A few weeks ago, I spent a weekend cleaning out my master closet. In the process, I stumbled upon some vintage t-shirts and oh boy, do they tell a story about a few previous chapters in my life. They span 15 years, from 1982 (my freshman year of college at the University of Texas) to 1998 (the year I answered the call to ministry). I have no idea why I saved them, but it was fun to lay them out and look at the 15 year timeline. The one above is from the Fiji Christmas party in 1982. I dated a Fiji off and on during my college years, so I racked up quite a few Fiji shirts from parties. (As a side-note, if you have a college-aged daughter, you might want to tell her to steer clear of the “Fiji punch.”)

Well, this one is embarrassing. My roommate and I scored this shirt on the beach over Spring Break of ’83 and we were so proud. Not a part of my past I’m particularly proud of, but hey, it is what it is. Such is the story for many of us who didn’t come to faith in Christ before our high school/college years. Actually, such is also the story for many who did. As a note of trivia, the legal drinking age in Texas in 1982 was 19 (It was raised to 21 in 1986), so most of the beach revelers were drinking legally at the time. Scary times…

I’m fairly certain this shirt is worth some money. It is from a Fiji election returns party in 1984. Ronald Reagan (the endorsed candidate on the shirt) won a second term by a landslide vote against Walter Mondale. This was also my first time to vote in a presidential election.

Fast forward to my honeymoon in 1987. (Unfortunately, I was unable to find the t-shirt from the college event where I became a Christian in 1985!) Anyway, I bought this swimsuit cover-up in Ixtapa Mexico as a young newlywed (age 23). Ironically, one month from today, my husband and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary on a white sand beach (not Ixtapa! Mexico is a bit scary right now.). Call it corny, but I may wear this cover-up one day on the beach. Hmmmm, I may need to add a couple of inches of fabric to the bottom hem, ya think?

Enter the new mommy years. This was a gift for my first-ever Mother’s Day in 1989 when my oldest son, Ryan was 11 months old. I proudly wore this paint-spattered sweatshirt for many years.

Ah yes, the MOPS years. I loved being a part of Mothers of Preschoolers. I recently had the opportunity to speak to the MOPS group at the very same church where I had been a part of MOPS. It was surreal to think I had dropped off my own little Mopettes in the same church nursery. Seriously folks, it goes by in a blink.

Another gift for Mother’s Day, perhaps? Actually, my children turned out quite a bit more attractive than the characters on this sweatshirt.

And boy, did they play. You name a sport and my kids played it. This is one of the things my husband and I miss the most in our empty-nest years. Keith and I were actually counting the years last weekend until we can sit in the bleachers and watch little Walker play t-ball. Although, we are admittedly not huge t-ball fans (add to this list Peewee Soccer and Kinder-hoops). We found it very difficult to sit through pre-school sports where there were very few rules in play and no one kept score. We were far too competitive for that nonsense. As were our children!

And last but not least, a vintage shirt from my first-ever college event in 1998. This event was the springboard for the ministry I have today. What began as one event in ’98 for college women morphed into 10-12 events for mothers and young women of all ages by 2002. I still pinch myself over the fact that God allows me any part of His kingdom purposes. If someone had shown that 19 year-old version of myself who was on the beach proudly wearing the University of Budweiser t-shirt the shirt above and told me I would be in the ministry, I would not have believed it. Our God is good. Please remember my story if you happen to have a child who does not know Christ or has strayed from God’s path.

Do you have any vintage t-shirts in your collection that tell a story? Tell us about one!

Well, I was all set to post the above clip of my sweet baby finches taken this past weekend to update you on their progress. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can read about my front door bird nest in this post, here.) It really has been amazing to watch the mom and dad care for the baby birds over the past couple of weeks. They were about a week shy of taking some sample flights from the nest and I was hoping to capture some footage of mom and dad giving their babies their first flight lessons in the days to come.

