We are up to our ears with packing tape, boxes, bubble wrap and sharpie markers at the moment.  As we prepare to move to Ohio in 5 days, our house looks the part.  Today as I was packing up my kitchen, I gave myself some excellent advice... I'm not the only one who does that right? Internal monologues are kind of a specialty of mine.

Any way, as I was individually wrapping and packing up several glass vases, I thought to myself, "I should label this box as one not to unpack."  You see, we are hoping to eventually buy a house in our new city, which would mean we will eventually have to pack everything back up again from the rental home we are moving into and move it all.  Again.  So as I was packing up all of my vases, I had this "genius" thought that I'd save myself the trouble of unpacking and repacking that particular box.  Vases, I thought, are non-essential items.  If we just unpack the essentials, there will be less to repack when we do buy a house.  Pretty smart, I know.

Here's the deal though.  My internal monologue turned into an internal dialogue and another voice rose up inside me to fight back against the pragmatist.  This voice said, "Don't you dare leave those vases packed!  Why in the world would your husband bring you flowers if you don't have anything to put them in?!  Don't you want flowers?!"  Oh, I do!  I do want flowers!  Fresh flowers are something I've had far too few of in my home over the years.

That thought led me to another simple and obvious thought - How many times do I miss out on blessings in my life because I don't want to put in a little extra effort?  Unpacking and repacking the box of vases and finding somewhere to put them in the rental house will take a few minutes of time and energy, but seeing fresh flowers on my kitchen table over the next year will bring many days worth of pleasure.

As I pondered that, another less simple, and less obvious thought dawned on me.  How many blessings has God been prepared to give me, that I have inadvertently failed to receive because I had safely packed away the very vessel I would need to hold them?  How many friendships has He been willing to prosper in my life that I refused to pursue because I kept my time safely packed away?  How many times has He been willing to bless my generosity only to have me keep my money safely packed away when I could have given it freely?  How many times has He had a Word to speak into my heart and mind that would have brought encouragement and growth, but I kept my Bible safely packed away on a shelf?  

You better believe that when we start unpacking boxes at our new home in Ohio in a few days, I'm going to unpack those vases!  More than that though, I pray that God will help me to remember that He has a plan to bring beautiful things into my life as well as my home, and that I need to be ready to receive those as well. 

 Don't leave your vases packed!  Lesson learned.

A few days ago, my son and I went on an early morning walk to the local coffee shop.  Well, I walked anyway.  Timmy rode his scooter.  To his credit he stayed with me most of the way, and when we reached a long stretch of smooth sidewalk, I gave him clearance to leave me behind and enjoy the ride.  As I walked along by myself, I noticed that I kept passing these tiny little black insects on the sidewalk.  They looked like miniature caterpillars.  Every few steps I would pass one, slowly making its way across the path.  I had to be careful not to step on them.  In the half mile I walked, I probably passed 50 of them!

Eventually I caught up to Tim who was waiting for me at the street the coffee shop was on.  We went inside and enjoyed some time together, sipping our drinks and chatting about the day ahead, and then we started the trek back home, hoping to make it back before it started to rain on us.  As I walked and Tim rode his scooter, I asked him how many of those black caterpillar-y bugs he thought he had passed on the ride to the coffee shop.  He had no idea what I was talking about.  One by one, as we walked, I started pointing them out to him as we passed by them.  "Look!  There's one.  And another!  And Another!"  He was shocked that he could have missed them.  I explained to him that he was going so fast, that their movement was undetectable to him, so he probably just saw them as tiny black lines on the sidewalk, if he saw them at all.  I was going slow enough that I could take notice of them, perceive their comings and goings and realize what they truly were.  

Before I knew it, Timmy was off again scootering toward home.  I was left thinking about how much of life I race by every single day, and what I am missing in the process.

"A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town.  From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family.  The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.  As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family.  In my young mind, each member had a special niche.  My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example.  Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing.  My parents were complementary instructors - Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it.  But the stranger was our storyteller.  He could weave the most fascinating tales.  Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations.  He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening.  If I wanted to know about politics, history or science, he knew it all.  He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could predict the future.  The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched.  He was like a friend to the whole family.  He took Dad, Bill and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars.  My brother and I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular.  The stranger was an incessant talker.  Dad didn't seem to mind, but sometimes Mom would quietly get up while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places, go to her room, read her Bible and pray.

I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave.  You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions.  But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them.  Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house - not from us, from our friends, or adults.  Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four leter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm.  To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted.  My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - not even for cooking.  But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life.  He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often.  He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished.  He talked freely (probably much too freely) about sex.  His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.  I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.  As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger did not influence us more.  Time after time he opposed the values of my parents.  Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.  More than 30 years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive.  He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years.  But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.  His name? We always just called him 'The T.V.'" 
By Keith Currie

The next two weeks will be filled with goodbyes for our family.  As our move date rapidly approaches, each time we see someone now, we aren't sure whether we will see them again before we move, so we end up taking a bit more time and a bit more care when we say each goodbye.  The students at Lock Haven University have a special place in our hearts.  I first opened my own heart wide to them all when I arrived in Lock Haven several weeks before the rest of the family in 2009.  I remember attending the first New Life Student Fellowship meeting of the school year and introducing myself as the wife of their soon-to-be Campus Minister.  I remember telling this group of strangers to feel free to call me or Facebook or just stop by the house I was staying at any time.  I invited the girls to come over for dinner one night and told them to be sure to RSVP so I'd know how many to cook for.  Their unique way of responding is now a cherished memory documented in the picture below.  To say I loved it would be the understatement of the century.  I loved that I had opened my heart to them and they responded by showing me that they were so grateful that I had.  

