Get Rid of the Dead Squirrel!

While washing dishes the other day, I was gazing out my back window, enjoying the view. There was fresh snow on the ground (side note - there is always fresh snow on the ground this winter), the dog was frolicking in the powder, and it was a beautiful day.

Suddenly, there was a flash of brown tail and a flurry of snow in the air. I realized that my loveable Labradoodle was "playing" with a squirrel. Now, mind you, playing in Coco's realm means biting, picking up, throwing, and biting again.

I was falling all over myself, yelling at the closed glass sliding door, and pulling on my snow boots to get out there and stop her. I'm sure my entire block of neighbors could hear me yelling at the dog to "Put down that squirrel, NOW!" I had to chase her through the yard before I could force her into the house.

But, alas, it was too late.

The poor, injured squirrel attempted to climb the tree, but continued to fall time and time again until he finally just decided to half bury himself in the drift near the roots. I kept glancing out the window to see if he was still moving. It was a sad, pitiful story.

Brady was cooking dinner that night, so he mentioned that I should just grab a shovel and scoop it up - throwing it over the back fence so the dog (still waiting at the sliding door to finish the job) wouldn't have a heyday with the carcass.

No way, was my thought. I didn't want to touch that thing, let alone go near it. Besides, I was afraid if I scooped it up it wouldn't exactly be dead, and then what? So I continued to wash dishes while Brady diced vegetables and made some stir fry.

I couldn't take my eyes off that squirrel. It was really rather obsessive. I would walk past the window and glance that direction, pretending to do something meaningful in the general backyard direction. I knew my family was smirking, just waiting for me to do something about that squirrel. I just thought I would wait until Brady finished dinner - I knew he would eventually take care of it.

After continuous whining from the dog, I figured I should do something. The squirrel hadn't moved for some time, so I grabbed the shovel and headed into dead squirrel-ville.

I knew Brady and Kayden were watching me. To be safe, I shoveled up some snow and threw it on the squirrel to see if he would move or try and attack me. I was sure it was rabid - or at least angry because our dog had maimed him.

I looked back to the glass door to see Brady with a confused look on his face. He mouthed, Are you trying to bury it?

Finally I pushed the shovel toward the squirrel and as far away from my body as possible. I managed to scoop him up, but his gi-hug-ic (gigantic and huge together) tail was swinging off the shovel precariously, threatening to topple him off and toward my thighs. I continued this balancing act until I reached the back fence.

I mustered all my balance and strength, finally catapulting him into backyard purgatory (that place between the fences where all the weeds grow and no one mows). Now the battle weary squirrel has found his resting place. Maybe I'll see him in heaven and he'll thank me for my heroic deed.

But here's the weird part.

As I was walking back to the house, proud of my bravery, God started talking to me about getting rid of dead squirrels (yes, I know - you don't want to take a ride in my brain - not even for a few seconds).

When Brady and I were going through our fast, God talked to me specifically about food and the idol it had become in my life. As I let the shower water pelt my skin one day, He told me I had to choose. Was He ALL I needed or what?


So what does that have to do with the dead squirrel?

God told me we ALL have dead squirrels in our lives. They are sitting in our back yards. We KNOW we need to get rid of them. They are stinking things up. But we eye it, watch it, find excuses to keep it, try to find the good in leaving it there.

With all the diets I was trying, I was trying to keep my dead squirrel. I was trying to eat my heart out, still content with keeping it around. I was not going to throw it out. That was TOO BIG of a step. Because if I threw it out, then what? What would I do, then?

The drastic food choices I have made in my life are in no way the convictions I expect of everyone, but I have to testify to the GLORY of what has happened. I have lost 30 pounds (and counting), I go to the gym 5 days a week, I concentrate on clean eating. And letting go of all those preservatives has healed my body.

Those who have known me a long time know that egg based rich foods have always caused me so much pain that I am pretty much out for the day. I have been eating eggs regularly since the fast with no side effects. I also had very painful plantar fasciitis in my feet. It is gone - whether due to the weight loss or the detox, but either way, I am healthier than I've ever been.

God called me to get rid of the dead squirrel already. And it was not an easy path. It was painful and I fought it in the beginning. But if we would just realize He wants the best for us, we'd understand that keeping that dead squirrel around is doing NOTHING for us. It may seem like something we could stuff and keep in the living room as a pet, but it's not. It's hurting us - and He wants us to just LET IT GO. Stop holding on to it - it's not worth it in the long run.

