Plain Dealer dealing with me

Blessing.

Why Oh why do we not see the blessing until we are in a dark spot?

It was last Sunday.

Our first Sunday.

Easter Sunday.

And I had shaken hands, smiled and nodded and hoped that the mascara and lipgloss fooled most into thinking I was not as nervous as I really was.

And my Mom and Dad sat behind me.

And my brother and sister in law and their crew, and I was half praying for Joel and half trying to keep the youngest little's tights up every time she slid out of her seat. And yes more than once I got a glimpse of her cheekies while trying to keep her together and yes it made my morning less stressful and goodness knows more hilarious.

Almost as hilarious as my Mom asking my Dad what the "channel" was instead of the page number in the hymnal.

It was then that second youngest little leans and not so quietly asks, "Why is Grandma's face SO RED?"

Yes, these were memories ripe for the picking.

And the meal came and went and the ham was complemented on several occasions and the casserole I swore Mom would like went home with her like I knew it would and I was seeing them at the door and tired but full of happy.

And then as I tidied up the living room scattered with newspapers I saw it.

The Plain Dealer Parade.

The cover stopped me dead in my tracts.

It was close to church time again and I so wanted to drop everything and read about Stephanie Neilsen.

A young Mother who in 2008 suffered a tragic plane accident which took the life of the pilot, burned 40 percent of her husband's body and burned 80 percent of hers.

80 percent.

I came across her blog just after her accident occurred and was just stuck by the terror of the while thing. At the time I was battling with anxiety after the birth of my 5th little and the more I read her blog, the more fretful I became.

I pushed it away, but not without it indelibly making a large mark on my spirit.

I knew she was a Mormon. And I was saddened by that fact.

But I also knew that there were more things to glean from her trial then I could hold in any one lifetime.

I forgot her to my shame and found her again in the Plain Dealer.

On one of my biggest days.

When it was easy to let my priorities get all jumbled up in the new and different and huge and overwhelming.

And I carried that Parade section into church and my husband half thought I was going crazy on him. I carried it and gently laid it on my Bible and in between greetings after church I would sneak reads of it.

The wave of emotion I felt for her came flooding back to me. I found myself lost in the words and almost speed reading it until it had come to a close and I was sad that it had ended.

Her story.

And I sighed and folded it gently and brought it back home.

It sat for a day on the counter and when my husband asked me about it, her story was so real and intense to me it was almost painful to relate. Silly, I thought, seeing I have never really known her.

Or had I?

And then in another day or two I needed to clean the house and there it was. Part of me knew that I should stack it next to the fireplace for our next fire and part of me was in shock at the thought.

When Joel walked by I told him quietly, as if she would hear me, "I can't just throw her back into the fire."

Her life is changed forever. Yet God allowed it.

He knew that millions of people like me, would look at their ordinary lives differently. They would look at giving their children baths differently. They would look at putting make-up on, and dressing to the nine's differently.

They would be different.

And that is what he wants.

He wants to use so many things to change us, get our attention if we would just let Him.

I am changed by her story.

I am humbled by God's goodness.

I am wondering when He will choose to put me in the fire to refine me and make me more like Him so that others can see Him in me and be changed too.

And I run my hands through my hair, over my cheek and wish I could see things beautiful as she does.

From My Home to Yours

“So, are you excited about coming back “home?”

I have lost track of how many times I have heard this question asked of me.

And these days of hoping to walk into the garage and not see any more boxes to unpack have left me exhausted all the way around.

Home?

I sit in the van getting ready to head to Youngstown to see the In-laws which by some of our littles has now been affectionately called, “the OTHER Ohio.” J

And if I lean forward and peer out the front dash window before we catch the toll road, I can almost glimpse what used to be a second home to me there in Richfield. So much learning, growing, searching, and even pain and loss all wrapped up in one brick bottom building.

Home?

There are no more hills. There are however, many overpasses and even a glimpse of sky rises and the Goodyear Blimp of all things. There are low speed limits and the same roads that carried me to “Cleveland” school and “Columbus” home.

Home?

And wonderfully sweet times of leading a friend to the Lord around my dinner table, speeding her on her Christian walk by giving her my beloved Bible from my Grandmother long since gone to heaven, are mingled with the fear of leaving the state for a college no one approved of and getting married and assuming the title of Assistant Pastors Wife.

