Lasting Legacy

On January 1, 2015 a large group of us gathered; beautiful babies and toddlers, spirited elementary aged children and teenagers coming into their own;  parents, children, and their children's children; ordained ministers, educators, social workers, missionaries, and artists. The group gathered and the food piled in, way too much food.  The group gathered and the laughter began, hugs were shared, and memories were remembered. 

I remember the vacations on the lake and on the beach where the twelve cousins played on the beach and played in the sand, put on shows, and whispered secrets in hidden corners. 

I remember pool parties and mischief, music, and fun.  There were crazy lip sync contests, games, movies, and singing. 

Mixed with the laughter and the stories, always prayer and care, support and so much love. 

In the center of all, laughing to the point of tears, smiling with delight, offering words of  encouragement, telling stories of God's grace and claiming answered prayers has always been the beautiful woman who made it all possible. The woman who has grown more beautiful with each passing year and who has ushered peace into my heart throughout my life in ways that are incomprehensible. 

Peaceful moments of my childhood involve the special days when Gram lived in our home in Louisville. I loved the times when I somewhat timidly knocked on the door of her apartment at the end of the house and she welcomed me in to talk or watch TV or just sit in her presence. I always felt welcome, loved, special. 

It was during this time that Gram taught a class for the children at our church on Wednesday nights, a class that consisted of only Gretchen and me. Although we were the only kids who showed up, she prepared as if she were leading a vibrant children's ministry. The stories were told to us from the heart and I am sure life application was shared. One evening she asked if I had asked Jesus into my heart and if I wanted to. Of course I did!  She led me through a prayer of salvation.  I was 5 years old and my journey with Christ began. 

I remember a day during my freshman year of high school when I woke up with tears spilling for no reason from the moment I opened my eyes. I cried and I cried and I didn't know why. Perhaps teenage insecurity, a rough time of the month, or the general emotional struggles I continue to have to overcome. I missed my ride to school and mom did not know what to do with me. She finally forced me in the car, my eyes wet and puffed, still resisting. The closer we got to school, the more out of control I became. As a final resort, she took me to see Gram. It seems that before I could even say a word, Gram told me how I felt. I didn't even know what I was feeling,  but she did and she could name it. Being understood opened the door to freedom and healing that day. She spoke understanding and peace and love.  And she prayed. I have always felt the power in Gram's prayers. Her dedication as a prayer warrior has always been awe-inspiring and I experienced a miracle that day as her prayer enabled my tears to dry and hope to surface once again so that I could face the challenges and be open to the joy of life. 

I am beyond grateful for all the cherished moments.  There was a memorable trip when circumstances forced mom, Gram, and I to drive 6 hours "cheek to cheek", all three of us together, in the front seat of an old car. The laughter and conversation was crazy and real. I am sure that truth was spoken and we all knew how much we matter to each other. I am grateful for the continued love and that my own children get to experience the blessing of "G.G."

Most of all, I am thankful for the legacy. It is a legacy where family is the lasting foundation and Jesus holds it all together. Generations now and in the future have and will impact this world with love and truth, prayer and hope.  There is so much of this that is the result of Gram's faithfulness and the decision she and Grandpa made many years ago to live lives devoted to the Lord. 

I am so blessed. We are so blessed. Thanks be to God for the indescribable gift!

My Fear Landscape

In lieu of the Insurgent premiere it seems apropos to finally put into words my fear landscape.  In the first book of the Divergent series, Dauntless initiates are put into a simulation and must face their worst fears and find a way to overcome them in order to move on to the next stage of training and be welcomed into the Dauntless faction. Given my near, or possibly full blown, obsession with all things Divergent, and my Dauntless choice, it is only natural that I should give full consideration to discovering my fear landscape and identifying ways to overcome these fears. 

Identifying the fears for my personal fear landscape is somewhat of a challenge. I have revisited some of the nightmares from my childhood that are still vivid in my memory. Could these reveal deep seated fears?  I had a recurring nightmare involving getting to school and then realizing I forgot to wear my shoes. However, I don't actually think I have a fear of bare feet; rather, it is more likely that these dreams were a foreshadowing of my extreme love for shoes.  I also remember a dream involving a giant rock man chasing me. (Imagine a snowman built out of rocks with trees for arms, standing 12 feet tall.) Some time after having this recurring dream, I realized that I was associating the personified rock man with Satan, and let me tell ya, I am NOT afraid of that dumb loser.  I happen to be super tight with the One with way more power than that sorry ass has.  So, that knocks weird rock man out of my landscape. 

