There is a God in heaven, who sends His thunder, who sends His rain.
Lifting up all the prisoners, so they'll dance in His joy again.
I have beheld the wonder, of this kingdom of His praise
Where captives retrieve their innocence, and the dead rise from their graves!
And I'll dance for you! I'll shout for you, Daughter of Zion, Daughter of grace,
And He'll run for you, and twirl for you, releasing healing in His wings.
There is a God in heaven, and He alone treads the earth
The high places shake, when the morning breaks and He comes to give us birth
Ushering us in to a new day, to a dawn of rest in Him,
Bringing us forth in a new way, to be dancing in His arms again.
And He'll dance for you! He'll shout for you, Daughter of Zion, Daughter of grace
And you'll run again, ann you'll twirl again, dancing in His praise.
He wants you dancing in His praise.
So Lord let the prisoners go free!! So Lord, let the blind eyes see.
Now Lord, come and bring relief touching earth in victory - mending Mary at Your feet
And we'll dance for you! We'll shout for you - Daughter of Zion, Daughter of grace,
And we'll run with you and twirl with you, healed by Your wings of praise, healed by Your wings of praise - resting in Your gaze, dancing in this place - now.
Release! Release! Release! Release the sound of heaven in waves upon Your sheep - deep calling unto deep -the dead awaken from their sleep, slumbering souls no longer weep, but leap, but leap, but LEAP!
New heights for the ransomed, says the Lord.
Behold the King of Kings, and His reward is found in the least of these who surround Him as perfume at His feet.
Be released.
In waves...the Lord says your healing, Daughter of Zion, is going to come in waves .
Do not despair though it feels long in coming, for I am ever working on Your behalf.
I see the Lord is gathering jewels - very carefully, with each step of our journeys, He is carefully choosing the jewel He wishes to fashion - the gift, the glory, that will accompany the trial and that will ultimately become the mansion He is preparing for us.
"There is more waiting for you than you now realize, so don't lose heart, and don't give up," says the Lord. MY children. MY children. My own.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Donnie
As this is Memorial Day weekend, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to fail to recognize and remember my cousin, Staff Sergeant Donald M. Shue. Donnie was a member of the Army's Green Berets during Viet Nam. In November of 1969, he disappeared after being overrun by enemy troops as he and two other Americans were on a covert operation inside of Laos. His family never heard from him again, and many years later, he was designated as "Presumed Killed in Action".
Several months ago, we got word that a Laotian farmer and his son had been working a field and came across some old bones and various other remains. Calls were made to the US Embassy and to the Army, and a retrieval team came and returned the remains to the US to await identification. Our family was notified, and now we're waiting on his sister to get the test results. Forty years later........
How I pray we get to bring him home and give him a proper burial as he deserves. Thank you, Donnie, for the ultimate sacrifice you gave to protect our nation. The world is less bright for having lost your light.
Several months ago, we got word that a Laotian farmer and his son had been working a field and came across some old bones and various other remains. Calls were made to the US Embassy and to the Army, and a retrieval team came and returned the remains to the US to await identification. Our family was notified, and now we're waiting on his sister to get the test results. Forty years later........
How I pray we get to bring him home and give him a proper burial as he deserves. Thank you, Donnie, for the ultimate sacrifice you gave to protect our nation. The world is less bright for having lost your light.
Monday, May 24, 2010
What If....
Kleenex Alert: This may get a little bit sappy!
Last week, a friend of mine told me I absolutely had to go see the new movie "Letters to Juliet". Now, typically, being told to go see a chick flick that you know is going to be one of those love stories that makes your heart all a'flutter isn't out of the realm of the ordinary for me. However, THIS time was special. The friend that made the recommendation? A man! Yep, loyal readers, you heard me right....a M-A-N, honest to goodness, red blooded, hard workin', American MAN! He loved the movie, said there was a moment of extreme profundity (never used that word before...it means "profound" or it was DEEP!), and told me to be prepared with the Kleenex.
So, last Thursday, to escape the craziness of the world, I went to the theater. Bag of popcorn and Diet Coke in hand, I walked into the theater where 11 other women were preparing to be whisked away to the beauty and majesty of Tuscany. (I SO know where I want to go on my honeymoon if I ever have one. More on that comment a bit later.)
I'm not about to spoil the plot for you if you've not seen it, but the truth is, there's not that much of a plot....it's one of those "boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, 50 years go by, will boy and girl be reunited" type stories.
My friend told me to listen for two words in particular that were profound, and that we would discuss their meaning afterwards. Watching the movie, I kept waiting for these magical two words that were going to change my life. This went on for over an hour and I got nothing! I honestly thought I would have to go back to him and say, "I guess I'm a dunce...I didn't catch them." But, I trusted him. He said it would be rather obvious if I paid attention.
Near the very end of the movie, those two words hit me like a ton of bricks, and for more reasons than my friend could possibly have known.
WHAT IF?
Oh goodness. If I could tell each of you how many times I've used those two words in my life, and if I had a dollar for each time I've used them, I'd BE in Tuscany!! In the movie, "what if" is described as two words which, when separated, have very little value. Put them together, and they signify much more. I've known this to be true for many of my adult years.
As most of you know, I've spent many years struggling (while in college and in more recent years) with panic attacks. When fears come at you like the wind to assail your mind and your spirit, honestly, you feel tossed to and fro. When you allow those fears to begin to take over, you begin to worry about all the "what ifs" in life.....here are what a few of mine look and looked like:
Last week, a friend of mine told me I absolutely had to go see the new movie "Letters to Juliet". Now, typically, being told to go see a chick flick that you know is going to be one of those love stories that makes your heart all a'flutter isn't out of the realm of the ordinary for me. However, THIS time was special. The friend that made the recommendation? A man! Yep, loyal readers, you heard me right....a M-A-N, honest to goodness, red blooded, hard workin', American MAN! He loved the movie, said there was a moment of extreme profundity (never used that word before...it means "profound" or it was DEEP!), and told me to be prepared with the Kleenex.
So, last Thursday, to escape the craziness of the world, I went to the theater. Bag of popcorn and Diet Coke in hand, I walked into the theater where 11 other women were preparing to be whisked away to the beauty and majesty of Tuscany. (I SO know where I want to go on my honeymoon if I ever have one. More on that comment a bit later.)
I'm not about to spoil the plot for you if you've not seen it, but the truth is, there's not that much of a plot....it's one of those "boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, 50 years go by, will boy and girl be reunited" type stories.
My friend told me to listen for two words in particular that were profound, and that we would discuss their meaning afterwards. Watching the movie, I kept waiting for these magical two words that were going to change my life. This went on for over an hour and I got nothing! I honestly thought I would have to go back to him and say, "I guess I'm a dunce...I didn't catch them." But, I trusted him. He said it would be rather obvious if I paid attention.
Near the very end of the movie, those two words hit me like a ton of bricks, and for more reasons than my friend could possibly have known.
WHAT IF?
Oh goodness. If I could tell each of you how many times I've used those two words in my life, and if I had a dollar for each time I've used them, I'd BE in Tuscany!! In the movie, "what if" is described as two words which, when separated, have very little value. Put them together, and they signify much more. I've known this to be true for many of my adult years.
