The Home That Built Me

I've started to realize that I write quite often, but for me, when I get writing-it's like knowing you only have 3 chapters left of the book you're reading and well you can't just let it sit! That'd be absurd! Also, I'm quite forgetful, I fear that if I don't write something down when I'm thinking about it then I'll forget it.
I've decided that when Kyle and I start thinking about babies I'm going to be ridiculously excited to decorate my child's room. That has nothing to do with anything except I've spent most of the afternoon online looking at old children's books trying to find the ones that my grandmother used to read to me. And I know that the probability of me finding them is like 2 in 1000, but I have dreams of reading these same books to my children. I say my chances are low of finding these books are so low because the ones I was able to hang on to, were brought out in the 50's. Which will ultimately make them that more enjoyable when my children are grown and realize how old the book is.
As an adult, I love doing children's crafts. Anything with glitter, glue, crayons, and coloring books makes me excessively happy-which is why I decided a long time ago I am going to do crafts with my children and read to them...anything that involves investing in their lives. Like my grandmother did with me. I knew I could always go to her, snuggle up and read stories with her. It was a great comfort.
If you haven't by this point, you need to watch the music video to "The Home That Built Me," by Miranda Lambert. It's basically about this woman who comes back to her childhood home and asks to look around...."and I promise to take nothing but a memory...". Most of you might find this video/song a bit flaky, but I break down every time. For whatever reason, I've had it in my mind (since I was little) that when I grew up being able to come back to my childhood home was of great importance.
But that's not a possibility anymore. When we moved Grandma to the nursing home we got kicked out and the land sold. This has been something that I have had to overcome. To this day, when I hear Gram mention, "well if we were just at home I could go and grab this or this..." I get a lump in my throat, because I know it hurts her just as much. That was where she built her life, and now it's just someone's front yard.
On one of my birthdays (12 maybe) Mama got me my first walk-men with chunky headphones and my first CD ever-Shania Twain. After all my birthday stuff was over with I went to the back room (a small room off of the kitchen that held a deep freeze, Gram's plants, canned food) and put on the head phones, turned the music wayyy up and started jamming. Of course the music so loud I can't hear anything, and of course as I'm dancing like any 12 year old white nerdy mid-western kid does (with my back to the door) my mother happens to walk in and watch. And as I whip around in my awesomeness, there stands my mother so red in the face from laughter, I'm not even sure if she's okay.
I remember falling down our stairs from my own clumsiness so many times I literally broke off part of my tail bone. Sunday mornings was always pancakes with Grandma. Mine and my brothers dogs are both buried back home. My aunt making a tree house for my sister. When my brother and I were kids, we would take this pea green wool blanket outside on hot summer days and drape it over the clothesline and we would make our own fort.
I remember the bad times too. Like how the numerous times we couldn't pay the fuel man the minimum of $200 to come put a little fuel in our furnace during Winter. Growing up in Delta, you were not considered much. Most people were either drunks, drug attics or poor. We were unquestionably the poor ones. But when asked what memories mean the most, it's the ones where my brother and I are inseparable, where my sister is running around with little blond curls and I've promised I'm going to take care of her no matter what, where Gram's arms is the safest and best place to be and where when I look at my Mama, I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world.

Grandma's Letters

Before I left for Oklahoma for the first time I asked my grandmother if she would write me if I would write her back. "Well of course I'll write," she stated quite matter-of-factly, as if the question I had just asked was a nonsensical request. Laughing a bit I handed her the new stationary set I had bought her and told her I loved her. My grandmother and I are quite close, so when she writes chicken scratch letters I can barely read because of her arthritic hands, I fall to pieces. When I had asked her to write, she declared to me that it wouldn't be much of anything because nothing goes on in the nursing home. I told her that was fine, she could tell me about the book she happened to be reading at the time and toss in a few stories from her past. She said that would be fine and has been very diligent in her writing. Despite her protests, she seems to find quite a bit to write about. Most of the time I can only read a couple of things (they are the most important part of the letter too!) "Dear Tresa, I love you," and "God be with you, I love you." Those are the parts that matter the most. I was so instant on her writing because I know she misses me, and doesn't get that many visitors, and when she was at home, letter writing was a big thing for her. I want her to be able to have that freedom for as long as she can.
The other day she wrote me and two words were all that I could read of the letter besides the greeting. Just two words showed me that she loves me and she loves God. The two words you may ask? "God hears." Just like that with nothing else around it. God hears.
My grandmother was the first one to show me Christ on a consistent basis...and still today some 400 miles away, she's still doing the same today.