A lot of people are scared of clowns, but not me.  I actually had a borderline creepy love for the movie "It" growing up. 

I used to be scared of losing my mind, but the older I get, I realize there is no escaping this. I am going to lose my mind someday, so I might as well embrace it. 

So what am I afraid of?

Fear #1:  CROWS

A few summers ago, when Keira was a baby and I was a Resident Director, there was a strange infestation of crows that flooded AU's campus at night. On several occasions, I arrived home with my baby, otherwise alone, while Matt was working, and opened my car door to the sound of literally thousands of crows hovering and squawking overhead. The sound was deafening and I knew that I had to shield my baby and run the 30 feet to the door to get into the residence hall like our lives depended it. I imagined them swarming us and pecking us to death.  Once inside, I could still hear him, squawking their angry death threats and my imagination went crazy.  I just knew they were going to decide to all slam into the windows at once and infest our apartment and leave us all for dead.  I slept with Keira close and prayed that we would live to see the morning. Crows would definitely make the cut for my fear landscape. 

Fear #2:  CATS

When I was 9 years old, I bought a kitten at a church auction for a quarter and named her Cheerio.  Since we lived near fields and farms, it wasn't long until Cheerio was taken advantage of and impregnated by some deadbeat tomcat. This began a stream of kittens being born in our garage.  Cheerio had to the be the youngest great grandma in history. I don't even want to know what kind of crazy incest was going on.  There could have even been a cat brothel being run out of the local preacher's home for all we know. It was disturbing. And then it got worse. Eventually all the kittens were either given away or ran away into the fields never to return,  Cheerio's run in the Dreger home was over, and we were all somewhat relieved. Until.  Until winter rolled around and a group of stray cats discovered our crawl space. I would wake in the night to the horrific sounds of cats mating and fighting. One night, after hearing the most terrifying sounds I have heard coming from living creatures right outside my window, I fell back asleep and had a dream. My dad crawled under the house to get the cats out and the scary cats killed him. The cats killed my dad. Stupid Cheerio. One does not recover from that. I still feel my body chill and my breath quicken when a cat enters a room. Cats are unpredictable and just plain creepy.  Seriously, I will kill spiders with my bare hands, but keep your cute little kitten away from me. 

Fear #3:  BEING ALONE

Okay, I have issues. Don't judge me. You have issues too. If you don't know you have issues, you need to get a grip, get a counselor, or just get over yourself. We all have issues, got it?  This is one of mine. I just don't like to be alone. This fear is not even about being void of meaningful relationships; it is literally about physically being myself.  It also is not about physical vulnerability that may occur while by myself.  I'm not afraid of the boogie man.  I just don't like being alone. Being by myself makes me too emotionally vulnerable.  There. I said it.   (Issues, issues...) I was a complete lobby rat in college. I didn't go up to my room until I knew for sure that I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I recognized this as an issue 15 years ago and knew that I should overcome it so I got an apartment by myself when I went to grad school. It. Was. Miserable. It was miserable until I made friends and began having constant dinner parties or staying out with them until my head was ready to hit the pillow.  Before that, I just cried all the time and spent the other dead space talking on the phone. I tried being by myself one more time, but I met Matt one month into that stint and didn't have to suffer through it for long. Being alone is just overrated. I do enjoy thinking and reflecting, but why?  Why be alone when you don't have to be?  My fear landscape would involve me sitting in a white room all by myself with no way to escape.  

Fear #4:  UNKNOWN

My imagination is pretty crazy. I have sort of an irrational fear of being in a car accident involving driving into a body of water. This could potentially be in my fear landscape, except I have it completely planned out how I would get out of this mess. I have thought through every detail of how my entire family could be saved in this particular scenario. There is no way that anyone can prepare for how they may respond to unexpected death or illness. I have a feeling that I wouldn't respond to it very well. I wouldn't respond very well at all, but I've thought about it.  I know that these experiences are inevitable and I have a sense of readiness. Survival is possible with faith. However, there is this broad category of unknown that could potentially elicit fear. What about tragedies and challenges that I haven't thought of or already turned over in my mind?  What about utter and complete loss of control?  This is fairly broad, but this fear can be summed up as uncharted catastrophe. 