As most of you know, I've spent many years struggling (while in college and in more recent years) with panic attacks. When fears come at you like the wind to assail your mind and your spirit, honestly, you feel tossed to and fro. When you allow those fears to begin to take over, you begin to worry about all the "what ifs" in life.....here are what a few of mine look and looked like:
- What if I go out with friends, start to have a panic attack, need to leave and then ruin everyone's night out?
- What if I go to class and in the middle of the professor's lecture, I have to get up and leave, and then I look stupid?
- What if I get out on 85 and there's a wreck? I'll be trapped and can't escape.
- What if I trust someone and they break my heart?
- What if I try to do something I've never done before only to look like an idiot?
- What if I fail?
- What if I succeed?
What if? What If? WHAT IF?? AAARRRGGGHHHH STOP THE MADNESS!!!
In the movie, "what if" was placed together to pose the question of "what if we dare to dream and dreams really do come true?" Or, "what if you never take the chance to love, and it passes you by?" "What if the things we've longed for really are possible in our lives?" "What if?"
My friend was right, and I'm eternally grateful to him for helping me look for the two words in a new light. As we were talking about the movie and I was crying, sharing why those words were so profound to me (he hadn't learned about the history of the panic stuff yet), he asked me a really great question: "Isn't it great that God has now been able to redeem those two words for you so that the next time you start to think "what if" in a bad way, you can now counter it with asking the same question in an affirming way?"
God, thank You for great friends who cause me to think and to look at You in a whole new way. So, my dear friend, you know who you are. I've thanked you before, and I will again here. May God truly bless you as you ponder your "what ifs".....I've shared mine with you, so I can't wait to hear more of yours, too!
OH! And as for where I'd like to go on my honeymoon, well, "what if"???
What If........
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
"You See the Real Me"
Authentic. \au-then-tik\ adjective. From Latin, meaning worthy of acceptance or belief as conforming to or based on fact; not false or imitation; true to one’s own personality, spirit or character.
Have you ever had one of those lightning bolt moments? One of those unique moments in time where everything seems to stop as a ray of enlightenment hits you? Better yet, has something you’ve always believed been challenged to the point that you see your previous beliefs might not be the essential “truth” as you’ve known it?
I had one of those moments recently, courtesy of my Mom. We were chatting on the phone as we do each night, and we were talking about a good friend of mine who is going through some relational issues. She told me something to the effect that it was a shame that he and I never were anything more than really good friends. I thought about it for a second, but quickly shot back that it wouldn’t have worked out, “we just don’t share a lot of the same hobbies and interests”. As only a Mom can, she asked me very candidly, “How do you know you don’t like doing some of the things he does? You’ve never tried them before.”
Ok, OUCH!! Guilty as charged. Lock me up and throw away the key. I hated to really look at what she said and the truth behind her question. See, Mom is right…as she is with a lot of things. For so long, I’ve lived a life in a victim’s mentality, ashamed of my past, fearful of the unknown, trying to hide from anyone and anything that threatened my “status quo”. Wow, typing this is really difficult! If confession is good for the soul, and I believe that it is, then it’s about time my soul started rejoicing today!!
In the short 39 years of my life, just a few of the highlights (or lowlights) of hiding due to insecurities include:
· Not applying to the college of my dreams (UNC) because I was afraid I might be rejected. (In years since then, I know that I probably would not have been, but that fear held me back, nonetheless.)
· Hmmmm, I now realize that excuse up there was what I TOLD myself. Oh Lord, this is difficult. The real, 100% honest to gospel truth is that I didn’t want to show up to Chapel Hill in a bathing suit. A what, you might ask? Yeah, there it is. I said it. A bathing suit. At Carolina, all incoming Freshmen in those days had to pass a swimming test to be admitted, or that became your first Phys Ed class. At 18 years old, and looking like I thought I did in a bathing suit….I was NOT going to let that happen. Heck, these legs haven’t seen the light of day since I was about 12! So my dreams of being a Tar Heel and receiving my degree from UNC never saw the light of day because of my own insecurities.
· I didn’t go to my high school prom because I didn’t have a date. Going dateless is not such a bad thing at all….great that I realize it now, huh? I would definitely encourage anyone who’s a Junior or Senior in high school to GO to prom, regardless of whether you have a date or go with a group of friends. Life’s too short to worry about what others think, but you could never have sold that line to me up until about 2 years ago. Sad, really!
· Since most of my insecurities that I’ve dealt with in the past stem around weight issues and body image, let’s just get that one on the table too. Recently, I make a flip comment via text to a friend about having to go get my “glamour on”, and how that would take a minor miracle for me to do. (I’m so great at encouraging myself, aren’t I?) He immediately texted back, “YOU ARE WAY TOO HARD ON YOURSELF”. Yes, that is certainly the truth. Hearing it from others is incredibly encouraging. Hearing it to the depths of my being has been a struggle my entire life.
Do you show up in life? Are you authentically present in every situation? I’ve started wondering about that recently. Do I show up with the real Kara when I meet people, or am I a shell of the real person who’s hiding inside behind a mask of insecurities? Does the real Kara peek out from time to time? What does she look like? Who is she even?
What once was a very successful coping mechanism—my weight—I now realize is just a shell that has only served to limit me in my adult years. It also served to inscribe on my heart a great sense of worthlessness as a child and teenager. That shell no longer helps protect me from what I, as a child with a child’s mind, deemed to be dangerous, and it’s time to unleash the real person inside the shell.
I think I’ve always had glimpses of the real me: I’m creative, have a poet’s soul, am intelligent, funny and witty, a person of deep faith, a true friend to my friends, an encourager, compassionate, loving, and probably a number of other things that I won’t waste your time reading! But I also have fears, I question myself and life, I crawl into my cave when I feel lonely, I doubt my abilities at times, I wonder “why” an awful lot, and I question my calling in life.
The answers to those questions lie in the word authenticity. I want to be a person who reflects Christ's love on a daily basis to my family, my friends, co-workers, and strangers on the street. But I can't do that without the willingness to meet life head on as my true, authentic self. So, look out world....a new Kara has been surfacing for the past two years! It's time for the butterfly to escape her cocoon and emerge so she can fly.
Do Good Things,
Kara
Have you ever had one of those lightning bolt moments? One of those unique moments in time where everything seems to stop as a ray of enlightenment hits you? Better yet, has something you’ve always believed been challenged to the point that you see your previous beliefs might not be the essential “truth” as you’ve known it?
I had one of those moments recently, courtesy of my Mom. We were chatting on the phone as we do each night, and we were talking about a good friend of mine who is going through some relational issues. She told me something to the effect that it was a shame that he and I never were anything more than really good friends. I thought about it for a second, but quickly shot back that it wouldn’t have worked out, “we just don’t share a lot of the same hobbies and interests”. As only a Mom can, she asked me very candidly, “How do you know you don’t like doing some of the things he does? You’ve never tried them before.”
