celia whitler

I recently heard a talk where one of the illustrations was for us to view ourselves with a large sign over our heads. We were to imagine something on it that positively stated who we are. I thought about what my sign might say. The speaker essentially was saying that we become what we believe about ourselves. Last month I went to asummer evening gathering of women and again was told to look in the mirror everyday and to tell myself, “you are loved and you can do whatever is before you today.” Have you thought about how you see yourself? While talking to a friend about these thoughts, she mentioned that she sees herself with extra weight, more wrinkles and grayer hair. As she continued, I said “Are you kidding? What I see is your smile, your laugh and your light. I see you through the eyes of love.”

How can we all write on our signs those kind of things about ourselves that would reflect how God sees us and how we see ourselves through the eyes of love? I think my sign would be a mixture of who I believe myself to be and and how I want to view myself, something like,”I am loved and unsure and joyous and scared and blessed” All of it crammed into one sign.

In addition to working on my next book, this summer we are pretty much at home and we are teaching swimming lessons to preschool and elementary children at home with Max and Zach, covered with bugspray and sunscreen, saying over and over again, “you can do it, put your face in the water, reach and pull with your arms!” Most are beginning swimmers, with signs saying “I’m afraid.” One little precious boy, during his first time ever in swimming lessons, when asked to put his face in the water, said “That too tary!”(scary) During his last lesson after he put his face in, he laughed. What a journey from beginning 8 days ago, at 11 AM his sign said, ” that too tary,” and today, “I can do it!” What I know made the difference is Ron’s arms under him, holding him and telling him repeatedly, “I’ve got you and I’m not gonna let go of you.” Doesn’t matter what I allow on my sign, I do feel loving arms around me.

While at the grocery store in the produce I knocked over a box of cookies in a plastic container. Cookies went everywhere. As my son Zach and I began to pick them up — one of the deli workers just appeared and said, “I’ll take these ma’am.” “Oh no,” I quickly replied, “I’ll pick them up and please let me pay for them.” My sign said, “I’m embarrassed and I want to leave.” Apparently not. as she smiled. and said, “Don’t worry about it.” As we headed toward the bread aisle. I looked at Zach and said, “I don’t know why stuff like that bothers me, I just feel so embarrassed, I was moving too fast’.” Zach interrupted, “mommy, mommy, it’s okay it happens.” He took my hand and something changed, really changed. I was lifted. The problem was not gone, there were cookies everywhere. But there was another reality, of it’s ok — more importantly — I’m ok. I am ok and all that is in front of me that seems too tary is not too tary. I am known, I am loved and most importantly I am not alone.

Before I take my first step of the day, I started sitting up on the side of the bed in the morning. I put my feet on the floor in front of me and I say to myself “I’m living, I’m loveable, I am loved and I am not alone.” I also spell the ABCs with my feet. (When I ran I got fasciitis in my right foot and that was my runners’ re-hab.) I say to God help me let go of today, I give it to you.

Say it with me… “Today, I’m living, I’m loveable, I am loved and I amnot alone” There is nothing too tary, that today I cannot face!

Have a cookie today, I am gonna let go of today and see what happens

Celia

Scripture, Romans 8:28 — We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

P.S. Congrats to Tanner 5 1/2 who passed the swimming test that consisted of swimming a lap in the Olympic sized pool and treading water for 30 seconds, so that she could go down the big blue slide at the YMCA all summer long! Way to go!

To Rachel 18, in NY who graduated this June, Congrats! My text message to her on her last day of high school was “The best thing you could have learned is how loved you are, how special you are and how all things are possible.”

You both did it and we knew you could!

Consider the lillies… (or the Apple trees for that matter) — Matt 6:28b

So I’ve go these apple trees in my front yard–four of them. They are too small to climb and they have only produced apples one of the seven years we have lived here. That was the year my dad stayed with us. He was 79 and my mom had just died. He visited us for three months and one day he said, “we need to work on your apple trees.” I do not have a green thumb was my first thought. I love to grow things, but things don’t love to grow for me. My dad always had a garden. He planted strawberries one year, always tomatoes, a pear tree one year and then there were his flowers. One place we lived had a two acre lot and he planted 50 different types of roses. My favorite were the kind that had a sweet fragrance. He said his favorite was Queen Elizabeth. I took flowers to school every week. If I was ever the teacher’s pet, it was because of my dad’s flowers. I also loved his pansies. They were dark purple with yellow accents.

My apple trees were not in the same category as his plants. Mine had spots and not just a few little spots–spots on almost every leaf. The trees were unruly and he said they needed to be pruned every year. They just needed a little care. I’m not big on pruning. I get my hair cut every 4 months whether it needs it or not. I’m not big on upkeep–I need plants that thrive on neglect. If they make it, they can stay. That philosophy didn’t go over too well with my dad, so we pruned. We watered and we went to the local hardware store to buy something to put on the leaves for the spots. It was maybe a fungus, a virus or some type of bug. Who cares what it is. I was sure we could not get rid of it, but he was determined to leave those apple trees in better shape than he found them and he gave it his best try. I laughed at the store. When we got to the pesticides isle, they all had warnings on them. I thought these might not be safe. Then I thought he’s almost 80, what harm can they do. So off we went with our bag of, let’s just say some form of poison. Dad used my cooking funnel and a mixing bowl to mix the ingredients. I threw that funnel and bowl in the trash that night. No need to try to salvage those. We hauled off 6 large black trash bags of pruned limbs. We sprayed and then we waited. Slowly over months, small sprouts began to appear. The day my dad had his final heart attack that left him bedridden for 6 weeks before his death, he was working on my apple trees. He loved the outdoors and loved to have his hands in nature. I love that he got to spend time at my home in that way.

