Ketchup

I have lost my stride.  I was doing so well too!  I'm going to try and catch up this week by posting 3 (yes, three!) times.

And yes, I am counting this as one entry, because it's my blog and I can do what I want!  haha

Grampa Freeborn

My dad's dad died Sunday night (3/20/11).

I can count on one hand the number of times I've met him in my life.  Yet I feel so sorrowful.  I was fine all day on Monday, but this morning at work I was near tears the entire morning.  Finally I went in my boss' office just to hash it out and get on with the day.  When I walked in she immediately asked me if I was okay.  I burst in to tears and couldn't get ahold of myself.  After I was sobbing in her office for about 10 minutes, she said I should just go home; take a bereavement day.  I told her that wouldn't be necessary but then after about 5 more minutes of still not being able to get my emotions under control I agreed and left.  I was that girl you sometimes see driving who's a crying wreck and you wonder what happened.

I'm not exactly sure what was going on, but I do think I mostly just feel sad that I never really knew him.  I (obviously) have 4 grandparents.  Over the course of my life I have actually had 12 (from stepdad's parents, grandparents remarrying, great-grandparents).  And while statistically that seems great, I have only really known one of them.  


My Grama (Dorlene) Freeborn died when I was just a kid, I don't even remember how old I was.  I only remember meeting her one time.  My dad, mom and two younger brothers drove one summer all the way down to San Antonio, TX from Kenosha, WI in our VW Rabbit.  I met her down there.  She carried a pan of potatoes into my cousin Hannah's house and that's the only image I have of her in my mind.  She just keeps carrying that pan of potatoes through my memories.

My Grampa (John) Brandt I knew a bit more, but not too much.  He struggled as an alcoholic and about half of my few childhood memories involved him drinking too much.  The other half involve him just being a silly grampa.  Then when I was 8 or 9 he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and he just slipped away.  By the time I was 14 he was totally gone and had to put into the care of a nursing home.  I'd go see him occasionally, but he was only a body in that bed.  He died not too long ago (3 years?  4?).  And while that was sad, it is true what they say that Alzheimer's patients die two deaths; and I had come to terms with him being gone a long time before he physically died.

My Grama (Phyllis) Brandt is still alive and well.  And she's the only one I really know.  

So that brings us to Grampa (J. Andrew) Freeborn.

He led a hard life.  He also led a wonderful life.  He knew the Lord very well.  He was a traveling preacher and would lead tent revivals all over the south when my dad was a kid.  He also struggled with being bipolar his entire life.  He wasn't even diagnosed until his thirties, but after that he spent many years in and out of psychiatric hospitals trying to stabilize himself.  After my Grama Freeborn died he remarried a lady I really loved as a grama named Arlene.  I'm not sure what happened, but they ended up divorcing.  He then married Geraldine.  And Grama Gerry is lovely.  She can also bake the best things of anyone in the south.  He founded a church in northern California, pastored numerous churches throughout his lifetime, taught at the International Bible College in San Antonio, and I'm sure did much more than I know of.

I suppose what really got me was all the comments people have been leaving on my dad's Facebook profile.  Here are some of my favorites, typos and all:

God bless you and your family, Michael. Your dad touched so many lives for the kingdom. I join with them in expressing my gratitude for such a man and for the season he spoke into my life.

Michael - We have appreciated your family very much. The practical application of the word was of the highest importance to your dad, and it has had a lasting impact on us. We bless your family today.

This is like the passing of an era. As long as I have had memory, Andrew was a part of it. We loved and respected his ministry and as a person. We were privileged to enjoy his company for a few months out of his life and he was like a brother. Our hearts are heavy this morning, but oh what a wonderful day for Andrew. All that he has loved, he has now obtained. Our love and prayers will be with you and the family. Please give Geri our best.

Michael and the family, As you know your mom and dad had a great deal to do with our early lives in ministry, when we were getting ready to go to Mexico, etc. They were always a blessing. I am sorry to hear of his passing, but I also know that he is happy in the presence of the Lord! How he must be rejoicing. We love all of you.

michael, i am so sorry to hear such sad news. our thoughts go with you as you travel...your dad was a good man, and dave came to the Lord under your dad's ministry. may you be comforted in Jesus...

