasn't trying to impress, they were just words that flew around the classroom that I felt I had to try on for size in real life. Interestingly, the boys made sense of them in their own way, particularly the word exegesis. I don't remember which son came up with the best interpretation but one of them felt like they heard and understood exegesis to be "extra-jesus." I think he may be closer than we think. Exegesis, the critical interpretation and examination of scripture, often becomes a hunt for some "extra Jesus" in the passage...at least in my mind.

For a person that came from an early care and education background before entering ministry, looking for Jesus in children's literature was hardly considered, mostly because it just wasn't there. The few "Christian" children's books were non useful in the early childhood classroom. I found I left them behind. (pun intended) Most books, Sunday school and VBS curricula written for children is either dull and cheesy reducing the relationship between humanity and Christ to something akin to the "Jesus is my best friend" genre. When a publication is given depth it is most often dry, colorless and ends up being boiled down to a flat, one-dimensional snap shot of the historical God.  While I have dreamed of writing to reconcile these flaws, I spend more time complaining than writing. 

Thank goodness for people like Matthew Paul Turner. I found MPT a few years ago when I stumbled upon his blog, Jesus Needs New PR. Many of the subjects he wrote about resonated with me. I found his writing assuring me that I could not like a lot of what people called Christians do and still like and follow Christ.  The blog inspired me to be the Christian I thought the world needed. Through his blog I was led to the first book I read, Churched leading me to read many of his others. 

I don't know if wanting to write for his children inspired him to write his latest book, God Made Light or if he just had a deep seated desire to correct the wrongs in Christian Children's Literature, but either way he wrote a book that did. 

God Made Light is pleasing to the eyes. God Made Light is colorful and bright and beautiful. I find my self smiling just at the pictures. The rhyming cadence is familiar to children and those that have read to them. His wife Jessica in her blog, The Mom Creative, writes about wanting to read books about God to their children that were engaging like Dr. Suess' and other quality children's authors writings. And Matthew brought that to the table. As a former early childhood professional, the book meets all the requirements for a child to love hearing.

But here is the best part of God Made Light. It has extra Jesus! Turner has managed to not weaken the message of God's creative influence on His creation. In kid friendly terms, they learn about how God lives in them through the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit that lives and dwells within them. They experience how God eradicates evil. I could exegete for days in this children's book.

Yesterday I read this book to the children of our church family for Children's Sermon. As I read the book, large pictures streaming to the big screen overhead for the "big people" the moment became more than I had imagined. I found that I was reading this book over them. Blessing them with light and love through the words on these page. When I read the words, "...cause on the day you were born, God said, 'Let there be light!'" I became emotional. These precious children, some of which I had been given the privilege to baptize, were brought into a relationship with God through Jesus Christ, and in this moment I saw the light in them. God is good!

My grown daughter, the scientist, loves that the book doesn't dumb down the science of God mentioning subject like constellations and the function of the sun to the moon and marries God in science instead of separating them. 

I am a book person, I collect them as many adults do fine wines or expensive clothing. I also cherish them as a child would their collection of stuffed animals in their bedroom. I am the grandma that buys the books every chance I get and look for and excuse to read them to her. I was also that mom. We still have the favorites and will pass down the "keepers"; the ones the kids know by heart due to repeated reading. God Made Light has already joined the ranks of "The Little Mouse, The Red Ripe Strawberry and the Big Hungry Bear," and "Good Night Moon" in our home. Thank you Matthew Paul turner for some extra Jesus.