When you get the people of God into a room and then you start singing-it just doesn’t get any better than that.
-David Crowder-
February 2, 2012, Memphis, TN
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Author Archives: Erin Estes
Second chances
My dear friend Dwana gave me this painting a couple of weeks ago. I knew immediately where I was going to hang it.
The classroom. Which is right beside the kids bedroom.
I look at this every time we start school, I look at it when they are being rambunctious at bedtime. I look at it when they are playing in the bathroom when they are supposed to be getting ready for bath/bed/church/school.
And I remember I need all of those things too. I need grace, I need second chances, I need forgiveness, I need love especially when I’m doing loud really well. And I almost always begin to sing a song by Carlos Whittaker.
Great Redeemer
We humbly respond
To the call of Your love
Gracious Father
Like a child we run
With our arms lifted up
So let the praises rise
You’re the God of second chances
You’re the God who still romances
We’re in awe before You now
And our hearts are bowing down
You’re the God of all the ages
Who are we that You would save us
We’re in awe before You now
And our hearts are crying out
Hallelujah to our God
Hallelujah to our God
Righteous Savior
By Your wounds we are healed
Your compassion draws us here
How amazing
Is the mercy of the Cross
That You would reach out for us
So let the praises rise
You rescue with unfailing love
Hallelujah to our God
Days gone By (Are you singing the Full House theme? Cause I am!)
Yesterday was Story Hour at the library. I love Story Hour, I love Ms. Betty the children’s librarian at the Savannah Library, and I love the programs. Yesterday, we had Blu-bell the clown with us and her puppet Grandpa Winston, and fun was had by all -after the screaming in terror stopped! Ms. Betty does a wonderful job. She tries to know all the kids by name, and its a great time for them to socialize and meet new people.
Then, there are the books! If you know me, you know I love books. I love to read. Right before Isaac was born I was going through 2 young adult fiction books a day. I love that books can transport you anywhere from the comfort of your recliner. I feel what they feel, I know what they know (sometimes before they know it), I grieve when they grieve. Reading is one of the most wonderful gifts to have. I had a whole library of children’s books before my kids were even born.
Today we checked out our usual 5 books per child. Is it a little weird that I was excited to get the original Skippyjon Jones book so that I finally know why that silly Siamese cat thinks that he is a Chihuahua? It is. Well, then that’s not why we checked the book out at all, it was totally the kids’ idea to get it.
Ahem.
Moving on….In the back of one of the books we checked out, Winnie the Pooh’s Valentine, there was a small envelope with a 3×5 card stuck in it. Most of you my age know exactly what that is. Annaliese was confused by it and thought it was another piece of paper she needed to practice writing her name on. The library card. We had lessons in school on the card catalog, and how to fill out a library card, where the author’s name goes and the dewey decimal system. In Sixth grade I was even allowed to be a library helper, it was heaven, in part because she let us have the New Kids on the Block posters from the magazines when new ones came in. The library card was your passport to freedom, adventure, being a sixth grader in Sweet Valley, or a member of the Babysitter’s Club. But what I loved most about it was that you listed your name, the date you checked it out, and I think perhaps some other number. You could know who had previously checked out the book you were going to read. You could know that the cool older girls had read the same books as you. You could know that the 8th grader you had a crush on also read Huck Finn. You could know whether or not you had checked the book out previously. There was solidarity. Or at least that’s how I saw it.
But now, there’s a scan tron thing on the back. So instead of hearing, “oh I see some other kids your age really liked this book”, you hear, “bloop, bloop”. Instead of my kids getting to write their name on the 3×5 card and take ownership, they hand a credit card looking piece of plastic over and get a receipt of their purchases (I really don’t know what else to call them). I’m not anti technology and I’m sure this makes things easier, however I miss the community.
So, I guess I got a little nostalgic for days gone by. And have you ever tried to explain something so “old school” to a 3 year old? Tough!
Control (in my head this is sung like Janet Jackson)
You guys are gonna get sick of my overshare. But it is sooooo cathartic. It really is like having a therapist without the bills. So you don’t have to read any farther, I just need to get it out there.
