The 911 Call

It seemed like any ordinary day. My sister Jenny, who had just moved to Dallas from New York City and I had stayed the night at my sister-in-laws house. She and her husband were on vacation in Ireland and she wanted someone to stay with their dog. We got up around 8:30am, got dressed and decided to stop in at K-mart on the way home. The store seemed strangely quiet. No one was talking. Not even the cashiers. We, on the other hand, completely oblivious to what was happening, were talkative and cheerful. K-mart isn't exactly known for atmosphere, so we didn't really think much of it. As we were getting into the car to leave I got a call on my cell phone from Jason. "Hello?" "Hey", he replied somberly "Have you heard?" "Heard what?" I replied. "The World Trade Center is gone." "WHAT?!? What do you mean gone?" I said in confusion. "Gone, completely destroyed." he responded. "I'll be home in a minute." I hung up the phone and relayed the message to Jenny in disbelief. A sense of panic started to come over me. What is going on?

When Jenny graduated from college in May of 2000, she decided to move to New York City for a year to pursue her life long passion of Fashion Design. She enrolled at Parson's School of Design and much to my parents dismay, moved off to the big city to follow her dream. She and my mom had been busy unpacking in the two bedroom apartment that Jenny and her 3 college friends had rented on 57th and 10th street. They were getting tired so she and Jen decided to call it a night. The noise of the streets that intersected at their building was like sleeping in the middle of the road. It took a while before they could fall asleep. Just as they had nodded off they were rattled by the sound of Arab music blaring through the room. It sent chills through them as they sat up in their beds. The sound was deeply disturbing to their spirits; it was as if the music was omitting an evil presence. At this the Lord spoke to my mom and told her to pray that there would not be a terrorist attack on New York City while Jenny was there. This seemed like a strange command, but from that moment on, she did just that.

Just before Jenny was to graduate from Parsons, mom and I went to visit for a week. On this particular trip we decided to have dinner at a club on the top floor of tower 2 of the World Trade Center. After the cab dropped us off we rode up the escalators to the elevator area. The trip up was so high that our ears were popping. The evening was spent watching people out on the dance floor while nibbling on our dinners. I'm terribly afraid of heights, but wanted to see just how high one of the tallest buildings in the world really was. I started to get weak in the knees as I cautiously walked over to the floor to ceiling windows that lined the room. I couldn't stand on the very edge. It was just too much for me. As the night came to a close we made our way back out to the elevator area to wait for our ride down. As I browsed the souvenir items they had available for purchase, I started to feel increasingly nervous. I had a very real sense that the building was going to collapse and that we needed to get out now. I pushed the feelings aside and tried to stay calm. How ridicules, I thought to myself.

Now, just a two months later, as we entered the house that morning, we found Jason on the phone with his family and the TV already on. I just sat down on the couch and couldn't believe what was unfolding before my eyes. It was all replay because everything had already happened. It was as if I was watching a horror movie...it was the most devastating thing I had ever witnessed. Watching two planes hit and explode on contact, seeing desperate people jumping from a building I couldn't even walk to the edge of, watching these national landmarks crumble to nothing, it was all more than I could bare. So many questions filled my head with fear and dread. What is this world coming to? What will happen now? What kind of world will my children live in? Do I even want to have children now? Is this the beginning of the end? The impact on my soul was deep.

I didn't sleep well at all that night. I just cried. I wanted to be in my own bed, I wanted to just watch HGTV and forget it all happened, but neither was possible. HGTV was off the air and I was back at my sister-in-laws for the night. I woke up the next morning with the same sense of dread as I realized it wasn't a bad dream. I think for at least a week I walked around like a zombie, not really sure what to do or think. I wanted so badly to know what God knew. To understand what it all meant and to have all the answers. But even He seemed silent in that moment.

Weeks passed, then months. Things were starting to feel familiar again. The flags were raised to full mass, planes were back in the sky and the nightly news actually covered other topics for a few minutes. Slowly the fear and dread were fading away. I saw glimmers of hope that life as I knew it may not be so far gone. One evening with some friends and family, we looked back on the day that was September 11th. It was the first time mom shared the story of the rude awakening she had that night in New York City. Everyone sat listening intently as she recalled the event. I just happened to ask if she remembered the date. "Humm...let's see, we got there on the 10th." she concluded. We all looked at each other in stunned amazement as all at once we discovered that the night she was awaken with the call to pray over the city was the 11th - September 11th, 2000.