Michael. I'm sitting here with tears running down, thinking about you and the family, lots of good memories of your precious dad and mom, knowing your pain, but, rejoicing in the Lord just knowing ....WONT' WE HAVE A TIME WHEN WE GET OVER YONDER. lots of prayers are coming your way. love you much!!!

We will never forget your Father; I always enjoyed his preaching when I had the privilidge to hear him. Heaven has welcomed a hero!

He has left a footprint on the lives of thousands and may we be stirred to follow his example.

Michael, sending condolences to you and your family. I remember classes with your dad (and "Queens of the Parsonage" with your mother). His class on "Names of God" was one of my favorites. It was your dad who encouraged me to to a 4th year to IBC. He was certainly a blessing to me…and I'm sure, to many others, as well.

so sorry about that....a great church pillar....

Michael--your Dad left a legacy that can only be measured in heaven. 

Sorry to hear that Mike, There is a lot of respect for him here.

Such fond memories of your Dad and Mom at Northern District, CA youth camps (including all you kids with them) - can't ever remember you kids not being with them on their annual trek to our camps. Your Dad was morning teacher and your Mom was camp nurse and all the influence they had with so many of us involved. We were so blessed by his ministry! The Lord comfort you and your family is our prayer.

I am sorry Michael. My mom told me the news yesterday. Your dad (and mom) are part of some of the earliest memories of my life! They were kinda like "superstars"! :D Feel comfort in the fact that so many people have felt loved by them and, in turn, we will not forget!

In reading these comments from strangers, I can't help but feel that I missed knowing an amazing man.  It's a strange thing grieving for someone you never knew.  And even though I never knew him in this lifetime, I know I'll have all of eternity to dance and shout with him.

Writing Exercise

Today at my writer's group we did a writing exercise, as we normally do, however I liked my outcome a lot, so I will share it.

The exercise was this:  choose two of the 24 fine point sharpies.  With the first color you must create a character, with the second a scenario to place the character in.

My colors were a deep purple and a very light baby blue color.

Here is my story.

***

Valerie is an old soul. She loves coffee (black) and oversized sweaters (olive green). She has long dark brown hair that often gets mistaken for black. She can often be found in at her local coffee shop sitting with her feet swung over the edge of the big red chair, tortoise shell glasses on the edge of her nose, book in hand. Even though she spends her days working in a local bookstore, she cannot get enough of them and spends the majority of her free time reading. She prefers Austen to Steinbeck, Keats to Cummings. She is a romantic at heart. She is not afraid to go for walks on rainy days, as her soft brown leather shoes are perfectly capable of keeping her dry. Her world is one full of dim, overcast days, but one full of quiet joys. She is equally happy listening to Vivaldi as she is to Morrison. Equally content to lead as follow. To many she seems quiet, bookish and somewhat mundane. But she sees the world through bright green eyes and it sparkles for her more than most.

She awoke this past Tuesday to nothing unusual or out of the ordinary. However when she stepped outside to walk the seven blocks to the bookstore, she couldn't help but feel blue. And not the deep, dark, depressed rundown blue, but the hopeful, light baby blue. (Not quite robins egg, but a bit more powdered.) She chalked it up to the slowly warming weather and the fact that for once, it was not raining in her cozy northwest town. It seemed as if every yard had bright green shoots of daffodils beginning to poke through the ground, and birds sang in every tree. She could hear the robins, but they were hidden against the gray sky. She found herself swinging her bag back and forth as she walked and had to smile remembering doing that exact thing with her backpack all those years ago. The air smelled lush and full of the promise of a spring that leads headlong into a glorious summer. She felt her spirit within her fluttering against her rib cage in excitement, the winter was almost over! While she did enjoy many of the dark, listless winter days, the affirmation of spring is almost more than she can take. She can feel the excitement running over her skin as a small hole forms in the cloud cover and a single ray of sunshine peeks through. Yes, that Tuesday was a good day.

Fat Bottomed Girls You Make The Rockin' World Go Round

It is no secret that I am a bigger woman.  What most of you probably don't know is how difficult it is to find cute clothing if you're a bigger woman.  For whatever reason, if you're bigger, stores assume you want to wear the brightest, boldest, most sequined, beaded thing imaginable.

