Heaven is for Real

Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo is a gripping book told in the candid voice of the little boy's pastor-dad.  Four-year-old Colton Burpo experienced heaven firsthand while undergoing life-threatening surgery.  In bits and pieces over the next several months, the story of Colton's heavenly visit comes out, much to his parents astonishment.  What makes the book especially fascinating for skeptics like me is that Colton's dad, a Wesleyan pastor, is a skeptic, too!  At least, he questions his son closely, matching up Colton's answers with Scripture.  Burpo discovers that Colton's descriptions match Scripture passages that talk about heaven, passages that would be beyond a four-year-old's depth.  Colton's confidence in what he's seen is unshakable: comforting a dying man, Colton cheerfully exclaims, "Don't worry; the first person you'll see is Jesus!"

Heaven is for Real is a book that people will be talking about for some time.  Seeing heaven through the eyes of a child and absorbing its reality as shared in his innocent, honest voice leaves an indelible impression on the reader.  I, for one, came away encouraged and renewed in my certainty that heaven is for real!   What a great hope we have as believers in Jesus Christ!  Another great take-away is that Jesus loves little children, as Colton repeatedly emphasized  While I know and believe these truths, there's something refreshing and soul-stirring about hearing them effectively preached to us 'from the mouth of a babe.'   I'm so glad I received this book as a complimentary copy for review from Tyndale House.  You'll be glad you read it, too.

Jesse Tree and other family traditions

It's here --  The Christmas I've been anticipating all of my life.  I know this sounds like the previous post, but all of the sudden I am saturated in awareness that this season of my life and of my little girl's life is the one I've looked forward to for so long.  And I want to bask in the moments.  I want to capture every golden smile and sunshine-drenched day of these precious little toddler years.

Right now I'm reveling in the joy of instituting family Christmas traditions.  One that I've recently encountered is the Jesse Tree Advent Celebration. Jacie and I found the Jesse Tree branch today in our yard.  I'm sure she had no clue why Mommy was foraging through brush looking for just the right stick. But I was excited, and she was happy just to be outside.  Tonight I hung the homemade, crayon-colored earth ornament on our Jesse Tree and read Jacie the Creation Account from Genesis.  As I look at our Jesse tree adorned with its lone ornament, I'm almost tempted to just have the Jesse Tree this year and not do a regular Christmas tree.  I love the simple symbolism of the Real Meaning of the Advent Season.

Almost tempted.  Because another greatly-anticipated tradition to be instituted this year is choosing and cutting our own tree!  We've had a fake one since we got married, and I probably had it for myself  when I was single even before that. I've long vowed that it would be different once we had kids.  Last year hardly counted, I felt, since Jacie wasn't quite six months old at Christmas and completely unaware of anything.  This year is The Year.  The year of awareness.  The year of instituting traditions.  The year it all begins.

Our Miracle Girl

This is it.  This is the moment I've been waiting for.  These are the days of perfect cuteness.  I didn't think it would be here so soon.  At 15 months, it seems that Jacie couldn't be any cuter.  Beginnings of the parrot stage are emerging as she attempts to echo familiar words.  When she mimics my gestures or certain routine behaviors, I'm taken off-guard and given a small glimpse into the workings of her little-girl mind, what she's absorbing and how she's interpreting what she sees. I loved the baby stage, but this is the stage I've most been looking forward to.  I find myself watching her constantly, memorizing the toddling movement of her baby legs, adoring the light in her smile when she is amused, studying her when she's concentrating on a toy or newly acquired skill.  I want to capture these days in my memory, to drink in her sweet innocence and cherubic expressions.  As dreams of having a family seem once again to elude us, I turn again to look at her, our miracle girl, Heaven's answer to our prayer, and find faith to believe anew that God is up to something I can't see.

when the bottom drops out by Robert Bugh is one of the best books I've read in a long time.  I received this book as a complimentary copy for review from Tyndale House. In his book, Robert succinctly lays out the basic Scriptural truths that held him fast during the year that he lost and his wife and his best friend.  Using their deaths as the canvas for showcasing God's glory, Robert sensitively leads the reader through the pain of grief to the comfort and joy found in a right understanding of Who God is.  His book is theologically accurate, while not overly weighty.  The average Christian reader could read this book and be riveted, strengthened, and taught.  I've read other books on God's sovereignty and human suffering and haven't found one to be as balanced and readable as Bugh's when the bottom drops out.  