"Be still and know that I am God." Ps 46:10

Sore Afraid

Fear - just the word can...well, incite fear. I'm naturally afraid of a lot of things. It's a huge flaw in my DNA, passed down from a long line of fearful people in my family. I'm afraid of heights, sharks, spiders, skyscrapers, tight spaces, public speaking...the list goes on. I've struggled with fear most of my life but it wasn't until I had Cannon that I realize how fear could consume me.

Just after I brought him home from the hospital, my mind became overwrought with disturbing thoughts of what could possibly happen to my child. It seemed like every time I would watch the news I'd hear about helpless little ones falling victim to every kind of cruelty. I couldn't pick up a magazine without coming across a headline that would send me into another downward spiral of helpless hopelessness. Cannon was born just before hurricane Katrina hit. The images of mother's holding their hungry babies, waiting for someone to rescue them didn't help at all. The fear that tormented me over my inability to protect my child was more than I could bare. It was literally painful, it made my heart ache. Satan had launched a full-fledged assault on my faith and he was winning.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom? I had read that portion of scripture several times, but never really grasped it's complex meaning. In the midst of my desperation the Lord reminded me of something that completely changed my perspective. It was the story of Abraham where God asked him to give up the one thing he probably loved most, his son. He was to sacrifice him on an altar in worship before Lord. The scriptures doesn't speak of any hesitation on Abraham's part. How on earth was that possible? He feared the Lord and in that understood His nature. He knew God kept His promises and he was promised Isaac. He knew that all God wanted was his trust and faith. The moment Abraham proved his willingness to give his son's life to God, The Lord provided a way to protect Isaac. One of the main elements of fear is a lack of control and God was asking me to give up control.

"Perfect love casts out all fear." In other words, love and fear cannot co-exist. This was hard for me to comprehend since the reason I was so afraid was because I loved Cannon so much. But I soon realized that loving God enough to trust Him with Cannon would take the fear away.

Nearly 3 years have passed since that time. I look back on it as a very dark time in my life, but I found that His light allowed me to see the truth of who He is. I'm so grateful because I'm in a completely different place now. The more that I seek God, the more find Him, the more I find Him, the more I love Him, the more I love Him, the more I trust Him and fear finds no resting place in me.

The Butterfly

"Where on earth is this place?" I asked my friend as she drove us down the dusty dirty road that led to the location of our start-up churches first women's retreat. I was excited to get to spend the weekend with the new friends I had made at the church and curious about what we would experience.

When we got there it wasn't much like I had expected. The visions of grand old log cabins and hilly, wooded landscapes gave way to the tin shed "dorms" and the flat as a pancake pasture land I'd grown so used to here in this area of Texas. There was a small pond but as the mud-caked dogs excitedly made there way out of it and over to us, it didn't look too appealing either. As I fended them off with my pillow and overnight bag, we were greeted by our hostess who informed us where to put our things. We then went to meet the other ladies who had arrived in the big tin meeting room just across the dirt.

My friend and I had been asked to lead the worship songs for the weekend so I put together our equipment and sat down at the long table with the other ladies as we prepared to eat lunch. Someone had asked about our speaker for the weekend and her name was shared along with a few other inconsequential details. We played some "get-to-know-you" games and took a break before we met again for our evening events.

The sun was starting to set as we made our way back to the meeting room. After a blessing was said over our dinner of homemade fried chicken and mashed potatoes, a tall, heavy set woman came in and joined us. Probably in her late 30's to early 40's, she had a quiet gentleness about her, a warm smile and a kind voice. She was at the other end of the table so I didn't know who she was, but figured she was our speaker.

After dinner we sat down to listen to our special guest. The mood in the room was joyful and lighthearted. A few of the women sitting next to me were a bit restless and had a hard time sitting quietly as our speaker was introduced. She started out by thanking us and expressed her wonder at the goodness of our Lord. She shared about her ministry of serving those with HIV and AIDS and told stories of caring for different individuals by providing them with food, paying for medicines, keeping them company, sharing Jesus and sometimes being the only person with them when they passed from this life to the next.