So whether your dead squirrel is food, control, addiction, grief, lack of forgiveness - whatever it is, You know what He's asking you. Just do it. Get rid of it. He's waiting for you to give it up. And then He'll REALLY show you His glory.

And if God can speak to me through a dead squirrel, He can certainly do miracles for you.

Day 25

I must admit, when all this began, I was less than excited. My flesh crawled with carnal desires to do what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. Although it was essentially my choice, everything in me didn't want to relinquish control. My brain was full of all the things I wanted. I was overwhelmed with the thought of losing this love in my life. Every single tempting desire was raining down and I couldn't make it stop.

And it was all about food.

Near the end of December, as Christmas was winding down and we were headed into the New Year, my husband and I were praying about something radical the Lord wanted us to do. We discussed it, prayed, consulted our Bibles - but it was extremely obvious and there was no getting away from it.

We were going to fast. But not just for a couple days or a week. It was going to be 40 days.

I must admit (as I always try to be completely transparent) my husband was much more willing than I to jump into this feet first - and he was doing a water only fast. I prayed and decided on a juice fast - juicing vegetables and fruits twice a day for 40 days.

This fast had nothing to do with weight or health. I really just felt the Lord telling me that He wanted me to sacrifice - to be desperate for Him in new ways that I never had before. My soul was kicking and screaming all the way to the starting line. I didn't know HOW I was going to get through this. And boy, did I want cheese (see my previous post about my love of cheese and you'll understand).

I knew we were on the brink of an adventure - I just had no idea how amazing the adventure would be. I felt like I was staring over the edge of a deep, dark precipice - and He was asking me to jump.

After consulting with our doctor and taking a week to detox from caffeine and sugar, January 1 came and everything began. The first few days were not easy. My stomach rumbled and my tongue became coated with an unwanted yeast detox sort of fuzzy film. My body ached and my head hurt.

Everything around me was about food.

Billboards, restaurants, everywhere we would go people were planning, talking, discussing, critiquing, gossiping, wanting - FOOD. It was like a screaming neon sign that was hiding behind my glasses and kept blinking over and over and over. I could not get away from it no matter how hard I tried.

After day 5, the hunger began to relent. My body felt stronger, healthier than ever. I was spending deep time in the Word. And it was if all that food had clogged my ears, because I was really listening to the Lord. He had a lot to say. And boy, was I learning.

The big learning curve arrived Day 25. And of all places, in the shower. I think God knows we're a captive audience there. Not much else to distract us as the water washes us clean.

I was praying and meditating about the fast, and I knew God was getting ready to lower the boom. He wanted me to change much more than 40 days. He wanted me to change my life.

As I lay in the tub, the water pelting my skin, I could mentally feel myself pushing back. He was telling me about my addiction to food - the way it permeated my existence, filled my brain, clogged my ears - kept me from hearing.

It is easy to compartmentalize our lives. The spiritual man, the physical man, the mental man. We don't see food addiction as sin - we see it as a "habit," or "weight issue." But God was telling me that food was more important than He was in my life.

And I didn't like it.

He spoke to me more clearly than I had heard Him before. If I couldn't give up fast food, what was that saying about putting my needs before His commands? If I was going to fight for cheese, how much was I fighting the good fight? Why was I separating the physical from the spiritual? Because ALL OF ME belongs to Him - and if anything causes that carnal nature to rise up then it's not good.

Now, the choices I have been asked to make are in no way the choices I expect all His followers to make. The Lord convicts individually - in each heart - when we are ready.

But it was definitely my time.

And although this fast started out having nothing to do with food, God has pointed a blazing red arrow at the way I have made food royalty in my life. He is working on me. And I realize all those years of dieting and struggling had not much to do with the diets I chose, but more to do with my heart.

Over the past 40 days, my body has detoxed, but my heart has had an overhaul. What a beautiful redesigning of the heart's interior that has taken place! And I can't wait for what is on the next leg of my journey.

Food is a spiritual struggle - a stronghold that has held on to me for a long time. It is easy to replace hurt, pain, weakness, desire, disappointment - with food. But He is showing me that nothing can replace HIM, and when I put Him on the throne in my life, nothing else should matter.