Home?

I remember begging God for a house. Our two bedroom house on Haywood held a lot of love and kids and mess and dirt and mold and surely God wanted to give us good things. And I chuckle as He took us to Mongolia only to bring us to a parsonage that the kids thought was a “mansion,” to here bigger yet, where the shelves in the closet hold all of our clothes leaving two dressers completely empty. He knew we would get to the place where we wanted less of things and more of Him.

Home?

And it has taken me 12 years to forget to care about the color of siding and manicured lawns and wall to wall carpet and today on my ride to the “Other Ohio” I say, “God, where is Home?” And He walks with me through my old stomping ground, brushes the tears that have finally begun to fall and prepares for me a table with room enough for He and I, and Psalm 90.

And when we have talked a good while and even sat silent as everyone rushes on, I then speak up and tell Him, “Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.”

And he smiles because He delights in me. He delights in me because I allow him to lead.

He is my Home.

And the welcome mat at my sweet Mother in Law’s house brings a sigh of delight in the same ole’ same ole’, and I walk in for coffee and a much needed squeeze.

Message in a Brook

Things are changing here in Humphrey.

Boxes are getting taped left and right, people are asking more questions, stopping to catch up,

There are things to pitch , things to clean,

But some things are ever the same, and steady.

One of these wonderful things happens to be my 10 year old.

Though slightly disheveled at first glance, take a walk with her and underneath her crumpled culottes is a well of wisdom far beyond her years.

She asked me to take a walk with her to the brook nearby our house.

Who could resist, I thought, the sun making periodic appearances through the clouds, the wind rustling the trees and…….. the water.

The water is cool and rushing and calls us out of our packing for a walk.

She takes the inside and I the spot closest the road and smile as I think that I would take any hurt and shield her. What a joy she is to have, to love, to teach and most of all to learn from.

And we hop the guardrail and sit on the concrete and just dangle.

Together.

We begin to sling some smooth stones in the brook and laugh as one of us who will remain nameless has no.aim.

The stones plop and the water rolls and the wind blows her hair to and fro.

And I listen as she tells me how she loves to come here and catch craw dads.

I sigh and wonder why after such a short time the Lord would move us away from the country.

She then tells me of a story that she read in school.

I am all ears.

It is called “The Song of The Brook,” and it is the story of a young girl who always flees to the brook for comfort and each time she does the brook seems to have a different song for her in it’s rolling.

Once when she was mad as a hornet the brook seemed to chant, “Do not be angry, everything will be alright.” And yet another time she was sad and lonely and it calmed and reassured her again.

The Spirit taps me on the shoulder and I ask her,

“What song do you think our brook is telling us?”

She stares ahead almost searching the unknown and feeling a little lost like I am lately.

I speak up, “I think it is telling us, Everything will be alright, Just trust. “

I watch her face and repeat, “Just trust.”

She nods.

She almost sluffs off my comment and begins to comment on the rushing of the current and tell me how slippery the green moss is in the Spring and how she dispised taking her little sister with her for her walks on the rocks because she slipped and fell more times than not.

She then tells me that she loves the fact that the water just flows. It is willing to just be carried with the current.

“It trusts.” I mumble quietly.

“Yep. It trusts.” She adds.

She proceeds to tell me that the current is like the Master and the water just tumbles over the rocks as the Master wills it.

And it is time to hop the rail and head home.

And I am thankful.

Thankful that I didn’t miss this moment, and the wisdom of a disheveled wavy haired ten year old.

And what God wanted to bless me with today.

And the blessing of the Lord just carried us home.

Hide and SEEK

Changes are coming to the Royalty household friends.

BIG changes.



The girls are now wearing white socks and the boys black.

But those are not the changes I am talking about. :-)

They are life changes for our family of eight.

Some are living as if nothing will be different and carry about with their daily activities hardly affected at all.

Some are chatty, wanting to explore all of the possibilities in our future while they are doing the dishes with you, preparing dinner or just about anywhere.

Some are a little nervous and will divulge worries that would make you laugh, but are Oh so real to their little heart.

And some spend most of their time and energy hiding.

And we are not talking about the wee ones in that last group.

We are talking about me.

Do you remember how you would try to find the best hiding place in your yard when all the neighborhood kids would come for Hide and Seek?

