The Voice

The Voice...a popular TV show, where hopeful new singers compete in front a panel of "coaches" (who are famous musicians) to win a record deal and potentially become famous. The series showcases new talent, and these coaches give advice and they help the new young singers shape and craft their voices. 

Let me shift gears a bit here...

I was struck with a thought during preschool circle time a few days ago.  Our wise teacher has begun saying, "Sign him up for the Jesus Team!!" It has really resonated with our students, and they say it all the time.  It is music to our ears, because they are so excited about being on His team!  I started thinking about how these children are THE VOICE of Christ. How, when we are "on his team," we are all the voice of Christ. 

I thought about that phrase, "The Voice of Christ."  I let it run around in my head for a few days, and jotted down a few thoughts. What actions do I portray that reflect Christ? What actions surely do not reflect Him? I began to look around our classroom, our school and our home for actions that are "the voice of Christ." Here are some things I saw:

...my youngest hugging his sister and saying "I love you"

...our track coaches encouraging and praising our young runners

...our preschool teacher lovingly leading our students in song

...the pastor of our church baptizing one of the newest "disciples of Christ"

...our choir director leading the choir during church

...5th grade students thanking the museum docents on our field trip

...4th grade students making birthday cards for our hot lunch worker

...my husband, despite being tired, playing games with our children

...my family pulling together to pray for my nephew who was having surgery

I realized that I was seeing examples everywhere.  To be the voice of Christ, you don't have to "preach" all the time.  To be His voice is to show his love, compassion, kindness, generosity and forgiveness.  There is a key element to these examples that was present as well: these people were knowingly doing their best to honor Him through their actions. These adults and children love their Savior, and they surely know this bible verse by heart:

"whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, 

you did for me." Matthew 25:40

All of this made me really stop and examine my own actions and thoughts. Do I show the voice of Christ? I want to be His voice! I want to honor him by helping others! I want my love for my brothers and sisters in Christ to show the way to the Savior! Because that is what this life is all about...honoring my Savior and loving others to Christ. 

Now back to that TV show...Its fun.  Its entertaining. Its lovely to watch the amazing talents God gives to His children. But it is also a good reminder of what kind of Voice I want to have. One that puts me on the music charts and gets me a record deal? Nice, I would have to admit, but ultimately not the true voice I want to have. 

May our voices be the Voice of Christ: caring, forgiving, helping, and loving others to Christ. 

Why I Became a Lutheran School Teacher

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a little girl. She was a happy, carefree and well-loved child. As she grew, her parents told her of her Savior and how much He loved her. She was happy because she had the joy of the Holy Spirit growing inside her.  She was carefree because she was enveloped in the blanket of His care. She was well-loved, by her family and her Creator.

As she grew, she attended Trinity Lutheran School.  She was happy because she had the daily joy of sharing the knowledge of her Savior and seeing teachers who lived their lives for Christ.  She was carefree because she spent her days under that blanket of her Savior's care.  She was well-loved by her teachers.

When she was in high school, a life changing comment was made to her.  A teacher mentioned to her that she would make a good teacher one day. That single comment started the wheels of thought to begin turning. She thought about it for a long while. When the time came to choose a career after high school, there was one clear choice in her mind: teaching.

Early Childhood Teaching, specifically.  And there was one clear choice as to where to receive the best education: Concordia University. You see, she wanted to become a Lutheran School Teacher.

After four years of work and preparation, God made His plan known to her.  She would be placed at Immanuel Lutheran School, teaching second grade.  This was exciting!! And scary and overwhelming, but she jumped right in...knowing that she was under that amazing blanket of God's grace and care.  She could do all things through Him.

Now, jump 18 years to the present time. This is me, writing the story of how I became a Lutheran School Teacher. So much has happened since that first day of teaching second grade at Immanuel. My wedding, buying our first house, and three children. Endings and new beginnings, but they have all happened under the same blanket of grace that has covered my family and I from the beginning.

Now I am blessed again to teach little children, along with their parents as we Sing and Play and learn about God's love for us. I am blessed to help in the classroom one of the most amazing teachers I have ever met, who literally is effervescent with the love of Christ.

Why do I love being a Lutheran School teacher? Why is it amazing to teach a classroom full of disciples-in-training? Because the gift of a Christian education that was given to me by my parents and my teachers is too amazing to keep inside.

Yes, it is amazing and humbling to open the eyes of a child to new things...to letters and numbers, to helping the light bulb flicker and then shine, to see the spark of learning fan into a flame. But it is a greater joy to see the love of their Savior grow and grow, to mature every day, to become a faith that is sure and strong. I see this happening with my own children, and I see it happening with the children I get to teach. In my eyes, there is nothing more amazing than this.

Reading, writing and arithmetic? Are they important? Of course! But these things are nothing without the the care of Christ to nurture them. I became a Lutheran School teacher so that my students could learn all of these things under that blanket of care and grace of their Savior. There is no better place to be!

