Who Will You Tell?

August 16, 2014 By: Angela Parlin

At the crack of every dawn, he burrows into our cozy bed like a puppy dog, making himself at home.

“I LOVE your big bed, Mommy!”

I roll out after cuddles and kisses, and little man stays. While his Daddy and I work on waking up, he jumps and dives, tosses pillows, and messes the whole bed up the way only a 3-year-old can.

At some point each morning, I tell him, “It’s time for no more jumps…time to make Mommy’s bed.” Of course, he wants to help. But he wants to do it his way. As do I, tugging and smoothing and rearranging.

There’s one forbidden little pillow that I keep in the corner. It used to belong front and center in the pillow pile, but now there’s a thread loose. Whenever we move it, tiny black sequins fall off onto the bed. I keep it around because it’s still beautiful, but I only use it on special days, like when company’s coming. The other days, it stays hidden in the corner beside the bed.

Little man just doesn’t understand my position on the sparkly pillow. He loves that pillow.

He considers every day a special day.

Without fail, he grabs it out of the corner when we’re making the bed. He jumps, and sequins fly.

I tell him to put it back. We don’t need it on the bed today. I don’t need more sequins to chase down today. He disagrees. We discuss it again, and again. Finally, this morning, he finds the right words for his argument.

He schools me in the art of love, from his little point of view.

“Mommy, I have to put the sparkly pillow on top…because you like the sparkly pillow, and then it means I Love You!

Oh my. How did I miss that in our argument over which way is better?

Sometimes it takes the little ones to show us how to really love.

Do it all. Spend it now. Say it big. Pull out the sparkly pillows.

Tell everyone you love, that you do. Don’t assume they already know. Don’t save it for later. Let them hear it again, today, now.

People are hurting and losing hope. At a luncheon yesterday, I listened to statistics about people who feel alone. Most of them live near or with others, but they don’t feel like anyone really cares.

Who will you care for today? Who will you tell of your love? Who will you show? With whom will you spend time and listen to and follow up with?

Who will you remind of a love that never fades or fails?

This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us. 1 John 4:10-12

Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Lost Shoes {Five Minute Fridays}

June 27, 2014 By: Angela Parlin

We used to hide her brown leather shoes every time she came to visit.

Her cigarettes too, but those we’d bury or break. It’s not that we were so full of mischief, but we knew those things could kill a person. It was all we could do, to help.

She would say her goodbyes and head for the door. I can still hear her giggle. My sisters and I stood behind a corner wall and tried to keep our laughter hidden. Then Mom or Dad would call.

Girls? GIRLS! Where are Aunt Connie’s shoes???

We pretended to work hard to figure out where she left them.

I guess she’ll have to stay…

But it never worked out that way. The shoes would turn up, from inside the dollhouse or deep recesses of a little closet in the Strawberry Shortcake bedroom.

I think she loved the way we begged her not to go, my gentle Aunt who visited often from her house just up the road.

I wonder when we stopped hiding her shoes.

When long afternoon visits went by the wayside.

When all of us moved states away and left our childhood VIPs behind.

I wonder why it takes an urgent phone call, or a fall, or a treasured aunt lying sedated on a hospital bed with a failing heart, to wake these stories within us again.

Stories of chilly Michigan afternoons spent playing UNO around a small kitchen table.

Stories about an aunt with a quirky monkey collection stretched around the perimeter of her shaggy green family room.

Stories that filled a simple home with simple laughter, and lots of it.

Stories from over the years when there was always time for people to stop in and visit.

Stories of a modest upbringing, made rich because of all the people who filled it.

These stories come back, and we tell them, because the past we treasure is never really lost. Because we can always remember.

And somewhere in their telling, we understand a little better. We remember why we stopped hiding shoes.

What If?

May 31, 2014 By: Angela Parlin

It was 5:00 on a rainy Thursday, and everything was just normal.

