All my life, I’ve need someone to tell me what to do.

From my earliest memories, I have always worked best from a list.  If you write down what I need to do, then I can usually look somewhat successful.  I’m constantly writing myself reminders and lists, leaving them where I can find them. I verbally process in lists, which greatly annoys my wife, as she feels like it’s me telling her what to do, which I”m not.  I just need to say it out loud.

Recently, I’ve noticed that this isn’t just true for my professional life, but it’s also true for my faith.  I’ve told the teenagers that I minister to many times that following Jesus isn’t just a list of rules or checkboxes that you must fill to be in standings with Him, but oh, how I wish it was.  I wish it was just something that I could go through each and every day, merrily checking boxes until I achieve the ultimate relationship with God.  But, that can’t happen.  What can happen, however, is that I can find someone that will get into my life and talk with me about the things that are going on there.  What I need is an accountability partner, which regretfully, I don’t have right now.

So, this week, I’m going to try and fix that.  I’m looking for an accountability partner.  I need someone who is going to walk with me through my highs and lows, through the best times and worst times.  I can’t be my family.  It can’t be my wife.  It can’t be a member of the opposite sex.  I need a man who will guide, teach, mentor, correct, and love me through all the stuff I think, say, and do each day.

Do you have an accountability partner?  If so, how did you find them?  And now that you have one, how do you maintain that relationship?

“And, insomuch as we know that, by His divine law, nations like individuals are subjected to punishments and chastisements in this world, may we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war, which now desolates the land, may be but a punishment, inflicted upon us, for our presumptuous sins, to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole People? We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven. We have been preserved, these many years, in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth and power, as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us!”

~ Abraham Lincoln on instituting the first National Day of Prayer and Fasting

As I am sure it is in every small town, Bible Belt, southeastern youth ministry household, Wednesdays are rough (or the midweek service time -I’ve learned not everyone does it on Wednesday)  This mid week service is game day, what you’ve been preparing for all week, what the prayers have been focused on, what the extra candy has been bought for, what we’re hyped up for.  It’s the equivalent of the Pastor’s Sunday morning.

While yes, we’re fortunate that our children are in mother’s day out on most Wednesdays, I am spending that time doing laundry, dishes, cleaning, going over my own lesson for the night, getting ready for my afterschool job.  When I’m home from work it’s quickly getting ready and out the door to be there at 5 to help with the bus rider kids, set up my classroom, eat supper (Praise the Lord that we have meals at church on Wednesday nights, not just for the fellowship but the service it provides to our families!) get upstairs for Pioneer club worship, teach, and come back downstairs to stay with the kids whose parents are in the choir.

By the time we get home by 8:30-9:00, depending on what the choir is working on, I feel like we have fought a battle.  Before we stopped drinking soda, every Wednesday night we stopped for the Baptists’ only allowable vices, Rte. 44 Coke Zeros and a chicken strip sandwich from Sonic.   We were so drained, it felt as if our systems needed a little reward. Now, its a glass of water and a Reece’s peanut butter egg.

Maybe we have fought a battle.  I believe we have.  God is using us (by us I mean everyone who teaches, helps, interacts with the students who attend) to teach His truth.  Which often goes against everything else they are hearing.  Last night our lesson was from Job, he was praising God for making his body, which I totally don’t get because it appeared to Job’s friends that God had cursed him (covered in boils, whole family dead, riches gone)  But Job said, I know that God has made me and showed me kindness!  Kindness!  Can you believe it, in the midst of all that, he praised God for showing him kindness!  I was blown away.  The point we tried to get across though was that God made our bodies, He made them good, and that we thank him by taking care of them.   Since we know that His word never returns void, it always accomplishes His purposes,   I pray that someday, when one of the beautiful girls in our class is doubting that, she will remember that God made her.  He knit her together in her mother’s womb, He curdled her like milk (yep, Job really says that!) to make a wonderful cheese.  I pray the boys will know that God created them for a great purpose, to do His will.  Because His plans are good, to prosper us, not to harm us, to give us a future and a hope.

So, I’ve been reading lately, which is dangerous, because of the fact that I don’t read very much, but when I do I get obsessed with a book and try to devour it as fast as possible.  When I do read, it is usually a book about youth ministry, a fiction book just to take my mind away for awhile, or some kind of faith related book.  It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book about marriage, and I didn’t expect the book I’m reading to make much of a difference (I originally downloaded it just to see how much I disagree with the author), but I’m two chapters in and it’s already convicted me and got me thinking about my marriage.