After his death I came home from his memorial service to find those trees brimming with small apples. I kept the boys (aged 3 and 1 1/2) away from them most of the summer and remember Dad saying early September would be a great month to pick them if the birds haven’t gotten all of them. Those apples grew and grew despite me. One day Ron and I went out for the day in the middle of the summer and left the boys with a baby-sitter. When we came home, in their wagon were my dad’s apples. I was so shook. I’m not sure why those apples represented my dad’s time with me. More than our work together, they represented hope The possibility in life, even when things seem impossible, and somehow the possibility in me even me with my not-so-green thumb. It doesn’t make sense that I can grew something when something had not grown before. I sat on the front porch and cried as the boys proudly showed me their apples. I got my camera and began to laugh as they dumped them all on the ground too green to eat. Max said, “Mommy why are you crying?” Ron explained that the apples were not ready to pick. So the boys said simply, “we’ll put them back, someone get the tape.” It is funny how many things just can’t go back and sometimes it’s okay. Sometimes it’s better than okay.

September came and went and those apple trees have not born one apple since. It’s been 5 years and I’ve wondered should we just cut them down and replace them with something else. What good are they? I don’t have the energy to prune them, water them, love on them and they have not done a thing until… now. This week they have apples and a lot of apples, more than I have seen and on every tree, on every branch almost. I’m left wondering why. I so don’t deserve apples. I have not given those trees one thought much less any attention, but that ‘s when a story gets good isn’t it, when something happens that‘s unexpected, that’s not planned, that’s not deserved, that’s not explainable. My dad and I dreamed of what we’d do with those apples…apple pie, apple cider, apple sauce, apple butter. We would have so many he said we’d need to bag them and give them away to friends. Maybe we could eat them on the porch with boys. We would laugh and dream. I am thinking maybe this September we will do that. You never know if the birds don’t get them or the boys don’t use them during a battle while playing near the trees one day. You wait, you just might be having some apples come your way. So don’t worry about what you’re going to eat, or drink, or wear.

Apples, my apples. Who would have guessed, not me.

Matt. 6:25-31 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you —you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’

When I was eight everything was possible. I thought I could run faster, and I could. I thought there would never be a time when I wouldn’t try things and that time has come. I believed that all people are good and I have had occasion to wonder and even question that fact. I played with friends and thought those close to me then would be close to me forever. I know where only a few of those folks are today and I smile even thinking of them now. We were innocent. We were young. We were carefree. We loved, laughed outloud. ate ice cream when we wanted. drank Icees when we wanted, slept in during In the summer we watched cartoons early Saturday mornings, went to the fair every year, flirted with boys because it was fun, made wishes, believed dreams came true, said our prayers and all before bathtime and lights out. We played together and didn’t care who lived on which side of the tracks. We held hands during recess and skipped. We still played dress up with our mom’s clothes and shoes and makeup when they weren’t looking and pretended we knew what it would be like to be grown up. I had no clue.

I loved us and all the lessons we taught each other. Riding on your best friends handle bars down a steep hill should be avoided at all costs. The feeling of drowning is no fun and that feeling that you’ll never breathe again is something you put our of your head. That feeling returns when you’re a teenager and someone breaks you heart–you remember how it feels to be drowning all over again. We shared, really because we liked to share. The joy of giving what I had to my best friend and seeing her face–money can’t buy that. It’s priceless, really. We jumped off of things and didn’t think at the the time we’d get hurt, until an ankle sprain. I learned how long it takes to heal. Later I learned it again and again–healing seems to takes forever. We can spend our whole lives healing from something, even if we’ve made peace with the hurt. Some prayers don’t get answered, but I believe all prayers are heard. Fear is overridden by desire and joy is found in the smallest places.

I caught every living thing in my back yard and I treasured the world around me. The trees were my playrooms and my bike could take me anywhere. With coins in my pocket I’d head downtown to the library and get lost in a book that would take me to places I couldn’t pronounce, much less dream up. Next I’d ride to the drugstore for fudge ripple ice cream on a sugar cone and buy a Richie Rich comic book. Then I’d ride down past the cemetary to the creek and swim–that’s crazy huh. I’d catch tadpoles and fireflies. Then I’d head back home and play tag with my neightbors until it was dark. Finally and only at the last hour, I would go back inside for a quick bite, most of which I would sneak to the dog under the table. Then it was bath time. I made shampoo supported mohawks. After a quick bedtime story made up by my dad, I was off to sleep. I was still afraid of the dark at eight.. after a kiss goodnight, I’d check under the bed for the creatures and in the closet. I’d pull the curtains closed, hold a stuffed animal tightly. and head under the covers. I was right to be scared of things. There are things to be scared of. Some nights I was frozen–no trapped by fear, not most nights, but enough to remember. I’d whisper a few words under my breath and I was off to sleep. Now that I think of it, those creatures never surfaced. They were in my head, not in my room. Isn’t that the way it is? We have to be careful what we let have it’s way with our thoughts. Most nights the good prevailed. I dreamed when I was eight. Seldom did I remember my dreams, but I loved to dream about playing with dolphins somewhere exotic. Dream land was very different from my surroundings. That is still true today, but I still believe that anything is possible.

It’s all how you look at it. An eight year old sees with eyes that are still open and there are days when I long for that view. Even if I could go back and whisper some of the things I’ve learned and realized along the journey to that girl, she might laugh until she cried or she’d cry until she laughed. She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe me. She’d have to see it with her own eyes. That’s just what I have lived. Here’s to eight. Really in a word, it was great. Don’t ever stop being eight. Don’t forget to buy a snowcone this summer, bubble gum’s my favorite flavor and it turns your tongue blue–who doesn’t like that!

Max turns eight today… May 16, 2008 eat some birthday cake… 2 slices!