Notice, I am writing in past tense. Not a good sign. I am sad to report that the babies are gone. I headed out to my lake house this morning to clean it up a bit and get it ready for company this weekend. I was anxious to check on the baby finches and get some new pictures of them and post them with the clip above. When I pulled into the driveway and approached the front door, I did so with caution, so I wouldn’t startle the mama bird if she was sitting on the nest. Only, the mama bird was not on the nest this morning. To my absolute horror, sitting in her place atop the nest, was this (look upper right):

A snake! I seriously wanted to cry. Oh wait, I DID cry — I sobbed my eyes out for a good 15 minutes straight. In the safety of my car. Finally, I pulled myself together and gathered the courage to go through the front door (only way into the house, folks) and here is a close up picture I got from inside the house:

Is that not absolutely horrifying? Should I just put the house on the market and call it a day?! I tapped on the glass for a few minutes to see if the snake would budge, but to no avail. Besides, I wasn’t really sure I wanted the snake to slither away and relocate itself somewhere else on my property. I decided to let myself out the BACK DOOR, and head down the street to find a brave neighbor who might be willing to help me out. Don, (my new favorite neighbor) to the rescue.

Unfortunately, it was too late for the baby birds. I’m choosing to believe they made an early exit when their unwelcome guest stopped by unannounced. (Look, I do denial well, so please don’t ruin this for me.) Anyway, it’s been a hard day. I was so excited about those baby birds. And I’m trying not to think about the fact that a snake was literally, right outside my front door. Or shall I say, ON MY FRONT DOOR. I won’t tell you how the rest of the story played out, but suffice it to say, this particular snake won’t be back. (And if you’re thinking that is unnecessarily cruel, please withhold your comments. I don’t really care that they eat mice and insects and blah, blah, blah. They also eat baby birds. And did I mention it was on my FRONT DOOR?)

So, the moral of this story? There are two: 1) Sometimes, life stinks. And 2) I hate snakes. I did however, clean up my front door (birds are messy, y’all!) and replaced the old wreath with a new one I had ordered off Etsy a couple of weeks ago. New beginnings are good. And should the finches return to rebuild their nest on this wreath, I have already been doing some research on how to snake-proof the next nest. It’s amazing what comes up when you google “snake got my baby birds.” I’m certainly open to your suggestions, if you’ve had a similar problem.

Sorry for the downer of a blog post, but this is reality, folks. There was no way to sugar-coat this day. I’m sure you’ve had days like this, no? Sans the snake, hopefully.

You know that feeling you get when you feel totally overwhelmed, but in a good way? That’s how I felt yesterday. First, the Easter service at my church about did me in. Several times during the time of worship, I was brought to tears at the mere thought of the resurrection power of the cross. Thank you, Jesus.

After church, my whole clan came over for lunch. I set the alarm for 4:45 am on Sunday morning to put a roast in the crock pot, which if you know me, is pushing the limits of my culinary skills. Each “family” brought a side-dish, including Hayden, (our college boy) who contributed the rolls, because well, that’s about all a college boy can handle. We hadn’t had a recent family picture, so I recruited my neighbor to come over and snap a few pictures while I had the whole clan in one place. Then we ate. We laughed. Some watched sports. Some napped. It was a perfect day. My heart feels like it could burst wide open when I look at the pictures of my family members above. God has blessed me with the family I always dreamed of having. We are not perfect, but we are perfectly forgiven. Yet another blessing of the resurrection power of the cross.

As we close the door on Easter 2012, I pray I will continue to be overwhelmed by the resurrection power of the cross in the days to follow. True gratitude begins with remembering what He has done — not just Easter weekend, but each and every day, year-round.

In my last post, I mentioned that I had stumbled upon a nest in my wreath hanging on my lake house front door. Upon further inspection, there were eggs inside the nest! I am happy to report that today, that nest is a make-shift maternity ward. When we arrived yesterday, the eggs had hatched! How cool is that?! And for the record, I cannot tell you how long I stood on a chair waiting for the priceless picture above where four of the baby birds had their beaks wide open. I was just hoping to catch one with its mouth open!

Today, while working on my computer just inside the doorway, I witnessed the father visit the nest and feed the birds! He appears to be a house finch. The mother followed shortly thereafter, but alas, they were unwilling to cooperate and pose for a family portrait. Off they go when they see the slightest movement within the house. I read online that the baby birds will only remain in the nest for 2-3 weeks, which means the mama will completely bypass the teenage years. Sweet deal, if you ask me!

