As my youngest son, Jacob, was getting ready for school one recent morning, I went through the normal list of reminders for him: 

Jacob, do you have your lunch?  Your backpack?  Is all your homework inside, your agenda signed, the permission slips turned in?  By the way, where did you put the lunch money I gave you? 

He, of course, rolled his eyes with every question:  YES, Mooooommmmmmm!  As if it was ridiculous to even consider the possibility he might actually forget something.  Whatever.  My last question DID spark an investigation on his part, however. 

I put my money in my pocket, Mom.  The dollar bill…is…right…here. 

He dug around in his jeans, and then produced a one dollar bill.  Then he went in search of the three quarters I gave him. 

I put the quarters in the smaller pocket because I didn’t want them to fall out. 

I watched him struggle to produce the change.  Not-so-small fingers were digging, trying to pull three quarters free of an itty-bitty pocket.  Finally he gave up, frustrated, but certain they were in there.  And then with a sigh he said:

I’m going to have to get myself a Visa check card, Mom.  Life’s too short to let cash slow you down, you know?

I laughed all the way home from the school and went immediately in search of my husband, Troy.  Somewhere along the way we have allowed this kid to watch too much TV.  He is a walking commercial.  I’m still chuckling.

No doubt about it, my children are absorbing what they see and hear.  Not just from the Television, but from me as well.  They repeat pieces of my conversations back to me, words which poured from my lips without much thought, but sound far less attractive spewing from theirs.  Each day I play short but powerful commercials in the way I talk and live and react, little snapshots that communicate loudly how I feel about life, about faith and about them.  Whether I realize they are watching, doesn’t change the fact that they are.  I cringe thinking of messages I may have communicated unintentionally!

Life’s too short to let kids slow you down.

I feel a very real pain in my heart as I write this.  How many, many times have I been so caught up in “urgent” tasks that I didn’t take the time?  As my children get older, I am almost sick with the missed opportunities.  Thankfully, today is a new day, and I need not miss the next one. 

This ability to invest in the life of a child goes far beyond biology.  I wonder, do we fully recognize this?  I think about the teachers, coaches, youth leaders, babysitters, neighbors and friends who have had opportunity to invest in my children from time to time, many of whom are not parents themselves.  Thanks to them, my kids have had a few extra positive influences other than their half-crazy parents and the TV.  My heart swells with the thought!  And what about my own ability to influence other children, beyond the borders of my own home?  The teenagers I passed on the bike path yesterday or the youth who bagged my groceries at the store?  Parenthood isn’t a prerequisite to being able to make an investment in the life of a child.  With every kind word, every encouraging smile, every spoken affirmation of what is true and good and noble, or prayer lifted on their behalf, we have the unique opportunity to capture the eyes and attention of a child, in the hopes that perhaps we might be able to redirect those same innocent eyes to land on the face of Christ. 

In all the craziness of life (and parenting), we can sometimes forget our ability to be a powerful commercial for the love of God.  I believe God does just that for us, providing us with little glimpses of himself, little reminders of his goodness, in the faces of our children–pieces of his humor, his perspective, his foot-loose-and-fancy-free personality, his ability to see life from an angle so different than ours, and especially his unrestrained and unconditional love.  I?m sitting here getting all misty eyed picturing little ones climbing all over the lap of Jesus, and him responding with a smile, Let ‘em come - this is what it is all about.  Paraphrase, I know, but I think that’s what he meant.    

Okay, commercial over.  Back to real life.  Whatever you do, however, take the message with you.

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It seemed like the warmest summer night ever.  There was no breeze blowing and the noise of the oscillating fan in the corner of the room was getting to me. It had been a very long night, with many interruptions.  At around 3 a.m. I lost count of how many times I had been woken up by my two daughters.  Now before you start thinking about this poor, sleep-deprived mom with two babies, I must set the scene here; my daughters are four and six years-old.  Is it just me, or will I ever have an uninterrupted night of sleep? 