The truth is, bigger women do not want to wear those things.

We know we're big, we don't need stores trying to just drape us in fabric to get the point across (ie...shawls aka tents).  And maybe that's a personal preference, however today I decided to go to Goodwill.  I often go to Goodwill looking for books and/or dvds (now that everyone's buying blu-ray discs, dvds abound!).  I have on occasion ventured over to the clothing racks.  I have found a few cute things there too. 

Today, however, I found myself appalled as I walked the clothing aisles.  And while I did end up buying two articles of clothing, it was difficult to find anything worth even trying on.

I present to you:

Things Bigger Women Would Never Be Caught Dead Wearing

1.  While stripes can be slimming, it is imperative that they be vertical.  And one color.  And one size.

2.  Colored animal prints?  Really?  And what you cannot see here is that this is sheer.  Danger!

3.  I have no words.  The picture stole them all.

4.  I am not one to shy away from color.  But this is not what big women want when they want to wear color!

5.  See #4

6. I, personally, believe nobody should wear sequins.  Or shirts with beads sewed on them.  And I'm pretty sure most big women would not want to be a huge disco ball.  Or a bad acid trip.

So there you have it.  Is it really so difficult to know why these things are not what big women want to wear?  And some poor woman somewhere, at some time, was coerced into buying the above items be being told "Look how sporty it makes you look!" or "You look so young and hip!".  If these items were never pawned off as stylish on the larger crowd, I think a lot of us would be much happier walking down the street.

That is all.

(In no way is this meant to be offensive to anyone.  These are merely thoughts I found myself thinking about today.)

Oh, and I almost forgot.  I worked for YEARS in multiple retail stores.  Is it really so difficult to keep the maternity clothing out of the big lady section??  (And yes, Goodwill is the culprit here, but I'm looking at you too Target!)

A Little Thing

I have been sick with a head cold/flu-type thing since Friday.  Not that I'm complaining about it, it's just relevent to this post.

Tonight I asked my nephews Noah (4) and Declan (2 1/2) to pray that Jesus would make me feel better.  Noah took my hand in his and placed his other hand on top of mine, closed his eyes and said "Jesus, help Sarah feel good.  Amen."  Then Declan put his little hand on my arm, closed his eyes and said, "Jesus, thank you for this food.  Bless it to our bodies.  Amen."

While I couldn't help but laugh a little, I was so blessed that they actually prayed for me.  They were so genuine and serious in it as well.  And in thinking about Declan's prayer, I was overwhelmed with how much God loves us.  Declan was simply praying the one prayer he knows, yet God knows his heart in what he was asking for. 

I love that God doesn't care about the words we use to pray with, how fancy or ornate a prayer is, but that He simply loves for us to come to Him.  And in our small faith, He sorts it all out because He knows our hearts.

I love Jesus so much.

God Made Dirt & Dirt Don't Hurt

Today my friend Mary Elizabeth told me she loves my blog so much that I could write about dirt and she'd find it fascinating.  While flattered, I told her that this New Year's Resolution of updating the blog once a week has become more challenging than I anticipated.  I mean come on, once a week something worth writing about should happen or occur to me, right?  Wrong.  So I'm taking her up on the challenge; I am going to write about dirt.

~*~

When I was a kid I was a pretty big tomboy.  No, that's not accurate.  When I think of a tomboy I think sports.  I've never been a sporty girl.  I was, however, a tough girl.  All of my free time was spent outside.  If I wasn't at school or doing some chore inside, I was out there.  I was the only girl in my neighborhood my age, but there were lots of boys.  Having 2 brothers, I became the girl in the sea of boys.  I'd race my bike with them, play Ghost in the Graveyard with them, climb trees with them, pretty much whatever the boys were doing I was doing.  But this is a story about dirt, so let's move along.

The place you could find me most often was in my neighbor Virginia's garden.  Virginia was my grama's age and she had a nice big flower garden all along the side and back of her house.  None of the houses in my neighborhood had fences, so it was like one huge yard behind all our houses.  Virginia's garden was lined with bricks, some that were so deep into the ground you'd barely notice them.  She didn't mind me poking around in there as long as I put everything back the way she had it.  In fact, she kept a brown grocery bag on her back porch full of peanuts for all us neighborhood kids to snack on.