Ok, OUCH!! Guilty as charged. Lock me up and throw away the key. I hated to really look at what she said and the truth behind her question. See, Mom is right…as she is with a lot of things. For so long, I’ve lived a life in a victim’s mentality, ashamed of my past, fearful of the unknown, trying to hide from anyone and anything that threatened my “status quo”. Wow, typing this is really difficult! If confession is good for the soul, and I believe that it is, then it’s about time my soul started rejoicing today!!
In the short 39 years of my life, just a few of the highlights (or lowlights) of hiding due to insecurities include:
· Not applying to the college of my dreams (UNC) because I was afraid I might be rejected. (In years since then, I know that I probably would not have been, but that fear held me back, nonetheless.)
· Hmmmm, I now realize that excuse up there was what I TOLD myself. Oh Lord, this is difficult. The real, 100% honest to gospel truth is that I didn’t want to show up to Chapel Hill in a bathing suit. A what, you might ask? Yeah, there it is. I said it. A bathing suit. At Carolina, all incoming Freshmen in those days had to pass a swimming test to be admitted, or that became your first Phys Ed class. At 18 years old, and looking like I thought I did in a bathing suit….I was NOT going to let that happen. Heck, these legs haven’t seen the light of day since I was about 12! So my dreams of being a Tar Heel and receiving my degree from UNC never saw the light of day because of my own insecurities.
· I didn’t go to my high school prom because I didn’t have a date. Going dateless is not such a bad thing at all….great that I realize it now, huh? I would definitely encourage anyone who’s a Junior or Senior in high school to GO to prom, regardless of whether you have a date or go with a group of friends. Life’s too short to worry about what others think, but you could never have sold that line to me up until about 2 years ago. Sad, really!
· Since most of my insecurities that I’ve dealt with in the past stem around weight issues and body image, let’s just get that one on the table too. Recently, I make a flip comment via text to a friend about having to go get my “glamour on”, and how that would take a minor miracle for me to do. (I’m so great at encouraging myself, aren’t I?) He immediately texted back, “YOU ARE WAY TOO HARD ON YOURSELF”. Yes, that is certainly the truth. Hearing it from others is incredibly encouraging. Hearing it to the depths of my being has been a struggle my entire life.
Do you show up in life? Are you authentically present in every situation? I’ve started wondering about that recently. Do I show up with the real Kara when I meet people, or am I a shell of the real person who’s hiding inside behind a mask of insecurities? Does the real Kara peek out from time to time? What does she look like? Who is she even?
What once was a very successful coping mechanism—my weight—I now realize is just a shell that has only served to limit me in my adult years. It also served to inscribe on my heart a great sense of worthlessness as a child and teenager. That shell no longer helps protect me from what I, as a child with a child’s mind, deemed to be dangerous, and it’s time to unleash the real person inside the shell.
I think I’ve always had glimpses of the real me: I’m creative, have a poet’s soul, am intelligent, funny and witty, a person of deep faith, a true friend to my friends, an encourager, compassionate, loving, and probably a number of other things that I won’t waste your time reading! But I also have fears, I question myself and life, I crawl into my cave when I feel lonely, I doubt my abilities at times, I wonder “why” an awful lot, and I question my calling in life.
The answers to those questions lie in the word authenticity. I want to be a person who reflects Christ's love on a daily basis to my family, my friends, co-workers, and strangers on the street. But I can't do that without the willingness to meet life head on as my true, authentic self. So, look out world....a new Kara has been surfacing for the past two years! It's time for the butterfly to escape her cocoon and emerge so she can fly.
Do Good Things,
Kara
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Living A Life in the Overflow
Kara Annette McAbee
Tar Heel Born & Bred
1971 - ?
(**Confession---this blog post has yet to be edited. I've got a burden to share these words right now, so I'm posting without editing....anything spelled incorrectly, poor grammar, etc. will be corrected when I get back to it tomorrow! I hope you'll overlook anything like that, and just hear my heart. Thanks. Kara)
A lot of life goes on between the dash. Laughter. Tears. Joy. Sorrows. Giggling and cooing. Toddling around. First words. First loves. First heartbreaks. Good decisions. Poor decisions. Regrets. Health battles. Losing loved ones. Grief. Friends. Loves lost. Rejections.
I suppose that it's up to each of us how we choose to live our own dash. Will we become world famous leaders, poets, mine workers, secretaries, mommies, friends, lovers, athletes, etc.?
I've spent many a year, and I would suspect that most of us do, wasting the time that my dash represents. In recent weeks, however, I've decided to take better stock of how I'm using my dash. In my favorite poem, "Desiderata", there's a line that says we should "take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth."
In the Bible, there was another person who reflected back on the folly of his youth and much of his life, King Solomon. Solomon, as you may recall, was the son of King David. He was wealthy beyond compare. He had multiple wives and concubines. Servants galore. Palaces. Gold. Silver. Livestock. Land. All the things that money (and wars) could afford a king.
Yet Solomon, reknown for his wisdom recorded in Proverbs searched over his vast kingdom and all that he had amassed, and in the book of Ecclesiastes, he records the following:
"Smoke, nothing but smoke. There's nothing to anything—it's all smoke. What's there to show for a lifetime of work, a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone? One generation goes its way, the next one arrives, but nothing changes—it's business as usual for old planet earth. The sun comes up and the sun goes down, then does it again, and again—the same old round. The wind blows south, the wind blows north. Around and around and around it blows, blowing this way, then that—the whirling, erratic wind. Everything's boring, utterly boring—no one can find any meaning in it. Boring to the eye, boring to the ear. What was will be again, what happened will happen again. There's nothing new on this earth. Year after year it's the same old thing. Does someone call out, "Hey, this is new"? Don't get excited—it's the same old story. Nobody remembers what happened yesterday. And the things that will happen tomorrow? Nobody'll remember them either. Don't count on being remembered." (The Message)
Sounds like Solomon had a serious case of the "poor pitiful me's". (Luckily they make medicines for people with these kinds of moods now!) Solomon is basically saying that, despite all he had accomplished through the course of his life, it was all pretty much meaningless. What he was failing to take into consideration was the power and the joy in a life fulfilled by allowing God to bring you to a full awakening of all we are meant to be in Him. Serving others, giving back to others, encouraging them, listening to them, providing counsel, etc. when you are not operating out of the overflow of the Holy Spirit is nothing but smoke. Our efforts are in vain, and we are not effective in our attempts to minister to those around us. If we are to be light to this hurting world, we must take seriously our own individual spiritual growth and development.How do we do this?
I believe the secret is found in cultivating a lifestyle of worship. Worship is something we've distorted and shrunk to fit into our "one size fits all" society. Most people would define worship as singing in church to a particular style of music. After all, it carries the name "praise and worship", so that must be it, right? Well, yes and no. Of course, singing is a part of worship, as long as it is done in spirit and truth, with the right motives. It's certainly not about "flipping on a switch" on Sunday morning, checking in at church with all our friends, saying a prayer, dropping some money in the offering plate and then running out at 11:58 to get to the buffet line before the Baptists do.
