The "Alexes" of the World

This is flat-out an "I'm called to Kids Ministry and sometimes just have to talk about it" blog post so... fair warning.  The biggest update I can give from the Embrees is that we are still alive and kickin' despite a week of freezing temperatures, unprecedented Kentucky snow, and the joy/pain/pleasure/frustration of being stuck in a tiny house with one another for that amount of time.  Today's 48 degree weather sent our entire family and half the neighborhood outside for a good dose of Vitamin D and some serious leg-stretching.

BUT... that's not what this post is about.

This is about one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life exemplifying the love of Christ "to the least of these" and I saw it played out in the simple actions of my unsuspecting husband.  We had the opportunity to visit a church this morning where our friends Ian and Hillary Cole serve on staff.  They had come to our house for dinner about two weeks ago and told us about the unique ministry their church had found itself in; bussing in and ministering to local children whose parents choose not to attend church.  The first four pews of the left side of church were full of parent-less kids coming for the love and ministry offered by the small church on Sunday morning.

We were blessed to attend church there this morning.  The message was great, the worship sincere, and the congregation welcoming.  But what really stood out to me this morning was Alex*.  Alex was a little red-headed young man with round glasses and an inquisitive spirit who decided that Luke was... well, his new best friend.  As we walked in this morning, this young man saw Luke and was desperate to get to him.  As soon as worship started and the hands that had been holding him let go, he bolted from his seat, down the aisle and snuggled in by Luke as if that was right where he belonged.  As worship started and Luke stood, he wiggled his way into Luke's arms and spent the entire worship service right there.  He played with Luke's watch, explored Luke's increasingly hairy beard, looked deep into Luke's eyes, and just stayed there... where he belonged.

I have never seen such a blatant, unmistakable need for love displayed so innocently and so genuinely in my life.  He didn't ask for it nicely.  He just assumed it would be freely given.  No platitudes, no begging.  Just confidence that Luke would offer the unconditional love this little boy was so hungry for.  In fact, it was so easily assumed and so freely given that the couple behind us thought that Alex was Luke's son (understandable with the red hair and all).  To Luke's credit, there wasn't even a hint of uncomfortable frustration or hesitancy in welcoming Alex into his presence.

Oh you have to see it by now!!  Is there any doubt that this exact type of scenario was what Jesus had in mind when he said that the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these (a child)?  What if we approached the "throne of grace with confidence" as Alex did today with Luke?  What if we didn't allow anything to get between us and Jesus but we "fixed our eyes on Jesus" and "threw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles" so that nothing could hold us back?  What if we believed that Jesus wants us to "come to him" when we "are weary and heavy laden" so He can "give us rest"?  And that just like Luke welcomed Alex with no questions asked, no conditions met, just because he loved Alex; just like that and infinitely more God loves us and welcomes us and desires us to be with him.

And.... most excitedly I say AND... when we do know that, live that and experience that, how much more ready will we be to love all the Alexes of this hurting world?  It's not that God wants us to come just for us and to believe in Him just for us.  God knows that if we truly understand His love for us and His presence with us, then we will be able to more fully love and more accurately see those around us that need that love.  

I was so blessed by the way the church we visited this morning is "being the church" to the kids in their neighborhood.   They are showing Christ's love and that's why when Alex saw Luke in that setting, he had no doubt that he'd be accepted.  There are many, many kids out there who are literally dying for that kind of love.  I bet you know a few.  I bet a few are in your neighborhood.  Maybe you've been thinking about reaching out but you just don't know how.  Not sure what to do or what to say.  My first thought - go confidently to your Father and let Him show you His love.  And then, go show that same love to the ones who came to your mind.  Volunteer at your church.  Listen to Bible verses at Bible Release Time. Let kids play in your yard.  Learn their names.  

There's no doubt in my mind that Alex has probably forgotten Luke by now.  What's that you say?  Doesn't that kinda go against your whole blog?  Nope.  Because I know beyond a doubt Alex has not forgotten the love he was shown.  And that love which came from Christ himself "bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."  That love "never fails."  So, go for it!  What do you have to lose?  Some fear, some anxiety, some sadness.  What do you have to gain?  Well, I could tell you but.. why don't you go find out?  The Alexes of the world await!

*been in KidMin too long to use the little guy's real name :)

Perfect Snow Day

Since you all know me, you all know I like snow.  There's a lot of snow-haters out there right now and I get it, I do.  Some of you loved snow about two months ago but hate it now.  Some of you never liked it and you were up front about it.  Others tolerate it because, let's all be honest, it is beautiful but you cannot wait for it to melt and for the sun to shine its warmth on us again.  And then there are the ones like me who drive the rest of you crazy.  The ones who post things like "It's snowing!!!!" followed by smiling faces intermingled with snowflakes and thumbs up.  The ones who secretly hope for blizzards and relish in "snow days" with or without kids.

