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Sunday afternoon I flew to Memphis to meet my sweet friend Julie (of Sisters Abby & Julie) who would take me on to Jonesboro, Arkansas to serve the Ministry Wives at their SBC State Annual Meeting/Pastor’s Conference. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for several months because I love me some preacher’s wives. Julie and I left Memphis in bad weather, ate at a fabulous little Mexican restaurant in West Memphis and prayed we wouldn’t get caught in a tornado the rest of the drive. We giggled our way to Jonesboro and all was well.
Or it was for the time being anyway.
So Sunday night I slept comfortably (the bedding at the hotel was divine and a king-sized bed to myself warrants a ‘hallelujah’) but I dreamed hard. In this particular nightmare I had decided to step into the hallway in my pj’s (why?) and subsequently locked myself out of my room. I knew my ride would pick me up at 8:45 and so I dashed to the front desk to get another key. That would have been fine except the hallway did that thing in horror movies where they get longer and longer the harder you run. Every time I finally arrived at the end I would be lost as to which way to go next. After an extended ordeal I finally made it to the desk, went through the same horrifying journey on the way back to the room realizing all the while I only had about 5 minutes left to shower and get ready. I can’t change my mind in 5 minutes much less blow dry my ridiculously fussy hair so panic doesn’t cover it. I got to my door, swiped the card, and red light. Dern desk clerk has given me the wrong key so I dashed off again to do it all over. By the time I was back in my room and presentable it was about noon and I was suddenly mortified that the program had started hours before while Iwas busy running around the hotel in my Georgia Bulldog t-shirt and flannel pants. (Can I just insert a congratulations here to my boy Mark Richt who is coaching the life back into my laboring team?)
Imagine my relief when the wake up call came and I opened my eyes to find it was only 5:45 a.m. I had washed my hair and straightened it really well on Sunday before I left thinking I wouldn’t have to wash it Monday morning to save time but dude, I was wringing wet. All that running in my sleep ruined all my flat-ironed hair! Blast! And that was about the only thought I had time to think before a text message from one of our teens at church came through that just said, “Hey, are y’all okay??”
Consider this with me: It’s 5:45 a.m. It’s a teenager. Awake. Asking if we are okay. That can never be good. I didn’t even answer her before I called and without taking the time to say hello asked Luke – a tad frantically – “WHY AM I GETTING A MESSAGE ASKING IF WE ARE OKAY? WHAT IS WRONG?”
“Now, honey, don’t panic…”
(Not the response I was hoping for.)
“..but we’ve had a tornado.”
I started bawling immediately. I’m horrified of tornadoes. As in I have an unhealthy phobia of them. When the babies were little and we were under tornado warning I used to belt them to me so if we flew away we wouldn’t be separated. I wish I were making that up. So to think a tornado had swept over my family and I wasn’t even there to be neurotic with them was my undoing.
Luke assured me over and over the family was okay, that our fences and some trees were down around the house but according to the officer he had already spoken to, there were no reports of serious injury. And get this, Luke said, “I wasn’t going to call you because I didn’t want you to worry before you had to teach.” Because no one else in my town has a cell phone and if he didn’t call me surely no one else would. I would have been sarcastic about it if his intent weren’t so perfectly selfless and sweet.
It’s important at this point to note the passage the Lord gave me to teach the precious Arkansas girls. He and I get to know one another in themes so it seems and this season has been about His assurances of protection over my family as that relates to ministry and life in general. Psalm 57:1 has been particularly dear to me and was never more relevant than it was as Luke described having my babies in the bathtub with his arms wrapped around them as the tornado appeared to have literally jumped over our home: “Have mercy on me, Oh God, have mercy on me. In the shadow of your wings I will find my refuge until these storms pass by.” I’m confident the wording I just quoted to you is a blend of about four different Bible translations but the application is the same: Whether we are being protected from unseen calamities taking place in the heavenlies or the heavenlies are crashing down upon our heads, our life is bound up in Christ’s. The worse thing that could have possibly happened that day would have been for my family to have been delivered safely home. With that said, I’m far more comforted that God chose to spare me that unspeakable horror but I also praise Him knowing my suffering and longing would have a marked end.
And yes, I’m bawling again.
I shared much of this with the women at the conference and frankly, I was afraid I would be too discombobulated to make one lick of sense. I think those darlin’ women comforted me much more than I ever could have comforted them. If any of you are reading, thank you. For your forbearance and for being a part of this wonderful sisterhood we call Ministry Wives. You get me. I get you. Spending time with you fed my soul and I won’t soon get over it.
Here are a few photos:
Me and the literal Sisters Abby and Julie (I adore these girls so much!) eating our delicious O’Charley’s on the way to the airport. My food was just so great. I am always famished after I teach and everything tasted like it was made for my mouth that day. I was also thrilled to meet Abby’s darlin’ baby boy Henry. That child looks like the Gerber baby and I just don’t say that about anybody. And can I mention he let me hold him straightaway? He smelled Boy Mom. I don’t know if I should say that about myself?
The field house at the football stadium. Which is behind my house I should add:
That press box used to be on top of those bleachers:
The concrete bleachers = rubble.
What’s the score? Tornado 1 – Scoreboard 0
Feedstore across the road from our house:
Our back fence:
We were also under tornado warnings for a good part of the day Tuesday. Deedra snapped this photo outside her house. Luke took one of the same cloud but his isn’t nearly as freaky. Smoke Monster from LOST anyone?
I can’t say enough about the importance of Code Red – an emergency notification system that will call your home when dangerous weather is heading toward your area. Even though our home wasn’t hit, because of this phone call Luke had all the children out of bed and as protected as they could be where otherwise they would have been sleeping in different parts of the house. If you haven’t yet enrolled and are local, visit www.dekalbcountyal.us and follow the instructions. It’s free!