I spent that day running errands by myself, crossing items off my list, running, reading, resting a little. My mom was loving on my kids, giving me the day off from my life as a homeschooling Mom.

My husband trained his sales staff on a new tablet system around our kitchen table that day, leaving unexpected afternoon time for us to talk. I was just about to get in the car and pick up our little people from Mom’s house.

30 seconds later, nothing was the same.

None of my plans mattered anymore. That beach trip we needed to call and set up, the blog posts I wanted to finish, lesson plans waiting on my desk, the shelves my hubbie was about to build in the garage for me to organize…all of it seemed pointless.

My husband took the phone call I’ve always feared. I could hear it in his voice, something urgent. About my Dad.

On our way to Mom’s, he called a friend, who came over immediately to stay with our kids.

It took forever to get to the hospital. Combine rain with rush hour, and Raleigh falls apart. The ambulance took Dad to the furthest hospital across town, Big Wake. We kept asking Why? Why did they take him to Big Wake?

We knew he was installing blinds on a high ladder when he fell. And that he didn’t know his last name. We talked to the customer who found him, to our office staff and installers, to God, to the hospital, but we could only grasp for clues during the 40-minute ride.

We found him in the emergency room, in and out of consciousness. His main concern was getting out of the neck brace. At one point, he told a nurse, My neck’s not broken. I would KNOW if my neck was broken! He made us laugh, even while we all stood around his emergency room with him lying there, in and out of sleep.

The next morning, they moved him to a room in the Neuro ICU for a few days. Things were up and down. We talked with doctors and googled every idea they tossed around. Some doctors thought a stroke caused the fall. But in the end, the brain bleed was in a location consistent with a fall and not a stroke.

My older sister flew in from Tennessee. It was touch and go for a little while, but Dad started looking better. Waking up a little here and there. Remembering more. They let us take him home.

But then the fevers began. High fevers, shaking, confusion. We went back to the emergency room. His fever came down, and they sent us home. After another night of high fevers, Mom and her friend (a nurse) took Dad back to the emergency room, determined to get to the bottom of this.

They were leaning toward meningitis, which made stroke feel like a win.

But a friend mentioned Lyme Disease, and Mom remembered Dad pulling a tick off his leg the week before his fall. Suddenly his labs were consistent with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, and they started him on antibiotics.

He looks like a million bucks now. Other than the purple eye, some extra gray hairs, and a lot of bumps and bruises. Oh, and he cannot complete a proper push-up yet. But who knows why we know that?

I wish I processed “ordeals” like this more quickly, but instead my feelings come in fits and spurts. In the middle of traffic, in the middle of the store, in the middle of vacuuming or reading my littlest a story.

I thank God He’s not done with my Dad {here} yet. But it’s the lingering question that stops me.

What if?

What then?

Before I knew Dad would be okay, I had to answer. Even if—I will trust God. Even when His plan comes opposite my wishes.

Because even in our heartache, God is good. Because He is coming again to set us free from pain and death. Because NOTHING can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, not even the most painful losses.

After the last couple weeks, I’m more certain of this than ever.

The Grace of Friends {Five-Minute Fridays}

April 26, 2014 By: Angela Parlin

I remember being the new girl who needed a friend. Living on the inside and then suddenly living on the outside. I remember observing others make new friends, with an ease I couldn’t replicate. And then memorizing Bible verses about friendship, hoping they would turn me into an extrovert.

I remember wondering what was wrong with me, before I knew I was afraid. And also wired differently.

I remember the gossip that left a heavy wall in my heart and begging God to make me less ridiculous at small talk. And of course, I remember when I was the only one not invited to the club.

I remember later, becoming an insider, but seeing more value in the ones still on the outside. And wishing the sparkly people understood that sometimes people make poor choices from a place of pain. That there’s often a deeper story we haven’t invited out.

I remember how my big sister shared her friends with me and spoke for me when I was afraid. And a solid handful of close friends, I look back on as pillars who made me belong. And the unexpected friendships, obvious gifts from God at perfect times.