I pray that you have someone in your life who has shown you Christ they way my grandmother has. She's a real blessing in my life and I regret the times I was too ignorant to see that. Thank God for that person in your life, and if you can-let them know how much of an impact they have on you. Today I'm thankful for my grandmother.

Buttons & Marbles

In working with the youth group last night, I was utterly frustrated. This is the first time since working with them that I don't feel that alot of stuff is getting through. Sadly in a lot of my Christian walk I have been a Pharisee, doing all the right things on the outside, but on the inside I was dead. I don't want this for my youth...or for my own future children. In just observing other parents, Kyle and I have decided that we don't want to be our children's "best friend," we want to be their parents. Same with the youth. We don't want to be their best friends in the sense of we are the ones who promote the things of youth, like gossip and sexual promiscuity. But be the Christian adults that they feel they can trust to come to with anything. Growing up my Mom was my best friend...and that was great when I needed someone to gab to, but when I looked to an authoritative figure, I looked to my grandmother. She instilled the rules, and yet let me be a child. I remember under her bed she had jars of buttons and I would spend hours looking through them. She had two jewelry boxes full of costume jewelry. My cousin Amber and I would dress up in old clothes and Grandma's costume jewelry and sing and dance right along with Lawrence Welk. Grandma was a big fan of board games, especially Chinese Checkers. In the cabinet above the kitchen sink she kept this old wooden box full of marbles, and just like the buttons, I was just as enthralled. My grandmother was a wonderful parent to me...she let me live out my childhood out. I think that is one significant thing that is wrong with todays society-children are being forced to grow up too soon, and make decisions about adult things-and they aren't equipped to make such decisions. I pray for todays youth as God guides us through this journey. It reminds me of Joshua when God commands him to take on Jericho. One thing you see in Joshua is persistence when God assures him he won't be alone. "....so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous because you will lead these people..." (Joshua 1:5b-6a).
"Be strong and courageous because you will glad these people to inherit the land I swore to their forefathers to give them. Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go. Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:6-9). In a short few chapters later you see Joshua is victorious. May this be your prayer for today, to be strong and courageous wherever we go. May we meditate on the word of the Lord so that we may learn how to understand and equip those around us.

Pride & Family

I've been thinking alot about family lately, and what it means to be proud of your family. Growing up, the only thing that my mother and father could ever agree on was that I was supposed to be proud of my Grandma Zeola. Having this repeated to you over the years starts to work on you, especially when you never even got to meet her. For alot of my life I have had this huge weight on me, that I was supposed to be just like her, and I hadn't even met her. I'm writing this because in a recent conversation with another family member, I was told I was to "be proud to be a Clemens." Some of this is in response to what I said to that family member, but some of this is what I've been thinking about family...especially my own. In James 4:6, we are told that, "God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble." In seeing how I want my family raised, I think that our relationships with God come before "family pride." Being right with God and doing His will should always take priority. After all, were we not God's children first? It makes me think of the Israelites as they are trekking through to the Promised Land, they were more concerned with the things of the earth than that of what God had in store for them. Aren't we told that "love of the world is hatred towards God?"
I'm not saying being proud of your family is a bad thing, but when does something like that become an idol? Perhaps when the unexpected death of a beloved woman happened twenty-two years ago, that her children are still too prideful to seek help? Perhaps when certain family members are still so distraught over it, that they miss out on relationships with their own children...and they don't even realize it? Aren't we told that God won't give us more than we can handle? That He will be our solid ground so that we may stand up underneath it until he opens another door?
Family is a wonderful thing instituted by God, but if not used in the right context we won't see the fruit of what God has for us.

Dear Lord,
Teach me to be like you. Teach me what you really meant for family and all the beautiful things to come from that. Not pride, not idols and not hurt. But joy love and compassion. Lord guide us all. Amen.

Working It Out

This is just a starter blog to see how everything is going to work. So far I'm not having too good of luck.