Okay, I’m done.
You’re welcome.
(p.s. Football field photo credits: Times-Journal)
So I’ve been meaning to write for a day or four but I was hoping to have some pictures for illustration. That wouldn’t ordinarily be a problem if I could find my portable card reader thingy to upload my photos since the one in my laptop decided it no longer wanted to, you know, read cards. I normally keep my card reader in the tray on my nightstand where I take off my jewelry at night because isn’t that where everyone keeps their electronic essentials. Except now it isn’t there and none of the kids will ‘fess up to moving it or I haven’t yet remembered what strange place I left it last. It comforts me to blame it on them. Even though I have no pictures I will forge ahead because if I don’t starting writing now I may fall into another unplanned four-month break.
I know you are gnashing teeth at the thought.
You may recall I told you not long ago that a personal hair intervention was in order. I made an appointment with my beloved hairdresser, Tania, and was toying with the idea of something drastic. My hair has been essentially the same style for the better part of the last 15 years and I don’t know how to say it any plainer than I was just flat out sick of looking at myself. So, I closed my eyes and said, “Cut. It. Off. And if you want to get rid of the orange that would be okay, too.”
Tania gave me a fabulous cut and some ashy brown to neutralize my pumpkin and I’m finally feeling human again. And here’s where I should be showing you a picture. But since I don’t have one of me I googled until I came up with what I think is close:
Wait. Mine’s way shorter in the back. And I would never wear it this way on the sides because I wouldn’t want our church people to see the tattoos behind my ears. So in reality, I ended up with a cut almost identical to this:
I have a few more bangs and a lot more clothes but this one is pretty close.
I really worried about having this short of a ‘do because my hair is naturally curly and I didn’t know if I could tame it. However, the cooler temps and lower humidity are working in my favor right now so we’ll see how long it lasts.
Now that my hair issues are resolved there is something very pressing for which I could use your advice: My town has been invaded by skunks. I’m not talking about the politicians that are ringing my phone off the hook or even the people who roll our yard every weekend. I’m talkin’ real-life, black-with-white-stripes-down-the-back skunks. I don’t know if we are on their migration route from north to south (do skunks migrate? hibernate?) or if they’re ticked off that ridiculous cartoons like Phineas and Ferb have taken the place of that cheeky smooch PePe Le Pew (“Permit me to introduce myself. I am Pepe Le Pew, your lover.” Hysterical. Oh how I miss old school Saturday morning cartoons.) All I know is that the skunks are making a come back and they’ve picked our zip code to do it.
So my question: Is there something you can put on your lawn that repels them? Anything to pour on pavement once they’ve sprayed? So far they’ve not gotten under our house (Oh, Lord, help us don’t let that happen) but they have emoted around it so much that I can’t even sit in my porch swing without gagging. And the primary question: who ever heard of a skunk infestation? Seriously? Am I being punk’d?
Perhaps skunk’d is the better word.
(So punny. I didn’t plan that or anything.)
I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to tie this one up. I’ve got nothing.
Peace Out.
There are lots of reasons to love October – the cooler temperatures, the beautiful trees, and high school/SEC football. (Now that my Dawgs beat the Vols I can say that with more gusto.) For the minister’s family, October also means Clergy Appreciation Month and in the words of my friend Fran, I’m praising the high heavens for whomever thought of such a wonderful concept.
The church we serve hands down sets the gold standard for Pastor Appreciation. I have to preface this by saying that Luke and I have always been very uncomfortable having attention or flattery showered on us. We are grateful, and I mean GRATEFUL, for all the expressions of love our people give our family, but we feel awkward at the same time. Our worst fear EVER would be that anyone would think we are expecting to be appreciated.
But on the flip side of that, you have no idea what it means to us when someone takes the time to organize a month’s calendar of meals in addition to a grocery day (a.k.a. a ‘pounding’ in the South. I have enough toilet paper to last 6 months. WIN.), a housewarming shower day (I got a mezzuzah! Luke thinks I’m weird for wanting one), a visiting preacher giving Luke the service off followed by a church-wide dinner day, and then a friends and family day. I”m exhausted just typing it all. Thankfully it doesn’t matter if I’m tired because did you hear what I just said? I don’t have to cook for a month!
Now I’m not telling you all this to brag. Rather it is because many ministry wives have written to me in the past and said their churches do absolutely nothing for them for Clergy Appreciation. Nada. As in it is is never even mentioned. I can hear the discouragement in the precious e-mails – it’s not that you girls expect to be appreciated just like we don’t, but it sure stings a little when you aren’t. That’s not to say your churches are unkind, but it’s like a birthday – everyone deserves at least one day per year to be made much over.
The reasons I am writing these things are several. First, I want to publicly brag on our congregation and thank each and every one of you for being so extravagant with us. You have never lacked in zeal but your expressions in these days have reached a pitch we didn’t know possible. I can confidently say our Love Tanks are full and that we serve the best church EVER. Secondly, if you are a layperson consider this a friendly PSA to make certain you do something special for your ministers and their spouses this month. The benefits to you both will far outweigh the investment. And if you already have, how about telling us how you’ve celebrated their families to give ideas to others? And lastly ministry wives: Has your church acknowledged Clergy Appreciation? What are some of the things they have done for you and what effect does it have on your family?
One last quick note: October 12th’s Chris Fabry Live at 3 p.m. CST will be talking about Clergy Appreciation. I’m thrilled out of my mind to be a guest along with Karen Waddles. I hope you girls will call in and join the discussion!
(Another shameless p.s. If you are looking for a little something to gift your PW, she may enjoy this or even better, send them both here :)
