Call it being a problem-solver. A critical thinker. A realist.

These are good qualities. Aren’t they? I hope so. Because we’re a family chock-full of them! *wink*

All four of us tend in this direction. We’re always looking for ways to improve a thing. Often evaluating. Critiquing ideas. Thinking and talking about the world around us. I enjoy these things about us. It helps us to live well – with vision and leadership for our numbered days.

But, it has its dark side. Sometimes the weight of it can be crushing. And, all too often, it can lead to an ungrateful heart. . .

A disposition that always notices the things undone instead of being happy about the ones that are finished. Always viewing my to-do list with dread because I can never get it all done and the things crossed off never seem to catch up with the boxes yet unchecked. There is little joy in the process or in the very work itself.

A tendency to miss the current moment because I’m focused on the thing I forgot to bring or the fact that we’re running late. Scurrying from thing to thing, a little out of breath and distracted.

A bent toward improving behavior instead of delighting in a heart that is wrestling. Pushing for more instead of just rejoicing in the small victories.

These are the dark sides of being a critical thinker. I don’t think that means we should stop “excelling still more.” I don’t think we should pretend that life doesn’t disappoint or that some behaviors are OK when they’re not or that the things on my to-do list don’t matter when they do.

But, I do think I can adjust my focus. I can train my eyes to look for the good stuff. I can guide my vision to find the precious in the midst of the mundane. I can reorient my disposition toward gratitude – always.   

A heart that declares: this is enough. This moment. This day. These people. It’s enough. My friend Ann at A Holy Experience calls it being a Joy Finder.

And, BTW, what I’m really saying is that God is enough. He’s the Giver of these moments, these blessings, these people. His gifts are more than adequate. Will I believe that? Will I embrace it moment by moment, day by day? I want to. Will you join me?

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Praying for continued heart change and training my vision on the good stuff:

• Fall temps and the wind blowing through the trees again
• Scones and hot tea on the patio on Saturday morning
• My chocolate brown fleece pullover – cozy during Caleb’s football game
• New legos and the boy room all strewn with creations
• Sounds of cousin laughter
• Dark chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds from T Joes and sampling them in the car on our way home
• Friday breakfast dates with the man who still makes my stomach flip-flop
• Laughing until we can barely breathe
• Clearing the desk piles… for now anyway
• The bread & the wine and Sunday’s sacred reminder

The kids started school yesterday. Dad was taking vacation time so he was home and the day began with his smoothies and his famous-amazing-stupendous egg sandwiches. The kids dressed quickly – Madison in her new outfit with the splurged-on matching purse. Both chattered with that nervous-excitement that comes with a new school year.

In record-time, they were ready. Teeth brushed, bellies full, backpacks at the ready, fresh new supplies already dropped off at school, coolest duds picked out. They were ready – physically. And, yet, one thing remained.

The heart preparation.

I sent them off to their rooms to grab Bible and journal. They needed time with the One who understands their nervous hearts and deepest longings. This preparation would be more important than fashionable knee socks or super cool skateboards or a special Dad-made breakfast.

And in that place they laid all their cares at the feet of Him who loves them with an everlasting love. All the insecurities and questions: Will it matter that some of my friends are in the other class now? What if the new girl that I sat by just isn’t interested in being friends? Will my teacher really like me? What if third grade is too hard? Will past mistakes haunt me?

Oh, to just unload those burdens and be reminded of the things that really matter. The One who really matters.

Earlier that morning, I had wrestled with the mommy version of the same questions. The questions that plague me as I evaluate the summer. Did I use our time well? Are the kids ready for a new year? How am I doing in my nurturing of these two? And what about this new year – am I involved enough at the school? Do their friends like coming here? Do their friends’ parents think we’re weird because we love Jesus so much? What if I’m not a good mom? How will I best spend my moments while they’re away?

I too had to unload those burdens and focus my attention on the One who gives me true significance and satisfies the deep places of my soul.

I need those times as much as the kids do. The day-to-day floods in and it’s just so easy to forget.

I don’t want to forget.

Summer has begun in earnest at the McKee home.