Worship is, and should be, a lifestyle. It's what I do. It's who I am. It consumes me. When I wake up in the morning, I'm already conversing with God, because He wakes me with a song already in my mind. I welcome the morning by saying "good morning" to Him, and I begin to ask Him to be with me throughout the day. My morning devotions, prayer and quiet time alone with Him are the sweetest parts of my day. I never say "Amen" during a prayer, because I don't believe that prayer should ever stop. He's the dearest, most trusted friend I have, or ever will have, so why would I need to put an end to it? As I'm driving, I'm singing, thanking Him for His creation, asking Him to bless the person who almost totalled my car (yes, that was yesterday), etc. At work, I'm working for Him, even though I'm in a secular job. I know that what I'm doing is blessing Him because I'm focusing on being a blessing to my co-workers and the people I work for.
A lifestyle of worship is not difficult. It's simply a matter of being present. Present in the moment so that you can recognize the people who God places in your path. Present so that you can give back to Him, and present so that He can constantly be refilling your earthly vessel. Then, out of the overflow, we can give to others. It's really that simple.
In looking back over the course of my life, I pray that I will be able to come to a different conclusion than did Solomon. I pray that my dash will be far from smoke. I hope that I've been able (and will continue to be able) to make an eternal difference in the lives of many of the people I've met along this journey home.
Making Heaven a Bit More Crowded,
Kara
Tar Heel Born & Bred
1971 - ?
(**Confession---this blog post has yet to be edited. I've got a burden to share these words right now, so I'm posting without editing....anything spelled incorrectly, poor grammar, etc. will be corrected when I get back to it tomorrow! I hope you'll overlook anything like that, and just hear my heart. Thanks. Kara)
A lot of life goes on between the dash. Laughter. Tears. Joy. Sorrows. Giggling and cooing. Toddling around. First words. First loves. First heartbreaks. Good decisions. Poor decisions. Regrets. Health battles. Losing loved ones. Grief. Friends. Loves lost. Rejections.
I suppose that it's up to each of us how we choose to live our own dash. Will we become world famous leaders, poets, mine workers, secretaries, mommies, friends, lovers, athletes, etc.?
I've spent many a year, and I would suspect that most of us do, wasting the time that my dash represents. In recent weeks, however, I've decided to take better stock of how I'm using my dash. In my favorite poem, "Desiderata", there's a line that says we should "take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth."
In the Bible, there was another person who reflected back on the folly of his youth and much of his life, King Solomon. Solomon, as you may recall, was the son of King David. He was wealthy beyond compare. He had multiple wives and concubines. Servants galore. Palaces. Gold. Silver. Livestock. Land. All the things that money (and wars) could afford a king.
Yet Solomon, reknown for his wisdom recorded in Proverbs searched over his vast kingdom and all that he had amassed, and in the book of Ecclesiastes, he records the following:
"Smoke, nothing but smoke. There's nothing to anything—it's all smoke. What's there to show for a lifetime of work, a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone? One generation goes its way, the next one arrives, but nothing changes—it's business as usual for old planet earth. The sun comes up and the sun goes down, then does it again, and again—the same old round. The wind blows south, the wind blows north. Around and around and around it blows, blowing this way, then that—the whirling, erratic wind. Everything's boring, utterly boring—no one can find any meaning in it. Boring to the eye, boring to the ear. What was will be again, what happened will happen again. There's nothing new on this earth. Year after year it's the same old thing. Does someone call out, "Hey, this is new"? Don't get excited—it's the same old story. Nobody remembers what happened yesterday. And the things that will happen tomorrow? Nobody'll remember them either. Don't count on being remembered." (The Message)
Sounds like Solomon had a serious case of the "poor pitiful me's". (Luckily they make medicines for people with these kinds of moods now!) Solomon is basically saying that, despite all he had accomplished through the course of his life, it was all pretty much meaningless. What he was failing to take into consideration was the power and the joy in a life fulfilled by allowing God to bring you to a full awakening of all we are meant to be in Him. Serving others, giving back to others, encouraging them, listening to them, providing counsel, etc. when you are not operating out of the overflow of the Holy Spirit is nothing but smoke. Our efforts are in vain, and we are not effective in our attempts to minister to those around us. If we are to be light to this hurting world, we must take seriously our own individual spiritual growth and development.How do we do this?
I believe the secret is found in cultivating a lifestyle of worship. Worship is something we've distorted and shrunk to fit into our "one size fits all" society. Most people would define worship as singing in church to a particular style of music. After all, it carries the name "praise and worship", so that must be it, right? Well, yes and no. Of course, singing is a part of worship, as long as it is done in spirit and truth, with the right motives. It's certainly not about "flipping on a switch" on Sunday morning, checking in at church with all our friends, saying a prayer, dropping some money in the offering plate and then running out at 11:58 to get to the buffet line before the Baptists do.
Worship is, and should be, a lifestyle. It's what I do. It's who I am. It consumes me. When I wake up in the morning, I'm already conversing with God, because He wakes me with a song already in my mind. I welcome the morning by saying "good morning" to Him, and I begin to ask Him to be with me throughout the day. My morning devotions, prayer and quiet time alone with Him are the sweetest parts of my day. I never say "Amen" during a prayer, because I don't believe that prayer should ever stop. He's the dearest, most trusted friend I have, or ever will have, so why would I need to put an end to it? As I'm driving, I'm singing, thanking Him for His creation, asking Him to bless the person who almost totalled my car (yes, that was yesterday), etc. At work, I'm working for Him, even though I'm in a secular job. I know that what I'm doing is blessing Him because I'm focusing on being a blessing to my co-workers and the people I work for.
A lifestyle of worship is not difficult. It's simply a matter of being present. Present in the moment so that you can recognize the people who God places in your path. Present so that you can give back to Him, and present so that He can constantly be refilling your earthly vessel. Then, out of the overflow, we can give to others. It's really that simple.
In looking back over the course of my life, I pray that I will be able to come to a different conclusion than did Solomon. I pray that my dash will be far from smoke. I hope that I've been able (and will continue to be able) to make an eternal difference in the lives of many of the people I've met along this journey home.
Making Heaven a Bit More Crowded,
Kara
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Random Thoughts Along the Way
Just a collection of thoughts from the past few days:
1. What a glorious day Easter Resurrection Sunday was! We were blessed with gorgeous sunny skies, soft white puffy clouds, and birds chirping. Then again, we also had pollen so thick you could write a book on the hood of my car!
2. I sang in the praise & worship team @ Trinity this Sunday. It's the first time I've done that in over 10 years. I grew up singing in church, but when I went to Crossroads, didn't have the nerve to audition and really didn't have the confidence that I was "good enough". Wow, what institutions can do to a person's self-confidence.
3. We had our Easter egg hunt Sunday morning on the lawn of the church. Girls in their pretty dresses and boys dressed up--I LOVE it!! Such fun!
4. It was also the weekend of the NCAA Final Four. I supposed I'd be remiss to not comment on it. So, let's see: Carolina had one of those dreaded "rebuilding" years that no one wants to have. I'm excited for next year--amazing new recruits coming in. Hopefully, we'll stay healthy!
5. Why were so many Carolina fans opposed to playing in the NIT? Granted, it's not the "big dance", but at least we were able to continue to play post-season. I think for our team, we really needed those additional games. They began to play as a team and have pride in themselves. They made it to the finals of the NIT and played well. Though it was a frustrating season, true fans know the meaning of loyalty and allegiance to their team. As our alma mater says, "Tar Heel Born. Tar Heel Bred. When I Die? Tar Heel Dead!" That's me!!