Messiah: Blessing So Many, in So Many Ways

Yesterday I was part of a wonderful experience. I had the privilege to sing with the Fox Valley Orchestra's Sing Along Messiah. My mother, sister and niece came as well.  For the first time in some 20+ years we were able to sit together to sing these pieces by George Friedrich Handel.

At the beginning of the performance/sing-along, our director gave an introduction. She commented about how each person in the audience has some kind of relationship with Handel's Messiah. Each person has a story to tell about how they came to know and love this most-famous work by this great composer. Each person can remember the first time they sang it, and they have beautiful memories that they brought with them to our performance. As we began to sing, I imagined that the air in the auditorium was thick with all of these memories. 

I loved every moment of it.  The soloists were inspiring. The mass choir was amazing. Singing the choruses, hearing my sister next to me...my niece beside her...my mother blending in beautifully...it was truly a blessing and a Christmas gift. 

As we were driving home, my mother mentioned again how one of the pieces sung by the soloists was my grandmothers favorite. She had always loved He Shall Feed His Flock. I had always known this, and it is my favorite as well. But then my mother told me a little more to that story than I had realized. 

When my mother was in high school, her father passed away.  That first autumn without him was, of course, a difficult one for her family. In December, just two months after her husband had died, my grandmother was invited by a friend from church to attend a performance of the Messiah. She took my mother along...this was to become my mother's first experience in her relationship with Handel's Messiah. 

My mother said that my grandmother cried through the entire performance. I can only imagine the different types of grief that my mother and grandmother felt during those moments.  

But as we drove home yesterday, my mother commented why He Shall Feed His Flock had become my grandmother's favorite piece:

He shall feed his flock, like a shepherd

and He shall gather in his bosom

and gently lead those that are with young. 

Come unto Him, all ye that labor

and he will give you rest.

Take his yoke upon you and learn of Him

for He is meek and lowly of heart 

and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 

What those words must have meant to her that day! How they must have laid upon her soul and her heart! Here was this young mother: suddenly thrust into taking care of her family alone, missing her husband, feeling overwhelmed with grief and life. And here was her Savior telling her that He will gather her and her children close, He will give them rest, He will take the yoke with her. He will lead her, she was not alone. 

I am so very glad our director brought our memories to mind as we began to sing yesterday.  Now I have so much more to bring to each Messiah that I sing...for years to come.  

At the end of the performance yesterday, we concluded with the Hallelujah chorus. When it was over,  my mother had tears in her eyes.  She couldn't sing the last line. Tears of joy that we were together.  Tears of joy for all the memories of the past.  Tears of joy for the blessings that God has given us through Handel's Messiah.

Amen!! All is well, all is well. 

A Morning Prayer

Dear God,

Help me today. Just help me. I need help in everything I do. Sometimes I can't form the specific words. I just know I need you. 

Help my children. Bless their days, their schoolwork, their friendships. Bless their self-esteem. Guide them. Help them feel your loving presence. 

Bless my husband. Help him with his work, his commute and his responsibilities. Guide his every decision. Wrap him in your loving presence. 

Help my day be a walk with you. Help my every moment be an ongoing conversation with you. Embrace me in your loving presence. 

Amen. 

What Makes a Woman Beautiful?

What makes a woman beautiful?

I am ashamed to even write my answers to that question, but I would begin with beautiful hair. Beautiful, long, thick wavy hair has always, always, been out of my grasp. I'm quite happy with my hair, mind you, but beautiful hair? According to my skewed sense of reality, it must be long, thick and wavy. (And I might add...no gray.)

My next answer would be beautiful skin. A clear, flawless complexion...without wrinkles.  That wrinkle bit has just lately been added to my must-have beauty checklist.

Next on the "only-attainable-in-my-dreams" list is a small, perfect little nose. I will leave it at that.

Now the big finale...a beautiful woman must hover around a size 8.  I'll give a little leeway up or down, but this is a sticking point on my stellar list.

One afternoon my daughter and I were sitting at the computer, scrolling through my Facebook feed.  Since there are constantly ads along the side of my newsfeed, by daughter made a comment about a beautiful woman in one of the ads.  I don't remember what she said, but probably something along the lines of, "Oh she's so beautiful!"

That spun us into a little conversation about beautiful women, and beautiful women that we know. As we were on my sister's Facebook page,  of course, my sweet young lady mentioned my sister, mamma milk.  I agreed with her, because her aunt is beautiful inside and out! My daughter has always adored her aunt, and all of this just made me smile with pleasure.

As we kept scrolling through my newsfeed, by daughter kept commenting on my Facebook friends. "Oh she's so pretty!" "Oh she's really beautiful!" I began to realize that she was making these comments whenever she saw a woman that she knew. The picture she saw didn't really matter, because she was mentally picturing them in real life. And even if they did or did not have long wavy hair, did or did not fit into size 8 jeans, she thought they were beautiful.