Some days are a blur. I look back and think, “what in the world?” It’s gone–one minute, one hour, one afternoon, the whole day–gone; and what has been done? Everyone gets the same 24 hours. Michelangeo had the same 24 hours and look what he did with it–amazing! Bill Gates had the same 24 hours and look what he did. He changed the way the world thinks and works. Mother Teresa had the same 24 and she spent each in humility, serving others. And each of us have our days–what will be done? This past Sunday was Mother’s Day and I read a woman jumped off a bridge and was never found. She had her day and decided what to do with it. Each of us choose. Each of us are faced with where we’re going and where we’ve been, and most importantly where we are–here, now. For good or bad it was my day, it was all mine. I read the foot book with Zach, actually he read it to me and I thought to myself, “he’s doing it.” I smiled thinking that it was just a second ago we were bringing him home from the hospital, baths were had, meals cooked, dreams scribbled down on napkins, calls made, songs began, coffee drank with friends, laughs laughed, stories told, my 24 hours was all mine. Maybe like Michelandelo, Bill Gates and Mother Teresa, I’m not sure while I’m in the midst of it if I’m doing anything, that will make a difference. Maybe they thought the same. Some days I wonder. There are moments in our lives when we have hugh impacts and we know it–I feel it. I’m moved by it and the day seems larger than it is. Then there are days when I’m faithful–that’s the best word I can think of. I keep trying, keep creating, keep swimming even if it feels like I’m swimming upstream, I keep dreaming, keep believing in my 24 hours something is going to happen, something unexpected. I wish I had been on that bridge Sunday, to say, “just wait, tomorrow has so many possibilities. I’ve had bad days and I’ve felt the edge of life. Take my hand and know that something could happen in the next 24 hours. Something could happen through you that could never happen through me.”I believe that, something happens through each of us each day. Some days it feels so small and some days I get to see it. Others might never see, experience it or be moved by it; but it’s real and it happens, so here’s to tomorrow and the blur that it will become.

Springtime always reminds me of what is new and what is now… and what is about to be birthed that hasn’t been before. The subject of what’s next seems to come up frequently in my conversations with friends and acquaintances. What’s next with my life.. what’s next with my career… what’s next with the relationships I am in … What are the next risks that I need to be taking… This past weekend I joined a group of youth who are graduating from high school. One of the things I remember about my senior year was that it seemed like everytime I turned around someone was aksing me, “what school will you be attending? What will you be studying?” or “Who will you be rooming with?” On and on came the questions and to be honest with you, I decided many of those things at the very last minute. I know that does not shock many of you who know me. I did not have a clue many times. There were those days when so much was spinning around me that I felt like I was just along for the ride. I had no idea where those decisions would lead me or if when I got there I would be prepared for what lay before me.

Early in my singing I met a business man on a flight from Dallas. He shared some of his life story with me on our short trip. During an interview for his first job out of college, he was asked if he had any experience taking pictures out of an airplane. “Of course,” he replied enthusiastically, “that will be no problem for me.” He did get the job and as he left the interview, he thought to himself, “now how would one take a picture our of a plane?” The first day on his job he was shocked to hear the pilot jokingly say as they started the plane, “at some point we’ll remove this cover on the bottom of the plane. You need to be sure you tie yourself onto the rope provided on the side and ya best hold on; things can get a little bumpy. I’ve never had a photographer fall out while taking pictures and don’t want you to be the first.” “You know, Celia,” he said as he looked into my eyes, “I might not have known what was next in my life, but I was always up for the challenge. I might not have been here today if I hadn’t taken that first unknown step.”

Years ago I read a book about Georgia O’Keefe.. her life as a painter and sculptor. She painted very differently from those painting at the time. She said she loved to paint the desert because most people over look the beauty of the desert. She eventually moved to Sante Fe, New Mexico. One of my favorite paintings of hers is titled “Sky Above the Clouds.” On a trip to Santa Fe to sing, I snuck away to visit the Georgia O’Keefe Art Museum. Words do it that painting justice. Over the years, I have seen her work in museums across the country but this was breathtaking. One of the great surprises was seeing the original artwork of Sky Above the Clouds. I was expecting a small painting and when I walked into the room where it was on display I was struck by its majesty. The painting is the size of the room… huge and filled … bold and beautiful. Painters of the nineteenth century had always painted clouds as if they were looking up at them… she painted them as she saw them from a plane. Crazy. Yet, again in her style she knew her next would not look like her now. I have a poster of one of her works and the bottom quote reads, “ I wasn’t going to spend my life doing what had already been done.”

As I buckle in to write my second book, I feel that way today. I’m not sure all that is ahead of me. I’m not sure if I’m going to be prepared, but really that has never stopped me before and it shouldn’t stop me or you now.

What’s next for us? Really, I have a new glimpses… a few ideas… one thing I’m sure of … it will be new and fresh… if I can help it… I’m just gonna tie myself on and hold on with all my might and see where I end up…. I invite you to do the same…

Happy Flying Friends, Celia

This past week Max and Zach went to a midweek program for children at church. Our children’s director told me afterward of her discussions with them. She told them the story of Jesus meeting the disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35) and asked each child what they thought Jesus would say to each of them, today. Zach shared, “He’d say… he’d say, ‘I love you’” Then he smiled and asked her if that was the right answer. “He’d say, ‘I love you?’ That’s a great answer, Zach,” his teacher responded. Next Max told his answer, “Jesus would say, ‘Have hope.’” Max followed “have hope” with “have peace.”

Wow! Have hope. What an answer! I wish I had said that. What kind of life would you and I have if we lived everyday with those two gifts–hope and peace?

I am ever mindful of times in my life when I have felt surrounded by hope. It was like diving into the deep end of a swimming pool and everywhere I turned was water. There have been moments when I have felt engulfed in hope. A hope that is calming and soothing in nature. A hope that is not flashy, nor boastful, but is constant and steady, unwavering and assured of its place and its ultimate power.

Recently, a friend of mine gave me a piece of art. It is a statue and it stands in my kitchen beside a large yellow silk sunflower and a picture of an apple tree that Max and I drew for my dad when he lived with us. It is a carving of Smiling St. Anthony of Padua. He followed the steps of St. Francis as a wealthy child who traded his riches for a life of piety and poverty. He was famous for helping find lost stuff and for lost causes. I got so tickled at the thought of this appropriate saint. Then I read her card. It seemed right and just, because she said, “you don’t have lost cause in your vocabulary.” It was the perfect gift for me. I don’t mind hearing the word “no” because I know that my yes is right around the corner. I love betting on the long shot. I love it when the underdog wins. I love when people say, “well, I don’t think that can happen.”

