These Boots Weren't Made For Walking (Ouch)

I can't help it...I'm a boot fanatic. I love 'em. Always have, always will.

And today is no exception. My sweet husband took me to Watsonnatta in Boone to pick out a new pair for my birthday.

And what a blissful pair I found. Knee high, distressed leather, just the right amount of slouch. Just the right blend of country and chic. At the risk of looking like a pirate, you can even fold the tops down for added oomph. Anyway, they were the boots of my dreams, and I was delighted to wear them out of the store.

So, with my fabulous husband by my side, I walked those boots out the door, down the sidewalk, and into the local sandwich joint. I was feeling super cool.

In fact, I was feeling so cool that I wasn't watching my step. Instead, I was watching my reflection in the glass, making note of how fab those boots looked with my skinny jeans and long sweater.

And that's when those boots took on a mind of their own. They walked right out from underneath me, leaving me sitting on my rear end with several boothloads of people staring. And pointing. And laughing. And blowing soda out their noses.

You'd think I'd be mortified. I wasn't. Sadly, I've done far more humiliating things than that. But I sure was humbled. The first thing that came to mind was Proverbs 16:18: “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” Don't tell me the Bible isn't relevant! I experienced this passage first hand. Consider this lesson learned. (Ouch.)

DOK 2012, where have you been all my life? - Maryanne Tuck Grimmett

No, seriously.  It's been forever.  Or maybe just a year.  Anyway....

I have the privilege of being on full-time Staff at Uplands Reach.  This means I get to work with a ton of amazing campers at a ton of amazing camps.  But there is one event, I must admit, this is my secret favorite.  Okay, now that I just blogged it, I guess it's a secret no longer.  But, I don't care.  I'm gonna let the world know.  In fact, I am currently screaming this from the rooftops.  Or maybe just typing really, really, really emphatically.  At any rate, I'm seriously pounding these keys.  And the message:

I LOVE DAUGHTERS OF THE KING.

And once you know what it is, you'll love it, too.  In fact, you'll be racing to the Uplands Reach website (www.uplandsreach.org) to download your registration form today.  So, here's the skinny...

Daughters of the King is a sleepover for girls in the seventh grade through college.  It's NO BOYS ALLOWED.  Why?  Because we've got too many cool things to do...like manicures, pedicures, makeovers, suh-weet jewelry making, midnight movies and munchies, and (the grand finale) a chocolate fountain that will send you into sugar shock upon mere glance.  For realz.

So, take my word for it when it comes to the fabulousness of DOK.  And hurry up and register so we can count you in on the fun.  FYI, if you register by September 24, you'll save $25, which makes the cost per person $75 instead of $100.  If you have any questions, call our office at 336.667.7177 or go to the Daughters of the King event on the Uplands Reach facebook page.  Be there, friend of mine!!

You Haven't Missed the Boat!!!

Don't worry...you haven't missed the boat!  You can still register for Peace Week Teen Camp 2011!  And it's a good thing, too, because we want YOU there.  Do yourself (and your parents) a favor by getting your registration in by June 6 to save $25.  Do yourself an even huger favor by registering as soon as possible so that you have a better chance of getting into the MOD of your choice.  What's a MOD?  I'm glad you asked.  At Uplands Reach, you customize your camp experience by choosing an intense, week-long activity focus that matches your interests.  This year's MODs are super groovy: Rugged Spirituality (camping), Epic Worship (music), MudSlingers (pottery), Ultimate Goal (athletics), and His Reins (horsemanship).  It's gonna be sweet, we guarantee.  So be there!

 

For more info, check out our website (www.uplandsreach.org), call our office (336.667.7177), or go to the Uplands Reach Conference Center page on facebook.

 

Potterize - by Maryanne Grimmett

Before 

After

If you want to see my happy face, plunk me down behind a pottery wheel and shove fifty pounds of fresh clay in my direction. Man, oh man, I just love playing in the mud. I call it potterizing--the adventure of transforming a blob of seeming nothinglesss into something with form, function, and (sometimes!) beauty. 

