Pictured above is my high school speech team, with my coach at the top.
I have been able to win at the two-truths-and-a-lie game by including a statement that I was runner-up in a Miss Teen USA pageant. Maybe I should be insulted that people think that's a lie?
My junior high years took a serious toll on my self-esteem. Although I began my school years as an extrovert, I had become very fearful of rejection. My mother was reading the paper one weekend morning and found an ad for the area teen pageant, which extolled the virtues of participation, including more self-confidence.
For whatever reason, I let her convince me to enter the pageant and I set about conquering my fear of asking businesses to sponsor me. The pageant was scheduled for a Sunday and we had a bit of a drive to get to the church where it was being held. That morning I was listening to the radio while I was doing my makeup and a sermon was on. The pastor said, "The Lord stands with the losers of the world. Just when you are about to became a winner, God changes the rules." I thought that was a nice sentiment, but really didn't want to be a loser.
My mom, my aunt, and I got in the car and drove to the church. I am not sure if my mom took a wrong turn or if we were supposed to be driving on a gravel road, but I remember distinctly her mowing down a flock of chickens that were in her way. She didn't seem the slightest bit remorseful either! I was concerned that our bumper would be covered in blood and feathers.
Once at the church, I was happy to discover that there were only two of us entered in the pageant from my county. I figured I was a shoe in! But you already know that I took second place. As I went back to the prep room following the announcements, I was honestly feeling pretty humiliated. As I fought back tears, I remembered the sermon I'd heard. That's when my attitude completely changed. I really felt like God was standing with me. I was actually in a great mood! I probably teased my mom all the way home about her chicken massacre.
The following fall, I was in a high school speech class. Our assignment was to give a personal experience speech. I spoke about my experience in the pageant and how God had taught me what winning really means. After class, my teacher told me I needed to give that speech in competition. My sophomore year of high school, that's exactly what I did. Many times after giving that speech, other competitors would come up and thank me for sharing my experience and my faith. An extra bonus was the winning season I had.
Becoming a loser at a beauty pageant was the beginning of a speaking ministry that continues today. It was also the beginning of my understanding of God's ways. He has consistently used my failures and disappointments to change me and even to bless me. I have learned that when God stands with you, there is really no way you can lose.
This is what the LORD says— your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: “I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go. (Isaiah 48:17)
This is my brother with the vehicle we referred to as "The Plymouth." After the accident, it was our only car–at least for a while.
People are shocked when I explain that I was allowed to drive at 14 in South Dakota (dawn to dusk). They should be shocked! If they only knew the crazy way we drove at that age. We drove 80 miles an hour on gravel hills because fish tailing was fun. We drove one another's cars, or should I say we drove the cars that belonged to one another's parents. My girlfriend stopped her vehicle by throwing the transmission into park. You can imagine how excited I am to have my own kids get behind the wheel.
When I was 16, I could drive at night, and often did. We lived a good distance from my high school and I was involved in a number of extracurricular activities that kept me from home until later. I also had a boyfriend (don't tell my kids). I don't recall what had me driving the Plymouth home in the dark alone one particular evening, but I will never forget the drive.
On a dark and deserted county road, I suddenly heard a voice yell, "Watch out for that deer!" I was so startled, I slammed on the brakes. That's when a deer ran across the road in front of me. I spent the rest of the trip home trying to figure out what had just happened.
Had I seen the deer in my peripheral vision? Honestly, no. Was I looking out for deer? No again. Whose voice was that? Honestly, it seemed to be mine, but like someone else had taken over my head. It was too loud to be a thought. What would have happened if I had not heard the voice? Would I have been injured or killed? Would another accident have crippled my family financially and emotionally?
1 Kings 19:12 calls God's communication "a still small voice." I can't recall God ever yelling at me other than the night I avoided a deer collision. But I have heard His still small voice many times. I look forward to telling you what He had to say.
Could He be speaking to you, too?
for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care. Today, if only you would hear his voice (Psalm 95:7)
Every year for many years, my family and some family friends took a weekend vacation at a Holiday Inn. We rented poolside rooms, went out to eat, and saw movies. It was a real treat that we looked forward to every winter.
My freshman year of high school, we drove about an hour away to a different Holiday Inn only to discover that they hadn't given us poolside rooms. The parents got reservations at a different Holiday Inn near where our friends lived, so we got back on the road.
Our friends wanted to stop and get something from home, so we waited for them out in the car. As I waited, I thought, "I don't want to go." I questioned myself on this reaction because I absolutely loved these weekends with our friends. No matter how rational I tried to be, I couldn't shake the feeling. I even considered telling everyone that I didn't want to go, but I knew they would think I was crazy. I figured I was.
We checked into the hotel, played some mini golf, and went out for a yummy pizza dinner. I went out to the parking lot of the restaurant and lifted up the door handle of our Volare. It was the only brand new car my parents had ever purchased. Without thinking much about it, I let the door handle go and I got into the car with my friends. This was very atypical behavior for me. I wasn't one to decide to ride with another family on a whim. Our friends' son climbed into the back seat of our car since I was taking his spot.
We made the drive through a residential area on our way back to the hotel that night. My family was in front of our friends' car. I saw a car speeding and swerving wildly up ahead of us. I watched as though seeing a movie in which I thought for sure the out-of-control car was going to miss my family. At the last second, the car careened into the front of my family's vehicle sending it into a 360 spin.