My favorite thing was digging up those bricks and finding the bugs underneath.  My mom would save all the jars from mayonnaise, jelly, jalapeno peppers anything that was glass and had a lid was reserved for me.  She'd take a hammer and steak knife and punch holes through the lids and then put them in the pantry.  I would then take them as needed.  I'd usually take as many as I could outside with me and then the digging would begin.

I'd spend hours overturning those bricks.  I'd start in the front of the house, work my way up the side and end at the back where I'd pop a couple of peanuts and go back to the begining and do it again.  Usually I'd find mostly worms and potato bugs.  But my absolute favorite was when I'd slowly pick up a brick and there would be a huge beetle!  My heart would always beat wildly with anticipation as I'd loosen the brick from the earth and sloooowly pick it up so as not to disturb whatever was living underneath it. 

I was a bug girl for sure.  I loved them.  I had jars lining my bedroom full of them.  My dad had some bug books that he gave me and I would study them.  When I'd find a new bug I would read up on it so I could care for it while it shared my room with me.  Did you know bugs have certain smells?  Depending on the bugs, my room had a certain buggy scent.  But I even loved that. 

May & June where my favorite bug months because that was when the junebugs where out.  Every year I would catch the biggest one I could find and give it fresh maple leaves daily.  I wasn't too clever in naming them, because every year the one I'd keep would be named, appropriately, June.

You'd have been hard pressed to find a day when I didn't have dirt under my nails, on my face, in my hair or on my clothes.  I bent plenty of kitchen spoons attempting to reach the bugs that would go down their hole before I could snatch them up. 

Every year I had a Bug Zoo on our sunporch.  I would line all my bug's up, write up little cards with descriptions of the bug such as it's name, what it ate, it's lifeline and any interesting facts.  I'd charge all the neighborhood kids whatever coins they had to get in.  It was a constant rotation of bugs.  At the end of the summer, we'd all go to the corner store and buy tons of candy with the dollars I'd made over the season.

I once made a worm farm.  All you need for a worm farm is a large mayonnaise jar and a smaller jar that fits inside it.  Fill the space between the two jars with dirt and add worms.  Keep the dirt wet, but not too wet, and soon you'll have baby worms crawling around in there like you wouldn't believe.  My worm farm was at it's peak when it disappeared.  I was wrecked.  All my baby worms and mom and dad worms were going to shrivel up and die!  To this day I have no clue where that worm farm went, but I have a hunch my mom had something to do with it.

The reason I think she had something to do with that was because of this--my most prized possession was my caterpillar brain.  And sure, maybe it wasn't so much a brain as it was a skull or something like a skull, but it fascinated me.  I kept it in my top dresser drawer right next to my prized troll with hot pink hair.  That also disappeared.  My mom did tell me she threw that one out, but she claimed it was an accident.  I was hysterical for weeks after that.

Dirt was a constant part of my childhood.  I wore it proudly.  And to this day, there is something about being out in the yard gardening that makes a part of me come alive.  Especially when I see a bug crawling around in the dirt.  Suddenly I find that I'm not a 32 year old woman who works a professional job and has bills and responsibilities, but I am an 8 year old girl lost in a world that is never as far away as it feels.



The Whole Truth (And Nothing But)

I am going to tell you something that not too many people know. Every since I was fifteen, I have dealt with an anxiety disorder. I don't necessarily like to say, “I have an anxiety disorder” so much as “I sometimes have a hard time in life like everyone else”. But the truth of the matter is that I have been diagnosed by more than one doctor with this quote, unquote, disorder. I have been on all sorts of medications for the majority of my life trying to control it.

 

The funny thing about being a Christian with this, is that it's hard to talk about. In the Bible it's clearly stated that so much of our battle is in the mind. How then do you explain that it's not a normal battle to deal with anxiety in this way? If I were iron deficient, nobody would think twice if I took an iron pill daily. My body is deficient, in it's serotonin production. I take a daily serotonin pill. It's not that big of deal to me.