As I talked about in my last post, I’m struggling with my weight issues and what that means for me, my church, my faith. But really it makes me pay attention to my family and what we eat, which I think is a good thing. I want to make smart choices. I want us all to be healthy and live long lives marked by health and the ability to serve as best we can. Well, I’ve begun to notice that when I love something, especially the way I love my family, I want to control every aspect of it. Every. Single. Aspect. This is not good for anyone, least of all me. This led to a (ahem) discussion between Marty and myself this weekend.
Most of you know that about a year ago Marty had a pulmonary embolism, which is a blod clot in the lungs. He had 2 of them. This was brought on by his flight to and from Romania last summer. I think knowing what he knows now, he would do the same thing. I know that he was obedient to the Lord’s will in that trip. But what he hasn’t known is my side of the story. It was a Tuesday, I had gone to Jackson to eat brunch with my sister before she headed back to Texas for Seminary. I got home right about lunchtime, which I just decided to put the kids straight to bed, they had lunch earlier with us and were really tired. We had just started the Prism diet and Marty was struggling with it. For a man who only ate fried food and meat and potatoes this was a huge change. He had been feeling bad, it was a really hot August, he has asthma, combined with the new diet that’s what we thought it was. I also thought this vast change in diet was gonna tell us that he/I/we have diabetes. So I was determined that was part of it. So we were putting the kids to bed, Marty sat down, I turned around to do something and I hear Isaac saying, “Daddy wake up!” I turned around thinking he was playing and see that Marty has passed out or was dead. That’s really what I thought, he has died, I ran for my phone, punched in 911 and was hitting send when he woke up (Isaac pounced on him about that time). But in my mind, he’s had a low blood sugar thing (I’m still convinced it’s diabetes) and I get him a banana. We make some phone calls, and decide he needs to go to the emergency room. I have to stay with the kids cause I don’t want them waking with both of us gone. Evan, one of our college students, drives him to the hospital.
Word gets out and I get several calls to watch the kids, I’m convinced they’re gonna tell me everything is fine and Evan will drive him home. Finally Regina Stanfill shows up on my doorstep and tells me to go (thank you for that btw). Long story short, 8 days in the hospital, and he comes home on blood thinners with the knowledge that only 5% of people survive what he’s been through.
After that, I took a personal vendetta against junk in my home. It was gone, no sodas, no high sugar, highly processed snacks, lots of fruit and veggies. It was then that we determined we were not doing ourselves any favors by letting Isaac dictate his own meal for the night, so that stopped and the policy of “if you don’t eat what’s put before you, you don’t eat” was instituted. I became very concerned with everything everyone ate, and my parents and in-laws can attest to the fact that if I didn’t like what you were giving them you would know it. I was determined that any bad habit Marty and I had the kids were not going to have it. TV time became more limited (it had always been only pbs, disney jr. or nick jr. but there was never really a time limit) outside activities became more of a must. They were not going to end up 30 something and in terrible shape if I had anything to do with it!
I realize I sound at times like a total nut job to some people. I know that I cannot control every aspect of everyone’s life (no matter how badly I want to). I used to (8th grade) say things like, “America should go back to a monarchy and realize that I’m royalty, cause these idiots are messing everything up!” I don’t know where that comes from, cause I don’t want to control things I don’t care about. But the people I love, I want my hand in every bit of it, and I want it done my way. I don’t want to miss a moment and I want it all to be done “right.”
But then I know that when I’m in control, things get messed up, and often they’re not happening the way they should. I have to let go of my ego and remind myself who is in control. That I can do small things by my own power, but if it’s done by my power it’s not done with God’s. I want His power to be in control of my life, of my children’s life, of my husband’s life. That is the best way that I can love them. Release my control for Christ’s, get over myself and move on.
A Weighty Issue
Note: This is not in anyway slamming anyone in. This is me dealing with my issues in a public forum. Of course this is just one side of the story, I am completely aware that the opposite side of the coin can be just as bad.
(Me at 9 months – look at those cheeks!)
