Thursday, May 14, 2009


I will be leaving the land of media!

Don't worry it's only temporary!

My hubby and I are running away for our anniversary. Even though our anniversary isn't for 3 more weeks, this is the only weekend in the next 2 months that we could get away.

Reservations have been made at my favorite restaurant, a room is reserved in our favorite hotel, grandma is in charge of the kids, and I don't have to be back to work until Tuesday! Ahh... the stress is leaving already!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Conviction from a 14 year old

So, my daughter, Allison, is job shadowing me today. We've had great fun... until just a few minutes ago.

She was reading over my shoulder and noticed a quote I have with my signature on my personal email account. It reads "Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, life is about learning to dance in the rain." She gave me a hard time because this morning while doing the weather I complained about the constant rain. Then she asked me... "why are you complaining so much about the rain when you have this on your email?" Great fun having to explain your shortcomings to a 14 year old who is apparently smarter than you.

Allison is right. I do complain about the rain a lot. But not just about the physical rain, I complain about the rain in my life. The trials, the frustrations, the inconveniences, and the heartbreaks. I complain about having to wait on God, having to trust God, having to step out in faith. I want God to make all the difficult parts of life disappear so that every day will be "sunny". But blue skies and sunshine teach us nothing about growing and trusting in God.

So, once again, I am humbled. And reminded that life really isn't about just hanging in there through the difficult times waiting for the storm to pass. Jesus said that He came to give us life more abundantly. And I truly believe we can have abundant life even in the midst of the storm, if we'll just take the time to dance.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Homeless to Harvard

I had the privilege of attending the Work Matters conference today. They had some amazing speakers; Tony Blair, John Maxwell, and many other well known experts in leadership. But there was one speaker who I think made the biggest impact on everyone in the room. Her name is Liz Murray.

Liz was raised in the inner city by drug addicted parents, by the time she was 15 she was homeless, living on the streets. Both of her parents died from AIDS. When Liz's mother died she decided to do something about her life. She enrolled in high school and graduated in 2 years (at the top of her class) all while still living on the streets.

After graduating high school Liz enrolled in Harvard. Yes, Harvard! She will graduate this June with a degree in psychology. She travels all over the world speaking to groups about how they too can change their lives. She mentors other teens and helps them to get off the streets and into school.

I could go on and on about her story, but I won't. If you're curious just put Google to use.

One thing Liz said that won't leave my mind is that we have to quit using the word later.

Each of us have things that we know we need to do. Whether it's making a phone call, submitting a resume, saying you're sorry, going back to school, writing that book, laying down the addiction, getting help for the problem. There's that underlying nagging in each of our hearts that usually gets answered with a quite "I'll do it later".

But what if there is no later. What if the opportunity passes us by. What if later is just an excuse we use to cover up the truth that we're just too scared to risk it.

So what if we quit saying later and started saying now?

What if?

Could we fail? Absolutely. But what if we succeed?

If Liz can go from homeless to Harvard then where could I go from where I am?

I guess the question is: Am I ready to quit saying later and take a leap of faith?

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Things I Hate About Being a Mom

I hate it when your son's teacher calls. It's never to tell you how brilliant and well behaved they are.

I hate having to look into tear filled eyes and hand down a harsh punishment, when all you really want to do is let them off the hook.

I hate watching their hearts break when they've been stabbed in the back by a friend and realizing that there is absolutely nothing you can do to make the pain go away.

I hate that moment when you catch a glimpse of your daughter applying her makeup and you know that she isn't playing dress up.

I hate hurts that can't be fixed with a band-aide or "that bubbly stuff".

I hate storms that take place in hearts instead of skies.

I hate lessons that must be learned without mom's help.

I hate letting go.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009


Yesterday morning the snooze button won and I was running late to work. I left the driveway in an hurry, knowing I'd have to make good time to not be late. The only problem was that I found myself in the midst of the thickest fog I've ever seen. I could barely see five feet in front of the van.

In frustration I cried out "Lord, please make this fog go away!" And was answered by a whispered, "Keri, you've been praying that prayer for a long time now".

The last few months of my life have been a fog. I'm unsure of what's ahead and can't see around the next curve. I've felt alone in the dark on a winding stretch of road with the fog pressing in around me leaving me no point of reference, no light to see by.

And my prayer has simply been "Lord, please make this fog go away".

But, in the car that morning driving through the unknown, I realized that my prayer shouldn't be "make it go away" but instead, "Lord, will you walk with me through this storm".

There is something frightening about being in a fog, but it can also be a sacred place. For it is in the midst of the fog that we cling closest to Jesus. It is when it is the darkest of night that the light becomes so important.

So while I'm still unsure of what's ahead, and I still can't see around the next curve, I do not travel alone. There is someone who walks beside me, holding my hand, teaching me to trust Him in the storm.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Walk Worthy

Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. Eph. 4:1-4 NAS

As a kid growing up I always wanted to be part of a team. The only problem with being part of a team is that each individual needs to have something to offer to help the team become better at whatever it is that it's trying to accomplish. For example, if you were to join the girls softball team it would be really helpful if, say, you weren't terrified of being hit by the ball, had the ability to run, and didn't mind a little thing called sweat. Since none of those things describe me I spent my one very long season of softball riding the bench, or when coach was feeling particularly generous, in left field picking dandelions.

Throughout the years I watched friends try out for this or that sport or activity always wondering what it would be like to join the group. It wasn't until High School that I finally found my niche. Quite be accident. My two best friends signed up for the freshman drama class. I was the shyest most awkward kid you've ever met. The last thing I wanted to do was get up on a stage. But, my inability to stand up to peer pressure landed me in Mr. Hall's 6th hour beginning drama class.

If I were to say that the first time I climbed the stairs to the stage to perform I felt the anointing of God and heard distant angels singing I'd be lying. I performed a 2 minute piece in about 45 seconds then made a bee-line to the ladies room to loose my lunch. It was the most terrifying experience of my life.

The next day I snuck into class and was hiding behind my desk with my nose buried in a book. Mr. Hall walked by, leaned over and whispered "I can see you're a real leader. And you have great talent. By the end of this year you'll be a pro."

What? Had he witnessed the same tragedy I had? Because there were many things that I knew I was. A "talented" "leader" I was most defiantly not!

Fast forward 4 years.... My senior year of high school was bitter sweet. Lots of goodbyes, lots to look forward to. The shy, awkward freshman was gone. And a somewhat competant, confident young lady stood in her place. I was an award winning debate champion. Director of many student plays. And one of the most respected leaders on our drama team. Mr. Hall saw something burried deep within me, and because he whispered those words to me that day, I spent the next four years determined to become who he said I could be.

There's someone else who has whispered words of encouragement to me. Someone who sees something burried deep within me. Someone who believes with all His heart that I have been created for greatness. He has called me to join His team. And although I feel like I have nothing to offer, He still picked me.

He has called me to follow Him. I am determined to be worthy of that call.