In my view, AIDS was something most people could avoid by just living a moral life. It was nice to hear her stories and I was glad someone was doing good for those with this disease, but being a person who didn't have much tolerance for those who willfully play with fire, honestly, it wasn't high on my priority list or issues of interest. Apparently by the lack of focus in the room, it wasn't that interesting to a few others in the room either.

But as our guest began to tell the story of how her ministry began , the mood in the room turned. "My husband had just left for work," she recounted "I had just sat down to continue my knitting project when I heard a loud noise coming from a back room. I got up to see what had happened when I found myself face to face with three men standing in front of me. They bound me and took turns raping me. After the attack I went to the hospital and a few weeks later found that the men had AIDS and that I was now HIV positive."

You could hear a pin drop in the room. We all sat in stunned silence as we tried to take in what had just been shared. I didn't really know what to think. I felt like I had been slapped in the face by a heavy hand that woke me up out of a self-righteous slumber.

After the meeting closed, we all went back to our dorm. The evening was planned out with fun events and games. I wasn't really in the mood. I just sat back and watched, haunted by what we had just heard. I knew I had serious soul searching to do.

All my life I had lived with rose-colored glasses firmly attached to my face- bad things didn't happen to good people, especially God's people. I worked hard to shelter myself from even hearing about such things as to not rock my "faith" boat. So let's just say at this point, the glasses had been smashed to pieces and the boat sank like the Titanic!

How could I reconcile the details of this woman's life with what I knew of a just and merciful God? I wrestled with resolving her circumstances in my heart. I couldn't find peace. Fear was starting to creep in as I grappled with questions like if the God that I trust could allow something so horrible to happen to one of His own, then who could I really trust?

The truth became painfully clear - I really didn't trust Him like I thought I did. Otherwise, I would believe Him when He said, "All things turn out for the good of those who love Him"...all things.

When I look back over the Bible, it's full of stories like this. Yes, some people caused their troubles, others did not. The story of Joseph is a classic example. God used the evil brought on him for the good of others. I love the verse where Joseph tearfully relieves his brothers of their guilt: "And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves... because it was to save lives that God sent me here." Gen 45:5 .

This woman could say the same.

The next morning she returned to give us some parting words of encouragement and brought us all hand decorated bags full of small gifts. One of them was a metal butterfly candle holder. She said that butterflies were her favorite reminder of how God makes all things new.

There are some things in life we won't fully understand until we pass into the next one. I can't explain how God makes an ugly, prickly caterpillar into a majestic, delicate butterfly but I know He does. I can't explain how He takes the devastated, broken pieces of a seemingly innocent human life and creates a perfected, polished servant; the kind who is willing to lay it all down because there is nothing left to loose. That was this meek, gentle woman- a beautiful butterfly who changed my life through God changing hers. I still have that butterfly candle holder and will treasure it forever. It's a reminder of exactly that... He does make all things new.

Paved Paradise

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP - no, it's not the obnoxious sound of my alarm clock at 7am, it's the obnoxious sound of a bulldozer backing up at 7am. At this point it might as well back right into my bedroom and take me out - or at least that's how I feel about it at that moment.

When we decided to sell our first house and find another, the one thing I knew I wanted most was to be closer to nature. I would much rather look at something God-made than man-made. So when we bought the house we now live in, we chose it because of the beautiful, private, unobstructed view of nothing but hills and tree - a true rarity in this overly developed part of Texas. It's a ridge that overlooks Corp of Engineers land backing up to a Lake. It's home to several species of wild life. Often at night, we've fallen asleep to the hooting of a white barn owl and been awaken by the loud howling of a pack of coyotes. Many a day I've watched the graceful cranes fly out over the house and settle over in the pond. The big open sky has make for the most magnificent sunsets. It's a restful, peaceful place. Or at least it was.

As the bulldozers continue taking down trees and flattening the land just beyond the Corp land to make more homes, I can't help but feel indignant. Money doesn't grow on trees, I guess that's why they tore them down...so the new home owners can pay a premium for tiny new ones. Soon there will be a long row of homes, stacked together like sardines bordering our view.

So where there once was graceful old trees that had probably been there since the pioneers settled the land, there is now nothing but mountains of mulch. Don't get me wrong, I'm no tree-hugger. I would never have staged a "sit-in" in one of those trees and stayed there until they chop me down with it, but I do have respect for what God took the time and care to create.

