Thursday, June 30, 2011


PHOTO: My baby boy, Joshua, a few years ago now...


LuLu-ism #18: "Life is like a box of chocolates." Phooey! It’s chocolates that have gotten me into this mess… overweight and pedaling for my life…

This morning LuLu and I had a perfect ride. Cool, sunny, and no wind. It was like the air was just there; draped around me like one of those plastic shredded curtains you see separating you from a meat locker. Not a pretty description, I know, but that’s what it reminded me of. No windy movement, just air. We rode a little over eight miles. Remember, my goal is to work up to fifteen miles. I could probably do that now, but I’m not sure I’d be able to walk or sit down if I did. I guess I better just slowly work up to it.

A perfect ride for prayer.

If I let my mind and heart wander on it’s own I naturally start asking The Father to keep watching over my kids. Yeah, my kids are 37, 34, and 32, or there abouts, but they’re still my kids… my boys. I’m a mom. It’s what mom’s do. Today, my heart was on my youngest. He’s a father of a daughter that is six and three quarters. If I just told you she was six years old, she’d correct me. My son is about to transition into a full-time campus ministry position. He interned on the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh campus last year, and this year he was invited to join the team. God has been very faithful to this son of mine, as he’s tried to find his way. Gary and I knew when this guy was about five years old that he was going to be a minister. Of course we didn’t tell him that. We just watched and pondered on our hearts all the little clues that kept popping up- like the night I found him crying in his bed at age four. When I asked him what was wrong he said, “I’m not dead yet. I want to go to heaven to live with God but I’m not dead yet.” His tears were real and his heart so tender.

So, we pondered, I guess not unlike, Mary, who stood watching her young son of twelve debate with the priest in the temple. Something was up with her little boy as she placed her hand over her heart and emotionally handed him over to God.

So, this morning while riding on LuLu through the countryside, I prayed for my little boy, who’s 32. I asked God to bless this man whose heart is still tender. I asked Our Father, to help my boy find the financial support needed (you see, if your calling is to a small, struggling campus ministry on a state campus far away from the Bible Belt, you have to raise your own support if you want to eat and pay your bills, it’s unfortunate but necessary). I unashamedly and boldly asked God to bless this child and give him wisdom to cope with what is ahead. And, like, many mothers before me, I pleaded with God to guard my boy’s heart and spirit and to make his paths straight.

By the time LuLu and I were rolling back up my driveway, God and I had had quite a talk. The Fake Knee was starting to swell and the cowgirl was fussing up a storm. But, a mom’s got to do what a mom’s got to do, right?

Keep pedaling and praying, my friends,


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