This evening on the way home from dinner, Keith and I drove around in the hill country and took pictures of the wildflowers lining the roadside.

The red flowers are Indian Paintbrushes. Here is a close-up of one:

I cannot remember when the Bluebonnets were this beautiful. They are stunning this year.

Truly, this has been a weekend where God’s creation has been on glorious display. I absolutely love spring. Have a great rest of the weekend!

Weekend before last, we headed to our lake house and were greeted with these lovely reminders of spring. The bluebonnets (the state flower of Texas) are in full bloom and absolutely gorgeous this year. After a record-breaking drought last year, it was nice to see signs of new life springing up around us.

When we arrived at the house, a bird attempted to dive-bomb my head a couple of times when I would walk through the front door. I solved the mystery when I discovered her temporary home on the top of my front door wreath. Can you spot her sitting in the nest?

How cool is this? I can’t wait to see if they’ve hatched when we head back up this weekend. I’ll be sure to report back with pictures!

And how about this reminder of new life? This little guy has captured every single part of my heart.

…and the hearts of a few others, as well. (Pictured: My husband, Keith, aka: Pop, and his parents, aka: Memaw and Poppy)

For the record, Walker wasn’t the only one enjoying our new boat dock. Please don’t judge me for the puppy life jacket. Safety first, folks.

We’ve made many memories at our lake house, but this particular weekend was extra special. We were celebrating my husband’s 50th birthday! The guys played ball in the front yard while their front porch fan club cheered them on. We were with our long-time friends, the Dixons and the Andrews. I’ve mentioned them before, but we’ve been friends since our kids were in the church nursery. We are dominated by boys in the family and all of them played competitive sports (as did their fathers). All that to say, the games can get a bit out of hand at times.

Ryan and Casey were the first among our crew to have a baby, but the Andrews’ son, Dustin and daughter-in-law, Nicole are expecting a baby in early August. A few days ago, they learned they are having a BOY! Dustin’s mom, Barbara calls our generation of parents the “G-1′s,” our kids, the “G-2′s”, and this new crop of babies to follow, the “G-3′s.” If the trend c0ntinues, it looks like the G-3′s will be stacked with boys…providing even more testosterone to fuel the front yard sporting events.

Later in the day, I surprised Keith with a real-live softball match with friends and family. Camp Buckner is a few minutes from our house and the staff kindly allowed us to use their softball field for the occasion. Paige and Casey made shirts for two teams: The Seniors and The Juniors. (We were one shirt short for the Juniors, so improvised for the team photo!) We couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day to celebrate Keith’s birthday.

When we returned home, this was waiting for Keith in our mailbox: An AARP membership card application! First, he becomes a grandpa, and now this! Don’t let the membership card fool you, folks. This handsome “youngster” held his own in that softball game and the many front yard sporting events to follow.

Happy, happy spring and happy birthday to my very best friend.

I wanted to get your opinion on The Hunger Games. My daughter is feeling peer pressure because many of her 6th grade friends are going to see it. They are teasing her because her father & I feel it is not appropriate. Several schools in our area are taking their 7th & 8th graders to see it on a field trip. So far this is a NO for us looking for a YES this weekend to replace it.

I thought I would toss it up on the blog and let you weigh in on the topic. Honestly, I’m not familiar enough with the books and don’t feel qualified to answer her question. However, both my oldest children (ages 23 and 21) have read the books and will be seeing the movie this evening. It’s pretty much all they talk about lately, so suffice it to say, they are huge fans. I realize this is a pretty big topic right now and noticed that FoxNews.com is featuring an article on their homepage entitled, “Parent’s wrestle with whether or not to let young kids see hunger games.” Click here to read the article.

As parents, it’s so hard to figure out the Colossians 3:21 balance when it comes to parenting. If you’re not familiar with the verse, it says:

“Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.”

I’ve written at length on the challenge parents face in being “protectors” of their children without becoming “provokers.” In fact, when I took a closer look at the original Greek words for “provoke” and “discouraged,” I found the meaning of “provoke” is “to stir up” and the meaning of “discouraged” is “to be disheartened or broken in spirit.” In my 5 Conversations books, I wrote that parents who say “no” to too much, run the risk of leaving their child “broken in spirit.” But on the flip-side, we are also called to protect our children from harmful influences. That said, is this a battle worth fighting?