I'm the kind that has a hard time throwing out a poinsettia after Christmas. It's not so much that I feel sorry for the plant, it's that I know that the loving hand of the Creator made an investment in that seemingly worthless little display of creativity.

The Bible says that not even a sparrow falls that God doesn't take notice. God called man to use the earth wisely, to take care of it and to respect it, not destroy it. That being said, let me also state that while God probably understands my heart on this matter, it doesn't mean He doesn't want to change it. Yes, while there is value in His creation, He also wants me to see that this is not my home. I shouldn't get too comfortable because I'm just passing through. All this will soon pass way and any fretting done on my part is in vain.

So as I now sit watching the dirt piles being moved around like chess pieces, instead of daydreaming about pelleting the construction trucks with my BB gun, I raise my white flag in a show of solidarity. Besides at my heavenly home, the view will be mind-blowing and there will be no bulldozers...can't wait!

Almost Famous

Lying on the floor in our living room, staring at the black and white images of the 4 Boone sisters on the cover of their LP- I dreamed, even then, of singing my way to fame. I don't remember how old I was, but I couldn't have been much older than 3.

Singing and dancing have been a part of my story since the very beginning and I've got the video footage to prove it. I was that typical kid- singing into the hairbrush in front of the mirror- but I wasn't just playing, in my mind, I was practicing for the real thing. From the Grease Soundtrack in the late seventies, a leopard printed Amy Grant in the eighties, to the discovery of "my style of music" in the Sheryl Crow of the nineties, I don't recall a time where music didn't define the mindset of the moment.

Growning up in a fairly conservative Christian home, made my musical influences somewhat limited for the majority of my young life. That's not necessarily a bad thing, because it caused me to discover the distinctions between the secular and the sacred. Praise and worship music was a constant even when bookended by "Stayin' Alive" or "Billy Jean". I sensed a difference then, I know the difference now- one can, at best, hope to chance my mood, the other can change my life.

This became all too clear a few years back when my life truly came to a personal crossroads. In my mid-twenties, I started to seriously pursue avenues that I thought would lead me to my place in the music industry. I wrote songs, took guitar classes, voice lessons and joined a few bands as a back-up singer. I was loving every minute of it when I was offered a full fledged position as the lead singer for a local secular band. If I were to accept the job, it would mean that I would have all my weekends reserved for shows and I would be very busy with traveling and promotions.

To anyone with a life-long dream like mine, this would seem like a huge opportunity. But instead of being elated, I felt completely deflated- like someone had sucked the life right out of me. I think I had come to realize I was empty. There was nothing life giving or life affirming in what I was doing. I could get out there and sing my heart out to a song and it meant nothing...to me or to anyone listening. I was waisting my breath.

The day came where I had to give the band manager my decision. I was riding in the car with Jason begging him for advice and assurance of what I was supposed to do. I don't remember what I was saying, but mid-sentence I stopped. I stopped because I heard the voice of the Lord saying loud and clear, "I gave you a voice so that you would sing for Me!"

I'm sure that if I could have seen my face at that moment, my eyes would have been opened wide and my mouth wide open. After a few seconds in that shocked state, I said "Oh my gosh! I'm supposed to be a worship leader!" At this point, I'm sure Jason was aware that there was some kind of internal dialog going on which preceded my statement, to which he responded, "Well finally!"

I don't know how long Jason had been telling me that same thing, but I wasn't listening. Singing secular music was "safe" for me. I didn't feel vulnerable, I didn't feel any emotions that I couldn't control, I didn't feel any responsibility for anything. It wasn't until I heard it- straight from the mouth of God- that I was willing to take on what I now see as my life's calling. It's a scary thing to jump out of the boat onto the raging sea of the unknown and keep your eyes firmly focused on Jesus to keep you walking on the water.

I guess it's been about 4 years now since I accepted the "call". I never dreamed back in the days of my childhood that my love of music would have lead me here. It's so much more wonderful than I could have ever imagined. Fame has nothing on leading God's people to His feet and worshiping Him with everything that I am...nothing. Once again, I can say that God's plans for my life are far greater than anything I could have possibly envisioned. I think that little girl with the hairbrush would be very proud of the woman holding the mic today.

There is a song that I used to sing as a little girl called "Go Glad". Little did I know how this song would express just want I've expressed here in this post. Link: read lyric to "So Glad".