just like mom

When I was a kid I knew a few things for sure: I knew my favorite color was blue; I knew that God loved me; I LOVED reading and writing stories (usually about horses); and I knew that I wanted to grow up to be nothing like my mom. 


Now, don't get me wrong, my mom was a wonderful woman and great mother. She loved my brother and me with a fierce devotion--fierce. She was spontaneous and loved surprises. Some of my favorite moments with her centered around jaunts to TCBY for a special treat (maybe that doesn't seem super-spontaneous to you, but we didn't have a lot of money). She loved to have fun and sing, specifically Oldies in our beat-up Mercury. She was silly; my mom at her silliest acted like a puppy, crawling into my room on hands and knees, whimpering that she was sorry for doing whatever or sorry that I was feeling sad. And my favorite thing about her was the way she made us feel special. I fondly remember notes in my lunch box and special "dates" we would have individually with her. 


But, like most mothers, she had her flaws. One of the biggest things that got under my skin was how she could just air her feelings to anyone and everyone, it seemed, without a care in the world. She would tell anyone about her problems, past or present, and not in a "please feel sorry for me" way but just because that's what came naturally. She was an open book. I have vivid memories of her re-hashing a former marriage or our current financial struggles to complete strangers. And even to a mom while we were on a field trip--right in front of me, nonetheless! I cowered and moved away from her slowly, hoping that my classmates would not compute that she was my mom. 


So, I think about my mom's ability and sometimes urgency to be so frank with others about her life and I realize that, oh crap, I'm turning out to be just like her. Obviously, this blog is proof of that. Recently, I even caught myself striking up a conversation about debt with a check-out lady at the grocery store. My mom totally did that and it embarrassed the crap out of me! So, I don't know if it's becoming a mother, getting older (I'll be 30 this year, whoop!), or just living through the craziness of this past year, but I am officially turning into my mom. I wonder how much more I would be like her if she'd been with us the past twelve years. 


And I see more than just the frankness--I see the silliness, too. I'm not too spontaneous, though. And I'm not sure how it will turn out, but I hope to have all of that fierce devotion to Savannah. And I do love to sing to the Oldies whenever I can find them. 



So, here's to my mom, Diane. I love you and miss you. And here's to all my girlfriends who never wanted to be like their moms--let's hold on to their best qualities and let's embarrass our kids every chance we get! 

changing our legacy

I’ve been thinking recently about the legacy we leave. This has been prompted by many things: our current financial condition, our daughter turning a year old, and a personal longing to be a more giving individual.

The past few weeks have brought on some financial “surprises” for us. The problem is that these things shouldn’t have been surprises; we should have not only expected them but already taken care of them—they have been a long time coming. After the last “surprise,” Chaz and I both hit our bottom. Interestingly though, we aren’t angry or consumed by fear; we are just overwhelmingly disappointed in ourselves (this is definitely growth for me). We have finally accepted our own disgustingly poor handling of our money, and we are ready to truly make the changes necessary for getting out of this awful hole of debt and insecurity.

I did shed some tears, though. But this time it was not about my fear of how we were going to pay for these things or anger at my poor husband. I cried because I thought of my sweet Savannah and what we are leaving to her. A legacy of financial distress is something I never, ever wanted to leave my child.

I grew up in financial distress—growing up in a single-parent home in which the only income is a disability check will do that to you. My mom did the best she could, but her stress always overflowed onto my brother and me. We both knew when bills were due and what we wouldn't be able to pay. We both knew not to ask for certain things. There were even a few times we went to the food pantry. I didn't know you could live on a budget or save money; to me, money was bad. I believe this is the main reason I’ve had such a difficult time taking responsibility for my own financial fate. In a twisted way, I believed ignoring the problems really would make them go away because I certainly was not capable of fixing them. What good financial decisions could a person with my family history possibly make?

Now I realize that this type of thinking is shrouded in lies and fear. It was a huge mistake on my part to buy into this mindset, and it has ruined my financial legacy thus far. However, God redeems the mess of our broken legacy and our mistakes, and I know that he is transforming Chaz’s and my thinking each day. He is enabling us to create a new legacy for our family.

I know this promise is true because God has already done it in my life. Last Sunday at church, I was reminded of this. Our church is currently doing a campaign to raise money so that we can expand our main building and build a permanent campus for a branch-out church location. The campaign is to last two years, and Chaz and I decided to commit a certain amount of money above our tithe to it. And we’re doing this because we want to, by the way.

Anyway, I was nervous about placing our commitment because it is a promise, and this is a challenging time for us to make financial promises. But at this point I am more concerned about a heart change. Paying our debt is definitely an obligation, but I no longer see it as a burden. It has become for us an opportunity to grow in the way we handle our finances and in the way we trust God to provide. I feel confident that as God has been changing my perception of paying off our debt, he will also change my perception on giving.

As the service closed last Sunday, we sang a song called “The Stand.” For me, this song holds special meaning. I sang this song to God about five years ago, telling him that I would give up my own failed attempts to forgive my dad. I was tired of lost attempts to change my own heart and finally realized that God was the only one who could fix me. So, as the song goes, I promised God that I would do what he wanted me to do for "all I am is Yours.” God fulfilled his promise to me, enabling me to forgive my dad and to love him no matter what it cost me.

God made it possible for me to break a cycle of unforgiveness that has tainted my family for generations. I knew that when I forgave my dad, I was creating a new legacy for my family. What a precious example of God’s love and ability to redeem!

So, that song reminded me how God has transformed my once hardened heart. It was a promise and personal guarantee that he will do it again. He will show Chaz and me how to create a new legacy of financial responsibility and overflowing generosity because we trust him.

And because he loves us.