If you have kids and are familiar with The Hunger Games, weigh in and let us know what your opinion is on the matter. Are you allowing your children to see the movie and/or read the books and if so, what are their ages? If your children are wanting to see the movie and/or read the books and you are not allowing it, how are you handling it in your home? (Oh, and this goes without saying, but let’s play nice and respect the different parenting perspectives that will be offered on this topic. Thanks, in advance!)

In 3 John 1:4, John (the speculated author of the book), speaks with great pride regarding one of his converts, Gaius, in saying, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” Not surprisingly, this verse has been adopted as a mantra by many parents when it comes to the desires they have for their own children. Count me in on that one.

I’ve tried to be honest in my speaking and writing when it comes to some of the parenting challenges my husband and I have faced with our own three children. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: I’m not a big fan of the “pretender game.” Been there. Done that. I learned years ago that being a Stepford Christian family can be exhausting, especially on days when your children refuse to paint on the trademark plastic plastic smile to keep up the ’round the clock appearance of a happy family. I just thank the good Lord I wasn’t writing parenting books during this dysfunctional season of my life. I’d probably have to organize my very own book-burning. Just reading some of the early editions of my annual Christmas letter is enough to signal the gag reflexes. I’m surprised I didn’t receive a slew of “unsubscribe” notices from my friends. For example, my oldest child Ryan, was a wonderful baby, but did I really need to go on and on about how he was “hand-picked among the babies in the church nursery to play the role of the blessed baby Jesus in the Christmas musical, most likely as a result of his Christ-like character?” Oh, I was semi-kidding, but … yeah, not really.

Since giving up the pretender game, I have felt great relief in being able to freely talk about how difficult it really is to live out this Christian life. And to raise godly children in the process. Even so, there is only so much I can share when it comes to the spiritual journeys of my own three children. Sometimes, with their permission, I’m able to share in detail about certain hurdles we have faced along the way.  Other times, I have to be a bit more discreet in order to protect their privacy. At the end of the day, it’s their story to share, when they are good and ready — not mine.

It appears my youngest child, Hayden, is ready to share a bit of his “story” and I couldn’t be more excited about that. He is a freshman at the University of Texas and very involved in Young Life. A few weeks ago, he had to write up his testimony as part of the process of applying for Young Life leadership. I was pulling into a parking spot at Starbucks when I got a text from him saying, “hey, check your email. i just sent you my testimony for young life.” I couldn’t wait until I got home to read it, so I pulled up the document on my phone and read it right there in the Starbucks parking lot. Needless to say, tears followed.

My son offered a raw, unedited account of his high school years and the temptations he faced along the way. Hayden had many spiritual ups and downs during his high school years and true to his personality, he was either running full speed down God’s path or full speed away from it. When he was on, he was on. When he wasn’t, it was a full-time job to monitor his comings and goings, peer group, and activities. During this time, Keith and I did our best to tighten up the boundaries and of course, we stepped up the prayers. For this reason, he was by far, our most challenging teenager of our three children. It was a real roller coaster ride at times, but oh so worth it when I see where God has brought him today.

Hayden’s journey through the teen years offers a glimpse of what it’s like for the average teen who has been raised in the church. For those of you with younger children, I realize this may leave you feeling a bit anxious over the reality that in spite of your best efforts to raise your child with a solid foundation of faith, they may reject that teaching for a time. I hope Hayden’s story offers you the hope that God is in fact, working behind-the-scenes in your children’s lives. Your hard work and prayers matter, even if there is little fruit to show for it in the present. Hang in there. It’s hard to be a teen in today’s world. And it’s even harder to parent a teen in today’s world.