Plenty of time…

 For fun in the sun…

For sweet treats…

For intimate moments…

and for cultivating the deep places…

Summer is a time to be savored.

Not just because we have more time by the pool… but for many of us with kids in school, it is a rare time to have the kids at home all day, everyday. I want to really savor the moments with them and make investments into their growing character. I want to enjoy the simplicity and the freedom that summer brings. I want to get us outside for picnics and hikes and farmer’s markets and flower finding.

Please join me over the next few days as I consider and plan to savor summer. I’ll give you peek into some of our favorite, long-standing summer activities and some new things that we’re going to try as well.

And what about you… what are you anitcipating most as you step into summer?

I’m intrigued by his quiet service. “Who is that guy anyway?”

He’s behind the project house stomping on pop cans for the recycling bin. No one knows he’s back there doing this thankless job. It’s only 1990 and recycling hasn’t even become very vogue yet. He’s alone in the alley and I watch him from my window. He in his Nike Vulturo hiking boots, cargo shorts and Denison tee. “Denison? Where’s Denison?”  I linger there a few minutes more and then on with my evening chores.

It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college.  I was far from home, living in a huge house with 90 other students from around the country – my friend Cheryle was the only other person I even knew. We were on an adventure with Campus Crusade for Christ. Little did I know all the ways that summer would shape my life…

Not the least of which was that Denison guy that I’d spied in the alley.

I hadn’t been looking for love. In fact, I’d started the summer dating someone else from my own college. He was a great guy but conversations with roommates, some soul-searching, and a “Dear John” letter led to the close of that relationship.

It wasn’t more than a few days after I’d sent said letter that I had been paired up with the Denison guy to go do spiritual interest surveys on the boardwalk in Atlantic City.

By this time I knew his name was Rick. We’d met in the lobby a few weeks earlier when his first words to me were “cop a squat” as he pulled up a bench for Cheryle and me. I in my navy blue, Delta Gamma pull-over, hoping that my Greek letters would hide all the apprehension and insecurity I’d been feeling at meeting 90 new people. “Cop a squat? What the heck does that mean? Sort of a weird thing to say.”

That survey pairing was just random; but, looking back, we’re pretty sure God had His fingerprints all over that one. For we talked in between surveys and something began to stir within both of us. Interest was piqued. Interest became pursuit. That pursuit was received and blossomed into romance. In time the romance became something deeper and love was born between us.

But it was more than a summer of young love. It was a summer of deep spiritual challenge as our director, Jim Sylvester, encouraged us to live in the shadow of God’s amazing grace. Not only for our own lives but he implored us to also take that grace to a parched and dying world.

Our fledgling relationship took root in that soil – right from the beginning we talked of living for something more than the proverbial picket fence. Of a life that revolved around Someone worthy of everything we had to give.

That was nearly 20 years ago.

Yesterday we celebrated 18 years of marriage. Eighteen years of covenant life together – no matter what has or will come. Eighteen years of letting Jesus chip away the junk in our lives bit by bit as we laugh and cry and agonize and rejoice through life together.

Coincidentally, we celebrated it with our Community Group serving a meal to homeless people in downtown Akron. No silver or candlelight or wine. Just plasticware with big pots of chicken soup, donated cornbread and jugs of red punch.

I’m not sure I’d have it any other way. In fact, as I looked across the cafeteria last night at my man talking with a young man who has spent the last seven of his 25 years in and out of prison, I was sure of it.

I think it’s exactly the best way we could have spent our anniversary.

Isn’t that what we said 20 years ago when two college students sat on the rock jetty, stared out into hugeness of God’s Atlantic Ocean and dreamed of living for something more than the picket fence?

Happy Anniversary, Denison guy…

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I’m adding to my gratitude list today. So thankful for 18 years with the man who still gives me butterflies… and for the life we have together.

Caleb’s best friend from 1^st grade was a boy from China. In 2^nd grade it was Song Jae from S. Korea. Not to mention other classmates like Shreya from India and Liza from Russia and Benil from Nepal and Ming Cho from China.

Then there’s Madison’s dear friends YuNing from Taiwan and Jun Sa from S. Korea and Alexa and Sergio, who are both from Mexico.