He asked me that day in the shower, "Am I ALL you need, Carrie?" It fell on me like a ton of bricks. He IS all I need. But I will have to rely on Him daily to give me the strength to make that happen. It can't happen in my own strength, that's for sure.

Just a few more days until the fast is over - but if I had only known what kind of amazing adventure it would be - I don't think I would have kicked and screamed - at least not as much.

It's all about the ONE

we leave a footprint
wherever we go.

it's as if part of our
breath
hangs in the air and gently
lands
on people
giving them an
impression
sound
word
voice
that they don't forget.

or maybe they do forget.

and if they do,
did we really leave a
footprint in the first place?

what we bleed
spend
say
do

leaves the footprint for us.

and is that footprint an
evidence
of who we really are?

my life
is marked
by thousands of
footprints.

people who
STEPPED
on my life in a
POWERFUL
way -
turning the tide
breaking the mold
pushing the limits

every
day
counts.

every
moment
we
are
leaving
a
footprint.

and the people who
took the time
stood for something
didn't back down
told the truth

have left
FOREVER
a
FOOTPRINT
on me
that will not
be
FORGOTTEN.

So what about that
cashier
when I'm in
such a frustrated
fervor?

Or that kid who
just needs the
hope of a
smile?

How about the
driver
who cut me off?
What footprint
do I leave on
him
that affects the
rest of his day?

I
have been
marked
by the
footprints of
MANY.

The one who
taught me to
free my wings
and fly

The one who
gave me
unconditional love

The one who believed
in my abilities
before I did

The one whose energy
and loud
in the classroom
inspired my heart

The one who taught
me independence

The one who taught
me grace

The one who let me
be
me.

They have stained
me colors
of beauty and
wrecked me
forever.

Footprints.

We all leave them.
But we don't always realize

the
IMPACT.

One footprint
can change
everything
anyone
everyone
no one.

It's just up to you.

Snow Saga

They make it look so easy! It was not that easy!

We are currently on our fourth snow day. Unlike some others, I am not going stir crazy yet, which is surprising for me and my people personality. But I am happy to say my house is clean, my laundry is almost finished, and I've had several rockin' dance parties with my kid.

After all the cleaning craziness, I had filled our garage with bags, awaiting the time when the garbage man would deem it safe enough to venture out to our street.

Well, this morning was the day.  I awoke to that high pitched beeping sound that could only be the garbage truck. I sat straight up in bed while Brady murmured something about the garbage guy being here.

This Mama runs down the stairs, throwing on various sundry snow clothes. Grabbing all the bags, I ventured into the snow in pajama pants, untied snow boots, a big unzipped winter coat and a crazy top bun.

There he was, standing by my neighbor's driveway, getting ready to load another bin. I clomped out into the street, glancing back at my garbage bin. No use. It was snowed in, poor guy. No time to get him out before the truck left.

Imagine my crazy self, carrying six full bags, stomping down my driveway. I kept yelling numerous times:

"Excuse me?"

I expected the guy to hear me over the loud garbage truck. This did not occur. He didn't even look my way. I tried a few more times and then I saw the side of the big blue truck.

RECYCLING.

It was the wrong truck. I had worked myself up, gathered all my bags, thrown on all my clothes, and run out there like a crazy woman for the wrong truck.

Now before some of you start to criticize that I didn't have any recycling - that is not the case. I recycle often. But just not today! I needed the GARBAGE TRUCK! Not the RECYCLING TRUCK!

No wonder that guy ignored me (there's part of me that thinks he really did hear me but didn't want to acknowledge the insane snow monster trudging through the snow). He knew he couldn't help me with my garbage. He was there for a different purpose.

How many times have you panicked about something...in fear and trepidation? You heard it coming, knew it was coming - so you dug in and prepared for a disaster? You threw yourself into anxiety or worry because you were going to miss it, or it was coming and you had to be ready?

Then everything turns out exactly the opposite of what you expected.

Now, I know there isn't much crisis involved in missing a garbage truck (although my husband might not like me storing all my trash in the garage next to his tools), but there is something to be said about the way we work ourselves up and panic only to find there was no reason to freak out in the first place.