I was born a 9.5 lb baby. I was 9 days overdue. I come from a large boned people, but those are also people who love food. And not just any food, we love good food. Homemade chicken and dumplings. Shrimp and grits. Brisket and twice baked potatoes. Don’t get me wrong, I love vegetables, but I love them even more when they are covered in flour or meal and deep fried. I grew up in a family that believed you had to clean your plate to get dessert. We stayed with my Ma and Pa in the summer while Mom worked, and they always had dessert. There was just something in me that loved food. Some experts would say it was because I was bottle fed, some would say that I have a gene that makes me overweight, others would say that I have some deep psychological issue.
(Why on earth do they make flowery fat girl clothes? Why on earth did no one stop me from wearing this? Sara I’m looking at you, you’re the one with fashion sense in our family!)
Like I said, I’ve always been fat. For a long time I couldn’t say that word, there was so much emotion tied to it. But let’s call a spade a spade. I am a fat girl. College was when I became okay with it. Since then it really hasn’t been an issue. In Kindergarten, I was roly-poly Foley, in 4th grade I was lard butt (the sad thing was I knew this was an insult because of the venom it was said with but I had no clue what lard was), and by 8th grade I had to start shopping at Lane Bryant. At 15 I was freezing Slim fast cans overnight and bringing them to school in my purse. I lost quite a bit of weight, slimming down to a size 16. Still plus sized. That’s the smallest I’ve been in 17 years. I kept the weight off for a little while, then came college, working crazy hours and eating out a lot, a horrible break up, and marrying a man who gagged at the sight of vegetables. Understand me, none of those are excuses. I made choices: horrible, bad choices.
I have felt that my whole life is controlled by my weight. I assume people are going to judge me because of it. I know people will not like me because of it. We even began to pass it on to our children. Isaac’s first table food was french fries from Wendy’s. We’re paying for that one to this day.
(Me at 16 and a size 16 with my Winter Formal date Matt Medearis, who was my go to date for any function, bless his heart!)
A year and a half ago we began the Prism diet. We made a commitment, we counted calories, we turned in our sheets and for the first time we talked honestly about weight and food in a church setting. Then Christmas came and the diet ended. I have maintained what I lost, but old bad habits have started to creep back in.
I guess my issue is the way the church has handled this problem. I don’t mean our local church, but the global community of believers.
Never in a sermon have I heard that overeating is sin. I know it is, it’s in the Bible right beside some of the things I’ve heard various sermons about. I was not born with a desire to drink myself into a stupor, but some people were. I was not born with a desire to be in sexual relationship with a person of the same gender as myself, but some people were. I was born with a desire to eat myself silly.
Until just a few days ago no one had ever tried to hold me accountable in the church with what I ate or drank. Yes, a fellow church member had confessed that they’d been making fun of me behind my back when I was 9 months pregnant with Annaliese, and in my opinion, they could have kept that confession private! I have made the commitment to not drink soda for 2012 (why would i want to? have you seen what that stuff will do to a car window?). I’ve told a few people. Well, I was at a baby shower Sunday and poured myself a big ole glass of punch not thinking about the ingredients. I sat down with a few ladies and had taken one drink when they said, you know that has Sprite in it right? And I did, I watched them make the punch, but because I don’t drink Sprite, Coke Zero is my downfall, I totally did not make the connection. So I had to make a decision: keep drinking or keep my commitment. I was very appreciative of the rebuke, I want to keep my commitment.
So I guess that’s my question, why do we preach so hard about some sins and totally ignore others? Why do we preach against the “big” ones, but the little things like over eating, overspending, gossip, slander we ignore? Why have I not been kicked out of the church for my sin? Instead, we laugh that fried chicken is the Baptist bird. Here I have one huge obvious flaw, probably more visible than if I were attracted to girls. What damage have I done to the cause of Christ by very visibly not living according to His principles? Where is my self-control? Where is my love of Christ rather than loving myself?
I think it’s pretty evident by my pant size.
But, and that is a wonderful word, Jesus promises that He makes all things new. He promises that He will give me a way out when temptation comes. He promises that I will get a second chance (and a third and a fourth). He promises that I am free from sin. Sin that He wants to keep me from, to keep me safe.
Good news In Our Community
I can’t tell you how proud I am of our church.