If I thought about it a little bit longer, I know I could think of other kids from other parts of the world. And, those are just the kids from other countries. They both also have friends who are Hispanic-Americans or who are Black or who were adopted from other countries but were raised in American families.

This racially-diverse environment is our public elementary school!!

And we love it. What a wonderful place for my kids to gain an appreciation for God’s creative design of people from every tribe, tongue, and nation in this beautiful world.

Last night we had an event at the school to celebrate that diversity – our international families bring a favorite dish from their country and the rest of us dig out a family tradition or an American favorite and we all come together for a meal.

As I stood in line with a man from Senegal and his Japanese wife and their two beautiful daughters, I was struck once again with what an amazing place this world is. How good of God to make people in such rich diversity – even among people of the same race, there is an incredible range and variety. A farmer has a totally different life experience than a man on Wall Street than an artist in Appalachia. And, yet, when we can appreciate those differences, we are all better-off for the variety.

As much I love the diversity in our school, I’m also mindful that the world can also be a very ugly place. I know that if I were to move to my one friend’s country, my family might be beaten and my husband slaughtered in the night because we have a Bible and believe in Jesus. Our own country’s history with slavery shows the uglier side of failing to give equal worth to all people.

I cling with tenacity to my Lord’s example. His love for all people. His sacrifice so that all might come to Him.

And, I enjoy this tiny glimpse into His amazing world. Right here in my own backyard – at a small school in Midwestern America.

I’m a tad behind in my photo albums. Five years to be exact. I hate telling you that. Especially if you’re one of those caught-up people like my friend Jen.

BUT, being behind has its blessings. It gives this mamma’s heart time to pause and look back. To revel in days gone by. To savor in today before it becomes a photo in an album five years from now.

I got some time away to scrapbook this weekend. And, an amazing thing happened. When I finally stopped berating myself for being so far behind, I was able to just enjoy all those memories. The photos of Maddie when her hair was still really blonde and her cheeks were chubby. The antics of my Caleb as a preschooler-becoming-Kindergartner. I was reminded that I have much for which to be thankful: 

• A husband who gets down on the floor and plays with his kids. He’s in so many of the photos with them; not distant behind a newspaper but on their level and right in the thick of it. Giving hugs when the training wheels came off, congratulating a hard-earned soccer goal, holding tired kiddos, praying with them, tickling them. Loving them.
• Two kids who are full of personality and life and orneriness – even the photos capture it.
• God’s design in creating them each so differently. They live in the same house, have the same upbringing and the same last name, but they are two distinct people with dreams and gifts and desires that shaped their activities even in those earlier years.
• Several years that my extended family lived close and we were able to live life together. Mamo & Pa didn’t always live in Mississippi. For the early years they lived right here in Northeast Ohio; we could stop by unexpectedly and they were able to be at all the cousin birthdays. The kids roamed their yard and loved on their dogs and played legos in their guest room. I’m remembering big bonfires and watermelon juice dripping down all the dirt-caked cousin cheeks after a day of helping Mamo mulch. Life changes and moves happen but I’m thankful that we had those years.
• A sister’s new life. As I work through my albums, I’m seeing her in more and more family photos as Jesus grabbed hold of her heart and she starting coming around more often. Now, she’s one of my dearest friends.
• Lots of work to our fixer-upper house. Old photos reveal the tired walls and the worn-out carpet and the effort of transforming it into the place we call home today.  
• McKee cousin memories and the way those big boys dote on our little Madison – the only girl on that side of the family.
• Always enough provision to make birthdays and holidays special times together. Our photos are full of simple traditions that have shaped our family.
• The four of us together. A lot.
• Pages of Christmas card photos from friends who live all over the country. Our years with Campus Crusade allowed us to cross paths with so many precious people.

The time away was refreshing and the pause was good for my soul. I’d like to be caught-up on my photo albums. But, sometimes being behind has its own advantages. It was a good thing to look back and celebrate. To thank God now for the things I might have taken for granted back then.

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Thanks for joining me and others for Monday gratitude!

Just because… someday he’ll go off to college and the army guys will be in a box in the crawl space.