When my father asked if he could come to my home from the hospital for his last days. I remember talking to the head cardiologist in the hallway. He looked straight into my eyes and said, “Young lady, I’m not sure you realize how difficult this task will be. You have two small children and a touring career and a very ill parent. I don’t believe you can do this.” I felt such a peace when I told him , “sir you don’t know me too well. Can’t is not in my vocabulary. I believe that I can and I will.” We were home by lunch and meeting with a wonderful team from Willowbrook Hospice to care for my father as he lived out his days the way he wanted to. I never once thought,” You know he’s right. I can’t do this. I’ll fail. I’ll make a mess of it.” Have I failed? Have I made a mess of things? There’s no question that I have, but I won’t have to say that I watched that particular ship sail by and did nothing.

I am ever hopeful that in jumping into the deep end, I will realize that I’m right where I need to be. In a simple way I do believe that I’ll have what I need in those moments. I believe that‘s what faith is and I do hear in my life Christ saying to me, “have hope.” My prayer is that you listen with me for those words.

all my love, Celia

Before I moved to Nashville, I met Jackie Street at the Cooker–a restaurant. Jackie had a couple of restaurants that were considered his offices and I met him at his office. He always had time to stop at your table and give you a hug. I never saw him in a hurry. His own troubles never were the topic of his conversation. I want to be more like Jackie Street. Jackie was an incredible bass play who played on lots of live shows and on albums. (I’m using the term album to mean a collection–Jackie probably played on 8 tracks, vinyl, cassettes and CDs). I will miss Jackie.

Comments about Jackie on NashvilleMusicPros.com

Jackie’s song credits on AllMusic.com. I’d be VERY surprised if you haven’t heard Jackie play bass on one of these songs.

If you saw SNL on Saturday 2/23/08, Carrie Underwood’s bass player Mark Childers had “IMO (in Memory of) Jackie Street” written on his bass in big letters. Jackie’s family was told before the broadcast about the tribute and it was a nice gesture. Mark played on “Live Christ” and the rest of the CD in my book.

Jackie, Rest In Peace

Valentines Cards paint love as simple and easy, but I’ve always thought that real-life love is messy.

Tonight I had a chance to be with my family. I thought about leaving tomorrow, gone for the weekend and idealized a loving family night together. What really happened was that we fussed and negotiated about the normal parent-child stuff and ended up apologizing before we headed outside to watch stars before a family skip-bo tournament. I had pulled out twister, boggle, hi-ho cherry-o and was ready for a fun evening. They’ll have to wait.

Oh well, that loving family evening didn’t turn out as I’d planned, but whatever does? As I’m writing this Zach is awake playing with an empty laundry bag. He’s walking around the kitchen. He’s supposed to be heading off to bed. I wanna be frustrated but it is really funny. He looks like a walking laundry bag.

On a visit to my home, a friend brought me a canvas that hangs in our kitchen. It says,

“In this home…
we do second chances,
we do grace, we do real,
we do mistakes,
we do I’m sorrys,
we do loud really well,
we do hugs,
we do family,
we do love.”

That sums up our family. It can be a mess, but it’s a lovely mess and it’s our mess.

This past week I was with a group of teenage students. I told them about the times that Zach used to say, “I love you one thousand.” Then he started saying, “ I love you 1,016,” then one day he said, “I love you like a chicken.” (I’m not really sure what that means. Maybe it means, I love you with all I can think of.) I have shared this phrase with tens of thousands of concert-listeners. This weekend I shared that story and asked the youth to greet each other. Tell someone you’re glad they came this weekend or maybe that you love them or maybe that you love them like a chicken. On the way to the bonfire, Emily said, “I don’t get the ‘I love you.’ I mean tell a stranger or someone you hardly know that you love them. Isn’t that a little awkward and forced.” Well I smiled, I said to Emily, “maybe I needed to say it as much as or more than someone else needed to hear it.” “I get it she said, we could all use a little more love in our lives right?” Even it it’s messy or unexpected or feels a little out of place or strange.

I thought of a conversation I had recently with a friend who I hadn’t heard from in some time. I had called her a few months back with a prayer request and didn’t heard back from her, immediately. Last week, we finally connected. Within minutes of our talk she apologized for not returning my call. First I laughed and said I am a moving target, so you probably wouldn’t have gotten me either and again she said, Celia, I love you and am so sorry I didn’t call you back. It had obviously bothered her more than it bothered me. All I could say was I love you and love isn’t like that. It doesn’t want to make someone else feel bad. It doesn’t want a friend to feel horrible (“aherrible”- as Zach used to say. He insisted adamantly that he had the word correct and you didn’t.) The only way to love is messy. Recently a new friend and I spent an evening together and at one point she said, I’m gonna let you down sometime. It thought , “but I might let you down first.”Isn’t that how life and love are.

Back home, as the lights are low and every one’s asleep but me and my Dog Lilly, I head to the kitchen for a glass of water. The sign in my kitchen catches my eye. I want to grab and sharpie marker and add to it, “we do messes” Love is messy. It’s heart breaking it’s frustrating, it’s complicated, it’s wonderful, it’s forgiving, it’s a million things and more. The only way for it not to be a mess is not to love.

My prayer for you and I is that we that we willl know how loved we are. Because to be honest, more than loves is a mess, I am a mess in spite of it. There is a God who knows all the stuff hidden under my bed and that same God loves me now more than I could ever imagine and loves you the same.

Watch some stars with someone you love this week. Tell someone you love them like a chicken.

Yours… Celia

While decorating our home for the Christmas holidays, I realized I couldn’t find baby Jesus from one of our nativity sets.

He was there last year. After Christmas, I packed him up carefully knowing I’d want to know right where to find him when I set out my collection of nativity sets (does 4 make a collection? Max has collected 13 webkinz and Zach 11, now those are collections. Maybe I have a group.) Anyway, the last set was missing baby Jesus. For days I’d walk by the piano where they all were set up and every time I’d say, “ugh” where is baby Jesus?” And yes, I’ll admit I do find myself praying to the infant Jesus during this season (8 pound 6 ounce or otherwise.) As I continued decorating, I began the search through every box of ornaments, “now baby Jesus, OK, if you know me you know that I lose things, but this is it.” I mean really, Celia. Finally 8 hours later in the bottom of the last box upside down, beside a cotton ball angel, there he was. What a relief! I laughed about it and knew I wanted to share my mishap with you.