Mine was in a bush in our front yard and I was so little and wirery that I would go unnoticed forever if I so chose.

And it wasn’t just a game to me sometimes.

I loved hiding.

In a bush, in a tree that exposed the whole woods by my house when up high enough to scare my mother half to death, or in my closet behind the dresses you are too old and too embarrassed to wear anymore.

It was a cave, a tree house, and sometimes a high rise apartment where I would rent out the nicest branches to my neighbors and younger brother.

But no matter where it was it was always the same.

It was safe and it was quiet.

No t.v. running, no sisters chatting with friends over, no phones to answer and lovely enough no homework either.

I could just think, imagine and sigh big and loud and let out all the day. In my tree I could let my limbs dangle over branches and watch the clouds go by.

I have this thing for escaping.

I must have a little too much “flight” and not enough “fight,” though take my last piece of ginger candy and I will make up for my lack of “fight” right quick.

When the news came I went to God and said, “What now?”

And He, knowing me, sent me to Isaiah.

And there I have hid ever since.

And like Elijah He has fed me with gems like chapter 26:3

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.”

But especially with verse 20 of that same chapter:

“Come, my people, enter into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast.”

I have, um, accepted that offer.

And today as I peeked my head out of the cave, He met with me yet again and soothed a weary soul.

He led me to I Kings 19.

Elijah had just come through a great act of obedience. One that many might not have thought was “God’s will.” He might have been discouraged to go out on a limb like he did. He surely was afraid, but he obeyed.

I read and smile and nod as if I am there, and my story is patterning his.

Elijah then runs and hides. He is just.done.

He obeyed, but now he just wishes that the Lord would just come and take him right on to heaven. After all, he pleads, I am no better than my fathers. Than those who have stood in the gap before me.

He is exhausted mentally and emotionally and physically. He wants to do what is right, but he is plum worn out.

And an angel touches him and has provided food and drink for him. He wakes, eats, and sleeps again only to be woke again to eat and drink . The angel explains why he has touched him again:
“the journey is too great for thee.”

Bless.his.heart.

Lord, the man has obeyed. He is tired, and now he must journey? A journey that is too great for him?

It is here that my heart leaps into action and says, “ALRIGHTY….STOP THE PRESSES. No more. Eyes squinted shut, brow crinkled and fists closed tight….. NO MORE. I am now refusing to find any more parallels in this story. Why did you lead me here Lord????

And only by God’s grace he went in the strength of that meat for 40 days and nights.
And at this moment the Holy Spirit is saying, “Have I not sustained you too?” and I nod knowing How sweet He has been to meet me in my every fear.

And as Elijah lodges in a cave at Mount Horeb I am stunned. This man of God hides too.
And The LORD came to him. He met him there in the cave and asked him why he was there.
And He meets me in my cave and asks me why I am there.

And in my minds eye I can see Elijah sitting with his head on one of his hands and Elijah telling him that he feels alone. Like he is the last one to love the Lord enough to step out and obey no matter how hard or crazy the circumstance.

I smile a weak smile. One that says to the LORD, “Yeah, what he said.”

And the LORD listened. He listened to him, just as he listens to me and my heart’s cry.

And I am holding my Bible like a novel I cannot put down and I follow Elijah as he stands upon the Mount as the LORD directs him. And the Lord opens up my spiritual eyes and I am soaking in every single thing He gives me.

“And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD;

but the LORD was not in the wind:

and after the wind an earthquake;

but the LORD was not in the earthquake:

And after the earthquake a fire;

but the LORD was not in the fire;

My eyes begin to well up…

and after the fire a still small voice.”

And when Elijah heard the LORD’s voice he went to hear it. It says that he is again standing in the opening of the cave and the Lord asks him again after this miraculous display of power what he is doing in the cave. Now at the beginning of this act the LORD asks him to “stand upon the mount before the LORD” himself. Now I am not trying to add something that is not there, but it seems to me that Elijah was standing out in the open and then opted for the cave option. :-) And I am there with him!

I smile through tears.

And Elijah still gives him the same speel he did before. He is lonely in this obedience. He loves God, but he is weary.

And the most wonderful thing does NOT happen.

There is no chastening.

There, between the verses, you cannot find a “didn’t you see what I just did?” or a “Come on! Snap out of this! I am in control.”