On a day like today, when I am fighting to keep a good attitude while rushing to complete a million tasks within a single calendar square, I am reminded of that Sunday School chorus "He's still working on me...to make me what I ought to be..." I am so, so, so grateful that, as a child of the risen King, my Jesus is not content to let me stay as I am. He potterizes like no one else can. Despite my follies and failures, He's still molding and making...and He won't clock out in the middle of the job. I sure don't deserve His mercy, but I'll take it anyway! 

My prayer for today: "Jesus, thank you for loving me eternally, irrevocably, and unconditionally. Make me like You, even when its so much easier to be like me. I love You."

Grateful Monday - by Maryanne Grimmett

Remember this song?  We sang it in Sunday School.  Sing it with me now.  “Count Your blessings.  Name them one by one.  Count Your blessings.  See what God has done.”

Even as I type this, I’m singing that old chorus…waaaay too loud and most definitely off-key.  People around me in the McDonald’s parking lot, where I’m snagging internet connection with my car windows rolled down, are beginning to stare. 

Oh, well.  Perhaps they’ll internalize two things about me.  First of all, granted, I can’t sing.  At all.  But, secondly—and far more importantly—I am blessed.  As in blessed beyond measure.

Today, as I work on the Uplands website, proof blog posts and Teen Camp documents, plant grass around my house, pot plants, and throw pottery, my goal is to be continually counting my blessings…and naming them one by one.  I anticipate a dialogue with God that goes something like this:

“Lord Jesus, thanks for this beautiful day.  Thanks for my amazing family.  Thanks for my faithful husband.  Thanks for a dependable vehicle.  Thanks for two arms, two legs, two eyes, and two ears.  Thanks for a house that’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  Thanks for Uplands Reach.  Thanks for old friends and new friends and friends yet to be made.  Thanks for Your Word.  Thanks for knowing me and loving me anyway.  Thanks for listening.”

That’s just the abbreviated version.  The truth is, I could type blessing after blessing…and my laptop battery would die long before I was finished.  God has been good to me.  And you know what?  I have a feeling He’s been good to you, too.  Let’s make this Grateful Monday and get busy thanking.

Let Go. - by Maryanne Grimmett

So…I had an interesting drive to Jefferson yesterday morning.  First of all, I ran over a golf club.  Random.  Secondly, I heard a story on 106.9 The Light that stopped me in my tracks.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.   Behind me was a big Dodge driven by a burly dude who probably wouldn’t have appreciated a sudden stop.

Anyway, a guy, somewhere off in radio land, explained how baboon hunters in the jungle craftily catch their prey.  The hunter fills a small hold in a tree with salt.  The baboon is drawn by the irresistible smell and reaches into the hole for a big handful of salt.  Unwilling to relinquish its grip on the salt, the baboon finds itself trapped because its first can’t fit back through the hole. The baboon is helpless before predators and hunters because it selfishly refuses to let go.

Chilling application…Is there something you are holding onto, despite its inevitable potential for destruction?  A boyfriend or girlfriend you know you have no business being with?  An addiction that is destroying both your present and your future?  A habit that is stealing your joy and robbing you of intimacy with God?  No matter what it is, today can be the first day of the rest of your life.  Thanks to a merciful Savior, we are offered hope and healing when we come to Him in faith and repentance. Just let go.

Bless Em' Real Good - by Maryanne Grimmett

This past weekend, I had the privilege of attending the wedding of a dear friend.  It was beautiful.  From the bridesmaids strutting down the aisle in brown dresses, jean jackets, and cowboy boots to the look on the groom’s face when he saw his beautiful bride…it was precious.  But perhaps my favorite part was a prayer of blessing for the couple.  The gentleman who offered it, the bride’s uncle, closed the prayer with the words, “Lord, bless ‘em real good.  Amen.”