When I married Erin back in 2002, I was convinced that she was the perfect one for me.  I believed that God had knit her together in her mother’s womb with me in mind.  Before you begin to doubt, I still believe it.  It believe it today more than I did on that day we exchanged vows.  I often told her that she was my best friend, and that I was thankful for her, and that she was everything I wasn’t, my perfect compliment.  As anyone can tell you, marriage is hard, extremely hard, a fact that movies and television shows don’t often show, since everything is usually wrapped up at the end.

What people don’t tell you is that living with your best friend is hard.  Extremely tough, even.  Taking two lives and squeezing them together until they become one is hard enough.  I’ve known lots of people who are best friends who start out as college roommates and end the semester never wanting to see the person again.  Somewhere along the way, friendship gives way to just being a good roommate, and then, being a good roommate gives way to just making it through the semester.  I realized a couple of days ago that there were days in our house where that was more the case than me treating Erin like she was my best friend.

If a man is to be his best, he needs to live with his best friend.  That means that a man’s wife must be his best friend.  She will see him at his best and worst, his highest and lowest.  A man’s wife will put up with all kinds of junk in the name of love and support.  Yet, for many man, we adopt the idea of ball and chain when we think of our wives, and not the idea of the best friend, walking side by side with us through any and all circumstances. Men, why is it that we will let our friends become closer to us than the one we pledged our lives to in the vows of marriage?  I believe we have a problem here.

Truly, man’s best friend is not a dog, or a fishing boat, or the boys at work, but his wife; the woman who has born many burdens, children, and responsibilities, all because she once fell into the same love that her husband claimed to feel for her.  In treating our wives like best friends, we should be inviting, open, friendly, kind, funny, and unafraid to be ourselves, just like we are with “the guys”.

My resolve is that I stop seeing my wife as a roommate with sexual benefits and treat her as the best friend that she, and I, deserve.  To allow the friendship we share to blossom into a lifelong relationship that is fulfilling and exciting, that never leaves us lonely.  My desire isn’t to just have a good marriage, but an exemplary, extraordinary marriage.  Guys, if you’re reading this today, would you join me?  Let your wife become your best friend, and be her best friend as well.  We may have to sacrifice a few things, but in the end, isn’t gaining the best marriage possible worth it?  I think so.

It’s 11:20 p.m Monday night and we are leaving the house at 7:45 in the morning to take a young lady to the bus stop in Jackson.  Marty asked if I had my blog post ready, I was in the middle of sewing the quilt that I’ve been working on for 40 forevers, ok, 3 months, and I couldn’t think of anything.  I asked that he make suggestions, thinking he would suggest my views on postmodern theology, social welfare, or if generic diapers really are as good as name brand (the answer to that is, depends on the store, walmart bad, kroger good), things that I’m an expert on, you know (ha,ha).  Instead he said, the reasons you love me, to which I almost spit out my decaf coffee, then he said do a 2 part series about the 5 things you love/hate about being a pastor’s wife.  I chose the lesser of 2 evils.

Living with Marty Estes has never been easy, which quite honestly I’ve probably been too vocal about.  I don’t know what I expected, but often times this hasn’t been it.  We probably should have waited 6 months to get married, given him 6 months in the ministry to figure it out instead of jumping into 2 things at the same time.  But I think if we’d waited, he wouldn’t be in ministry.  He would have gone on to get his master’s in education and he’d be teaching.  Which he would have been excellent at, but not called to.  And that is one of the things I love about Marty, his calling.  I love youth ministry.  I love that lives change and God allows me to be a part of it.  I love that Marty is passionate about it, I love that he has never stopped learning or trying to be better at what he’s called to do.  I know that God has called him to this or 9 years ago we’d have been out.  I love him for persevering.  I love that he desires to see students’ lives change through a relationship with Christ.  I love that his philosophy is not “Let’s give them a little Jesus along with our fun, but let’s be on mission for Christ and have fun while we’re doing it.”