My heart skips and my smile widens.

God didn’t chide Elijah for feeling alone. For feeling weak. For even wishing he would just go to heaven to be with the one he loves more than life.

He just calmly, lovingly spreads a beautiful plan before him. He tells him what he wants him to do, and what those whom he anoints will do for God and then he adds the final touch.
He tells him that there are still 7,000 people who are still obeying in difficult times.
They are also faithful.

And his plan for us in Humphrey is in the hard spots.

No, no crazy woman is out for my life.

THANKFULLY.

But there are those who may not understand this obedience. Those I love. Even me. And I often feel that the journey is indeed too great, and the need to retreat to my cave.

And today the Lord reminded me yet again that He will meet me in the cave and listen and encourage.

I smile today as my oldest daughter practices for her piano lesson. She has been desperately trying to learn some hymns that I love, hymns by Charles Weigle that just so speak to my heart. She plays and I hum busy in the kitchen.

And it hits me.

She is playing “I Have Found a Hiding Place.”

Though I hide, he will SEEK.

Heart Ache on Valentines

The fire rages here in Humphrey and my mind races.

We have hands-down had the worst, WORST illness-laden Winter in the history of the Joel Royalty family.

Two bouts with stomach flu,

Too many colds to count,

And recount per child.

And even one stint with the Caribbean carpet cleaners.

(That was after the second wave of “I’m-not-gonna-make-it-downstairs stomach virus.”)

And if you know me, I have NEVER had someone come clean my carpet so you have to imagine just how bad it was here.

Ok stop imagining, it is making me feel sick again….

And you know that the devil sets up his mine fields when your back is turned to spray yet another light switch with some horribly foul smelling toxic germ fighting can of something or other.

He works on your mind telling you that you, all eight of you, have some VERY RARE disease that in its LAST STAGES eats your stomach for breakfast.

Even though everyone you know has the same thing.

And in one of these occasions while I was spraying and my mind was wondering, the Lord placed His arm on my shoulder and whispered,

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses……”

I smiled.

“And some in germicides.” I added.

“But we will remember the name of the Lord our God.”

Alright Lord. I get it. You give life, you sustain life, you control everything.

I made peace with the germs.

Which to this post are still enjoying our home and noses and throats.

It’s all good.

And tonight my heart is racing.

You know how you get caught up in yourself, your own stresses?

Last night Joel was trying to show me “Orion’s Belt” pointing over our driveway and all I could think about was me.

I was in a “Who cares about his three -star belt, I want help with the dishes!”

He showed me and I smiled and nodded.

And then today some silly pain in my back has had me all up in arms.

How quickly I vacillate from faith to fear.

Shameful really.

And tonight while I was worrying about little ol’ me, news came of our dear friend’s sister.

She was disabled mentally when she was very young.

She lives in a group home.

And for 6 months now has been picked up everyday by a sweet bus driver and taken to a life skills center.

A bus driver who would carefully take off her hat and reposition her arm so as not to bump it getting her in and out of the bus.

She could not respond, only moan here and there.

And he cared for her.

And we didn’t know until tonight that out of nine busses in the area,

She rides my husband’s bus.

And she is the sister of a friend that means the world to me.

God put her on my husband’s bus because He wanted her to have my husband’s loving care.

And when we all in talking tonight found that out, put two and two together…

We didn’t just cry.

We wept.

Because God is that good.

So lovingly personal.

This sister has been struggling.

In and out of the hospital.

And tomorrow her parents must decide whether it is best for her to struggle or to begin the process of sending her to heaven.

Now let it be known that this is out of my friends hands. It is only in her power to pray and to give her parents sound Biblical advice.

I believe that life comes from God at conception and He carries each of us home.

In HIS time.

My sweet dear friend believes this too.

We left her house after praying sincerely for her and for her parents, and her sister.

And while in my nightly routine of preparing for bed I found my sore spot again and the Spirit moves and says,

“Again with your small pain?”

“Again?”

“And someone close by may not even comprehend that their choice to live, to breathe, to hear, to see, may be gone tomorrow?”

The pain in my back moved to a severe ache in my heart.

Tonight friends, my heart aches with my own selfish pride.

It is good, as Ecclesiastes tells us, to go into the house of mourning.