6. Wow, do Duke fans ever take seriously when Carolina fans beat up on them!! Can we say complete lack of a sense of humor? They enjoy dishing it out, but can't seem to take it. (MY personal opinion, of course. This is MY blog and I can post whatever I think!) Many of my friends, several of whom are on Facebook, and I enjoy the banter back and forth between opposing fans. It's fun. It's tradition. It's the ABC and ABD crowd (of which I'm a proud member)! I have to tell you that as I was posting a few comments back and forth with them, a few people jumped into the conversation (which is, I suppose, one of the problems with Facebook) and managed to question both my sportsmanship AND my Christianity! Apparently, umbrage was taken at my comment that Coach K bought the refs during the WVU game.
REALLY, even I don't take it that seriously! Friends, let me just say this. If a game with a little round ball causes you to question someone's faith, YOU TAKE IT WAAAAY TOO SERIOUSLY!! Banter between friends is one thing, but suggesting someone doesn't display sportsmanship or a Christ-like character is a wee bit over the top. I'm just sayin......
7. Special Olympics Spring Games are slated for April 28th (for high school & adults) and April 29th (for elementary & middle schoolers). Come join us at the Cabarrus Arena around 9 a.m. for two fabulous days of real heroes, sportsmanship, and winning spirits! You'll be so glad you did!
8. POLLEN must be sent from satan!!
9. I'm not nearly as insecure as I once was.
10. I love my Kindle (thanks Mom & Dad)!! Just found the first book I wanted to order that's not available in a Kindle version, so I'm hoping my note to the publisher will help! (Women, Food & God in case you're wondering.)
11. I'm blessed!! Between family, friends, church, relationship with Christ, work, my own home where I can play music as loud as I want to, food on the table, a car to take me where I need to go, and the ability to wake up to a new morning with a fresh batch of His mercies just for me, what more could a person want?
12. New relationships that spring up and begin to develop in the most beautifully innocent of ways.....dreams of what might be.....a poet's soul that speaks to mine....He knows my needs, my every thoughts, even my wants.
1. What a glorious day Easter Resurrection Sunday was! We were blessed with gorgeous sunny skies, soft white puffy clouds, and birds chirping. Then again, we also had pollen so thick you could write a book on the hood of my car!
2. I sang in the praise & worship team @ Trinity this Sunday. It's the first time I've done that in over 10 years. I grew up singing in church, but when I went to Crossroads, didn't have the nerve to audition and really didn't have the confidence that I was "good enough". Wow, what institutions can do to a person's self-confidence.
3. We had our Easter egg hunt Sunday morning on the lawn of the church. Girls in their pretty dresses and boys dressed up--I LOVE it!! Such fun!
4. It was also the weekend of the NCAA Final Four. I supposed I'd be remiss to not comment on it. So, let's see: Carolina had one of those dreaded "rebuilding" years that no one wants to have. I'm excited for next year--amazing new recruits coming in. Hopefully, we'll stay healthy!
5. Why were so many Carolina fans opposed to playing in the NIT? Granted, it's not the "big dance", but at least we were able to continue to play post-season. I think for our team, we really needed those additional games. They began to play as a team and have pride in themselves. They made it to the finals of the NIT and played well. Though it was a frustrating season, true fans know the meaning of loyalty and allegiance to their team. As our alma mater says, "Tar Heel Born. Tar Heel Bred. When I Die? Tar Heel Dead!" That's me!!
6. Wow, do Duke fans ever take seriously when Carolina fans beat up on them!! Can we say complete lack of a sense of humor? They enjoy dishing it out, but can't seem to take it. (MY personal opinion, of course. This is MY blog and I can post whatever I think!) Many of my friends, several of whom are on Facebook, and I enjoy the banter back and forth between opposing fans. It's fun. It's tradition. It's the ABC and ABD crowd (of which I'm a proud member)! I have to tell you that as I was posting a few comments back and forth with them, a few people jumped into the conversation (which is, I suppose, one of the problems with Facebook) and managed to question both my sportsmanship AND my Christianity! Apparently, umbrage was taken at my comment that Coach K bought the refs during the WVU game.
REALLY, even I don't take it that seriously! Friends, let me just say this. If a game with a little round ball causes you to question someone's faith, YOU TAKE IT WAAAAY TOO SERIOUSLY!! Banter between friends is one thing, but suggesting someone doesn't display sportsmanship or a Christ-like character is a wee bit over the top. I'm just sayin......
7. Special Olympics Spring Games are slated for April 28th (for high school & adults) and April 29th (for elementary & middle schoolers). Come join us at the Cabarrus Arena around 9 a.m. for two fabulous days of real heroes, sportsmanship, and winning spirits! You'll be so glad you did!
8. POLLEN must be sent from satan!!
9. I'm not nearly as insecure as I once was.
10. I love my Kindle (thanks Mom & Dad)!! Just found the first book I wanted to order that's not available in a Kindle version, so I'm hoping my note to the publisher will help! (Women, Food & God in case you're wondering.)
11. I'm blessed!! Between family, friends, church, relationship with Christ, work, my own home where I can play music as loud as I want to, food on the table, a car to take me where I need to go, and the ability to wake up to a new morning with a fresh batch of His mercies just for me, what more could a person want?
12. New relationships that spring up and begin to develop in the most beautifully innocent of ways.....dreams of what might be.....a poet's soul that speaks to mine....He knows my needs, my every thoughts, even my wants.
13. Maybe the saddest thing I've learned over the past few days---this is the last season of my beloved "24". What on earth am I gonna do without my Jack Bauer? No more Kiefer on Monday nights...I honestly don't know what I'll do! Sure, I own all 8 seasons on DVD and could just start watching them over again, but it's just not the same. (And don't tell me to just listen to all the Bank of America commercials to hear his voice....again, not the same.) The mourning has already begun. I'm just trying to decide if I want Jack to end the series happy and in love, or torn apart over the assassination of his beloved (that way, I still have a chance!). Decisions. Decisions.
14. Sending prayers out to my cousin, Christy McAbee. She fell over the weekend and severely injured her back. Many weeks of rehab, and prayerfully, no surgery.
15. Music is God's gift to me. He speaks to me
through the poets He shares His thoughts with. 16. I think I've thought enough. I think I need a nap!
Do Good Things,
Kara
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
What do you Think?
Hi Everyone,
I'm trying to find a new blog layout. There's just not that much out there catching my eye, but I certainly don't have the ability to create and design one myself. For now, I think I'll stick with this one--at least until I find something I like better.
What do you think?
Do Good, Y'all!
Kara
I'm trying to find a new blog layout. There's just not that much out there catching my eye, but I certainly don't have the ability to create and design one myself. For now, I think I'll stick with this one--at least until I find something I like better.
What do you think?
Do Good, Y'all!
Kara
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Giving Back to Vickie
Hello Blog Readers!