And, then who will guard my window?

It’s not really what you’d call the glamorous life.

Rick and I used to joke that we’d probably never be featured on the front page of our respective college alum magazines.  

I mean, for the first 15 years of our married life we worked for a college ministry. Most people didn’t even understand what that meant. Oftentimes they wondered why we were still taking classes and if we were ever going to graduate.

We used a backpack instead of briefcase. Wore flip flops instead of loafers.

My credentials were my Greek letters, not a license or a degree.

We weren’t in it for the money. In fact, we didn’t make a ton of money. Our favorite vehicle was an old-school SUV that a family gave to us after their daughter was finished with it. At least five or six times a year, we didn’t even receive a full paycheck.

And, to top it all off, it was a Christian ministry. Let’s be honest, in the U.S., Christianity isn’t as vogue as it used to be. Even professed Christians seem to think that we Christians need a “new kind” of something or other.

Like I said, it’s not exactly the kind of stuff that makes the front page of the alum magazine. (Come to think of it, both of our universities probably wish that Christian ministries would leave the college campus all together!)

But, we loved it. It was worth every high and low that we could give it.

It is  true that we don’t have tons of material stuff to show for it. I don’t have a big house or fancy clothes or dazzling jewelry or that sort of thing. But, I like to think that I have my own sort of “bling.”

It’s the women. Women around the country who were once college students and are now living out their calling in various vocations and roles. In God’s perfect timing and grace, we found each other during their four years of college and I got to play a part in helping them grow in their faith.

These five women in particular are some of the most precious things in my life. I’m proud of them. Thrilled that God used me to play a mentoring role in their lives. None of them came from Christian homes so I got to be a sort of spiritual mom to them.

Sometimes it was as simple as having them in my home for tea and quiet conversation off-campus. Or taking them to the movies after a heart wrenching day. Or teaching them how to study their Bibles. Or giggling with them about a boy that they liked. Or showing them some of my homemaking tips. Or encouraging them to take a step of faith and risk some discomfort among their peers.

I prayed for them, wept over them, laughed with them, had dinner with them, advised them, and just walked through life with them.

The irony of it all is actually sort of funny. I laugh because they were even sort of sad when Rick and I remodeled our kitchen. Our kitchen was the ugliest place in the house. I’m not kidding. Really ugly and gross. It took us eight years to save the time and money to fix it up. So for eight years, I made it work and learned to be thankful for beat-up kitchens. (Turns out, you can still make good food in an ugly kitchen!)

But, to these women that kitchen was beautiful. They remember standing there at the old butcher block while I sliced banana bread or boiled water for tea. They remember our conversations and our laughter. They insist that they don’t really even remember the peeling paint, the old appliances, the dirty cupboards and the limited space. Their memories are etched with the relationship and the moments, not the stuff that surrounded them.

Well, my role in their lives is different now. They’ve graduated and started lives of their own. Today, I’m more older sister than mom. And, they are my friends.

Four of the five are already married. All four times I cried with joy as those doors at the back of the sanctuary opened and these beautiful brides came down the aisle to become one flesh with their godly husbands. Their weddings each a glimpse of Jesus and His bride, the church.

Now, we’re about to watch sweet Molly do the same. I’ll be the old lady bridesmaid with the Kleenex hidden in her bouquet. I can’t believe that getting to know her and love on her was my job for a time.

I think as far as bling goes, that these gals are more dazzling than any diamond or piece of fine jewelry that I could ever have.

(Now… if only I could figure out how to fit them in my jewelry box…)

It was one of those weekends.

The garbage disposal sprung a leak. I forgot to take the library books back on time. Rick and I were arguing. I was getting stressed by a to-do list that seemed overwhelming. The sewer line was starting to smell a little funky. The car repair place had called: yep, the brakes on the car were shot. Mixing the vinegar and the baking soda for the rocket inside the house had turned out to be a bad idea…  

Clearly, it was not one of my best weekends.

So, as I come into this week, I come empty.

Turning my heart to gratitude because I must.

Because God is still on His throne and He is still lavishing me with good things.