When I was growing up, I used to love to walk through the woods during a snow storm.  The silence was so tangible you could actually hear snowflakes touching the ground.  The beauty was breathtaking.  Pine trees with branches laden with snow.  Creeks with half-frozen waterfalls and icicles hanging from barren berry bushes and backwoods brush.  It was magical and surreal.  I thought nothing could be more beautiful than the untouched landscape of newly fallen snow.

And to that end, I may be right.  If you are looking for perfect beauty, unmarred by dirt and untouched by anything or anyone, I'm not sure you can find a more beautiful sight.  It's just pure and white and clean and... perfect.  But is that what real beauty is?

Today we got snow in Kentucky!  I (silently) rejoiced!  It actually laid and accumulated and in some places where it drifted, it was even "deep".  One of my neighbors who has been here for 3 winters told me this is the  most snow she's seen in her time here.  The kids had off school and by the time I got home from work, the hill between Latimer Blvd and Tennet St. was full of sleds, riders, observers, and merry-makers.  People were posting on the Kalas Village facebook page things like, 'Feel free to grab the sleds on our porch and use them if you don't have any" and "We've got tea, coffee and cookies - stop in and warm up!"  Crock pots full of soup, Panera bread and bagels (donated to the seminary by our local Panera Bread) warming up in ovens, hot chocolate flowing freely and lots of laughter.  I really don't see the downside to all of this (the cold, the snow, the ice, the cabin fever, the longer school year... I know... I just don't see all that).  To me, it was absolutely beautiful.

But is was not perfect.

There were tracks all through the snow.  In front of my house, boys had played a game of football in the snow.  The hill was covered in sledding tracks.  Boot prints marred the snow-covered landscape around all my windows where kids had played and run and attempted to build snowmen.  It was messy.  It was disturbed.  It was not perfect.  It was beautiful.

Life is beautiful.  It's not beautiful because it's perfect.  It's beautiful because life has happened in it.  Sometimes life is messy.  Some of the tracks today led to dilapidated snowmen and unfortunate sled crashes.  There were tears today.  There was sadness today.  People were cold today.  But that is all part of the beauty of life.  You show me a perfect life, like that first landscape I described, and I will tell you it is either a facade or a place of great loneliness.

We need to embrace all of life.  It is all part of what makes up a beautiful landscape in our lives.  I have seen friends go through some of the deepest sorrow I think you can experience here on earth and do it with such beauty and grace, I am humbled to have even known them.  They saw the beauty in the mess.  Hiding our mess and pretending all is perfect doesn't do anything for anyone, including us.  It sends a message that only perfect is beautiful.  But if we live thinking only perfect is beautiful, then we miss life's greatest beauty.

Forgiveness is beautiful.  Grace is beautiful.  Mercy is beautiful.  All of those beautiful things are that way because of messes.  My favorite verse every time it snows is, "Come now, let us reason together.  Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.  Though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool."  Beauty from ashes.  Imperfect perfection.

As I watched the boys outside "wreck" the perfect landscape, I was struck with all of the above thoughts and overwhelmed by God's great love, that He would leave the only true perfect place and join us in our mess to show us how He loves us.  And that is the most beautiful perfect thing of all.  Happy snow day everyone!  (haters and lovers alike)

Two Times the Fun!

This blog post has been a long time coming.  Not crazy long like decades but long enough to be years.  Five years ago if you would have told me I'd be writing this particular blog post, I probably would have laughed a bit and dismissed it with a wave of my hand.  Because five years ago, I was SO sure what my future looked like.  I was positive that I knew exactly the direction God had pointed me in and couldn't even entertain the idea that perhaps my thoughts weren't His thoughts.  

But five years ago, I didn't have a handsome little man named Caleb whose arrival sent my plans whirling away.  And five years ago, I had never served on a church staff as a Children's Ministry director and had the chance to share the love and light of Christ with the youngest in the kingdom and serve with a phenomenal staff of children's workers.  Five years ago I had never attended a Children's Ministry conference where a fire was lit in my very soul to see the discipleship and mentorship of youth and kids play out in the home and church in a way that would create grounded "sticky" followers of Christ.  Five years ago I had never had friends, family, church members, colleagues and yes even strangers say to me, "You know, this work you do... THIS is your calling."  And, most importantly, five years ago I had not heard God say, "This is the way, walk in it.  It's time."