Last week, Cabarrus County truly lost an angel on earth as my friend and former teacher Vickie Honeycutt passed away after a long bout with breast cancer. While we know that cancer can't rob a person of their reward in Heaven, I can't help but be struck with the pain that Vickie's husband and children must be dealing with now. In that sense, Alan, Ashley, & Dane--this one's for you!
Vickie was my friend years before she was my teacher. I grew up in a small Mount Pleasant church, MPUMC, and was in a class of only 4 girls my age. When we went into middle school, Vickie was our Sunday School teacher. We met in the church library, and I remember that on the first day we met, she encouraged us to know that her class would be a place where we would learn about Jesus, but we would also learn about ourselves. She told us we were in a safe place where we could share what was going on in life. She said she wanted us to be honest with ourselves and others and that she would help us navigate the changing world of young teens. She quickly became a friend and trusted confidante.
My sophomore year of high school, Vickie became Mrs. Honeycutt. She was my AP English teacher. Her classroom, as her Sunday School class years before, was a safe place for her students. Oh, she was demanding, and she didn't let her students take her class lightly. She had high expectations, and she wanted each of her students to learn all they could about diagramming sentences, gain a love for poetry and prose, and she instilled a life-long love of journalling in this student. I can't thank her enough for my journal--a Carolina blue (are you shocked) spiral-bound notebook, filled with my thoughts and dreams for the future. In her trademark red fine-tip Bic flair pen, she would write encouraging notes, challenge me to look at a problem from all sides, and exhibit the warmth and love for me that I had always known was there.
Something else stood out about Vickie, however, and that was her deep and abiding concern and compassion for her students' lives. Filled with teenage angst, we would pour into her classroom, ready to read Twelve Angry Men outloud, and she would meet us with a warm smile that reassured us that everything would be alright.
I'll never, ever, forget one day in particular in Vickie's classroom. A girl in my class, one I was not particularly fond of at the time (we were teenage girls after all), learned that her boyfriend had broken up with her during lunchtime. She was incredibly heartbroken, crying, sitting alone on one of the benches near the library. Our English class was immediately after lunch, and the girl did not show up for class. When Mrs. Honeycutt asked where she was and was informed of what happened, she quickly assigned a journal writing project, left the classroom, and went to spend the next 20 minutes with the girl, comforting her and sharing her pain. THAT was Vickie. She exhibited Christ's love on a daily basis for her students and was the model of teaching professionalism and ethics.
Twenty years after graduation, I sit at a computer and share my thoughts, my life, my pain, my joys with those who choose to read my blog. Just as my journals have always been, this is my outlet, my release, and a source of joy for me. I can't help but thank Vickie for inspiring and helping to nurture my love for the written word. I may never be a Faulkner or a Shakespeare, but a writer's truth, a poet's soul, must find ways to be expressed. I am so grateful to Vickie and other English teachers I had (Mrs. Suther, Mrs. Barringer & Mrs. Fesperman) for being the mentors and encouragers in my journey as a writer.
Sitting in the church as hundreds of people paid their respects and mourned Vickie's loss last week, I was struck with the urge to "give back". I needed to find a way to say thank you to Vickie and the men and women who have poured into my life as educators. (Are you one of the people who can literally name every single teacher you've had from elementary through high school? I can, and I can tell you specific stories and lessons I learned in each of their classrooms.) I knew I wanted, and needed, to give back, but how could I possibly honor the lives of those who've meant so much to me?
This past Saturday, I found my answer! I signed up with the Cabarrus Literacy Council to become an Adult Literacy Tutor, and spent Saturday and part of Monday evening receiving training! I will be paired with one of the more than 35,000 American-born residents of Cabarrus County whose literacy rate places them at 5th grade or below. We'll meet and begin the journey of allowing the person to learn to read, write, gain basic math skills, etc. I can't wait until my person can go to a restaurant and read a menu, get a driver's license after taking the test, obtain their GED, whatever their goal is.
Sitting in the classroom on Saturday morning, each of the tutors were asked why they were at the Council--what brought us there? As I introduced myself, I spoke of Vickie, and I shared that I felt it was my tribute to her to help inspire another person to love to read and write, just as she had inspired me.
Vickie, I hope that you're looking down from Heaven and noticing my small tribute to you. Thank you for all you poured into my life. Heaven is all the more beautiful and glorious to have you there. We are all still sad to no longer have you with us, but I and hundreds of your friends and family members have many beautiful memories of you to inspire and encourage us to focus on Desiderata ("those things most needed or desired"). You were right when you shared with us that, "with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world." I love you and miss you.
Last week, Cabarrus County truly lost an angel on earth as my friend and former teacher Vickie Honeycutt passed away after a long bout with breast cancer. While we know that cancer can't rob a person of their reward in Heaven, I can't help but be struck with the pain that Vickie's husband and children must be dealing with now. In that sense, Alan, Ashley, & Dane--this one's for you!
Vickie was my friend years before she was my teacher. I grew up in a small Mount Pleasant church, MPUMC, and was in a class of only 4 girls my age. When we went into middle school, Vickie was our Sunday School teacher. We met in the church library, and I remember that on the first day we met, she encouraged us to know that her class would be a place where we would learn about Jesus, but we would also learn about ourselves. She told us we were in a safe place where we could share what was going on in life. She said she wanted us to be honest with ourselves and others and that she would help us navigate the changing world of young teens. She quickly became a friend and trusted confidante.
My sophomore year of high school, Vickie became Mrs. Honeycutt. She was my AP English teacher. Her classroom, as her Sunday School class years before, was a safe place for her students. Oh, she was demanding, and she didn't let her students take her class lightly. She had high expectations, and she wanted each of her students to learn all they could about diagramming sentences, gain a love for poetry and prose, and she instilled a life-long love of journalling in this student. I can't thank her enough for my journal--a Carolina blue (are you shocked) spiral-bound notebook, filled with my thoughts and dreams for the future. In her trademark red fine-tip Bic flair pen, she would write encouraging notes, challenge me to look at a problem from all sides, and exhibit the warmth and love for me that I had always known was there.
Something else stood out about Vickie, however, and that was her deep and abiding concern and compassion for her students' lives. Filled with teenage angst, we would pour into her classroom, ready to read Twelve Angry Men outloud, and she would meet us with a warm smile that reassured us that everything would be alright.
I'll never, ever, forget one day in particular in Vickie's classroom. A girl in my class, one I was not particularly fond of at the time (we were teenage girls after all), learned that her boyfriend had broken up with her during lunchtime. She was incredibly heartbroken, crying, sitting alone on one of the benches near the library. Our English class was immediately after lunch, and the girl did not show up for class. When Mrs. Honeycutt asked where she was and was informed of what happened, she quickly assigned a journal writing project, left the classroom, and went to spend the next 20 minutes with the girl, comforting her and sharing her pain. THAT was Vickie. She exhibited Christ's love on a daily basis for her students and was the model of teaching professionalism and ethics.
Twenty years after graduation, I sit at a computer and share my thoughts, my life, my pain, my joys with those who choose to read my blog. Just as my journals have always been, this is my outlet, my release, and a source of joy for me. I can't help but thank Vickie for inspiring and helping to nurture my love for the written word. I may never be a Faulkner or a Shakespeare, but a writer's truth, a poet's soul, must find ways to be expressed. I am so grateful to Vickie and other English teachers I had (Mrs. Suther, Mrs. Barringer & Mrs. Fesperman) for being the mentors and encouragers in my journey as a writer.