Matthew 6 warns that we cannot add a single day to our lives by worrying. And we spend so much time doing it! According to a survey, we spend 6.5 years of our lives fretting. WHHHAAATTT?? Imagine what you can do with those 6.5 years? I mean, you could build a BOAT in that time! (Don't ask why a boat - I guess I was just reading about Noah the other day)

I still struggle with worry - I'm a planner, so I like to think ahead. I like to think things through and complete things with excellence. But if I focus my mind on Him and know that He has control of the outcome of my world, it doesn't matter if the garbage truck comes or the recycling truck comes. I can trust Him with the PROCESS. He takes care of the outcome, and no matter what it is, He's going to work it together for good.

And really, if I wanted to know for sure, I could have looked out the window first.

In those panicky moments, I've started to slow down, breathe, and really listen to what He's trying to tell me. There may be chaos in my world, but sitting down and praying helps me hear Him. There may not always be in peace in my world, but there's ALWAYS peace in Him.

For those of you "worrying" (STOP IT! NOW!) about whether I was able to get rid of that garbage or not, I can proudly say I dug my bin out of the snow and rolled him down the driveway with the other bags to await the great Oz. Problem solved. And so what if I missed it one week? The world will still turn.

But I will say, I should have taken a selfie this morning. You guys would have had a great laugh.

Names

 

I lost something the other day.

 

To the world, it wouldn't be much. And really, it's not a life altering loss. Nothing like losing my Daddy at the newly wedded age of 22.

 

But it meant something to me.

 

A few years ago, Brady gave me a hand stamped, Vintage Pearl necklace. On one square was his name, on the other, Kayden's. Sandwiched between their names was a pretty pearl, much like the picture I posted with this blog.

 

I wore it around my neck almost daily - it was my reminder to pray for the two most precious people in my life. I would often hold the squares in my hand. It became part of me.

 

A trip to Science Central and several trips to the gravity room later sent us home to vacation from the vacation. When I walked in the door and removed my coat, the lone necklace was hanging from my neck, stretched out, detached - vacant of the two beloved squares.

 

I searched my house, the garage, the van, the driveway, but to no avail.

 

They were gone.

 

Our names - and the names of our loved ones - are so important to us. People call us by name, write our names in e-mails, texts, Facebook posts. It is one thing that belongs to us that no one else can take.

Whenever I would look at Brady's name...Kayden's name...on those necklaces, I was reminded of how much I love them. The privilege of joining in community and family with them. I'm reminded that I want to spend more and more time with them, love on them, wrap them up in my arms.  I would place those squares between my two fingers and be reminded of the gift of relationship.

So, what do we think of when we see God's name?

Is it ordinary? Something we're used to seeing? Flinging around in our vocabulary?

"Thank God."

"God is so good."

But the very name of God - is precious.

When I see it am I reminded how much I love Him?
Of the privilege of joining in community and family with Him?
That I want to spend more time with Him?
Love Him?
Let Him wrap me up in His arms?
Am I thankful for the gift of relationship with Him?

I sat in my living room this morning, looking at the snow covered world. In the chair across from me, I imagined Him sitting there, laughing, loving, wanting more time with me. So I talked with Him awhile, breathing in the beauty of His presence.

And while our names are important - bringing identity and belonging to our lives, His is so much more.

Salvation is through His name (John 1:12).

Believers are to gather in His name (Matt. 18:20).

Prayer is to be made in His name (John 14:13-14).

It is at the name of Jesus that every knee will one day bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (Phil. 2:10-11).

I will miss that necklace with the namesakes of my beloved family.

But I am thankful that God remains who He is, and His name will always be a precious gift in my heart.
 

 

 

Tears in a Bottle

About a month ago, a friend gave me a gift.
It was a dream she had - one of those dreams
you know have purpose.

She told me I could do with that dream
as I pleased.

So it has been rolling around
in this writer's head
for some time.

And this is the result.

There was a bottle.
That bottle had one
purpose.

It collected
tears.

The clear glass
gave definition to each
tear
as it rolled down the sides
sweeping into an ocean of
cries
at the bottom.

The bottle
was
never ending -
as were
the
tears.

We
human as we are...
can't seem to stop
the pain from
coming.

So the tears
continue
to fall,
filling the bottle
with relentless fervency.

