The Harvest IS Plentiful… You Got This!

 

Move God’s love.  You don’t need to fly across the world to make a difference. People right here, in your country, your state, your city, your hood need love and prayer and someone to really see them.

 

Looking forward to to hearing your stories on MONDAY about how God used YOU –yes YOU– to love someone this weekend!

 

Read this fantastic post by a fellow blogger…be inspired! Do something with your life!!!

The Harvest IS Plentiful

 

LG | LP

Tiff

I Need Your Help

I want to start a movement.

I want you to help me.

It's simple, really. But at the same time it is so against what the world has, what the world offers.

It won't take much, just a little switch in thinking on our parts. A different window in which to gaze at the world.

I like the idea that we control our thoughts, and not the other way around. It's true, ya know?

All we have to do is believe in what we are called to do, and then act on our beliefs.

Jesus said to love God with everything.

Jesus said to love others.

So that's the movement I want us to start.

I want us to move God's love into the lives of anyone and everyone within our reach.

How? You ask.

By holding open doors.

By putting your phone away when you are checking out at the grocery store and talking to your cashier. Ask him how his day is going. Tell her that you like her earrings.

Smile at people.

Say thiank you.

Let people ahead of you in traffic, and wave a friendly hello.

Act with love.

Stop acting with impatience, selfishness and discontent.

Move God's love.

To anyone who crosses your path.

We are starting it. And we are starting it now. We are doing it together… and we are going to share our stories about how commiting to moving God's love makes a difference, not just in other's lives, but in ours.

Are you in? Comment and join the movement!

LG|LP

Raising a Kid with a Peanut Allergy

All it took was these words, “It could cause death”

I seriously wanted to punch the doctor in the face. My child was sitting right there, terror in his eyes. I did everything I could to stay calm for me, and for him. It wasn’t easy.

We talked about what it meant for us on the drive home. Later that night I chattered incessantly to my husband about all the life changes for our family, all because of

PEANUTS!

My son has a peanut allergy. And grass and trees, and almonds, mustard, peas, sesame, cats, and a partridge in a pear tree.

At first, I took it all with a grain of salt. He had peanut butter before, I was queen of peanut butter sandwiches. He would be fine. Then I started seeing all these stories in the news. This girl died after eating something she’s eaten before, after two Epi-pen inections, and a doctor for a dad. Then this other guy died. He had a peanut allergy his whole life. He ate a cookie! Bam! 22 years old, dead.

I decided it was time to take Zac’s peanut allergy seriously. He had to start carrying a small backpack with his Epi-pens, and he wears a medical bracelet. These are minor inconveniences. So is not being able to eat at Chik-Fil-A or Logan’s (yummm!). I have to read labels of every snack, food and drink. It has become a way of life.

The absolute hardest part of Zac having a peanut allergy is the constant state of fear that my child lives in. If you have ever met Zac, you can attest that he is a child who loves life. He is 5’4 at 9 years old, can slam dunk on an 8 foot goal. He loves to skateboard, and can consume his 120 lbs in chocolate if you would let him, if it’s not made in a factory where other products with peanuts are manufactured.

Every restaurant, every food, he wonders, “Is this going to hurt me?”

Every football game, he has to steer clear of anyone who eats peanuts, or throws shells on the floor.

Every celebration at school, when kids bring cupcakes for the class, Zac gets nothing. He sits and watches.

Every family gathering, he asks, “Are you sure mom?” “Did you check?”

Every day, my child wonders if he is going to die.

That may sound dramatic, but no, it’s just his reality.

We do our best to be cautious without over reacting.

But he’s nine.

And it’s heartbreaking to watch him, and to be so out of control, and to bury my own fears of what a small little peanut could do to my child.

Peanuts are what we call my son’s cryptonite. I pray daily that his Superman, supernatural spirit in Christ will sustain him all the days of his life.

Does your kid have a peanut allergy? What has it done to your life? Share with me!

That One Time We Sold EVERYTHING

“I think we should just get rid of it all.”

He looked at me and said, “I was thinking the same thing but was afraid to tell you.”

We were moving back to Texas, and had a house full of “stuff”. A 2800 square foot house full of “stuff”. Toys, clothes, shoes, things to dust. Boxes and boxes of stuff.

And we hauled it all into our front yard, posted the signs and sold it. Well actually, we gave most of it away…and the rest, we might as well have.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not just because it was me, but because I had to stand along side my kids while they learned the difficult lesson of materialism.

We loved our stuff. We attached ourselves to our stuff. Those are “my” dishes I bought in Mexico. Those are “my” legos. That’s “my” bag. Mine. Mine. Mine.

We kept a few things. I had a few pieces of furniture that have been in the family. I kept our memories, and school stuff from the kids. Those are still piled in my best friend’s garage in Florida. ( and I can’t wait to go back and dig through my boxes and get rid of more).

We came to Texas, all five of us, with just some clothes and shoes(and deodorant).

We call it “being in transition” but really we were technically homeless. So we shacked up with my bro and his fam for a few months until we could figure things out. Michael was waiting for his job transfer to come through from Florida to Texas, and I was figuring out how to organize the four of us in a few rooms, while feeling guilty for kicking my nephews out of their rooms.

We finally moved into our own space with still nothing but our clothes. We didn’t have a huge hunk of cash, so we financed mattresses, a fridge and a couch and dining room table (which we are still paying on a year later…smack me in the face).

My room has a bed. Yes just a mattress on metal slates. I have a broken tower fan in the corner by my side of the bed, just for the noise–it doesn’t stand on it’s own, it just leans in the corner.

We have the minimal of everything. And have now for a year.

And it’s absolutely freeing and amazing, and I love it!

Well, sometimes….

Sometimes I get caught up in the materialism of the city I live in, because believe it or not San Antonio, Texas is a town that likes stuff, likes to buy stuff, and wear new stuff, and spend a lot of money on stuff.

But most of the time I stay pretty grounded, because none of the “stuff” matters.

That one time we sold all of our stuff changed me forever. Not just on what I should own, or what I buy for my kids. No just about living minimally (Because ladies if you have to clean all the time, you need to get rid of it!) But about so many other things in the world.

I find myself sometimes sickened by the materialism in America. Not just because other countries are in poverty or need. Not because I’m on some high-horse, filled with pride about being able to simplify.

The reason I get sickened is this — people don’t even see what materialism, and wanting stuff, and taking things for granted is doing to them. People don’t see how it completely blocks a flow of the Holy Spirit into their lives. People fight for the wrong things, and work for stuff that doesn’t matter. People ROB THEMSELVES of joy and peace and love because of their Americanized perspectives.

I know, I know. Not you.

It’s just me.

This has been my soapbox lately. This idea of wastefulness and taking things for granted. This soapbox standings is probably why I got in a few heated discussions over the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS awareness and fundraising.

Maybe it will pass, this feeling of being disgusted by our world’s selfishness and willingness to just accept things as they are.

But I hope it doesn’t.