It was now 5 a.m. and I was pinned in the middle of our queen-size bed, in-between two comfy pillows, that now nestled the heads of my daughters.  Well, kind of.  There was one set of legs draped over my rigid body from my youngest who prefers to sleep sideways.  My neck and shoulders were aching, and all I could think about was how I was going to make it through the day with no sleep.  Then my thoughts turned to my husband, who was probably snug as a bug in a comfy bed at a quiet and cool hotel in Kansas City.  That thought did it, I had hit my wall.

I marched both girls back to their bedrooms.  And then I lost it.  “You will NEVER, EVER, sleep in my bed again.  Do you understand me?  NEVER!”  Did I mention every second-floor window was open?  Well on my way back to my bed I started to think.  What if one of my neighbors was awakened by my yelling?  What if some early morning walker or jogger heard my lecture?  They might think I was yelling at my husband?  Perhaps it was from lack of sleep, but I started laughing at this thought.  Some poor neighbor is probably thinking my marriage is falling apart and I’m ready to kick my husband out.

That couldn’t be further from the truth about my marriage, but the scenario is very real, and I doubt I’m alone here.  There are many of us who endure the hardships of having a spouse who travels for business.  Or perhaps your husband works odd hours and you are left alone much of the time.  If so, I would love to hear from you; your thoughts, your stories, your advice, on this subject.

I would like to keep this topic running for awhile, so please post your comments and check back from time to time to see what others have to say.  Until then, know that I am praying for restful and peaceful nights of sleep for you!

No, this isn’t some type of anti-drug campaign, even though my daughter currently has two temporary tattoos with Nancy Reagan’s famous slogan on it (for an interesting conversation on permanent tattoos, be sure to check out  Jan Parrish’s blogspot). What I’m referring to holds a much stronger temptation for me than any illicit drug: the temptation to wear a mask and pretend as if I have everything under control, even when I most evidently don’t. Take this morning as an example. It was the first day of Bible study, which is always exciting. (If you are interested in joining a group and are in the Denver area, come join me every Wednesday morning at Mountainview Community Christian Church). After dropping my daughter off at preschool, I arrived at church a few minutes early. I thought I’d keep my son with me for the beginning of the study so I could nurse him, but apparently this “well” dried up quickly and he was screaming for more. I tried getting a bottle ready with a squirming baby on my lap (translation: baby nearly on the floor), all the while trying to fulfill my position as table leader. Remember, this was the first week of study, so I was still unsure of the format. To say I felt frenzied and disorganized would be a gross understatement. In the midst of the near baby-dropping bottle preparation, the director of women’s ministry came over and asked me one simple question.

“Is everything okay?”

I used to think I had it together. Maybe that was before having kids, or at least back in the days when I used a day planner. Today, even the thickest mask couldn’t cover up how I felt. And so, in one of the most sincere moments of my life, I honestly blurted out, “NO!”

Such a simple word, and yet it had such a powerful effect. The fa?ade dissipated and an opportunity for transparent, authentic community emerged. (oh, and did I mention Janice graciously took my son down to the nursery for me?) What sweet bliss to be accepted for who I am, frenzied mess and all.

C’mon girls, let’s just say no to masked living!

One of today’s headlines on MSN.com read the following:

“Psst!  Gossip may be good for you.  Researchers are saying you shouldn’t be ashamed of this ‘social skill’…Don’t feel guilty – you’re not telling tales, your building relationships.”

Are you kidding me?  I am in shock.  It seems we are becoming masters at justifying even the most cruel and damaging behaviors.  And then, to validate our right to self-expression, we get researchers to back up our claims. 

I don’t know about you, but I know first hand the sting of gossip.  There is nothing “building” about it.  I have sat silently and watched a single person do irreparable damage to multiple relationships in the name of “speaking the truth” behind the innocent’s back.  If you have been on the receiving end of gossip’s fallout, you are probably nursing the same sick feeling in the pit of your stomach as I am.

There have also been times, however, when I have been the perpetrator of gossip’s sting.  Finding ways to justify my own actions, or just completely oblivious to the damaging words pouring out of my mouth in a moment of heated emotion, I told stories and spread information that didn’t need to be broadcast.  Truth-be-told, a greater purpose would have been served if I would have just kept my mouth shut (1 Peter 4:8).