The more I thought about this devotion and about losing and finding Jesus, I recalled a sermon I heard recently. While attending Calvary Community Church in Westlake, California I got the chance to hear a guest preacher Pastor Bill Hybels, the founding pastor of Willow Creek Community Church. He preached about Jesus and the poor. When I tell you that I was moved, those words do fall short. I heard the sermon three times (once on Saturday night and twice on Sunday morning.) During the second service, I was wrecked. I began to cry and to feel God’s Spirit move over me. I could barely sit in my seat. I have sung at Calvary several times and always find it warm and inspiring, but this week was different. Friday evening, I spoke and sang at their women’s tea with 450 incredible women. Now that I think about it, I can’t think of a group I’ve spoken to that I wasn’t drawn to and afterwards felt like I’ve been with old friends. Our good friends on staff, Rex and Andrea asked us if we’d extend our visit through the weekend and I’m so glad we did. Bill’s sermon was about those times in journey as Christ-followers when we have had a “I just got my world rocked” moment.

Along my way in life, these are a few of my aha moments in life and faith.:

• Discovering a heart for missions and service from a few youth workers who nurtured that in me.
• Realizing at my first teaching appointment situated in an low income neighborhood that we must do more to be inclusive. Everyone is God’s child. We can all encourage and inspire.
• During the deaths of several family members–my sister, my mother and fathers death. I became profoundly aware that we are not alone. God is in the midst of our suffering. Friends are family and the local church have opportunities daily to be Christ’s hands and feet.
• Through sponsoring a child, if I only change one child’s life, that’s enough.
• From college days traveling the world, when need each other and we have more in common that we think.
• From recent news from around the world and driven home by the movie Hotel Rwanda I was reminded who my neighbor is. Moved to tears I remember feeling the same about the Holocaust museum in DC. We may be the only ones who can help and if we don’t, those in need will perish.
• Having Max and Zach I discovered how few things are eternal.

Bill Hybels spoke of his own expereinces and passion for the poor. He asked us to reflect on a simple question. “When others speak your name, do they say of you, ‘she has a heart for the poor’?” I sat there and thought about what others would say. Obviously I have a heart for music, a heart for the church, I love others. I think I live for others, within reach, but what about those I’ll never reach or meet? What about those in need every day from gut wrenching hunger, lack of shelter, medicine, education, employment? I should be on my knees everyday saying, “Lord, thank you help me not turn a blind eye to those who need me the most.” Where would Jesus be if he were here today? My best guess is that he would be on the streets with those in need. Bill mentioned a phrase from scripture, “life, that is truly life.” He told of helping a woman in Africa to her hut with a bag of food and praying with her. In that moment he had a “rock your world” moment. Life that was truly life, was crystal clear.

As I write this, I am remembering a song writing appointment two weeks ago with two of my favorite song writers. One told of a woman in a friend’s neighborhood who was experiencing hard times. Her husband had left her with two small children and she was barely getting by. She was a young mom alone and a gentleman in his eighties who had always been kind to her, saw her struggle and came to her aid. He had been her neighbor for years and he knew her story. He walked with a coffee can door to door to his neighbors, pointed to her house and said, “see that house, that women in there is hurtin’, she needs some help. What can you do to help her?” Then he went to her home and piled up the money on the table and said, “I hope that helps.” Whew, that’s the good news. That’s the kind of love that doesn’t care how it looks. It is not always wrapped in pretty paper with a neat bow. It might look like a rusted old coffee can.

I know what this season brings. Many of us are busy, treading the waters of the commercialism of the holidays, squeezed (I just cannot bring myself to spend $80 on a sherbert bunny webkinz for Max’s collection), stressed over money or over time, or over our loved ones or sad (if we’ve lost someone) or maybe a strained relationship with someone we’re going to have to be with in a week. All the while I’m wondering what have we done with Jesus. I know this is what I need to be reminded of. To have a heart like Christ we must have a heart for what Christ had a heart for. That’s my prayer this year. “Baby Jesus be born in my heart once again. Wreck me today for what matters to you. Use me to bring your goodness here on earth, that we might find you and know life that is truly life.”

I love you all and thank God for you in my life. You are a blessing Merry Christmas!

Celia

P.S. I hope you get the easy bake oven and moon boots this year or whatever is on your list

These thoughts took place between 1 PM and 2 PM. I must admit, since my last newsletter (which has been a few months) something has happened. I’ve become a little obsessed with Jack Bauer, the main character in the television show “24″. He works for a government branch that is involved in counter- terrorism. Ron knows and he’s hooked too. The show is in it’s 7th season and a friend of mine loaned me the first season on DVD to watch during my travels. It sat on my bedroom dresser for a month before I began watching it. If you haven’t watched it, the show is broken down by the hours in a day. To watch one 24 episode season is to watch one 24 hour day. Every single episode ends with a cliff hanger–one that leaves the watcher wanting more and wondering what in the world is going to happen to this guy next!

I was on the road traveling and mentioned to a youth director friend of mine prior to beginning the series that someone had given it to us. “Be careful,” he said as he laughed. “My wife and I rented the first season,” he recalled “and we thought after we put our kids to bed we’d watch a few episodes just to see if we liked it. We began watching early that evening. We got to midnight and said we better stop.” He smiled and said, “at 8 am we turned it off and woke the kids for the day.” It is crazy to see what all can happen in just one day!

The show is presented in real time, with an hour representing an hour. It is funny to observe how life is presented in this story with a season representing one 24 hour day.

It’s been a fun ride to see how all of the different characters and the way their lives weave together and how that is revealed just a little bit at a time.

I have some observations to share:

First, Jack is single focused. He knows the purpose of his mission. Regardless of the object of his mission, Jack seems to be single focused on whatever the task at hand is. There is often quite a bit of potential distractors in the mix, but Jack sticks to his mission.

