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42 years of my journey

42 years of my journey

April 10th…It’s my birthday, and I’ll indulge if I want to…

42 little known facts about me on my birthday…as seen through the eyes of those who know me best and love me the most.

from mom & dad…

1. Elaine was born April 10, Easter Day. And from that day on, she has exemplified a ‘resurrected life.’

2. When she came home from the hospital, her year-old sister threw a ball into her crib and it bounced off her head. That was an omen of things to come with those two girls.

3. Her first nickname was “Chuckina”, given by Linda Aaron, her kindergarten teacher because she acted like her father, Charles.

4. All her teachers loved to have her in class. They said it was her personality, her generosity, and her passion for even the smallest of things.

5. As a youth, she went to the Wilmore Camp. I had to take two truck loads of furniture and supplies for her needs. It was at camp that she had the first of several conversions.

6. Elaine took piano lessons and it paid off. I still have her Thompson books, and now I am starting to play, beginning with Book I. The first lesson is dated January – 1974. Elaine was 8. Kind of neat…dad playing the same music.

7. The nightly ritual was tucking her in bed, saying our prayers out loud, leaving the night light on, and leaving the door ajar. All of these had to be done in order; it not, they had to be done over.

8. She was always getting into trouble, especially in Band, with her friend Gayle. They drove their director crazy. They both played the sax, each altering between seat 1 and 2, by their devious design.

9. In children’s choir, she gave the impression that she was the director—making sure everyone was lined up properly, much to the chagrin of her parents and the choir director.

10. Her ‘CBS productions’ and her neighborhood dramas, were a sight to behold. Invitations were hand-delivered to the neighbors and props were gathered and set up in the yard or den. Of course, Elaine was the director.

11. She loved the tape recorder and was reluctant to relinquish it.

12. She loved to make up her own dances and entertain us with her singing, dancing and imitations of performers. Her rendition of “Elvira” with a broom as her mike is priceless.

13. One day she came into the house, crying, telling me that the neighbor girls made fun of her, wouldn’t play with her, and that they were mean. I told her to go out there and love them. She said, “Okay.” In about two minutes she was back, crying again and telling me, “Daddy, it won’t work.”

14. Elaine usually had ‘bad hair’ days because she had problem hair. Cowlicks and crowns all over her head. We tried everything, but for years her hair was short and manageable only when given a dose of “Dippity Doo”.

15. One day, in a restaurant, the waitress looked at me and asked, “What does he want to eat?” She’s never quite recovered from her mistaken identity as a boy.

16. As a toddler, Elaine was docile. During morning worship, she slept soundly in a room adjoining the platform and choir loft while anthems soared and her dad preached.

17. She was slow to walk–we finally resorted to a walker when she was 15 months old, and she mastered the fine art in no time. Hard to imagine, when she hasn’t been still since and runs for exercise almost daily.

18. She had a high need for stories to have a happy ending. If the story line did not wrap up all the loose ends, she persisted with the question, “Well, what do you think happened?” until we gave her a probable “rest of the story.” Her need for order and predictability have been both bane and blessing to her, I am sure.

19. As a child she was compassionate to the point of pain when life was unfair to others or they were suffering from illness or heartache. She still practically wears a sign that says, “Tell me your troubles and I’ll cry with you!”

20. At about 6 years old, she packed her suitcase and went to Jennifer’s for a sleepover, but within two hours was brought home in her jammies, unable to handle the trauma of homesickness.

21. She has always been able to strike up a conversation with most anyone, from folks standing in a checkout line to passengers on a plane, to servers in a restaurant—having a natural interest and curiosity which, in her childhood, was often a source of embarrassment to her more reserved family members.

Still awake?

from my kids…

22. Mom likes to sing and dance to Christian music while she’s driving. (N)

23. Mom is passionate. (N)

24. My mom is the only one I know who buys Christmas presents for herself and leaves them wrapped under the tree as a surprise. Like we don’t know where they came from! (C)

25. My mom leaves a broom by her bed so she can hit the ceiling when my brother and me get too loud. She used to climb on the bed and pound. I guess this is easier. (C)