But today?  Today all of those things have happened and I am humbled to share with all of you that I have applied to Wesley Seminary (an affiliate of Indiana Wesleyan University) to begin a Master's of Arts in Ministry program with a Children, Youth and Family focus.  This is a two-year master's degree that will start in August of this year.  I will be able to complete most of the coursework online and by taking classes here at Asbury Theological Seminary.  In fact, I hope to take my first class this semester (Spring 2014) at Asbury studying Family Development: Discipleship in the Home.

While I am beyond excited to begin taking these steps towards what I believe God has given me the heart and vision to do with my life, I am also nervous (this girl hasn't been in school in 14 years!) and scared (and school is NOT cheap and we don't have "real" jobs).    But consistently in my prayers as well as Luke's we feel God saying, "It's time.  Trust me for the details."  And God has been faithful to provide for our needs every step of the way, so we are taking the leap and following His lead.  The overwhelming support and encouragement of the community we currently find ourselves in give us confidence in God's leading and provision.  (Side note: Asbury friends, thank you for your advice, encouragement, help with babysitting, prayers and hugs over the past few weeks and into the future as I've moved in this direction!)

As I read over the courses I will be taking during my time with Wesley Seminary, my heart wells up with anticipation and a sense of confidence that I am in God's will.  The biggest reason I chose Wesley Seminary is because the core of their curriculum for Family Ministry is discipleship and that is my deepest desire for our kids today.  Sunday school is good, VBS is fun, and missions trips are meaningful but relationships, mentorship and discipleship are absolutely foundational in raising kids that are stuck on God and growing in their faith.  And frankly with this ever-changing society that is becoming more and more the antithesis of what the Word of God teaches us, the church and family need to join forces and work together to provide that atmosphere for future generations.

That is my heart.  To see children and youth excited and grounded in their faith, to see families growing together, parents discipling children and older parents mentoring younger parents.  It is my hope and prayer that this step in my life will open doors to allow me to play a role in creating those interactions in the future.

So, here we go!  The girls think it's great that we will all be in school at the same time.  I believe the statement was made that we could all do homework together. (oh.. yippee!!)  I will probably read this five years from now and smile at my overt enthusiasm and "let's do this thing" attitude but that's okay.  Five years ago, I wouldn't have even believed it was real.

*For those wondering why I used the word "sticky" or "stuck" so much in this blog, may I refer you to a fantastic book written by Dr. Kara Powell called "Sticky Faith".  It is a work that addresses a study done by Fuller Youth Institute on why so many "twenty-somethings" are leaving the church and gives many insights on what we can do as parents and church family to help our kids "stick" in the future.  In addition to reading the book with my (best) small group (ever), I was blessed to be able to take an intensive class with Dr. Powell and found the information both compelling and motivating as I consider parenting my own kids and working in the ministry.

From House to Home

Since moving here I have wondered on more than one occasion, "At what point does a house become a home?"  I know all the adages: "Home is where the heart is" and "Together spells Home" and while that is all true, there is something special about a space that has been transformed from a building into a place where you feel comfortable, at peace and at "home" in.

I remember going to Marilyn Elliot's transition talk at the beginning of the semester and hearing her say that you would know transition was over when you pulled up to your new place and had the feeling of coming home.  For the past few months I've been anxiously awaiting that moment.  We went on vacation and came back.. no feeling.  We went to Indiana and came back... no feeling.  We went to Cincinnati and came back... no feeling.  Finally, Christmas vacation - all the way to PA with the whole family for a whole week and came back... no feeling.  I was starting to think it was never going to happen.  I still felt like I was coming from vacation to a new vacation.  Living in a rental full of our things but never really feeling like it was our place.

It bothered me, I admit it.  Maybe I just want transition to be over.  Maybe I want to move fully into this next phase of our life and for some reason I felt like I had to wait for this magical moment to say, "Yay, we are ALL here."  But as I took some time to reflect on the whole fickle feeling thing, I realized that for me, home was never about the building or the space but about the people and the memories.  And while we've had a great time here in Wilmore since we moved, the memories are only 6 months old and that's what I was missing.  When we visited my parents in PA and could see our old house from their deck, it wasn't the house I remembered as I looked at it.  I remembered "Caleb's room" and "Naomi's room" and the parties we had and the kids playing in the backyard and, you know, the people things.

And that brings me to last night.  Last night was cold.  Last night was wonderful.  Last night I finally had.. the feeling.  I had it when a friend wrapped her arms around me and said, "Thanks for inviting us into your home."  And while she was standing in our house, I know she wasn't talking about the space; she was talking about our home, the life of our family and the joy of our fellowship.  