My daughter was seeing these women as beautiful because of who they are. I don't really think she even saw their outer packaging, so to speak. She saw that they are kind, loving, caring, selfless and have a heart for Christ.  These women of God would do anything for me, my family, or anyone else for that matter. They are beautiful mothers raising children to be disciples for Christ. They are beautiful for everything they've had to overcome and for the strength they have to keep on this earthly journey. They are beautiful because they reach out to my daughter in love and compassion. They are beautiful to her because she wants to be like them one day. They are beautiful to her because they have set an example of beauty that is so much more lovely than wavy hair, clear skin and size 8 jeans.

And I know that's how she sees me too.

I've been pondering this little scenario with my lovely girl for about a week now, wondering exactly how to put it onto words.  I never, never, want her image of beauty to change. I know that as she enters the tween and teen years, this will become more and more difficult to maintain.

To all my Facebook friends out there...you are all beautiful!  I realized that I completely agreed with my daughter's comments about you all.  I would never hold my friends to my ridiculous beauty standards.  I absolutely do not care if you have long wavy hair. It wouldn't make me love you any more than I already do.  And if you're a size 4 or 14, it truly doesn't matter to me! Your size doesn't affect our friendship in any way.

Thank you God, for the gift of this young lady who reminded me of how You really see us.  You really see our love for You and others.  You really see how we care and serve our friends.  You really see how we show the love of our Savior to our families, church and communities.  You really see our beauty...and its the only beauty I can every hope to possess!

For All the Saints, and My Daughter!

Sunday morning I sat in church, with my tissues safe inside my purse. It was All Saints Day, which really is a joyous occasion, but I knew I might be needing those tissues.

I had been telling my daughter how my sister and I love the hymn, For All the Saints. I told her how I get choked up when we sing it, thinking of our grandparents and other loved ones who now "in glory shine."   How it makes me cry, but really it is so very joyous! So I knew the tears would be threatening to surface as they do every year at this service. 

My, how my Heavenly Father loves to show me His greatness!  On that Sunday morning...in the front row...sitting next to my daughter...He chose to show me once again His infinitely wondrous joy, and how it is so much bigger and grander and amazing than I allow myself to realize.

That special morning was my daughter's first communion. We had been taking classes together with our pastor for a month (parents and children together), and she had been learning about the Lord's Supper.  She had been discovering what it meant for her, God's precious daughter, to come together with our congregation to share in this sacrament. She had been looking forward to this moment for two years, looking forward to being a part of this family of believers. It was special to her as an individual and also as a part of a bigger picture, Christ's church here on earth. 

During the Words of Institution, as the pastor was blessing the bread and wine, I saw my daughter open her hymnal to the front page, where there are special prayers to be said during different moments of the service.  I knew she was reading the prayer to be said before communion, and my heart gave a little squeeze of joy. 

Then she looked up at me and whispered, "I'm so happy." 

My heart shuddered with joy, and a little tear escaped.

As we were taking communion, the congregation began singing, For All the Saints. I heard our pastor speak her name as she took the wine. Christ's blood was shed for her, for me, and for every one of us. 

When we returned to our seats, I found I couldn't make my voice form a single word of the hymn. I reached for my tissues and hoped no one saw the tears on my face. I read the words in my head as the congregation sang, and each word meant something new. 

Oh blest communion, fellowship divine,

we feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

My daughter was a part of the communion of saints...all of them! My grandmother, my grandfathers, and all of those that have gone home to Heaven. They may not be here with us, but they are in everlasting communion in Heaven, rejoicing as we rejoice here on earth. She is a part of something so big, so grand and so amazing. I was filled with such joy, it was seeping out through my eyes. 

And I once again was so thankful of how God can show me His greatness, how I am 40 years old and I'm never going to stop being amazed and overwhelmed and overjoyed by Him.  How I am so thankful for this gift of my daughter (and my son two years before her, and my husband and I some 30 years ago, and my sister, and my brother in law, and my niece and nephew, and my parents and in-laws, and my cousins and aunts and uncles, and my grandparents...) who became a part of this big, grand, amazing, blest communion. His mercies will never cease. 

Amen, come Lord Jesus!

We Are the Church

Sunday morning. Wake up children.

"Brush your teeth!"
"He won't let me in the bathroom!"
"Find your socks!"
"None of my socks fit!"
"Where's my plaid shirt?"
"Its in the laundry."
"Help me with my hair!"
"Let's get in the car!"
"I'm hungry!"
"You can have a donut at church."
"I can't find my choir folder!"
("Hmmm, I think dad and I lost it...")
"Hurry to the choir room!"

Church begins. Calm. Quiet.

Prayers. Hymn. Old Testament reading.  Children rise to sing.

Tears. I'm fighting them off.

"I am the church."
"You are the church."
"We are the church together."
"All who follow Jesus, all around the world!"
"Yes, we're the church together!"

Heart swelling.  My children are a part of church.  This church.  God's church.  Elect and glorious. Not too small.  Not too young.  Important.  Valued.  Needed.  Loved.  Nurtured.  Nurturing. Disciples in training.  Disciples who teach me daily.

Sunday morning.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!