 

Moving away from the tricky part, I mainly wanted to talk about my personal experiences. One reason I genuinely feel grateful for this “disorder”, is that I know how much I need God to show up in my every day life. There are literally days when as I'm driving to work or wherever, I am crying out to God that if He doesn't make Himself known to me there is no way I will be able to get through the day. My body will physically and mentally begin to shut down if He doesn't see me through it. While days like that are not what I would call fun, they are extremely rewarding in knowing Him in every moment of my day. Of knowing His peace that surpasses all human understanding guards my heart and mind through His Son, Christ Jesus. At the risk of sounding super cheesy, it is through the lowest lows of this “disorder” that I have come to truly know Him intimately.

 

I have had a good long run of not dealing with anxiety on a regular basis. I chalk this up to God's grace, faithfulness, mercy; wisdom He's given to man to create medications; and a very small amount of credit I give to the tricks I've learned along the way. However, this past December there began a shift. I started noticing anxiety popping up quite a bit. Since then, it's increased even more, to almost a daily basis again of having to battle this thing. I have been considering what's changed. Nothing has changed physically, so that just leaves the spiritual.

 

On this past November 14th, there was a combined meeting. (I attend Living Light Christian Church, and there are three congregations, one in Kenosha, one in Racine and one in Pleasant Prairie and about once a quarter we all have a big Sunday meeting together.) Two prophetic words came that I just knew were hugely significant for me and where I was at in life. The basic gist of them was God is doing a work in us, adding layer upon layer and embellishments like a piece of clothing and as you feel the needle go through know that it's Him adding layer up on layer and to look to Him and to trust Him. The other was that God is not just going to do a patch job, but that He's going to open and expose the rotting, weak parts of ourselves and tear them away, reinforce them and build them up stronger. Like I said, I knew these were specifically for me and as they were brought I just stood there, hands in the air, tears running down my face, heart fully surrendered.

 

I knew that one area of my life that He was addressing was my obedience to Him in bringing prophetic words in a corporate setting, songs in particular. For years He has given me songs to sing over His Church and for years I have cowered away. Sure, there were times when I would bring things, but not with the consistency with which He was speaking to me. I made a decision then to share whatever He gave me from then on, no matter what. So I do. And it's been great and amazing to see Him use me in this way. I love how in me simply being obedient, He blesses his people. I'm sure I will reach a point where it is simply second nature for me to bring His Word, but until it does, I am simply choosing obedience to Him.

 

What does all this have to do with the recent anxiety flare up you ask? I'll tell you. I have an enemy. And he is not an original enemy. He only has his same old tricks to pull out of his measly little bag. I believe that this “unexplainable” surge in my anxiety levels are nothing other than him trying to silence me and shut me down from bringing what the Lord is saying to me. And I'm none too happy about it. So I fight. Whether or not I win this battle, in the grand scheme of the war He wins, and therefore so do I. So if I have days of defeat, glory to God. And if I have days of victory, all the more glory to God!

 

These are truths I always know are true, no matter what state my physical mind is in. And even though I might not be able to go to a big work party (like the one I'm skipping tonight), I am victorious in Him. And His grace is sufficient for me. He truly is my everything. I love Him so much this physical body cannot express it or hold it.

 

So if in His grace and goodness He has hand-chosen me for this battle, I am all in.

Your Love Is Strong

by The Spark

 

I was lost within a hopeless life

I was blinded by a darkness

I could not fight

Then You took the scales off my eyes

Your love is strong

My ransom paid on Calvary

You were hung on a tree

that all the while was meant for me

Death broken in Your victory

Your love is strong

 

Amazing love

How can it be?

You chose to come and

give Your life for me

Amazing grace

Such awesome power!

Spirit come set this heart on fire

 

Through the cross You have made a way

You have carried all my burdens

and broken every chain

You've taken all my sin and shame

Your love is strong

Now You have caused my heart to sing

and I will come boldly

and worship at Your feet

Your Spirit now alive in me

Your love is strong

Amazing love

How can it be?

You chose to come

and give your life for me

Amazing grace

Such awesome power!

Spirit come set this heart on fire

 

Your love is strong enough to save

Your love

is more than enough for me

Your love

nothing can separate me from you