Sitting in the church as hundreds of people paid their respects and mourned Vickie's loss last week, I was struck with the urge to "give back". I needed to find a way to say thank you to Vickie and the men and women who have poured into my life as educators. (Are you one of the people who can literally name every single teacher you've had from elementary through high school? I can, and I can tell you specific stories and lessons I learned in each of their classrooms.) I knew I wanted, and needed, to give back, but how could I possibly honor the lives of those who've meant so much to me?
This past Saturday, I found my answer! I signed up with the Cabarrus Literacy Council to become an Adult Literacy Tutor, and spent Saturday and part of Monday evening receiving training! I will be paired with one of the more than 35,000 American-born residents of Cabarrus County whose literacy rate places them at 5th grade or below. We'll meet and begin the journey of allowing the person to learn to read, write, gain basic math skills, etc. I can't wait until my person can go to a restaurant and read a menu, get a driver's license after taking the test, obtain their GED, whatever their goal is.
Sitting in the classroom on Saturday morning, each of the tutors were asked why they were at the Council--what brought us there? As I introduced myself, I spoke of Vickie, and I shared that I felt it was my tribute to her to help inspire another person to love to read and write, just as she had inspired me.
Vickie, I hope that you're looking down from Heaven and noticing my small tribute to you. Thank you for all you poured into my life. Heaven is all the more beautiful and glorious to have you there. We are all still sad to no longer have you with us, but I and hundreds of your friends and family members have many beautiful memories of you to inspire and encourage us to focus on Desiderata ("those things most needed or desired"). You were right when you shared with us that, "with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world." I love you and miss you.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Cow Cow Kara, Aretha & The "R" Word
I’ll never forget the sting of their words. My eighth grade yearbook that I was so proud of was littered with references to it. Displayed for all to see was my worst nightmares—the references to my size, my weight, written in black ink for all eternity.
I had been labeled "Cow Cow Kara”, the pride of Mount Pleasant Middle School. As a thirteen year old girl, the last thing I wanted to be known for was the one obvious blight on my existence. I was the “fat kid”. I was also the one who was not only the fat kid, but I was the “smart fat kid that wore glasses”. Aaarrrggghhhh.
I was always the last one picked on a team. Then again, by middle school, I was so humiliated to have to “dress out” in shorts and t-shirts that I became quite astute at faking reasons to get out of having to participate. In 8th grade Health & PE, we had an assignment that had us “marry off” to members of our class, have “flour babies”, make budgets, etc. I prayed for days that I wouldn’t have to get married, that I could be a single person, because I was dreading the response of groans from the unlucky pubescent boy who would be stuck with the fat wife that nobody wanted.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had an experience like mine, but today, just months shy of my 40th birthday, I have to admit that I still carry those words with me like a badge of dishonor. Yes, I still am that overweight kid from many years ago in my heart, and the struggle with food and weight has been one I’ve battled my entire life.
When we are children, we don’t have the ability to resolve the internal conflict that people’s words generate. The old adage “sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me” is an outright lie. Words DO hurt. They label us. They wound us, and the worst part is they stick with us for many years. As an adult, if someone calls you a name, most of us are able to look past the words and reason away that the person was having a bad day, was stressed about something that had nothing to do with us, or maybe they’d just had a few too many drinks that day! Unfortunately, children don’t have the ability to do that, so names like “Cow Cow Kara” stick, and they leave fingerprints on our souls.
An equally disturbing and hurtful label is being bandied about in society with little to no regard for the impact it might have. Those of us who work in the field of intellectual/developmental disabilities no say the “R” word….retarded. Labeling a person with a disability as retarded is the same as calling me Cow Cow or calling someone of African-American descent the “N” word, and as far as I know, no one with any sense of decency or decorum would do that.
Mark Twain once said, “the difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—it’s the difference between lightning and the lightning bug”. When a person chooses to use a word such as “retarded” to label a person, to point out a supposed difference, or to make fun of someone our society is hurt. Our ignorance, our inability to empathize with the lives of others only serves to diminish our humanity.
If a person who has a disability is called “retarded”, “slow”, a “moron”, “backward”, “birdbrained”, “stupid”, or a “retard” etc., believe me, those words stick and they are never forgotten. The pain that is attached to those words can’t be overstated. The people I have met during my years at The Arc of Cabarrus are anything but those words. They are loving, gregarious, hopeful, friendly, intelligent, outgoing, empathetic, and caring. They hurt when they are sad. They get angry. They laugh outrageously when they’re having a good time, and boy do they ever love to have a good time! They work. They fall in love. They have friends. They get into fights with their friends. They end friendships. They have dreams for their futures. In essence, they are just like you and me!
It would absolutely break my heart to ever hear one of my friends referred to by using a slur. So many of us define ourselves based on the names and words we are called as children. If society continues to perpetuate those negative slurs through television, movies, comedic acts, and every day language, these amazing friends of mine will hear it, and they are affected. We, as a nation, are better than this.
March is the month in which Special Olympics sponsored an effort to “Spread the Word to End the Word”, effectively encouraging people in the US and around the world to eliminate the “R” word for their language. Over 112,000 people logged on to their website and took the pledge. I encourage each of our members of The Arc to share this information with your friends, neighbors and co-workers. If you hear the use of the “R” word, share with them that “retarded” hurts, BUT there is a NEW “R” word that they can use when thinking about persons who have intellectual or developmental disabilities….R-E-S-P-E-C-T!! Respect….Aretha Franklin says it best…”Find out what it means to me”. Respect takes into consideration the humanity of each of us--regardless of our weight, the color of our skin, or our intellectual or developmental levels.
I had been labeled "Cow Cow Kara”, the pride of Mount Pleasant Middle School. As a thirteen year old girl, the last thing I wanted to be known for was the one obvious blight on my existence. I was the “fat kid”. I was also the one who was not only the fat kid, but I was the “smart fat kid that wore glasses”. Aaarrrggghhhh.
I was always the last one picked on a team. Then again, by middle school, I was so humiliated to have to “dress out” in shorts and t-shirts that I became quite astute at faking reasons to get out of having to participate. In 8th grade Health & PE, we had an assignment that had us “marry off” to members of our class, have “flour babies”, make budgets, etc. I prayed for days that I wouldn’t have to get married, that I could be a single person, because I was dreading the response of groans from the unlucky pubescent boy who would be stuck with the fat wife that nobody wanted.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had an experience like mine, but today, just months shy of my 40th birthday, I have to admit that I still carry those words with me like a badge of dishonor. Yes, I still am that overweight kid from many years ago in my heart, and the struggle with food and weight has been one I’ve battled my entire life.
When we are children, we don’t have the ability to resolve the internal conflict that people’s words generate. The old adage “sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me” is an outright lie. Words DO hurt. They label us. They wound us, and the worst part is they stick with us for many years. As an adult, if someone calls you a name, most of us are able to look past the words and reason away that the person was having a bad day, was stressed about something that had nothing to do with us, or maybe they’d just had a few too many drinks that day! Unfortunately, children don’t have the ability to do that, so names like “Cow Cow Kara” stick, and they leave fingerprints on our souls.