Beyond the header, I didn’t find the remainder of MSN.com’s article the least bit compelling.  In fact, I can’t tell you how passionately I disagree with their expressed conclusions.  And I shudder to think that any of my friends (or unknown enemies) might read the article and feel the green light has been given to say what they want, when they want, with no respect to the value of restraint.

Read the article if you want, but don’t draw any conclusions until you compare it with what the Maker of each one of us has to say about the power of a little tale-telling.  Remember, those of whom you speak are creations of his very hands.  If you have the time, use these verses to spend some time connecting with God, and asking for his insight into the issue of Gossip.  If you’re feeling especially brave, invite him to shed some light on any hints of gossip you have been playing around with this week.

Perhaps you found it odd to see a link to fund free mammograms at The Intersection, but to me, that is exactly where the crossroads of faith and life lie.  Our faith morphs into our daily living when we find ourselves serving people we might not ever meet.  Taking a few seconds each day to simply click on a link and offer women the prevention necessary to detect the disease that kills more than 43,000 women each year is one way of doing that.  Thanks for helping save lives!

I (Stacy) love to read as the pages draw me in and transport me to different eras and locations.  There is something nearly magical about opening up a book.  But, awe and amazement overcame me before I even opened The Fall by Kirsten Lasinski up.  You see, I have the privilege of knowing Kirsten.  We’re both members of Words for the Journey Christian Writers Guild (to learn more about this fantastic writing group, click www.wordsforthejourney.org).  For the first time, I saw literature as art–as the author’s attempt to convey a message, tell a story, or even change a perspective.  And that is exactly what Kirsten does.

By day, elementary school janitor, Morris Jackson, leads an ordinary, peaceful life.  And by all accounts, his nights should be calm, too, as he unknowingly dreams of Eden.  But, as Adam and Eve come to life in a way that surpasses my preconceived notions of this first couple, tensions mount as Morris becomes grossly aware of the fall that is about to happen.

Kirsten weaves the tale in a way that helps you gain a better understanding of Eve, while leaving you wondering how the real-life nightmares Morris finds himself in will unfold.

I read this quote just a few minutes ago, and have now read it several times since.  I’m curious to know if it has the same sticky effect with you.

“Many persons have the wrong idea about what constitutes true happiness.  It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose” – Helen Keller

My first thought it that much, much time is spent on self-gratification.  Only the barest fraction of time – if any at all – is spent in steadfastness toward a worthy purpose.  Could this be partly to blame for any dissatisfaction I feel as this day come to a close?  I can’t help but pause for a minute.  How much of today did I spend in satisfying my own temporary needs and wants?  Comparatively, how much of today did I spend on a purpose completely outside of myself, something that stands as a worthy purpose regardless of my presence in the midst of it?

As I said, I am curious to know what you think.  Post a comment, and let me know if you see any truth in Ms. Keller’s poignant words.

“I am the vine; you are the branches.  If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5.  This is my life verse.  Though I try desperately to live each day in Christ, I find it is easy to be swayed, and the next thing I know I’m trying to do everything on my own.  My hope and prayer is that through this Intersection we will discover how to live each day to the fullest in Christ.

I have learned over the years (through many experiences) that life is made up of moments; some moments are beautiful, some are tragic, and some moments are unknown as to how they are going to turn out.  I truly believe that it is in these moments that God imparts truth into our lives and teaches us through scripture, prayer, and fellowship with others how we are to do this thing called life.  Thank you for stopping at the Intersection and going on this journey with me.

A while back (okay a long while), I was born in Portland, Oregon.  I had the privilege of being raised in a Christian home.  From a very young age I was exposed to “church life” as I like to call it.  My father was a pastor at a local church.  Looking back there were times I felt as if I lived in a glass house with the church community peering through the windows, but thankfully my parents protected us from the expectations that can come from a life in ministry.