Whenever we open our hearts to others, we take a risk.  We risk rejection.  We risk being hurt.  We risk learning things about ourselves or them that we didn't want to learn.   Certainly, there are those who we initially open our hearts to that end up becoming people that we need to be careful with.  Jim Cymbala, Pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, says it this way in his book, Fresh Faith:

"Don't you know how to say no?  This is not your house!  You don't have the right to let in everyone/thing that wants to enter." 

Pastor Cymbala is refering to the fact that, as believers, our hearts are God's dwelling place, and that when He takes up residence, He also takes up ownership.  We don't get to choose who we let in and who we keep out any more.  He decides.  "You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price..." 1 Corinthians 6:20 NLT. Sometimes we agree with Him.  Other times we don't.  The result should be the same: obedience.  We can't keep people at arms-length any more just because they are different or difficult.  Nor can we continue to allow others to remain close to us and sin in the way they treat us or interact with us (emotional/verbal/physical abuse, causing us to stumble,) without speaking up.  We have to love them enough to set up boundaries that keep them at an appropriate distance to encourage their healing and repentance and not enable their sinful tendencies in our relationship.

Many more times, however, we will open our hearts and be rewarded as a result.  Sometimes through finding a kindred spirit, other times by learning lessons we needed at just the time we needed them.  Sometimes by finding a catalyst for our own maturity, other times by being able to help another along on his/her journey.  We have found all of these things in our relationships with students and friends here in Lock Haven.  As we prepare to move, we will once again, open our hearts wide to the people in our new church and city, and wait expectantly to see how God asks us to respond to each and every one.  

Until then, we will spend the next two weeks, reassuring those who have a special place in our hearts just how precious they are to us and how very privileged we have been to walk with them these few years.  We don't regret opening our hearts to any of you one bit!

Today I read an article on CNN.com entitled, "To Spank or Not to Spank, Where Do You Draw the Line?"  Talk about a controversial topic that will not go away!  The article was written to draw attention to another CNN.com article summarizing a study published in the Journal of Pediatrics about the effects of physical punishment on mental health.  Whenever and where ever this topic is brought up it sparks strong opinions and heated debate.  

In the past, I have worked in social work settings, public schools, and for nonprofit agencies that work with young children.  As such, I have been a mandated reporter of child abuse for many years out of my life.  One social work program I worked for had a sign on the wall of their building that said, "You have entered a NO SPANKING zone."  In many people's minds, spanking (of all manners) is equated with physical abuse of a child, and witnessing it would be a reason to call Child Protective Services.  I remember once when my son was close to 3 years old and I took him to see our family practitioner for a rash that he had developed suddenly.  He had never had a problem at the doctor's office before, and I had no reason to expect that he would COMPLETELY FREAK OUT on this particular visit... but he did.  He didn't want anyone touching him, talking to him, or even looking at him.  He went so far as to kick (hard) and scream.  I was flabbergasted and distressed.  I had NEVER seen him react this way and I was more than a little bit stunned by his uncharacteristic behavior.  In the middle of my son's kicking and screaming fit, the doctor calmly said to me, "How do you discipline him at home?"  "EXCUSE ME?!?"  I said, over my son's shrieks.  "When he misbehaves at home, what do you do?" the doctor persisted, calmly.  Completely taken aback, I mumbled something about time outs, while inwardly, I was reminding myself that this doctor was a mandated reporter, and that I needed to be very careful about how I answered him.  His next question floored me, "Do you ever use force to correct him?" he asked in an elevated voice to be heard over the wails.  "I think we are done here," I said emphatically, "We are leaving!" and I picked my son up and took him outside.  At this point I was shaking inwardly and outwardly.  I was shocked at my son's behavior and more than a little concerned about him, and I was also shocked at the doctor's words.  What was he implying?!?!  I didn't want to strap my son into his car seat while he was still making such a fuss, so I stood outside the doctor's office talking calmly, but firmly, to him about both the doctor's office visit, AND his inappropriate behavior.  As he was calming down, the nurse came out, apologizing and joined us to look at my son's rash (as he started screaming again), and she quickly gave me some basic medical advice and I thanked her and got the heck outta there.  I got home from that visit and put my son down for a nap.  I called my husband at work in hysterics and anger, and described to him the doctor's visit.  He said he would handle it and we hung up the phone.  Later that night, around 6pm, well after the doctor's office had closed, I got a phone call from our physician.  He said that my husband had called him and then the doctor surprised me by profusely apologizing for the incident.  He explained to me that in that moment, while my child was kicking and screaming, he felt that a good swift spanking would have worked wonders, and while he couldn't recommend as much, he was trying to subtly give me the option to be able to say, "Yes, I occasionally discipline him by spanking and if you'll just give us a moment alone, I think we can handle this and get on with this visit."  What a miscommunication!  I was convinced the doctor felt like I was probably physically abusive at home and that my son wouldn't be reacting that way if I didn't have a history of beating him.  Meanwhile the doctor was thinking nothing of the sort, rather he felt that at my son's age and with the way he was behaving, a swift physical reprimand would be best.