The next hours were horrific. My dad stumbled out of the vehicle with blood pouring down his face. The drunk and high driver put his head through the windshield of his car, but came over to my mother who was wedged under the dash, and tried to pull her out of the vehicle. Our friend, and the driver of the car I was in, was a police officer and immediately put a stop to that. My mother's arm was shattered and it took more than a year of surgeries and treatment for her to recover. She was never able to return to her previous position as a service technician for Sears. My brother came out of car with the knee of his pants soaked in blood. He and my dad were treated at the hospital and released. I never saw our friend's son, but learned that he had pushed the car's headrest (that we'd never been able to budge) up into the air with his mouth. He required a lot of dental work as a result of the accident. My baby brother, fortunately, wasn't with us.
After the initial shock wore off, I wondered at my initial reaction to our trip and at my decision to ride with my friends. Had God been trying to protect us? Why wasn't I in that car? Even though our family, friends, and especially my mother suffered much as the result of the accident, we were also protected. No one lost their lives. It could have been much, much worse.
Since the accident, I have learned to listen more closely to God's warnings. I have also learned that even when I forge ahead anyway, I am still under His protection. As much pain as I've experienced in life, without Christ, it could have been much, much worse.
But as for me, afflicted and in pain— may your salvation, God, protect me. (Psalm 69:29)
I returned to my hometown junior high school after a five year absence. There were just over fifty students in my class, so it was easy to get to know everyone again. What was hard was understanding why the girls in particular treated one another so poorly. Like some kind of crazy lottery, a girl was chosen without much rhyme or reason to be "dropped."
Dropping meant that none of the girls would speak to you. You were shunned. Completely. Anyone (including boys) who dared to associate with the dropped girl would also be shunned. The dropped girl ate alone. She walked back to school from having lunch in the cafeteria, followed by a group of girls who mocked and ridiculed her. I watched as girls subjected to this treatment completely fell apart. Then as quickly as the girl had been dropped, she was restored.
It wasn't long after I arrived at school before I took my turn. It's no wonder. I was the "new girl." I wasn't shocked that I had been dropped. But I was devastated by how long I was the favorite social outcast.
I had an okay time of it outside of school. I had a friend I spent time with. But school itself was unbearable. As a psychologist, I have asked myself why my dropping went on so long. I think one reason was that I never buckled. Unlike some other girls who sobbed, begging for it to stop, I never let anyone see me cry. I won't say how long the ordeal lasted so I don't exaggerate. All I know is that it was an eternity for a junior high girl.
I had often prayed and cried out to God for help. Then one night I had a dream that it was over. When I woke up I knew that this was God's answer. The end of this lonely road was in sight. I felt compelled to write a letter of submission to the girl who seemed to be the dropping ringleader. I heard her reading it out loud to some of the other girls. She was clearly shocked. My status was restored within days of my dream.
In high school, the practice of dropping ended. I went on to become vice president of my class and was on the homecoming court. Since graduating from high school, the dropping ring leader seems to be the last person you'd ever expect to be a "mean girl."
In junior high, I felt completely alone, but I wasn't. God was with me and is with me still.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)
This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of my dad and me. I look like I'm about two and he has that same patient, teaching look he always had with me.
My father's family was twice the size of mine, but unfortunately wasn't twice the fun. His father was an abusive alcoholic. Dad was sent to live with and work for an abusive uncle at the age of four. He quit school after the eighth grade to help support his family. At eighteen he was drafted and was sent to the German front lines in World War II. While there, his life was in constant jeopardy and he watched many of his friends die.
Dad came home to discover that his father had drunk up all the money he had sent home from the service. He eventually married twice and was left twice. When he married my mother and became a father to me in his early forties, he was ecstatic. I can't tell you that he was a perfect father. Years of trauma and mistreatment took its toll on my dad emotionally. But I can tell you that he wasn't an alcoholic, nor was he ever abusive to me. He told me he loved me and was proud of me all the time. He constantly made me laugh. He was one of the most humble men I've ever known. He taught me how to fish, fast pitch softball, and basic carpentry skills. He loved beating me in cribbage. When I was on my own, he bailed me out of several financial jams I got myself into and wrote me precious letters. In one letter he wrote, "I've been thinking of you all week, so I thought I'd better write."
My dad's parenting is a testimony of God's faithfulness in my life. He was the father I wish he had had.
And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children… (Luke 1:17)
Several years ago, I was inspired by these verses to create a scrapbook of God’s faithfulness to me that I’m calling my Joshua Journal:
5 and said to them, “Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, 6 to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 7 tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.” (Joshua 4)
I recently took stock of the huge number of scrapbooking projects I want to complete and reluctantly admitted that I will never be able to complete them all. So I asked myself which projects I would really regret not completing in my lifetime and this particular one was number two (my youngest’s baby book is #1! I just have to do the journaling :-). I want to have an 8×8 digital photobook that I can give to each of my children that is like the pile of stones in Joshua, testifying to the amazing things the Lord has done for me. I dream that they will read it to my grandchildren and maybe my great-grandchildren, too. I also want to have a copy in my purse that I can use in sharing with people I meet the reason for the hope that I have.
I realized that if I blog each story, I can not only share these testaments of God’s faithfulness with all of you, but it will motivate me to finish the book! If a particular story is meaningful to you or if I fall off the wagon and quit posting them before I announce that volume 1 is complete, will you please comment? Thank you so much! I would love it if I inspire you to do the same. Please link up to your own stories!
I’m a Christian psychologist turned homeschooling mother of six. My life can be a little crazy, so I look for sanity-saving ideas to use and share. I hope you’ll read my About page to learn more.