I never really desired to work in ministry after being raised in that setting, but its funny how God has his own agenda for our lives.  After graduating from Cal State University, with a degree in Communications, I went and worked for several years at a Christian university.  Just when I thought I had enough of the “college ministry setting,” I found myself on staff at a large church in Southern California in their Student Ministries Department.  I must say this was probably one of the joys of my B.C. life (before children).

So that leads me to the family–my greatest joy and fulfillment.  I am married to Matthew Keane, a Jamaican born, software engineer, guitar playing, music writer, golf and tennis pro.  Let me just say life is never dull at my house.  I actually wish things would get boring for a while.  We have two beautiful girls, Madeline, who is six, and Isabelle, who is four.

Besides being a full time wife and mother, I enjoy writing and I’m currently tinkering with writing a Christian suspense novel.  My hobbies include, but are not limited to, rubber stamping and card making, reading, knitting (on occasion), tennis, long walks, playing with my kids.  I love a cold fountain drink and bag of plain M&M’s too.

It’s so hard to sit down and describe myself. It feels like such an egocentric thing to do.  But, since you’re taking the time to read about me, I’ll go ahead and share some of my many faces and roles.

My dear husband says I’m feisty, quirky, and spunky. Some friends describe me as sensitive, caring and compassionate. Another friend laughs at my (frequent) cooking mishaps. My daughter thinks I’m a great tea-party companion and, currently, my infant son views me as the milk machine. And who do I say I am? Well, that’s tricky to answer. Definitely all of the above, but so much more. I’m a woman who desperately loves God. I try to follow His will and purposes for my life–sometimes I’m successful, yet many times I fail miserably. Sunsets refresh me and watching the ocean’s waves invigorates me as I view a dance my God orchestrated. Traveling allows me to view God’s distinct fingerprints. Running clears my mind and reading lets me journey to places my budget or time constraints would never accommodate. Being a freelance writer and public speaker is terrifying yet simultaneously immensely gratifying.

Have I answered your question yet as to who I am? My most valuable response is one that holds true for you and me. I am Stacy and I am a child of God.

Good grief … it took me nearly 15 minutes just to come up with the title for this little bio section.  Originally, I thought of “The Skinny on Michele,” but I’ve never been very fond of the word “skinny.”  Causes a few pangs of guilt in my gut for indulging in that Oreo ice cream just a few minutes ago.  So, after much deliberation, I’ve opted for “The 411″, which at least implies you will get a little info.  Truth is, ”The 911″ would fit better, given that I always seem to be in one crisis or another. 

Where to begin … I am a thirty-something wife and mother of three boys.  At 10, 14 and 15, they eat more than Safeway grocery store can keep in stock.  I eat chocolate like it’s going out of style, and run about 20+ miles a week so I can keep eating the chocolate.  I enjoy reading a good book in a bubble bath, which of course helps to relieve the pain from all the running (especially with a little something chocolate to nibble on while soaking).  I love to travel, especially to warm sandy beaches, where my husband & I can scuba dive.  Oh, but how I love the feel of coming home again.  I treasure family time, those moments becoming fewer as I watch my babies becoming men.  We snow-ski and snowboard in the winter, and camp and spend time on our boat in the summer.  Something about being outside in God’s creation makes my world feel more right.  

In a word, I have most often been described as a woman of passion, which is not always a good thing.  God has filled this belly of mine with more emotion than I can often contain.  Coupled with a sense of personal drive that is always on “high” and more questions then answers about life, and I can easily self-destruct.  If God has rescued me once, He’s rescued me a thousand times!  Oh, but He is so patient … helping me see that it is really not so much about the “doing”, but about knowing HIM. 

Several years ago, during a particularly difficult crisis, the Lord met with me in a very tangible way and gave me story of Jehoshaphat in 2 Chronicles 20.     “This is what the LORD says to you: ‘ Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army.  For the battle is not yours, but God’s…”  Reminding me again that it is not about my strength, but His, He carried me through that crisis – and many more that followed – with a sure and steady hand. 

This is who I am today … though I make no guarantees about tomorrow.  I am a rough lump of clay in the hands of a marvelous potter.  It’s a good place to be.