Christmas with my Mom

It’s almost halftime of my Eagles’ playoff game. I’m one of those strange females who enjoys watching football. Growing up, I thought I might be the next quarterback for the Vikings.

Though a football career wasn’t in my future I did always feel that my parents supported me in whatever I pursued. In fact, I’m pretty sure my parents never missed a single game, home or away, for any sport I played. Even when I played college volleyball, two hours from home, I could still often look up and see my parents in the stands. Thankfully, neither of my parents were the screaming kind, at me or the refs!

I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents these days. We just had a wonderful Christmas with both of our parents. For the first time ever we spent an entire week with both families. My Mom was much quieter than the last time we spent time together. She’s been sick for about 10 years now.

At 55 Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I flew back to the US after that dreaded call from my brother that said I should fly home to see Mom soon as she probably wouldn’t recognize me for long. It was kind of my ‘goodbye to Mom’ trip. During my week there I drove Mom the two hours to Billings, Montana for a shopping trip. I’m so glad I have that memory with her. Though she was already very different than the Mom I grew up with, she was still able to talk with me and for the most part knew I was her daughter.

The Mom I remember was very little, yet feisty. Mom taught me to ski the Rockies. Mom was a prayer warrior. I know you’ve all heard of people who have been labeled a prayer warrior, but I knew one personally. Numerous times I’ve gone looking for my Mom and found her on her knees in her room. Most often, tears were streaming down her face. In college it was sort of the joke among our friends that when we made it through a difficult situation, or came through a close brush with an accident that “Lori’s Mom must have been praying”. And often, I’d call Mom and she’d say she was just praying for me.

One thing that always shocked me on the mission field was the number of missionaries who said they were there without their parent’s support. Often, their parent’s were believers. I could never understand how one could not support their child going anywhere God wanted them to go. I understood missing them, I missed my family tremendously, but having their support was life-giving! When we shared with my parents that we felt God wanted us to go to into overseas missions they told us they were thrilled. I never forgot my Mom saying that she had prayed every day of my life that God would use us in His ministry, even if that meant I would go far away. That blessing from her was a gift to me and to my family.

With three kids of my own now I find myself thinking about the memories we are building with them. I pray my children know I’ll support them in whatever they do and that I’ll be praying for them as they go.

Sufficient Courage

Today is a big day for me. I'm a writer at heart, have been since I could put together a sentence. Lately though, I've had many excuses for not writing. I spend my day thinking as a writer, wishing I could put my thoughts on paper...I think it's time I begin actually doing that! Maybe that's why I struggle with the two books I'm currently trying to write. I have so many different things come to mind that I have a hard time focusing on the one topic. I'll admit right up front that I have a short attention span. Probably the real problem is that I try to focus on way to many things at one time!

I've decided to call my blog "sufficient courage". The verse in Philippians gave me the idea (it's on my profile) but it has spurred in me so many different feelings. Courage is something I've kind of prided myself in since I was a child. Growing up a tomboy allowed me many opportunities to prove that I was courageous. Whether through playing sports or performing on stage, I was always pretty confident in my abilities.

Moving with my husband and our three kids overseas pushed me beyond my own abilities. Becoming a missionary had been my dream from the age of 5 so I felt confident that Hungary was the place for me, but the Hungarian language and culture was definitely outside of my comfort zone. I learned something wonderful during that time though...I am much happier and much more fulfilled when I no longer control the circumstances but I've surrendered it all to God. It's not as easy as that sounds, believe me, I know that first hand! Maybe sometime I'll delve into what I experienced over the 9 years in Hungary.

Coming back to the US took much more courage than going to Hungary. Sounds strange doesn't it? Going to Hungary was my dream, but I was coming back to the unknown. In the 3 1/2 years since we've been back I've been working on my courage. It's very frustrating to me to feel unsure, insecure, even a bit like a coward. I believe God's working with me to help me see who I am in Him and to have courage...not so much in my own abilities but in who He's made me to be...and to have sufficient courage to face this new life with boldness!