Last night we saw 50 children show up for our yearly Midnite Madness event. About half of them are connected with our church either as members or regular attenders to Pioneer Club, but that means that half of them had been invited. That means our children are being good news in our community. They believe the church is important and want their friends to be there. This is huge! I hope we adults appreciate this and encourage it! That is how the gospel is spread, telling people as we go, being the good news!
We had about 15 youth both from our leadership team and extra who signed up to be helpers come to facilitate the event. Our leadership team plans it from start to finish. They get the activities together, they tell us what supplies we need, they are in charge of the show when the kids show up. Marty and I and the other adults just step back to jump in if needed. Then we asked the entire youth group, any that would like to help to stay and be trained, and they did a phenomenal job of interacting with and ministering to the children. They played games, gave piggy back rides, sat with them during worship, ate dinner, and decorated cupcakes like champs. We couldn’t have done it without them. I am so proud to be blessed to work with these teenagers.
And last but not least, Ms. Kathy Davis and Ms. Marla Ernest were invaluable last night. They are faithful to use the gifts God has given them whenever they can. Ms. Kathy helped with our crafts and loved on some children with the best of them. Marla helps us kick things into next gear. She believes everything should be done with excellence and encourages us in that direction. Without these 2 ladies I would have been lost last night.
Thank you parents for sending your children, you should be proud of them. Thank you Reach 1 for continuing to surpass my expectations for you. Thank you church for supporting us always. We love you and thank you! Let us all be good news in our community!
Who Is Lying to These People?
We watch American Idol, well, we do now after a few years off. Wednesday night was the first night back for season 11 and of course the first couple of episodes show some people with real talent and people whose talents definitely do not lie in the singing spectrum.
Invariably, every person with lackluster vocal talents said, “Well, everyone says I can sing!” ”They say I’m a cross between Brad Paisley and Chris Daughtry,” or “I’ve sung the National Anthem at lots of ballgames!” And every time I say, “bless their heart!” Marty says that they bring it on themselves, but some of them have friends and family who have travelled with them across miles to support them in this endeavor, and they have lied to them! Lied! Anyone hearing some of these people would know that there is no talent. Some of the friends are grinning as they console them because they knew what was going to happen!
When I was younger I wanted nothing more than to be an actress on a Soap Opera. I know, shocking right? I’m not the least bit overdramatic! I wanted to be on General Hospital, to be exact. I wanted to be a nurse, right beside Bobbi and marry Lucky Spencer (son of the soap opera super couple Luke and Laura). I wanted to sit right beside Susan Lucci and wait for my Daytime Emmy (forget the Oscars!), and hopefully it wasn’t going to take me 19 years. I loved to act. I was in small productions in Lexington as a 3rd-4th grader, I ate up church Christmas productions (even as a Kindergartener I longed to be Mary but was stuck as an angel because of my blonde hair.) I did some theater in high school, I was an avid reader and often acted books out in my head/room (overshare? Is it any wonder I didn’t have a lot of friends?). I guess somewhere along the way someone filled me in that there were not a lot of roles for fat, pimple ridden girls in daytime drama. I also realized at some point, I’m not that talented. You should hear my performances of the nightly Bible readings. I try to give different accents but they all come out sounding a little southern cockney.
The point I’m trying to make is, someone told me the truth. Hard as it may have been, I wouldn’t trade the way my life turned out for anything. But someone had to tell me, so that I didn’t get up on national television and make an idiot of myself.
I guess, as a parent, that’s the struggle, how much truth do we tell them. Do we tell the clumsy one that they’ll never be the star of the basketball team? Do we tell the ugly girl she’ll never be prom queen? Do we tell the 12 y/o with the cracking voice he’ll never sing? I think it’s my job to encourage, and please hear me say my parents did that (they sat through a whole season of basketball where I rode the bench, played for a total of 30 seconds I believe). But, I also have to guide, point them in directions where they can succeed, encourage them in new endeavors (thanks for that season of basketball by the way), and speak truth when it’s just not going as it should.
If the first 4 years have been any clue, my children are destined for Daytime Emmys. Watch out Susan Lucci!
Sunday Quote
“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
Reflecting on Wednesdays
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.
Marty suggested this post
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!)