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There is a story I once read online from a Kansas State Highway Patrol Officer. The story goes like this:

I made a traffic stop on an elderly lady the other day for speeding on U.S. 166 Eastbound at Mile Marker 73 just East of Sedan, KS. I asked for her driver's license, registration, and proof of insurance. The lady took out the required information and handed it to me.

In with the cards I was somewhat surprised, due to her advanced age, to see she had a conceal carry permit. I looked at her and asked if she had a weapon in her possession at this time.

She responded that she indeed have a .45 automatic in her glove box. Something, body language or the way she said it, made me want to ask if she had any other firearms. She did admit to also having a 9mm Glock in her center console.

Now I had to ask one more time if that was all. She responded once again that she did have just one more, a .38 special in her purse.

I then asked her what was she so afraid of.

She looked me right in the eye and said, "Not a damn thing!"

You know we all should live like this... but not because we have unlimited gun power at our fingertips.

Think about the things you fear in life. It's not the stuff that keeps you up at night - the boogie man under the bed or the monster in the closet - that necessarily hold you back.

Fears of stuff is actually pretty easy to handle. I'll use myself as an example. When it comes to the things that truly terrify me, I've always taken them head on. For as long as I can remember, I have always been afraid to die in a fire. So, I became a certified firefighter. I have fought fires head on (literally in this case), but I have also learned the real dangers and how to handle them.

Tangible fears can be dealt with head on. If you are afraid of heights, go stand on something high and look down. It may not get you over your fear, but it will help you know you can handle it.

But what about the intangible fears... the stuff that you can't define. That's the stuff that truly holds us back.

It's so intangible that you can't really even name it.

Failure often comes to mind. We've all failed. So we can't truly be afraid of that. Look around that word. What does failure mean to you? What would failure look like in your life?

To me, the only way I could really fail in life is to hurt my husband or my son. True failure would also be disappointing God. But how would I do those things?

As you can tell, I've really been thinking about this subject a lot. The easiest way to hurt my husband or son is to not fully be here in life, to not live. And disappointing God? Well Pastor Steven Furtick, of Elevation Church, really summed that one up for me the other day.

"God knows you’re going to fail. That thing you did yesterday: Jesus already knew you were going to do it before you did it. The same with the thing you did today, and the thing you’ll do tomorrow."

So if God already knows what I'm going to fail, how can I disappoint him? Disappointment comes with surprise right? If you knew someone was going to do something, then you wouldn't be disappointed.

Pastor Furtick summed it up perfectly:

"That might sound scary at first, but it should actually encourage you. God knows about it already, has known about it from eternity, but He hasn’t given up on you. So why have you given up on yourself?"

It's a good question. Let me put it another way. What is it again that we're all so afraid of?

"It's not a highlight reel, it's a preview."
~ Pastor Steven Furtick, Elevation Church.

Code Orange Revival from Elevation Church on Vimeo.

Speedy's First Day

I thought I would be teary eyed as I dropped Speedy off for his first day of preschool. I thought I would cry in the car like I did when he was a baby and I had to leave him a daycare. I thought I would dread the day when my little boy was grown up just enough to stand on his own two feet, away from the watchful heart of his mother.

As you can tell, I've thought a lot about this day.

But as I hugged him goodbye and watched him make his way across the room to the one child crying for his mother, I started to know how I would feel during the firsts of life to come. I watched him follow his teacher, who was making her way to comfort the boy, then I heard my son say, "It's okay. I'll play with you. Everything is going to be okay."

My eyes filled with tears, not because I was sad that he was leaving my side, but because I could see how awesome a future he had waiting for him.

On the way home, I thought about why I wasn't so upset to drop him off. I was so proud of this day. I've been looking forward to it. Let's face it, you can't fight time. They are going to grow up, so you might as well embrace it. But today, I learned a lot more than just that. I learned that I'm just as anxious to see him grow up, as he is. I am just so proud of the young man he is going to to be. It may seem like I'm jumping ahead of myself, he is only 4, but I know without a doubt that he is growing up to be an amazing person. I don't want time to move faster than it already is, but it makes me smile to think about his future.

His nightly prayers predict so much:

"God, help me change the world."

"God, I love you. Thank you for a great tomorrow."

"God, help me do great things."

Of course he still shows his age by asking God to make it snow in September or help him find a lost toy, but I still see his heart when he tries to soothe a crying friend and thanks God for every small thing he has. I know, without a doubt, that this kid, somehow, someway, will truly change the world.