But
my dear friend
saw something else.

When she took her eyes from
the bottle
and
the tears
and
the pain
and saw Who
was holding it
she came
to a severe
realization.

The bottle
wasn't
bottomless.

The strong
gentle
hands
holding the bottle
were
continually
pouring forth
the tears as they
filled the
bottle.

The tears -

they were
pre-loved pain
pre-worn heartache

pre-used praise.

He -
the bottle holder -
was
distributing the tears...

they weren't for naught.

The pain
had
a
purpose.

And as the tears
continually
permeated
the bottle

they were
repeatedly
falling
in rapid stream
to create

joy
peace
patience
kindness
goodness
faithfulness
mercy
grace

and love.

When she
focused
on the
HANDS
and not the
TEARS
she didn't see
the result
but she saw
the reason.

And added to the
millions
of tears were
HIS OWN.
He cried
and
shared
and
pained as
He poured.

The bottle.
The tears.

A dream worth writing.
A life worth living.
A love worth giving.

The keeper of the tears
understands.

And when I want to text her,
or call him,
or erase that memory,

He holds my tears
and uses them
for good -
no pain is wasted.

Psalm 56:8

New Living Translation (NLT)

⁸ You keep track of all my sorrows.^[a]
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
    You have recorded each one in your book.

Ode to a cup of melted cheese

Okay, I will admit it here and now.

I'm addicted to cheese.

In every form. On just about every yucky vegetable (it makes them bearable). In between pieces of bread, on pizza, to dip in, and especially, most especially, on warm, soft, salted pretzels.

Today, I was waiting to meet a colleague over lunch and I was alone in the room - with my very own cup of melted cheese.

When you are a school teacher there are not many options when eating at the school cafeteria. Let's see, there are chicken nuggets, chicken fingers, chicken fries, and chicken patties. And then there is pizza: square, triangle, and sometimes circle. Now, for a kid's food connoisseur like me, those foods are quite possibly two of the most important food groups.

But one day, as I was walking through the line wrinkling my nose at the naked broccoli, I came upon something beautiful spinning in the glass warmer cabinet. There were pretzel sticks, but below them, what did my eyes behold?

Plastic cups of melted cheddar cheese.

Since that day I have faithfully withheld precious Weight Watchers Points to include that pot of gold.

But back to the room, myself, and the cup.

I found that I had finished my entire tray of food waiting for my colleague. And frankly,  there is never enough pretzel to fully finish the cup of cheese.

But why waste a perfectly beautiful portion of melted goodness?

Carpe Diem is certainly one of my many life mottos, and well, I looked up the Latin for cheese and it is caseus. So what did I choose to do?

Carpe Caseus. Seize the cheese.

I took my favorite pointer finger and dug deep into that cup, spooning out every last morsel. I even used the special spin and lift method, spinning my finger into the deepest parts of the cheese in order to get a perfect spiral bite. I licked my finger completely clean, making sure to appreciate the preservative full "really not cheese" stuff. I have to admit, there were a couple burned parts, but I remained true to Carpe Caseus and devoured my deliciousness to completion.

And it made me think about life.
And it made me think about God.
And it made me think about getting more cheese (but I didn't, not enough WW points).

And I made a decision: that's what I want to do - I want to take my fingers and scoop out all the preciousness life has to offer. I want to dig deep into the very marrow that reveals the most life can give and I want to dance with it, celebrate it, wave it around and fill my soul with it.

I want to share it, deliberate on it, pray about it, and talk about it with you.
I want to appreciate the burned parts, the not so good parts, and even though I don't understand how they got there (how can you burn perfectly good fake cheese?), I want to embrace those parts, too.

When I finished the cup and it sat there on my empty tray, I thought about just how enjoyable my cheese experience was, relishing every moment. And someday, when my life is through, I know I will sigh and feel thankful for every scoop, every spin, every lift, every burned part. And I will not be ashamed that I used my fingers, because life is even better when we get our hands dirty and dig in deep.

So, my friends, my wish for you today is Carpe Caseus. Seize the cheese. Take every moment and scrape it out of the cup, let it dance on your tongue and tickle your taste buds. Because our lives are but a blip, a second, a moment, a breath. Annihilate and guzzle that cup of cheese. It's waiting for you.

And save some for me.