Let's just clear the air:

As a child, I was spanked on more than one occasion, both by my parents and by a teacher at my public elementary school when I misbehaved.  It wasn't the only method of correction I experienced, but it was one of them.

As a mother, I have spanked my son.  it isn't the only method of correction I have used, but it is one of them.

There, the cat is out of the bag.  You know my spanking history and my opinions about the topic - OR DO YOU?  The word "spanking" means different things to different people.  It conjures different images based on people's past experiences.  Is spanking wrong?  Well, what do you consider spanking?  If you believe that flying off the handle and hitting a child in anger over their frustratingly bad behavior is spanking, then I will tell you that by your definition, spanking is abusive.  That is NOT, however, how I define spanking, nor is it how I have ever treated my child.  Spanking, in my vocabulary, is a swat (one or more) on the backside that a child knows is coming and knows why it is coming, followed by an embrace and sincere reassurance of love.  It is not done in anger, and it is not done without careful control on the part of the parent.  It is not done without first discussing the willful disobedience thoroughly with the child.  Just like any other negative consequence for bad behavior, spanking is to be carefully thought out and used as a tool to correct and restore a child - not to shame or berate them or harm them in any way.  If that is how you define spanking as well, then I will tell you that spanking is not abusive in the slightest.


The study published by the Journal of Pediatrics relates things like slapping, hitting, grabbing, pushing and shoving of a child (by a parent, as a form of discipline) to a 2-7% greater likelihood of  mood disorders, anxiety disorders, substance abuse and personality disorders later in life.  This description has nothing to do with spanking as I know it and define it.  

Bottom line, the study had nothing to do with spanking as I know it and everything to do with out of control parenting.  Parenting is hard work.  No. Doubt. About. It.  If the world is going to go the way of CNN, then I hope the Christian church does NOT.  Let's focus on supporting parents and giving them tools to better shepherd their children's hearts, and stop throwing around poorly defined, controversial topics in an effort to garner a reaction.

Galatians 5:22-23 NIV "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. Against such things THERE IS NO LAW."

Happy Independence Day!  We Ritzes are getting ready to do what many other Americans are anticipating today as well - spending time with friends, enjoying hamburgers and hot dogs from the grill, making homemade ice cream, playing games, relaxing and hopefully taking in some fireworks later this evening.  This morning as I think about what this day means to our country, I am also pausing to think about the the idea of independence, and how truly illusive it is.

It seems that, as individuals, just as we declare our independence from one person, idea, season of life, pattern of behavior, or situation - another area of dependence is revealed.  We cannot escape it.  Our country has not been able to escape it either.  Dependency is a lifelong lesson-learning opportunity.  Figuring out what we are dependent on, deciding if it is a healthy dependency, and if the extent of the dependency is appropriate and then adjusting relationships and behaviors as needed to bring balance.  We do this over and over and over again throughout our lifetime.

We seek this balance in each of our relationships, in our work life, in our financial planning, in our decision making, and in our spiritual life.  When we become overly dependent or overly independent in any area, things start to breakdown and we begin to suffer and, as much as we don't want to admit it, those closest to us suffer as well.

I once heard this quote: "The only entity that can completely control your life without ultimately destroying it is God."  He is the only One we can ultimately be wholly and completely dependent on without negative consequences.  Jesus himself said in John 15:5 NIV, "I am the vine, you are the branches.  If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit.  Apart from Me, you can do nothing."   YOU CAN DO NOTHING apart from Him.  If that isn't a call to acknowledging complete dependency on God and God alone, then I don't know what is.  When anything else in our lives, other than God, demands this kind of dependency we get very uncomfortable very quickly, and if/when we become this dependent on anything other than God things fall apart just as quickly.

On this Independence Day, as we celebrate the blessings of life and freedom in the United States, let us also consider the reality of our own dependency on God and ask ourselves a few penetrating questions to see if we are experiencing the most life and freedom in Christ possible:

1. What one thing or person in my life do I feel like I truly cannot live without?  Why?  Do I really have any control over whether or not this thing/person remains in my life?  

2. What good thing am I doing in my life right now that I would likely stop doing if I didn't have the support I currently have?  How did I become dependent on this support in order to do the right thing?  

3. Who am I allowing to depend on me inappropriately and how?  Why have I allowed this?  How can I stop this for that person's benefit?

4. How am I demonstrating the reality of my dependency on God on a daily basis?  Can any one else in my life tell that I acknowledge this dependence?  What is one change I can make today to release my dependency on people/things and embrace my dependency on God?