On Saturday when Luke and I read the news of the crazy Arctic freeze headed our way, we decided to invite our neighbors to our house for a "Stone Soup" Open House.  "Bring some soup or a loaf of bread to share" we said.  What better way to spend the coldest night of the year than with warm friends, hot soup and lots of laughter.  At 5:30 our home began to fill up with fantastic aromas of delicious soups and fresh baked breads and joy of friends and neighbors coming to share in the bounty.  

Our house was full!  Kids upstairs, adults downstairs and toddlers everywhere.  For over two hours we shared a night of warmth in the midst of the frozen bluegrass.  It didn't matter that the electricity kept blinking off and on and that each time the door opened a blast of frigid air would hit the room and send everyone crowding around our tiny fireplace and bowls of warm soup.

And as the night ended and our friends hugged us and left and we started cleaning up and putting the house back in order, the feeling hit me like a brick.  We were home.  This is home to us.  Home is love shared.  Home is joy in community.  Home for us is inviting others into our lives.  It's the memories made and the laughter shared and the meals taken together and the time spent with each other.  Honestly, it had been a rough day leading up to the evening.  Cabin fever was officially setting it and we were all a bit on edge.  But after the evening with our friends, we were all full and happy and completely at home.

I jokingly said that I should write a post called, "How to make a house a home" but I realize that our experience is just that, our experience.  It may not be the same for you and your family.  But can I say this?  It really isn't about the space, although after last night I do feel more like this space is home; it really is about the love, the memories of shared moments that fall on the background of the space you are in.  If I close my eyes and remember last night, I see this house, this space and I know that when I move away and I close my eyes and remember Wilmore in the future, this house, this space will be the background for many of my most cherished moments.  So for me, this house, this space has become... home.

Sunrise, Sunset...

"...swiftly go the years.  One season following another, laden with happiness and tears."

Driving back to Kentucky yesterday, I was blessed to see one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen in my life.  Since I was driving west at a pretty good pace, the sunset seemed to last forever.  Every time I thought, "Well, there it goes.  That was beautiful," I'd cross another hill or go around another bend and see a whole new array of light and beauty.  The colors were breathtaking, the clouds were stunning, the sunbeams glorious and the whole display too beautiful to put into words.  Even Caleb from his seat in the back stopped watching Planes long enough to look up and say, "Oooo, sky pretty!"

The sunset as seen in Wilmore - photo by Carol Cooper

Sunset.  It's the end.  The end of the day.  The final glimpse of the sun before the moon comes up and the stars come out and the night settles in across the land.  But the sun so often doesn't leave quietly.  It doesn't just give up and fall quietly behind the mountains and clouds.  More often the sun goes down in some glorious display of light and beauty that stops us all in our tracks for a minute to say, "Oooo, sky pretty!"

Over the past few weeks my family has been on a whirlwind holiday tour of the Midwest/Mid Atlantic region of the country.  We've visited family in Indiana, celebrated Christmas with friends and neighbors in Kentucky, and welcomed in the new year with friends and family in Pennsylvania.  We've opened presents, given gifts, eaten delicacies, shared stories, taken pictures, played games, hugged and kissed everyone, and laughed uproariously.  Oh, but that's not all.  We've shed tears with hurting friends, cried with broken hearts, prayed with some whose struggles didn't know it was a holiday.  We've said good-bye and our hearts hurt.  We've driven away and left a piece of us behind.  It wasn't all pecan pie and butter cookies... some sadness found it's way into our merrymaking.  The end of the year came "laden with happiness and tears."  It came to the end in much the same way that sunset did - in a glorious display of light that stopped us all in our tracks for a minute to say, "Oooo, what a beautiful year!"

That glorious sunset on the way back to Kentucky made me reflect on our past year and it's ending.  It really was beautiful.  It sure seemed to go on and on just like that sunset.  But just like that sunset, it too has come to an end and now a new dawn, a new year awaits us.  I've stopped guessing about what it will look like (last year taught me that doing that is a pretty futile exercise).  I've decided to watch the sunrise and see the beauty in each moment.  I know there will be clouds and dark, times of tears and sadness.  I hope that by God's grace we will be able to grieve with hope in those times.  I also know that there will be times of laughter and joy.  I pray we are all able to fully live in those moments, not second-guessing the joy but accepting it with open arms.

I know some of you are going into this new year facing some obstacles that seem insurmountable and some hurts that seem too big to be healed.  I know others are going into this year with some exciting hopes for the future and some wonderful plans for your family and your life.  Regardless of whether your new year is starting bright or dim. remember this - the One who loves you most is always, always with you.  He alone is the Light to illuminate the darkness and shine the way for your path.  And the ending with Him is always glorious.  For as he said, "Lo, I am with you always, even until the end of time."  Now that's gonna be one amazing sunset!!