My Testimony

by: Hayden Courtney

I was blessed to grow up in the godliest, most loving family I could ever ask for. My mom traveled the country as a very influential and talented Christian author and speaker, and my dad has been on our church’s council and has taught a Sunday school class for 20 years. Needless to say, I was “raised in the church.” For pretty much all of my childhood, I considered myself “saved” for having prayed “the prayer” in Vacation Bible School when I was six. I grew up in a private, Christian school. My life was a bubble, where I was rarely exposed to what the world was really like. Some life-long church buddies of mine began to stray and act rebellious around 7^th and 8^th grade, and it was so confusing to me as to why they would act that way. In 8^th grade I transferred to public school, but still was known as the “goody-two shoes, angel child”. I had never faced any serious temptations and had no clue what was in store for me in the years to come. The summer before my 9^th grade year, I was at a church summer camp and, for the first time in my life, truly experienced the Lord’s presence and magnificence. For once, my faith became a real thing to me. It was no longer just something I had prayed for as a child.

But as these things usually go, that fire didn’t last long. Before I knew it I was a freshman in a public high school and temptations were being thrown at me from every direction. I was swimming upstream in raging rapids. I wasn’t the slightest bit prepared for, or even aware of what was happening. Before I knew it, that feeling I had felt at summer camp had dwindled to nearly nothing. I was back to calling myself a Christian, yet walking senselessly and aimlessly amongst “the world”. Soon after I lost sight of what really mattered, I began to fall into the temptations I had once so easily cast away. I got involved with the wrong crowd and was participating fully in the world’s sense of fun. I found my worth in impressing anyone and everyone. I wanted to be the guy that everyone thought was cool.

For awhile, I was considered “popular”, and I thought I had achieved what I wanted. I was wrong. I was empty and lost. All along, I knew deep down where my true joy and life was found, but kept suppressing it with new friends and worldly idols. This went on for basically my entire high school career. While some times were worse than others, I was generally lost and wandering for all four years of high school. I was headed into college in the strangest time of my life. One of my favorite bands has an album called “The Devil and God are raging inside me,” and that’s the only way I could think to describe what was happening to me the summer after graduation. (Not to say I considered becoming a cultist or Satanist, but the enemy was hard at work in my heart, and I knew it.)

Half way through the summer, my mom (who is my exact personality and knows me better than I know myself), sat me down in my room and just told me, “You and I both know you’re not where you need to be. I have done my job to raise you with a foundation of faith, but you’re at the point where it’s your decision to walk with God or not. I love you regardless, but you know where your true joy is found.” I knew she was right, and knew God was tugging at my heart, but it would take more than that to set me straight. For another week or two, I was still wrestling with who I was at the time, but knew ultimately who I wanted to be. I just needed to figure out how to get there.

Then came the usual summer mission trip to the border of Mexico. It was my 6^th time to go, so it was basically a routine for me. We spent the whole week serving the city of Progreso, Texas, and putting on Vacation Bible School for the kids. There were five days of VBS, and on the night before the 5^th day, my youth pastor had all the graduated seniors do a miniature “devo” for all the younger high schoolers on the trip. We figured we would just sit up there and tell them what we learned from high school. (In reality, we realized ten minutes before that we had not prepared at all, so we were gonna wing it.) Little did I know that this would be the biggest wake up call of my life. I planned on not saying much, but before I knew it, something grabbed a hold of me, and 10 minutes later, the majority of the students, including myself were in tears.

I still don’t know what I said to them, but the underlying theme was “don’t waste your high school years like I did.” It all hit me in one big epiphany that everything I had lived for in high school, had just gone to waste. The only thing I had done was turn people away from Jesus with the way I had acted, only because I was selfish and tried to satisfy myself with worldly things. The reason I feel so called to be a Young Life leader is I hope to almost re-live some of my high school years, and make the disciples that I never made due to my previous years of wandering. To me, it’s my second chance to live my life for Jesus, since I failed so miserably the first time around. So here goes nothing. Or everything…

I said to start the conversations early and keep them going over the years…

Conversation #1: I’m sorry about the emasculating sandals your mom put on you this morning.

Conversation #2: Ditto for the seersucker shorts. Does she think you’re going through fraternity rush later today?

Conversation #3: I just signed you up for the 2016 Little League season. We’ll get your glove later today so we can start wearing it in.

Conversation #4: Your Mimi is DaBomb.com.

Conversation #5: War Eagle, son!