Thanks to you God…

• For “I really do love you” whispered between husband and wife in the still night air – even after a day of dissonance
• For time with old, dear friends – talking so long that we lost track of time
• For a husband who can fix the leaky sink
• For moments of grace sprinkled throughout hard days
• For warm, homemade Toll House cookies – and the evidence left on Caleb’s face *smile*
• For warm spring days and walking the kids to school
• For purple crocs on 8-year-old feet
• For Caleb’s big blue eyes and his earnest “I love you, Mom” when he knows I’m sad
• For a living hope that extends beyond material things
• For windows open and fresh air wafting in
• For fresh cut grass – so green from the spring rains
• For a jewelry-making lesson from sweet friends who reflect God as they create
• For my pens and the simiple pleasure of writing in my journal with different colors
• For the mood of anticipation as I prepare for my scrapbooking retreat this weekend
• For this quiet moment and the time to regroup

And, last but certainly not least, for the writer of Hebrews who reminds me…

“Through [Jesus] then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.”

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Join me as I connect with other bloggers in gratitude today…

You’ve probably noticed that the keystrokes have been quiet for the last month or so here in my little corner of the internet. My usual tapping away has stalled. Not so much the pondering but the voicing of those thoughts.

They say that’s bad for a blog. Go figure, silence doesn’t really attract readers. But, it had to be done.

Acutally, at first it was unintentional. The days slipping by with springtime tasks, a busy school schedule, and a family bout with Strep Throat.

But, then I realized that the break was good. My heart had been a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Sometimes it’s just best to keep silent vigil on those thoughts. To reel in the tongue and be slow to speak.

It’s not a new lesson for me. My words have gotten me in trouble before. So much of life is like that. Relearning the things I’ve learned before. Applying them afresh. Letting my failures drive me to dependence on God’s Spirit and begging Him for heart-level transformation.

This time it all started with the fervor over the healthcare bill here in the U.S. There was so much banter about it on Facebook. I allowed myself to get sucked in by it. I could feel this “righteous indignation” (at least that’s what I’d like to call it!) flaring up in my soul and I felt compelled to comment. It wasn’t extremely divisive comment but it also just didn’t need said. And, even when I wasn’t commenting, I was anxious and concerned about commenting.

Then, just a few days later, there was the “discussion turned debate” with a friend about ministry to the poor. Another time where my heart was getting worked up and I realized about half-way through it that I just never should have commented in the first place.

As I sheepishly relayed both discussions to my Rick, he asked some great questions and it sent me into a time a healthy examination. Why do I feel compelled to enter into these discussions? What do I think is going to be accomplished by my sassy status post? Is my motive to lovingly enter into thought-provoking discussion with others or is it shove my perspective into the face of another? What am I trying to prove – to myself, to others? Why do I feel responsible for what other people are thinking?

Furthermore, what do I want to want to be known for? My political leanings? Sheesh, I hope not. What am I willing to go to the mat for? Healthcare reform in one generation in one nation – which is simply one place in a vast universe? I think not.

Nevermind the fact that I have a limited number of hours to spend in my days. If I’m using them arguing on Facebook, you can bet that the laundry is not done, that I’m distracted when the kids have a question, that I’m falling behind on articles that I should be writing, and that I’m wearied instead of refreshed when my husband walks through the door at 6 p.m.

Does that mean that I should just park my brain and not think with a critical lense about the things I see and hear – whether on Facebook or on the news or on talk radio or on a blog? Does that mean I shouldn’t care about political issues that have their ripples in the moral realm? No, of course not.

I just want to be a woman who chooses well. I want to live with vision – spending my time and words on the things that matter most. I don’t want to speak just because I can. I want my words to bear fruit – in my life as well as in yours.

Perhaps my Lord said it better than I when He penned these words through His servant Paul in his letter to the church at Philippi:

Do all things without grumbling or disputing; that you may prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life…

Let me be a woman who holds fast to the word of life.

And if that gets clouded by the worries of this world or gets jumbled by competing thoughts, let me be a woman who just shuts up. *wink*

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Thanks for coming back to ponder with me afresh! I look forward to more musings with you in the days to come. And, I appreciate your grace during my silence this last month, Shannon