My prayer every night is that he'll keep that fire burning brightly. I do believe in the power of prayer, especially steadfast prayer. That's why I pray over him every night. But when he asked God to help him change the world, my own prayers for safety and kindness transformed... actually my whole prayer life transformed.

I think Angela Schwindt, a homeschooling mom once published in Reader's Digest, said is best: "While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about."

For Speedy, it's about faith. He's helped me put my own faith in perspective.

I can't wait to sit back and watch the amazing firsts to come.

Last month I began a series about Speedy's birth that really took on a life of it's own. I thought I would save these last few posts in honor of Mother's Day. It's been a fun, emotional series of posts.

tcc-nchildbirth-pregnant-belly-hospital-photo-3214623_thb4The time in the cold, emotionally empty, emergency room lobby seemed to both fly by and take forever. I was closer to being convinced I was really in labor, but I still feared being sent home as a "false alarm."

When I was wheeled upstairs to the maternity ward, a smiling nurse greeted me. "Oh honey, you can't be ready to have this baby," she said.

"Why is that?" I asked, momentarily relieved.

"Honey, you can't be more than six months pregnant," the nurse politely answered as she helped me out of the wheelchair and onto an examination table.

"I'm sure I don't look that small," I said through my breath as more pain came my way. "I definitely feel every bit of 36 weeks pregnant."

After getting dressed in the ever so trendy hospital gown, a really tall, young doctor walked in. He introduced himself and helped the nurse hook me up to the machine that measured contractions. At this point I was living my life from pain to pain, still not persuaded enough to call them contractions.

The doctor did a pelvic exam to check for dilation. When he finished, I commented on how gentle he was.

"That's not a comment I get often," he said through a smile.

Then he told me he was finishing up his residency, which meant he's still learning a lot about the best way to do an exam.

"Obviously I've been examined a lot," I said as I grabbed my stomach. "This is the first time in 36 weeks and the eight years or so of yearly check-ups before getting pregnant that an exam hasn't hurt."

He sat down on the chair next to me and said, "You're already in pain, and there isn't much I can do to stop that right now. The least I can do is try to not cause you more pain when I examine you. I'm still learning the best way to do that, so it means a lot hearing this from you."

He stayed in the room for a few minutes and told me that he was the doctor on duty tonight and promised to take good care of me.

"You're four centimeters dilated, so you have a while to go. We'll get into a real room in a few minutes," he said as he got ready to leave the room. "If something happens and your doctor doesn't get here, would you be against me delivering the baby?"

I took deep breath as another pain came on and closed my eyes. The realization hit me like a thunderbolt. I was officially in labor. There was no turning back now.

"I'm okay with that," I told him after the contraction passed. "Any doctor who takes enough concern to not hurt me during an exam is fine with me."

The next few hours seemed to fly by. It was a like a calm series of sprints. I continued to live in the moments between contractions, but the overall mood was very quiet. It was a stillness I was not used to since my first bout with labor at 24 weeks.

After noticing how exhausted I was, the nurse brought in a temporary pain blocking shot. She injected the shot into my leg and said, "We're just in the waiting game now, but you have a while to go. Why don't you try to get a little sleep?"

I welcomed the pain blocker and the promise of sleep. I now I had been awake for more than two days.

As I closed my eyes, a team of 10 people, led by a man in scrubs, rushed through the door.

It was just after 6 a.m.

"We got a problem," he said, skipping the whole "I'm Dr. So-and So" part. "I've been watching your contractions on the monitor at the front desk for the last half hour. Your baby's heart rate is dropping to almost nothing."

Related Posts:

       - Part 1: The Look

       - Part 2: Contractions

       - Part 3: Scare Tactics

       - Part 4: False Alarm Foreshadowing

It's a Good Friday...

I have to admit, I've never truly understood why this day is called Good Friday. There was really nothing good about it. If you're a Christian or even a Christ admirer, this isn't a day you "celebrate." It's a day in which you mourn. For me, the events that happened over 2000 years ago really anger me, upset me, make me very sad and very humbled.

I'm not going to go into a sermon here about what happened so long ago, instead I want to share with you a video that a dear twitter friend of mine Jeremy Cowart put together. It left me speechless. I'd love to hear your reaction. In lieu of WTF Friday, I present "A Portrait of Christ."

A Portrait of Christ from Jeremy Cowart on Vimeo