Marty’s been called a lot of things in 9.5 years.  Some good, some bad, some true, some not.  One thing I will always call him is a great daddy.  He loves spending time with our kids.  That’s part of the reason we felt God was telling us to homeschool.  We know that ministry is tough on kids, we have games to attend, Bible studies to have, programs to plan, camps to organize, and Sundays are definitely not family days, a lot of that is done during times our kids would be home from school and our attention would be devoted elsewhere.  Marty loves to get in the floor and have the Rescue-bots help to rebuild the Sawmeal so we can return for our pizza sticks and chicken fingers!  And he executes much better “My Little Pony” story lines than I could, he knows all their names, whereas a lot of time I just throw together to cutesy sounding words and hope they work!  He wasn’t so sure about having a child, let alone two!  But I don’t think he’d trade it now for anything.

Yes, he gets on my nerves when we’ve spent too much time together, of course there are things I say I would change, but he truly is my best friend.  He’s the one I call when I’m upset, he’s the one I run to when I’m scared, he’s the one I scream at when I’m frustrated (it’s not always about him), he’s the one who is always thinking of me. I remember my dad saying when we were just starting out, that I sure must like him because he made me laugh like nobody else.  And he still does.

I love you, Marty.

(I bet you didn’t think I’d do it!)

I knew this day would come.  I just didn’t know it would come so soon.

We caught our little girl, Annaliese, in a lie this past Friday.  And it wasn’t just one lie, oh no.  It was a lie that was topped with a lie, which meant she’d tried to cover it up!  How in the word does a 3 year old girl learn that?  If there was ever a greater argument for the inherent sin nature of mankind, I don’t know what it is.

First, we found the evidence.  Isaac and I were in the floor playing with his Rescue-bots when I first saw it: pink hair that was uniformly cut, laying in small tufts around their bedroom.  It wasn’t much, but enough to give me pause.  I didn’t think much about it, thinking it was from some previous hair pulling. (My daughter had a problem with pulling doll’s hair, and her own, and sticking it in her mouth and sucking on it.  Gross, I know.  But, she’s getting better.)  Then, I noticed more hair in the floor right before their nap, cut in the same straight line.

The pieces began to fall into place.  There were child scissors in the floor of the living room when we got up that morning.  The hair matched her Fluttershy pony’s hair.

“Did you cut that pony’s hair?”

Her face immediately dropped, but she shook her head.  ”No!”

Erin went to get the pony.  Sure enough, there was a chunk out of her hair.  By this time, both kids were getting in bed for their nap and so in the bedroom I asked again.

“Annaliese, tell me the truth.  Did you cut the pony’s hair?”

Tears.  Mumbled, gurgling cries.  ”No!”

Erin comes in with the pony.  Showing her the hair that’s been cut, she repeats the question I asked, which causes Annaliese to cry even more.  Then, it happens:

She blames her brother, saying he did it.  Isaac goes off like a timebomb.

Here it is, World War III, in their bedroom, all over pony hair.  Finally, we get them calmed down and I gathered up all her ponies with hair.  I sat on the edge of her bed and sighed.

“Annaliese, no one is going to spank you, no one is going to yell at you.  Just tell us the truth: who cut the pony’s hair?”

Looking down, a tiny hand shot into the air and she sniffed, “I did.”  And in that moment, all my illusions that my daughter would be daddy’s perfect princess were shattered.  Dramatic?  I think not.  My expectation is that my children do what is right and that they be perfectly honest with me at all times.  Here, I was seeing the exact opposite.  She had done something she wasn’t supposed to, (played with scissors) lied about it, (told us that she didn’t do it) and then shifted the blame to her brother. (Another lie.)

Silently, I gathered up her My Little Pony toys and put them in a Walmart sack, where they currently rest on the top shelf of my closet.  She can have her ponies back in a month.  Until then, we will remind her of the lie, and why it is wrong, and pray and hope that she makes better choices next time.

Again I apologize for the lack of posting, but sleeping til 9, getting up to make breakfast, lounging in pjs and playing video games just took precedence.

A couple of months ago during fall break I got to take Annaliese to dance class.  Marty usually does that because I work every afternoon.  I was so excited because there was the promise of getting to see what Annaliese was learning; the fruits of her labor.  Jennifer was so gracious to let me watch even though she hadn’t really planned on it.

I took my seat and pulled out my phone, all eyes on my baby girl.  As I was watching I began to notice some things.  First of all my daughter has my rhythm, bless her heart, but secondly, there is a lot to be learned from dance class.