An equally disturbing and hurtful label is being bandied about in society with little to no regard for the impact it might have. Those of us who work in the field of intellectual/developmental disabilities no say the “R” word….retarded. Labeling a person with a disability as retarded is the same as calling me Cow Cow or calling someone of African-American descent the “N” word, and as far as I know, no one with any sense of decency or decorum would do that.
Mark Twain once said, “the difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—it’s the difference between lightning and the lightning bug”. When a person chooses to use a word such as “retarded” to label a person, to point out a supposed difference, or to make fun of someone our society is hurt. Our ignorance, our inability to empathize with the lives of others only serves to diminish our humanity.
If a person who has a disability is called “retarded”, “slow”, a “moron”, “backward”, “birdbrained”, “stupid”, or a “retard” etc., believe me, those words stick and they are never forgotten. The pain that is attached to those words can’t be overstated. The people I have met during my years at The Arc of Cabarrus are anything but those words. They are loving, gregarious, hopeful, friendly, intelligent, outgoing, empathetic, and caring. They hurt when they are sad. They get angry. They laugh outrageously when they’re having a good time, and boy do they ever love to have a good time! They work. They fall in love. They have friends. They get into fights with their friends. They end friendships. They have dreams for their futures. In essence, they are just like you and me!
It would absolutely break my heart to ever hear one of my friends referred to by using a slur. So many of us define ourselves based on the names and words we are called as children. If society continues to perpetuate those negative slurs through television, movies, comedic acts, and every day language, these amazing friends of mine will hear it, and they are affected. We, as a nation, are better than this.
March is the month in which Special Olympics sponsored an effort to “Spread the Word to End the Word”, effectively encouraging people in the US and around the world to eliminate the “R” word for their language. Over 112,000 people logged on to their website and took the pledge. I encourage each of our members of The Arc to share this information with your friends, neighbors and co-workers. If you hear the use of the “R” word, share with them that “retarded” hurts, BUT there is a NEW “R” word that they can use when thinking about persons who have intellectual or developmental disabilities….R-E-S-P-E-C-T!! Respect….Aretha Franklin says it best…”Find out what it means to me”. Respect takes into consideration the humanity of each of us--regardless of our weight, the color of our skin, or our intellectual or developmental levels.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
You Can Tell Everybody---This is YOUR Song....
"The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17
Hello Everyone...it's been such a long time since I've taken the time to post on my blog. I suppose I should take some time to update you on how life's been going since my last posts, but then quickly move on to the point of my post today.
When we first began this journey, you'll recall that I was mired in the nightmare of the recurrence of panic attacks and anxiety. God uses so many varied ways to draw us closer to Himself, and I can say with 100% certainty, this desert wandering of mine has led me to a relationship with Him that I could only have imagined two and a half years ago. Thanks to a mighty prayer war counselor, a terrific family doctor, my parents, a host of friends and loved ones, and His loving touch, so many things have changed for the better. So, all is well!
Now, that certainly doesn't mean that there aren't battles along the way. I still struggle with knowing I'm not in full-time ministry anymore. I miss "my children" more than I could say. I love The Arc and the people we work for..they are bright lights in my life. But, when you know that you're called to one area of work and you're not living out your calling, it's really difficult. I've cried out on numerous occasions, wondering if God has forgotten me in the past months. (OK, now I know that He hasn't, but let's be honest, sometimes it just FEELS as if we're left on the sidelines during the Super Bowl. Then again, the way I would play football, the sidelines are exactly where I SHOULD be....but I digress!)
Of course, I still wonder about that whole "M" word. No, I don't mean meatloaf, I mean marriage--although there's nothing like a good meatloaf sandwich every now and again. Ahhh, the joys, trials and tribulations of dating in your late 30s. And, do I ever mean LATE 30s....the latest of late 30s....39!!! How'd that happen? I'd swear it was just yesterday when I was in high school, listening to Bon Jovi, and dancing around my room with my hairbrush. Oh, wait. That WAS yesterday...you just can't beat some great Bon Jovi!! So the marriage thing--I'm still relying on Him to lead in that area. If I trust my eternal salvation to Him, I'd think that would mean I could trust my earthly desires and dreams to His safe-keeping as well. (However, if any of you would like to help Him out a bit...you know my phone number!)
On to the purpose of my post today. The Scripture I quoted above is one of my all-time favorites. Can't you just envision God in Heaven looking down on each of His children and with the love and esteem only a parent can have for His child, rejoicing over us? Can you imagine Him being so captivated by you that He literally sings when He sees you? Do you ever catch yourself humming a tune when you're happy?
As someone who is so drawn by music and who loves to spend hours just soaking in His presence with great music, I find it especially encouraging to know that He sings over me.
Years ago, I was at a women's retreat when I began reflecting on this Scripture. I remember sitting out on a dock, in a rocking chair, with my journal. My journals have so much in them--everything from my daily happenings, to prayers, to artwork (bad as it may be), to poetry--but this day, something special was added to it. MY SONG!! I asked God if He has a special song for each of His children as He sings. I thought that if God was so creative He could invent more than 350,000 different types of beetles, He has to be creative enough to have unique songs for each of His kids.
I asked Him if He could share with me what He sang when He looked at me. I rested in His presence and quietly waited for what might happen. I felt a gentle nudge to open the journal and just write whatever came on the paper. I did just that. When I was finished, I was weeping. On the pages before me was my song...MY SONG! It could have been titled "Kara Annette", I don't know. I named it "I Sing Over You", for obvious reasons as you'll soon see.
I've never had the courage to share these words with anyone, but for some reason, I believe I'm supposed to today. Maybe someone reading will be encouraged by the words; again, I don't know. In my heart of hearts, I would LOVE for someone to take the words and see if there's any way that they could be turned into a song. Just once, this side of Heaven, I'd love to hear what My Song sounds like. I doubt that will ever happen, but just reading these words again has been quite special. They came to me at a time when I needed desperately to know that He loved me; that He saw me; that He heard me; and that He knew the desires of my heart. I trust now that He has always loved me, always sees me, hears my prayers before I speak them, and that He will give me the desires of my heart.....be encouraged. It's certainly not going down in the record books of best lyrics ever, but that doesn't matter. It's my song!
"I Sing Over You"
My beloved, I sing over you,
Showering my love in rhythm and rhyme.
Precious child, gentle and true,
All of my grace, I pour out on you.
Faithful friend, I sing over you,
Offering notes of pure melody.
Offering notes of pure melody.
Redeemed daughter, your heart I will mend,
Time and again, forgiveness I commend.
Forever Mine, I sing over you,
Composing the symphony of your life.
Masterpiece of devotion and praise,
Recieve my acceptance the rest of your days.
So come to me; let me sing over you.
Dance for me; I'll sing over you.
Worship me; you don't have to pretend.
Sing for me; our love song won't end.
As I sing over you, sing over Me.
As I rejoice over you, rejoice over Me.
Know in your heart I'm forever true.
And you'll feel my joy, as I sing over you.
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