I remember friends I grew to love, who moved away. And the one I loved who died so young because of cancer.

All of this. The parts that hurt, the prayers, the work, the revealed weaknesses, seeing the underdogs and thanking God for the ones who saw me. The gifts and pure enjoyment, as well as the losses. These all became a part of me I wouldn’t trade. These shaped me, and they shaped my friendship with God.

Many times, friendships drove me to God. And He loved me in the middle of the hurts and the messes. Even though I just wanted Him to take those away. He used the changes I resisted to work in me and help me care more for other people. He showed me my shortcomings were nothing special, not so different from those of anyone else. And He does all this still.

God’s grace has been real to me through friends. Even the ones who humiliated me when they sent my underwear up the flagpole. Through those who labored long beside me to memorize the McDonald’s rap or make the Janet Jackson dance routines. Those who entertained and terrified me with shopping cart races in the Target parking lot and took me out for ice cream after breakups. Who shared wedding days and helped me plan baby showers and then became Mommies beside me. Who shared their stories around fondue and brought their babies over to play with mine and prayed over me when life got scary. Who helped me and let me help them. Who taught me and learned from me. Who do these still.

Thank you God, for the grace of friendship.

**To learn more about this flash-mob of writers who join together and post on Five-Minute Fridays, click here. I wrote this Friday afternoon, but some of our favorite friends blessed us with their presence for the evening, so I didn’t get to add photos and post until today. Totally worth it! 🙂

Glue {Five-Minute Fridays}

April 18, 2014 By: Angela Parlin

I know far too well the old way, the flesh and self-will in me. I know how to live this way, without even trying.

My heart is divided.

I knew it for certain one morning in January, with my Bible open to David’s prayer,

Give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.

I came undone. I knew my heart was divided, and this prayer has become my own.

I read this morning, The old has gone, the new is here.

This explains the division in me, at least a little. Why sometimes I desire what the Spirit of God desires, and other times, I only want what I want. We could talk about the way we waver between flesh and Spirit, for a good, long time. We could write a book about it, maybe a series. But I know this: I am not already grown-up in Christ. I am growing in Him. And He is growing in me.

Regardless of my state of (sometimes) being, God reconciled me to Himself through Christ.

He did this also for you, if you will believe. Instead of counting our sins against us, He glues us to Himself. Then He gives us a role in His story, a ministry. He makes us ambassadors of Jesus Christ, not because of what we might offer Him, but for His undeserved love.

He has done this, and He still does this, for all who are willing to believe. The brand-new followers of Christ and the leaders with heady degrees. God pays no mind to human ranks. He makes every believer His ambassador to the world.

What an honor. We represent Jesus Christ in this world.

We get to extend His offer to all people–not as a threat, but an invitation. Not to exclude, but to welcome. Oh, that we would handle this role humbly, with so much love and mercy.

We have been glued to Christ, with the glue of God, and we have been made His representatives, with an endless supply to give away.

So on behalf of Christ this Good Friday–

Come back to God. Be reconciled to Him.

Because here’s the thing:

God made Him {Jesus Christ} who had no sin

To be sin for us,

So that IN HIM

We might become innocent,

The righteousness of God.

{2 Corinthians 5}

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Who Will You Tell?

At the crack of every dawn, he burrows into our cozy bed like a puppy dog, making himself at home.

He considers every day a special day.

Do it all. Spend it now. Say it big. Pull out the sparkly pillows.

Like this:

Lost Shoes {Five Minute Fridays}

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What If?

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The Grace of Friends {Five-Minute Fridays}

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Glue {Five-Minute Fridays}

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Compassion International

At the crack of every dawn, he burrows into our cozy bed like a puppy dog, making himself at home.

He considers every day a special day.

Do it all. Spend it now. Say it big. Pull out the sparkly pillows.

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Compassion International