You know what?  That’s my prayer for you today, that the Lord would bless you, in the words of that gentleman, real good. Thanks for taking the time to read our blog.  Thanks for your interest in Uplands Reach.  We cared enough about you to post this blog, and you cared enough about us to read it.  That’s very, very cool.  So, on behalf of the Uplands Team, may the Lord bless you amazingly, abundantly, astoundingly…real good.

To Share...or Not to Share? - by Maryanne Grimmett

I love gas stations, because gas stations mean candy.  And, trust me, nobody appreciates candy more than this girl.  So….yesterday I was perusing the sugar aisle at a service station in Marion, positively giddy with excitement at the numerous options showcased before me.  Should I go with Sour Jacks, my tried-and-true standby with its paradoxical blend of sour and sweet?  Or should I indulge in a Reese’s, which now boasts manifold versions such as Whipped, or Big Cup, Dark Chocolate, or Minis?  Since I was on my way to church, I opted for something a little classier, the age-old mint.

But, alas, settling on mints did little to narrow down the choices.  For, you see, that left me to vacillate between Certs, BreathSavers, Altoids, and all of their many offshoots.  But something, just something drew me to the Ice Breakers.  Maybe it was the bright blue packaging, maybe it was the flavor crystals, maybe it was the fact that they’re sugar free.  More than likely, it was because they were the cheapest option.

Midway through the church service, I dug the Ice Breakers out of my purse and started to pop the top.  It was then that I noticed something interesting.  Ice Breakers gives you two options…a tab labeled “to share” and a tab labeled “not to share.”  But what really stood out to me was the fact that the “to share” tab opens with just barely enough room to shake out lonely little mint.  By contrast, the “not to share” tab opens so wide that you have to be careful or all your mints will spill out on the floor.

At first, I wondered if that was a packaging mistake.  You’d think that, with other people reaching in for mints, you’d want the “to share” tab to open easily and generously.  But then it occurred to me that this was most definitely intentional.  In fact, this reflects the unfortunate but typical attitude toward giving (or, more accurately, NOT giving) that pervades our culture.

We are a culture that wants…and wants a lot.  Unfortunately, we are less inclined to give.  But think about Luke 6:38: “Give, and it shall be given to you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that you mete with it shall be measured to you again.”

What if we switched the tabs?  What if we took God at His word and gave generously, freely, and excitedly?  What if we gave God all of our time, talents, and finances and trusted Him to dictate their use?  What if?

I can’t wait until someone whispers across the pew, “Do you have any candy?”  I’m going to pop the “not to share” tab and shake it until the Ice Breakers overflow.  

The Thing About Mud Puddles... By Maryanne Grimmett

Who among us, deep down, doesn't love a mud puddle?  There's something just so satisfyingly squishy about 
them. When I was a kid, there were few things I enjoyed more than sinking my bare feet into a fresh puddle. The best ones could be found at the end of our driveway, delightfully pooled in a deep rut at the end of a rainy day. First chance I got, I shucked my shoes, peeled off my socks, and stomped until the mud oozed between my toes and left my feet as wrinkled as raisins.

A quarter of a lifetime later, I've still got a thing for mud puddles. Just today, feeding horses in the rain left my muck boots, well, mucky. It was as though I'd walked in cement, only this cement was a mixture of horse manure, soggy hay, and who knows what else. I sure didn't want to track that junk in the house, and I was (to be honest) much too lazy to drag out the water hose, so I did the next best thing. I found a mud puddle and sloshed right through it.

But the thing about mud puddles is that they're muddy. Try as I might, I just couldn't quite get those boots clean. As soon as a little would wash off, my boot would sink to the bottom of the puddle, only to be encapsulated once again in filth.