26. My mom…hmmm…she’s perfectly fine for me. (J)

27. My mom likes to watch “Deal or No Deal” with me. (J)

28. My mom is the Queen. I am the princess. (A)

29. My mom loves to hug me. (A)

from my husband…

30. When out to eat, Elaine will use almost anything as a toothpick if no real ones are available.

31. Elaine is cold natured…blanket, socks, and bed slippers year round.

32. Elaine sleeps in a “nest” of five different pillows that she assembles every night.

33. Elaine has a “Beth Moore” closet where she houses her Bible study materials.

34. Elaine has composed several songs for our children, the best being the “Little Green Frog” song.

35. The first story Elaine ever read to me was her “Shed Heart” story.

and finally from me…

36. Baths over showers.

37. Diet Coke over coffee.

38. Chocolate over just about anything.

39. Fall & Winter over Spring & Summer.

40. Writing over reading & talking & watching.

41. People over possessions.

42. God over everything!

And one to grow on…

I have a favorite song that puts voice to the earnest and most sincere plea of my heart on this, my 42nd birthday. A prayer to the Creator and the Sustainer of my life.
Thanks for indulging me!
~elaine
Carrying Our Pretty With Us

Carrying Our Pretty With Us

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all surpassing power is from God and not from us. … We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” (2 Corinthians 4:7-10).


He slipped back in the house yesterday morning to show me something. His forgetfulness.

Carelessly and without thought, he picked up his “pretty case” instead of his briefcase as he headed out the door for work. We had a good laugh, and then I had him re-enact his folly for my camera. Some pictures are worth the ink. This was one of them, and it got me to thinking.

Thinking about his caddy full of pretty…

Shaving cream. Razors. Mouthwash. Toothpaste. Lotion. Comb. Floss. Deodorant. Matrix Biolage hair gel. Yes, even my husband carries some “product” for his pretty.

Thinking about what he left behind—the one thing that normally accompanies him to the church office…

His Bible.

Somehow in his process of readying himself for the day, he reached for the ordinary to the exclusion of the extraordinary, and quite frankly, he felt exposed. Naked. Something not quite right as he stood at the edge of new day to embark upon the calling that has claimed his life.

A calling that values “heart product” over “pretty product.”

And a heart can never be prettied by creams and combs. It requires a deeper work…a stronger “product.” The cleansing work of the cross.

As believers in Jesus Christ, we have been given a rare privilege. We have been designated as the dwelling place of our Father. How precious is this Treasure. How fragile its frame. God designed us to be exactly so…as dusty earthen vessels, the contents of which contain more pretty than the world can fully absorb at first glance.

He is what makes us pretty. Not our outward attempts at fortifying the frame. He applauds and even celebrates our efforts at presentation, but when the day is over and the “pretty” has run its course, he ponders the condition of the heart that remains. The heart that contains his heart. The heart that will follow us into our tomorrow and into the day after that and into all of our days yet to come.

After awhile, our pretty wears thin and no amount of “product” can cover up the heart that lies beneath. We can try to conceal its pulse, but eventually our fragile clay begins to crumble to reveal the contents within. What pours forth…Who pours forth…is revealed by the light, and we stand as naked. Before God and before man. Exposed.

An untouched photograph that discloses our truth.

And the truth that God values more than our outward “pretty” is the inward product called grace. It is the one boasting allowed our mirrors. The one treasure allowed our fragile frames. The one Gospel allowed our lips. It is the only “heart product” that never wears thin and keeps its beauty long after the lights have dimmed and the world has gone home to find its rest.

Jesus is our “pretty” and Calvary’s accomplishing work is our calling. We are given the privilege of hosting its grace…every day. Within our clay parameters that were not meant for the applause of man, but, instead, meant for the breaking of a revealed radiance and a surpassing power that was never designed for containment. A carried treasure that, sometimes, is forgotten and covered up by our attempts at “pretty.”

I don’t about you, but I think that this has been a picture worthy of some ink…worthy of some words, and worthy of some further pondering as we prepare our hearts for exposure. God, alone, is worthy of a heart’s review. Man’s opinion is always flawed and often fatal. In the end, God’s opinion is always perfect and stands as final. And final sounds perfect to me, so this day I cast my heart before its Maker, and I ask him to make it–to make me–pretty.

Not for man, but for him. And so I pray…

Heal my heart, Lord, and make it pretty for you. Cleanse me from within, so that the radiance of your grace shines forth from the mirror of this face. Forgive my attempts at cover-up, and eliminate my desire for the same. I want to be a true portrait of your Gospel, and so I ask for you to cover me with the truth of Calvary’s gift. Let my beauty be birthed because of the cross. Not as I stand in front of the cross, but a beauty that finds its depth beneath and behind the cleansing blood of your surrender. You gave your Son to death’s embrace to make me pretty. Thank you for allowing such sacred beauty to be house within my clay. Humbly and with holy trembling, I carry my portion. Amen.

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