The timing of this book in my life couldn't be more fitting. My family is going through a season of loss right now, and the truths of Bugh's book resonate to the core.  I find myself thinking on the principles Bugh shares along with his illustrations which range from Old Testament examples to modern-day Christians who face suffering with grace. I also appreciated the tips Pastor Bugh shares about helping others through their grief.  His insight and experience combine to provide guidance to the hurting as well as to those who walk alongside the grieving.  Complete with a discussion guide at the end, when the bottom drops out is a must-read for all who hurt and all who hurt with those who hurt.




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More Lost Than Found by Jared Herd attempts to reach out to the "lost" generation of young Christians who've abandoned the church.  Pastor Herd does a good job of accurately stating the problem that the church at large has become aware of:  young people are leaving the church in droves.  Herd complains of the disconnect between the church and culture.  His style is breezy and fresh, engaging the young thinkers of today.  As with most in the Emergent movement, Herd fails to give a sound and satisfying answer that the doubter can sink his teeth into.  Rather than give solid black-and-white answers, Herd opts for hailing the bravery of doubters and philosophizes about theological issues in a hesitant way, ie. most of his responses begin with "Maybe..." as he suggests another way to look at the issue at hand.  The tentativeness of his "maybe" responses encapsulates the overall tone of the book.  I would find it difficult to recommend this book to a member of its target audience: the lost, disillusioned young ex-church members.  I'm afraid it's ambiguity over-sympathizes with their doubt and disillusionment and fails to wholeheartedly convince.

More Lost Than Found was provided to me complimentary of BookSneeze.

God in the (sometimes yucky) Details

This morning marked a milestone in my journey of motherhood.  Jacie vomited all over me.  It's was one of those dreaded scenarios that I'd thought about pre-baby, certain I'd be so revolted that I'd be of no help to the sick child. But God gift-wrapped the moment in a way I would never have imagined.

I had been sleeping in, taking advantage of Conroy getting up with Jacie to spend time with her before he left for work. But about an hour before I normally get up when I sleep in, I felt prompted to get up and join my family.  As I came out to the kitchen, I smiled at Jacie in her high chair eating her breakfast.  She smiled at me and jabbered her welcome, but seemed a little less animated than normal.  Conroy mentioned that she wasn't eating much, and I figured maybe she was already getting tired and ready for her morning nap.  I cleaned her up and lifted her down from the high chair, guiding her to a favorite toy.  As I headed back to the kitchen, I could her joyful little squeals in play.  Not more than a couple minutes later, I turned to see her walking into the kitchen toward me, whining a little and lifting her arms to be held.  My first inclination was to ignore her so that I could get breakfast first, but instead I picked her up and held her thinking that I'd sit with her for a minute or two before starting to make breakfast.  As I walked over to the chair, commenting aloud to Conroy on her lack of appetite and whiny behavior, it happened.  All over my arm, my hair, the front of my clothes, and the ottoman I was near ---  Jacie threw up. "Well, that explains it," I said, standing there, unsure if I ought to run for the sink or if that would only create a bigger mess. 

As Conroy helped to clean Jacie and me up, the pervasive thought in my head was how God sees me, His messed-up child, so often sick with sin.  Instead of revulsion, I felt nothing but loving pity for Jacie's sick state.  As she laid her head weakly on my shoulder, and then a little later Conroy's shoulder, I wanted nothing more than to comfort or help her in her dependent state. Despite my vomit-coated hair and ruined clothes, no twinge of irritation or speck of disgust clouded my feelings toward my daughter.  How much more my perfectly loving Heavenly Father loves and pities me when I am in desperate need and completely helpless!  So today I'm so thankful that Jacie threw up on me.  I relish the reminder of how much I'm loved by my Father God!

Happiness is...

Happiness is nuzzling the neck of my little girl to her delighted squeals of laughter.

Happiness is cuddling with my hubby on the couch in a quiet house after the baby is in bed for the night.

Happiness is our little family walks in the perfect summer outdoors -- soaking in the warm breeze and bright sunshine.

Happiness is perfect baby feet sticking out from the stroller seat.

Happiness is listening to her joyful baby babble and sweet "singing."

Happiness is watching my husband's face light up at the sight of our sweet girl when he comes into the house or when we meet up with him at church.

Happiness is watching God take my dreams and hearing Him say, " I can do even better."