I've heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results. Call me crazy, but throughout my life I've tried numerous times to get my act together, to straighten up, to turn over a new leaf. Funny how that never seemed to work out. In fact, the more I tried to do good on my own, the more of a mess I ended up in. It wasn't until I encountered the living God and allowed Him to completely, eternally wash my sins away that I truly experienced cleansing. You see, filth plus filth always equals filth. But, praise God, repentance plus Jesus equals radical transformation and a new life in Him. Every single time. Consider these boots washed.

Confessions of a Dogaholic - by Maryanne Grimmett

Charlie

I do believe I’m a dogaholic.  I just love ‘em.  Big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones, spotted ones, striped ones.  Beagle or Border Collie, Poodle or Pit Bull, I don’t care.  Come to think about it, just about every blog I’ve written for The World Changer Archives has to do with Mabel, my Basset Hound.  So, given my penchant for canines, you can imagine my surprise when, as I drove home from Uplands Reach, I saw a tiny brown furball crouching on the yellow line in the middle of a lonely, winding road. What’s a girl to do but throw the car in park, jump out, scoop the thing up, and head on down the road?  I guess it’s about time we got Mabel a dog.  I said all that to say this, my dear reader: Be looking for adventures concerning our newest canine friend. Welcome to the Uplands family, Charlie!

Hide and Seek, Mabel-Style - By Maryanne Tuck Grimmett

The ham-bone hiding, hide and seek ninja, Mabel

Call me crazy, but I love to muck stalls.  For some reason, nothing frees up my brain quite like shoveling horse poop into a wheel barrow.  It’s my thinking time.  And it also affords me the opportunity to witness my dog doing what she does best—clowning around.

            Mabel carries around a huge bone, a ham hock sans the ham.  She takes it from stall to stall, and, within each stall, corner to corner.  With six stalls each boasting four corners, that’s twenty-four corners.  And at each corner, she does the same thing.  She uses her gargantuan paws to shovel out a shallow hole, deposits the bone, and uses her long nose to push sawdust up over it.  After doing so in Corner A, she exits the stall for a few minutes before returning, circling the stall, digging up the bone, and duplicating said steps in Corner B, Corner C, and Corner D.  Every single time, she seems pleasantly surprised to find the bone and joyously excited about repeating the process in the next stall.  It’s a grand game of solitary hide-and-seek, wherein she’s both the hider and the searcher, and she is never disappointed.

            As if that’s not weird enough, she’s taken to playing the game in our house, where there is neither horse poop nor sawdust.  There are, however, a multitude of corners, and Mabel makes the best of them.  On many occasions, I’ve watched her haul an object into a corner, scratch at the ground, shove the object into the “hole,” and push imaginary sawdust over it with her nose.  She then trots away, a satisfied look on her wrinkled face and her long ears dragging behind her.

            The crazy thing is, in her mind, that object is covered, securely shielded from view by a mound of sawdust impenetrable to the naked eye.  In fact, it’s so well hidden that even she will walk right by it in search of another bone. 

            Mabel's one-dog game of Hide and Seek is self-imposed.  Deep down, I think she knows I’ll play with her.  In fact, I have a track record of prioritizing her, even over-rewarding her simple successes with exaggerated treats and praises.  Yet she chooses to play alone.

Kinda makes me think of me.  Even though He has proven Himself time and time again, I sometimes forget I have access to Him.  So I play the game of life solo, facing problems and fears on my own without consulting the One who actually has control over them.  But, wouldn’t you know, when I do trust in Him, He has that same habit of rewarding me with treats beyond my capacity of earning. 

How amazing.  The God of the universe patiently waits for me to acknowledge my desperate need for Him, so that we can traverse this road that leads from life into eternity as friends with no secrets on either side.  

Nowhere to Go...Thank God (Literally) - by Maryanne Grimmett

Newsflash: The Christian life ain’t always easy.  In fact, sometimes it’s downright difficult.    You, of course, are invincible.  However, I am a mere mortal, and sometimes I find myself disheartened.