Second Jack has an uncanny ability to know who to trust. In the show there are definitely people who should not be trusted. Time and time again, Jack realizes who is really trust worthy. Think about that in your own life. OK I’ll go first. On the surface, I trust everyone. But when it comes down to it., I’m not a good role model for trust. I forgot a close friend’s birthday this week and on the day, at the ninth hour, I called him and said, “oh no.” I had no card and no gift. I thought for sure I’d remember and be the one he could count on to make his day special. If you give me a piece of paper with your name and number on it, well it might just might go to the place where all my other lost stuff is. Some airport lost and found in Phoenix, on some shelf in the back. If you ask me to pray about something for you, I really try to remember. I might think about it after the thing I was suppose to pray for. OK, I’m just being honest.. But then there’s that moment when you really get my attention and say, “Celia I need you to help me with this.” Do you have someone like that? I called a friend last week just to hear her voice, just to touch down and say I love you. She has seen the good and bad in my life and I have seen hers. I can trust her with all of it. The last episode I saw Jack was captured and in the last seconds of the show he said, “can I make one call?” Even Jack has a someone he can call, someone he can say, “this thing happened to me.” I’m not sure you can do anything about it, but I thought of you and I called to say I need you. Who do you trust with your everything?

A third theme is that Jack has ability to get the job done alone. Many times Jack finds himself going in before back-up arrives. His advisors have asked and pleaded with him to wait. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. He’s caught by the bad guys, because maybe there were too many bad guys or maybe he couldn’t see that one guy behind the tree. Why do I attempto to work like that? I think foolishly that I can do this by myself, all alone, with no back up. Like Jack, many times I pull it off and that’s insane, because sometimes, I don’t. What I have learned is that trust goes hand in hand with this concept. There are some people I can trust my life to and there are those who will be there for me as my partners in life. Beyond them there is my faith which I know that I know God’s realness and steadfastness–the always-in-the-midst-of-my-sea-of-maybes.

I joke and say if we’re alive and well then Jack Bauer is doing his job, but I know better. Jack is not the source of my security. If I’m alive and well it’s because I know who I am; I’m doing things that I love; I’m surrounded with people who know me and love me; I have a faith that is real and true and I can trust others with my heart and life.

I’m not alone and neither are you.

These thoughts will self-destruct in 30 seconds.

Have you ever had a day when you just want the world to go away? Like a nagging sister, the world is right there– tagging along, always needing something and making you tired and grumpy! I had a day like that recently.

When I woke up, the world had already begun its spin and I was sucked into the spin within my first hour. How can it be? I just woke up! How early do I need to get up, so that I’m not behind? Some days it seems like some time before 5:00 AM would do it. But who gets up before 5:00?–dairy farmers. I’m sure dairy farmers don’t care what the world thinks. They’re too busy taking care of cows. That’s exactly what I need, a cow.

Next thing I know I’m running out the door. Last month I wrote a song that has a line in it: “getting out the door’s like getting out of quicksand.” Yes, that’s true for me. I ran out of the door and started driving down my driveway only to stop the car and run back into the house to get the thing I swore I woudn’t forget. Ugh. Then I ran back to the car. The last time I had a start like this I drove off with my favorite red coffee cup on the back bumper of the car and you got it. It fell off somewhere and I have never seen the pieces it left behind. I drove by the area I think it flung itself into only to find high grass and a deep ditch. I didn’t check the bumper that morning but nothing would have surprised me. I loved that coffee mug.

I made it to school in time to drop boys off. It rained today, so when they got out of the car instead of the usual in the air kisses that they blow me, they blew me off and headed for the front door of the school in the rain. That’s ok. We had a plan for today. I parked the car and met them inside to deliver some slices of leftover chocolate cake to some of their teachers, past and present. As I shared the cake with Zach’s teacher, I said, “just a little sunshine coming your way!” As I headed to the next teacher– the PE coach, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a school door. I was wearing no make-up, but wet hair from the rain. All I made time for this morning was my frumpy clothes. Today would have been a great day for sleeping in. The PE coach was out sick, so we gave a piece of cake to a friend down the hall who was thrilled.

Next, I stopped off at Max’s class and asked his teacher if she had any work I could help with. Three hours later I finished organizing a year’s worth of second grade readers. I know I helped, but I was hoping for something artistic, like designing a colorful decoration for the hallway. Now, I love doing that, but organization is not my gift. But I’m sure that’s what she needed today and looking back, I’m glad I could help. When you think of me, don’t think of filing. OK, cows are starting to look better.

I headed home to make some phone calls and grab lunch. Right before I turned the car off it started making a funny sound. You know the sound, the one that sounds like money. OK, by now the world is really getting on my nerves! We just replaced a radiator. I wonder how much it costs to maintain a cow.

When I picked up Max and Zach we headed to Max’s class and decorated the hallway. A friend of mine came by and had her daughter out on the playground and asked if the boys could join them. “Are you nuts,” I thought, “how long can you keep them?” I mean, “sure that’s a wonderful idea.” Three hours later, our hallway of trees, butterflies, grasshoppers and flowers was complete.

Upon arriving home, everyone read books. Then Max did his homework. We all ate our slightly overcooked dinner together and made designs with a Spirograph. Do you remember those? We made our way to bed and read “The Day Jimmy’s Boa Ate the Wash” which was a great book for today. We said prayers and I kissed boys goodnight. Then I was off to watch Grey’s Anatomy–thank goodness for TIVO. Who’d have thought time-shifting content could be so life changing and miraculous? Until the unthinkable happened–the last 5 minutes of Grey’s was not recorded. I know that I can get someone to tell me what happened, but at the time, let’s just say, it took my breath away. Now that I think about it, it’s kinda funny. I’ll bet if I was a dairy farmer, I wouldn’t have time to be interested in TV shows. I’d be waking up at 5 or 3 am to milk the cows instead, here I am with my day.