1.  If you take your eyes off the leader, you will mess up.  The girls did pretty good as long as their focus was on the right spot.  If it wandered to the wall, a spot on the floor, or the person beside them, they were going to mess up.  They might stumble, they might get behind, they might run into the person beside them.  In my life, if I take my eyes off what guides me, I will mess up, I will stumble, I will get behind, I might even hurt the person next to me.  That’s why we have to have a relationship with the leader as well.  Those girls trust Jennifer, they know she will not lead them down the wrong path.  It’s not about the rules, it’s about the trust they have in her.  Sometimes I wish my faith were a list of rules, but it’s not, it’s a relationship.  I have to trust that God and His word will not lead me down the wrong path.  I am a fallible person, I’m going to screw up.   Jesus said the most important things are to Love God with all our hearts and to love our neighbors as ourselves, that all of the law was summed up into those two things.  It’s not a list of rules, it’s relationship.  When we have the relationship, we’ll know what we’re supposed to do.  Just like Marty and I and the other parents encourage our girls to listen to Mrs. Jennifer and trust her, we have to do the same with others in our faith.  Encourage the relationship, make disciples.

2. You cannot focus on the faults of the person next to you.  Yep, that one hit home.  Annaliese did pretty good, but there was one girl next to her who was very concerned with what everyone else was doing.  Her eyes got off Mrs. Jennifer, and she ended up having to be corrected… a lot.  Now, I know that we are supposed to help those along the path with us, but sometimes we focus on their faults instead of what we’re supposed to be doing.  Just like this little girl, we get so concentrated on the others that we don’t see what we’re doing.

3.  Sometimes you have to freeze so you can refocus.  There were a couple of times that the girls just got too distracted and Jennifer would say, “Freeze.”  The ballerinas knew that this was a time to stop and refocus.  This was made clear to me last night, I came in from my first afternoon back to work, dropped off some kids, listened to their mother vent 15 minutes about life, picked up PePe’s pizza, and ate quickly so that Marty could get to Bible Study.  The kids wanted to play a game that involves me doing a lot of set up.  They began to argue about the pieces, whose turn it was, and were making the noises of the video game it’s based on…I wanted to scream!  So I put them in the bath, poured in some bubbles (thanks Mimi for the stocking stuffers!), shut the curtain and pulled out my Kindle.  I needed to freeze.  I needed the 20 minutes of letting my mind refocus and calm down.  I never understood that about my mom, but now I totally get it.  The noise and distraction had just gotten to be too much.

We’ve done a retreat twice with our youth ministry called Enjoy the Silence.  We go to a remote cabin, with no cell service, we don’t take video games or tvs or electronics and we have 2 days of silence.  Marty teaches, we have reflections, the youth worship through singing, art, prayer walks.  It is the best thing ever, and I always come back refreshed, refocused.  We need times of silence in our lives in order to refocus on the important things, and most importantly, not go insane!

4.  It’s good to come together for encouragement.  At the end of class the girls all come together and Jennifer gives them a sucker, gives them positive reinforcement, and they put their hands in and say, “1,2,3 Princess Snakes!”  Don’t ask, I don’t know where it came from.  But, Annaliese loves it!  She loves those girls, and she longs for Thursdays at 3:30.

When I was younger, I totally didn’t get the need for church involvement, I mean, I was involved!  My dad took me to Father/son work days at church because I was the oldest of 3 girls.  Seriously.  If the doors were open, the Foleys were there.   I totally get it now.  If I didn’t have my church family, I’d be lost.  I need that time together, I need encouragement, I need positive reinforcement (even if it hurts sometimes).  I need these people to be my family, my friends, my community.  That’s what we’re supposed to be. Now, I just think we need a really cool chant.

1,2,3 Baptist Buffaloes anyone?

Time to break away the stone that has begun to form here on this blog and type in something new.  I just saw that our last post was on December 14, which would mean that we’ve been gone about 2 weeks, leaving those of you who read here with nothing.

Shame on us.

The holidays take a toll on you.  Understandably, there is a lot of travel, a lot of unsure internet, and a lot of food induced comas which you don’t wake up out of until it’s too late for a blog post.  There are good things: Christmas mornings with children who are too excited to sit still, watching movies you got, eating way too much good food, and playing with children who are excited about their new toys.  In the midst of all this, not once did I say, “Man, I really need to stop and go write a blog post!”  I kept on sleeping, kept on playing, kept on eating, kept on watching.  It was nice.

Unplugged.

So, hopefully, we can get the engine fired back up here and get back on track.  Keep watching this space for more this week.  Thanks for being a friend, here’s to a great 2012!