But I must give credit where credit is due.  Satan’s specialties are doubt, disappointment, and discouragement.  He thrives on them, and he knows just how to sow seeds of opposition in my life. 

It is in these times that the precious Word becomes even more important.  Funny how God speaks through Scripture just what I need and when I need it.  Today, for example, my morning reading led me to the Gospel of John.  One passage in particular jumped out at me.

Jesus has just shared the simple truth with His followers.  He has described Himself as the Bread of Life and stated quite clearly the path to salvation.  But, alas, according to John 6:66, “After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with Him.”

So Jesus, being the straightforward kinda guy He is, turns to His twelve primary disciples and asks, “Do you want to go away as well?”  You see, Jesus is a perfect gentleman.  He doesn’t barge in where He is unwanted, and He sure doesn’t force people to remain in His presence.

But I love Peter’s response: “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.”   

  

I get that.  And when clouds of discouragement fester in the skies of my life, I always go back to it.  The day I committed my life to Jesus Christ, He rescued me, in every sense of the word.  He gave me hope and peace that I had never, ever known.  He has gifted me with His sweet presence.  He hangs out with me now.  There is absolutely nothing for me to go back to.

There will be times when you feel like you are peddling a bike uphill with one foot...and maybe even without the bike.  Just know this: if Jesus Christ lives in your heart, you are not alone in the fight.  Disregard the lies the enemy sneers in your ear, because outside of Jesus, there is no peace, no hope, and no joy.   He alone holds the words of eternal life.  And He alone can hold you.

Are We Tempted too Easily? - by Maryanne Grimmett

My dog hates baths like celebrities hate silence.  This is unfortunate, on several levels.  First of all, she is a Basset Hound, which renders her naturally odorous and in frequent need of aromatic assistance.  Secondly, she often accompanies me to feed the horses, where she indulges in a veritable buffet of manure.  Finally, I cannot abide a dirty dog in my house, so I bathe her weekly (at the very least) whether she needs it or not.

            On bath day, we play a little game called Mabel Hears the Water Running and Hides Behind the Recliner.  After that game, we play Maryanne Calls and Calls, But Mabel Never Comes.  Today, however, I was three hours behind schedule and in no mood for games.  Therefore, I resorted to bribery, knowing full well that Mabel is motivated by two things: food and sleep.  So, I grabbed a formidable weapon in this battle…a handful of Cheese Puffs.  (Sidenote: Cheese Puffs, when you do the math, sell for about $12 a pound and are made solely of air and calories.)   Sure enough, after only two measly Cheese Puffs, she was standing outside the bathroom door.  Just one more Cheese Puff later, she was neck deep in warm water getting scrubbed down with Garnier Fructis.

            As I dried Mabel off, I considered how easily she had fallen.  For three years, she’s taken a firm stand against bathing.  For three years, I’ve had to physically haul her to the bathtub, which is easier said than done when dealing with a 50lb. dog dead set against getting clean.  Today, however, she didn’t even put up a fight.  She was a traitor to her own cause, and all because I tempted her with a few Cheese Puffs, and stale ones at that.

            But I am not unlike Mabel.  I have a cause, one that I have staked my eternal destiny on and committed my life to.  I am a follower of Jesus, and I am called to live for Him.  However, I find myself so easily distracted by bribes just as empty as the Cheese Puffs offered to Mabel.  A little extra sleep when I should be spending more time in the Word.  A few moments of silence when I could be sharing my testimony with a friend.  A bad attitude when I ought to be praising the One who has blessed me so abundantly.  Satan’s bribes are so cheap, and I am often too weak to resist them. 

            Fortunately, my God doesn’t change, which means His great love and compassion are unfailing, even for a flawed being such as myself.  And since my salvation is secure, He has, for reasons unbeknownst to me, obligated Himself to join me in the cause and aid my efforts along the way.  I am so comforted to know that the one-and-only Jesus is hanging right there with me, no matter how many Cheese Puffs the enemy rolls out.