To mourn for your own spiritual condition.

It doesn’t matter that my life has been turned upside down in more ways than I can share.

It does not matter that I feel spent emotionally and physically.

It does not matter.

What matters is what I am doing with Christ in all of this.

What matters is what He is doing in me in all of this.

I am His child. Redeemed. Loved. My future is settled at the right hand of God the Father, Creator and Sustainer of ALL LIFE.

Why do I fear?

He has given me all things in Christ. He has even given me the “want” to please Him.

Why don’t I access that more?

A learning night for me friends.

Life is not about me.

It is about Him in me.

And He only doeth “Wonderous things”

How much I miss…..

Spare room specialty

It all started with the cleaning out of the spare room.

Try to sell that line to some publisher for a real cliff hanger beginning…….. (snicker, snicker…)

But it’s true, that is where it all started.

And pile after pile of loose papers and cards and letters that had fallen out of a plastic storage tub, compliments of one of the Royalty littles.

I almost halted our “Operation gut the spare room” when I saw handwriting I hadn’t seen for a long time.

That of friends, family, even notes from a special friend of mine who used to call me “Deen” when we first were getting to know one another.

BUT, because my sweetheart ‘s love language is “Acts of Service,” we pressed through the mess. Even as I type I chuckle at God’s goodness to me. After all, how can we go through one day and not clean and teach and make dinner and such. So without even thinking about it somedays I am filling a tank of love.

And when the last crumb was swept I indulged in my shoebox of memories.

I went through each piece of paper and some I kept, some I did not, and the ones I kept went into something my Father-in-law taught me about.

He calls it his “Encouragement File.” Well my file is a shoebox, but its purpose is the same: To lift you soul and spirit when you are low.

With some letters I laughed.

With some I cried.

With some I literally held them as if they were the deed to a million dollars.

And to me, they are.

One in particular was from a friend. An old friend who I haven’t spoken to in over 12 years. Probably since my wedding she was a part of.

She and I traveled in a singing Ensemble together and knew each other’s foibles and shortcomings like the back of our hands.

I loved being with her because she was so easy, so free and you could be yourself. I don’t have too many friends like that today and had even less of them then.

For my 30^th birthday almost five years ago now, Joel did something for me that still reaches my heart.

He wrote to more than thirty people that my life had crossed paths with, sent them a family picture and asked them to send me a card or note telling me a memory that we shared.

I wept at the surprise birthday party held for me that year, my first one ever, on my Golden Birthday, when he handed me the basket of these memories.

And again I held one of them in my hand reading and re-reading it just because it is so precious to me.

My long-ago-friend mentioned things we did and things she remembers most about me, saying that she loved to hear me talk about something I felt passionate about because of how I would use such expression to talk about it, and some other things that probably would mean nothing to anyone but us.

Then there was a paragraph that today came back to me.

She said that in all of our traversing state after state, in all of our imagining what our lives would be like, she said that she so remembers how I told her that more than anything I will want my children to know that I love them, and I will tell them often.

And I sit in bed typing this and smiling at the beautiful morning sun lighting up my bed. Yes I am in bed, with my nightgown still on, surrounded by my Bible, notebook and Bible study book.

When the day began I felt little arms and legs crawl into my bed on Joel’s side and attempt to cover themselves up. She drifted off the sleep with me and we enjoyed just being together.

The older kids laughed outside the bedroom door playing and chatting way past time for breakfast.

But we here on Humphrey don’t mind.

Some mornings are for lying in bed, or laughing with your brothers and sisters.

I glance at the clock and my little bundle half covered and think to myself how very much I love this sweet little girl, my last little to cuddle in the morning like this…..and I forget the clock and bagels are easy to fix, and decide to wrap her up and hug her while she sleeps.

And I slip down for a bagel and tea and big brother says he would like to take over so I can go have my devotions, and he has already had his and showered and I smile.

And I creep into bed and life could not be sweeter with tea and my Bible and my little babe of two.

And as I stroke her hair and she smiles with eyes closed I remember the words from a letter from an old friend who I could be myself with.

“I wuv you Mama.” She says.

I feel her cheek and feel the love of an amazing God and whisper back, “I love you too, so much, and you are safe and I will take care of you.”

She nods as if she understands and I thank God for a perfectly wonderful very very late morning.