Someone was born today… someone died… someone fell in love… someone got closer to curing AIDS or a form of cancer… someone broke up with their boyfriend… someone celebrated a birthday with family and friends… someone celebrated a birthday alone… someone climbed Mount Everest… someone got lost… someone lost their first tooth… someone got their first job… someone found out that the cancer is still there…someone found out they are not sick anymore… someone else learned they are going to have a baby… someone felt loved, while someone else thought of taking their own life… all of this happened and so much more… and I felt all day like I wanted a do-over. Maybe that’s just it, we don’t get one. Max’s pre-school teacher Ms Beth used to say, “you get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.” Maybe today was all the best and worst rolled together in into 24 hours, but it was my day. It just was. At the end of it, I find myself falling on my knees, thankful to God for all of it. For those who know the real “dirty-hair-pulled-on-top-of-my-head,-didn’t-take-a-shower-yet,-my-house-isn’t-clean-and-won’t-be-until-I-don’t-know-when,-got-$1.34-in-my-purse,” me. Those last five minutes of Grey’s Anatomy can be lost forever. I didn’t lose one minute of my day. Each moment I felt–the joy and disappointment. Tonight while preparing dinner…. I over-cooked a grilled cheese sandwich and I started crying. Zach looked up from the table and said, “what is it, Celia? is it just everything?” And I thought, “yep it is.” Somedays are like that even for dairy farmers.

This is the day that the Lord has made… let us rejoice and be glad in it. PS118:24

Who do you ask for directions? I had an experience last month that got me thinking.

I was returning from a visit with my friend Kathleen and I arrived early at my gate at the D/FW Airport, so I picked up breakfast from the McDonald’s in my terminal. Upon returning to my gate I noticed an empty information booth. It was perfect — no one was sitting there; it had a counter and a chair; it was near the door at my gate and it was near the main floor to the terminal. It would be a great place to enjoy my breakfast and to people-watch (or so I thought)! So I did what I normally do, I made myself at home. Placing my carry on bags underneath the booth, I took a seat and began eating my breakfast. Something funny happened. Instead of my watching people, people started watching me. Above my head was a sign that said, “information.” As folks walked by, they stopped. At first I thought, “surely they will know that I’m just at traveler, like them, stopping to eat my breakfast.” I mean come on my sausage biscuit was sitting right there next to my Starbucks. OK I love McDonalds breakfast… but Starbucks was a must! I guess they thought that I had some information they needed and they began to stop.

“Excuse me, do you know how to get to Terminal C?” As I looked up at a family of four, “Sure,” I answered. Catch the Skylink right behind this hallway and it will take you right there. It’s just two stops away and you’ll be there in no time,” I smiled.

A man came by wearing a “Life is Good” baseball cap on his head. “Say can you help me get to the extended parking? I’m having trouble remembering which bus to catch?” “Alright,” I said, “this one’s a little tough.” There was a map nearby and I said, “it might take a while, but be patient you’ll get there. The trams do come my quickly and when I’ve been away from my car for a while I have to stop and think ‘OK. now where did I leave you?’” And off he went.

A lovely retired couple came by asking how one might change a flights and leave a little later on another flight. Hmmmmm I knew they’d need a higher power. “You know what? You’ll need a gate agent to help you. I can’t do that one.” So I directed them to the nearest gate where a friendly agent quickly began to pull up their record and redirect there route home. After a while I picked up my biscuit and thought I might as well eat while I’m here. I called my friend Kathleen and I got so tickled as we laughed at how once again I had found myself in an interesting situation. I told her it was funny as I watched the family of four run off to catch the Skylink train to make their flight. They all smiled and waved at me, “hey thanks for the help.” “Have a fun trip,” I laughed. Kathleen and I giggled that I should leave while I could, before I sent someone in the wrong direction or gave out bad advice and made their trip worse.

One of my favorite movies as a child was “The Great Impostor (1961).” Tony Curtis starred in it. His character took on roles of different people. At times others thought him to be that person and they treated him as if he was. Once he was a doctor and once a warden of a prison. The funny thing is that he was good at his roles. He became who others thought of him to be. Instead of being just the impostor, he genuinely became that person and really was quite good at helping people and at making a difference. Yet he was always wondering if he would be discovered.

The role of information expert fell on me by accident and I don’t encourage pretending like someone you are not, but I felt a little bit like I was in that movie while I sat at that booth. I wondered if someone would finally see me for who I was. I was not the information lady, but someone waiting for a plane and eating my breakfast. I wondered if anyone from my flight had seen me at the booth and wondered “what in the world? What’s she doing? She can’t sit there. What information does she have that can help? There needs to be a qualified official information person in that chair.” I just smiled and thought, “you will have to tell it to the 25 people who I just helped along their way.”

I wonder how it can be that I’m the person being asked for directions when, I’m guessing much of the time. And there are moments when I think, “now I don’t have the answer for you, but I’m here with you and I can point you in a direction I’d look if I were you.”

Here’s the thing, you never know where you’ll find information about your direction and who might be the one to lead you there. God is using all of us. We are all instruments. Even if we don’t feel like we should be sitting in the information booth.

My desire is to move people and I think music is the way I’m called to do so. Sometimes it’s not just a moving of the heart or emotion, it’s more like pointing the way. How do I get from here to there? How do I get un-lost? How can I understand which way to go from here?

I have to tell you that as that family ran by, I had a moment when I thought, “this is it. This is my purpose… to help others on the way to somewhere.” I’m not sure how it works. I spend my days writing and singing songs, telling stories, taking morning walks, chatting over coffee, sharing great dinners, taking road trips, sharing music that I love with others, eating birthday cake to remember someone special, going to a water park, making and taking phone calls, making late trips to sit by a friend’s side and offering words of help and comfort. Sometimes — OK many times – it’s just about being there.

Who are you called to help? Who is your neighbor? Who is near you? Sometimes it is a proximity thing — Love God with all you heart, mind and strength and love your neighbor as yourself. The best thing I had to share at that empty information booth that day was myself.

Blessings to you fellow travelers, I love you and my deepest prayer is that wherever these days lead you, that you will feel God’s loving arms around you and know as you journey that you are not alone.

Celia

PS To the guy looking for extended parking: I’m sorry if I didn’t say it at first, but you might have needed to have caught the bus on the lower level. I hope you made it to your car that day. Loved the hat. Life is good!

A few nights ago I was helping my sons get ready for bed. I had Max (the oldest) do the usual routine: bath, put jammies on, brush teeth and make the last potty stop. Then I said, “find brother and tell him you love him just because.” So he did. Zach smiled as he hugged him and told him “ I love you.” Then it was Zach’s turn: bath, jammies, teeth, last trip to the potty and find your brother, tell him you love him just because. So he did. Did I mentioned after each declaration of love that the recipient was wrestled to the ground just to make sure they got the message. That was not what I envisioned. It was still one of those times when you remember what is important.

During a retreat I led last month, I sat with a girl who told me that she was struggling with her younger brother. She lamented that he was mean to her and he just didn’t get it. It was clear that she loved her brother deeply. She had learned how fragile life was and she wanted her eighth grade brother to get it. I said, “he’s just being a little brother. You keep telling him you love him, better yet show him how you feel. Find how what he likes to do and do it with him. Find out what he loves just because. Show him what it means to care about him and then love the brother you have today–the way he is right now. Make it about the giving. One day maybe he’ll look back and see the gift he has in you.” I encouraged her to see the gift today that she has in him.

She sent me a text message after the retreat. She said she had just returned from her brother’s band concert. He played drums. I told her about Max and Zach’s night. One day maybe I won’t have to remind them–they’ll just say it because. Because we need to use those words, because we all need to hear those words. At the end of our text conversation, I said, “sometimes the just because moments make all the other ones bearable.”

Isn’t that true? Think about it. Those people who do things for you just because, hold a special place in your heart and in mine. First, they get you what you love and they cherish it! Isn’t it wonderful to have someone know you? Do you have someone who knows what you love? Maybe they know your birthday.. your hard days.. your favorite things? To be known is not only important, it’s sacred. Second, they remember. Not only do they know, but they remember. Third, they follow through. Sometimes I do the first parts well, but I get lost in the third part… the doing. I watch, I listen, I file away, I stop, I ask, I may have the best intentions, but sometimes I don’t get to the finish line. That’s just crazy–I buy the card and forget to send it. I think of them during the day, but just don’t get to the phone to call them. Every once in a while, I remember and I do the right thing.! The look on their face, their voice on the phone when they received a card out of the blue just because. That is what it’s all about. I am a true believer that those moments of receiving carrying us through, because they’ve made the difference in my life.

Last month, I met a friend at the grocery store just because. I loved her and I tracked her down. As I walked through the check out with her, I thought about all the little things she has meant to me over the past years and about the ways I have been there for her. I know God was a part of my being in that grocery store. I also know that on that day, I was part of bringing God’s kingdom, in some small way. My week with her turned out to be just one of those weeks and really it began at the grocery check out aisle four.

A few days ago, I called a friend that came to mind. I had not talked with him in months and I just said, I’m not sure what’s going on but you were on my mind and I called to tell you I loved you just because I do. For a moment the phone was silent, then he said, “I’m not sure how you knew that today was a bit of a set back and a snag, but thanks for the call.” To know someone, to remember, to follow through, to be a part of their moments, to speak those words, to just do something for someone else is the thing. I know it is God’s work that we get to be small part of.

I encourage you to make some moments for someone esle this summer. — Celia

P.S. I have been thinking about writing this for a week and as I sat down to write, I received a card from another friend that started with two words, “Just because.”

What a wonderful evening last night was! Click here to learn more about the event.

She stared directly at me and burned a hole in me with her dark brown eyes. She was holding her mother’s hand and lagging a little behind her mother’s pace. Her red dress was what first caught my eyes and then her face drew everything toward her. She really looked at me as if she knew me and knew all about my life. I wish I could use the right words to describe what I felt but in a minute I knew she knew me. Right there at gate C14, as I made my way to baggage claim, a 2-year-old named Sierra captivated me. Her mother walked by me and she turned her body around to look at me. She began waving and then stopped. I of course, stopped and said, I see you… you are beautiful. What’s your name? As I bent down to talk to her, she had stopped her mother as well. The mother’s eyes were gentle but tired and she smiled and said, Her name is Sierra. By then Sierra and I were in full embrace and I said again, “I see you and I love you.” I had been away from Max, Zach and Ron for days and I was so thankful for Sierra’s hug. As her mother began to pull away, Sierra motioned kisses to me in the air. an appropriate farewell for a 2 year old. Her hair covered in red ponytails, her white shoes, her red polka dot dress, as cute as they were, all paled in comparison to the countenance on her face–pure love.

Have you ever met anyone and see it shining from their faces? And then there’s the knowing… the real, genuine, truthful knowing that is exchanged in the connection. It was more than words shared, because to be honest, I was the only one talking. Her mother after sharing her named, sheepishly said, “thank you,” when I commented on her beauty. As they walked away, I stood and told Sierra “I’ll see you another day. Go with your Mamma, she’s a good Mamma and she loves you and I’ll see you another day. Sierra continued to blow kisses until finally she turned around to catch up with her mother’s stride.

As I made my way down the hallway toward baggage claim and toward my family I was thankful for the gift of our encounter. I have been pondering this season… all it means and all I still don’t comprehend about these holy days. This morning, Zach summed it up on the way to school. We were talking about Jesus and about Easter. We talked about how Jesus came to teach about God’s love and show us how much we are loved and he eventually died doing so. Zach one of my back seat theologians said, “yea, that Jesus loves us more than we can know.” That sums it up for me. Max and I agreed and I wished I had said it that way ‘cause it’s true.

Every once in a while I am reminded of how that love knows me, claims me, sustains me, invites me, embraces me and sees me. Like my meeting with Sierra. Out of nowhere I’m instantly reconnected and reminded and overwhelmed with more love than I can know. I wish that for you. If you see a little girl in a red polka dotted dress, don’t pass her by. She may be Christ’s messenger with a kiss or a hug for you on your journey. It is almost easier to forget to be on the lookout for the angels that live and visit us everyday as messengers of God’s love. Who knows, maybe God was using me that day to see Sierra and her mom and to be of an encourager for them along their way; just as they were to me.

As Paul is closing his letter to the Hebrews, he writes these words, “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:1-2 NRSV)

I sang for a leadership event for Calvary Community Church in the Los Angeles area last month. A small group of leaders and chosen influencers gathered to focus on making their church a more hospitable place. We talked about fun, we talked about being inviting and we talked about being on the lookout. One lady said it well when she said that she was much better at recognizing opportunities in her rear view mirror. I’m not sure how it works, but God is moving and I’m looking out my windshield at what’s coming. Join me on the lookout.

Love you, Celia