Fear #5: STATUS QUO SLAVERY

I must have the hope of adventure. I fear emptiness and lack of purpose. If I were trapped in a world without the hope of something new, it would be torture. 

The lyrics from one of my fave Nichole Nordeman songs speaks to this...

So long,status quo, I think I just let go

You make me wanna be brave

The way it always was is no longer good enough

You make me wanna be brave

Brave, brave

I am small and I speak when I'm spoken to

But I am willing to risk it all

I say Your name, just Your name

And I'm ready to jump

Even ready to fall

So long, status quo

You make me wanna be brave. 

Fear #6:  THREATS TO MY FAMILY

I love them like crazy. 

And that's it. There could be more fears that could crop up in my landscape, but I'm not much for fear. I'm kind of over it. 

Fear is a thief. It is paralyzing and it is the thief of the incredible freedom that we have the opportunity to embrace through Christ. I refuse to live in fear. I kick fear in the face.  I slam fear into the darkness and shine a light that says, "Get away from me, you little pansy cake!  You are not allowed up in here."  And then I go on living with hope and I don't look back. 

Amanda Cook and Bethel Music:

I have heard You calling my name

I have heard the song of love that You sing

So I will let You draw me out beyond the shore

Into Your grace

Your grace

You make me brave

You make me brave

You call me out beyond the shore into the waves

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now the love that made a way

You make me brave

You make me brave

You call me out beyond the shore into the waves

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now the promises you made

You make me brave

You make me brave

No fear can hinder now the love that made a way

Because Your love, in wave after wave

Crashes over me, crashes over me

You are for us

You are not against us

Champion of Heaven

You've made a way for all to enter in

A Passionate Young Life

My second baby turned 5 on Saturday. 

I was reflecting this morning on how easily he made his entrance into the world, especially compared to my two girls.  I sexed, bounced, and spicy food-ed myself into an easy labor.  The contractions were simple and I had time to fix my hair and make-up before heading to the hospital in plenty of time to receive an epidural before the pain got crazy and less than two hours later he came out in two easy pushes.  Matt was so stunned that we had a boy that he just stared in wonder and muttered a confused, “no” when asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.   For some reason, we both had anticipated being a family of all girls.  Judah Lynn surprised us.  And he continues to surprise us.  

His very early days as an infant were easy, apart from the occasional spraying poo.  He slept well, ate well, and seemed very easy going and laid back.  I am not entirely sure when that all changed.  Looking back, I remember that about 6 months after he was born, I realized that immediately after he was born, I reverted to my pre-pregnancy coffee drinking habits.  I was so careful during pregnancy to limit my coffee intake or knock it out all together.  I somehow forgot that nursing babies get a portion of what mommy eats in their milk.  Oops.  

My second baby is a feeler.  He feels everything deeply and with great enthusiasm.  Watching him watch movies is my favorite.  If something is exciting, he runs around the room uncontrollably, jumps up and down, screams and laughs.  It is incredible to watch.  If something scares him, he buries his head and wimpers.  Last week we watched a movie and it appeared that one of the main characters had died.  He wailed in grief, tears streaming down his face.  It was heartbreaking, breathtaking, hilarious, and beautiful all at the same time.  

His affection and passion is catching.  He loves to comfort his baby sister.  I have heard him tell her on multiple occasions, in a very matter-of-fact manner, “Elayne, God is always with you.  God is with you when you are scared.  God is with you when you are alone.  God is with you when you are getting your hair brushed.  God is always with you.”  He told Matt recently that he wants to be a pastor someday because he loves to talk about God all the time.  He also wants to be a superhero, a fire fighter, a worship leader, and a rock star.  Certainly whatever he does, he will do it with passion.

Judah is my child.  Last night he nearly threw a fit because there were potatoes left on his fork and he didn’t want them to touch his porkchop.  His food can’t touch and he is incredibly picky.  I get it and I feel for him.  Vegetables are questionable while pancakes, waffles, and anything sweet can be swallowed whole, one right after another.  He is my child.  He can sleep anywhere.  It is not unusual to find him on the floor, in the hallway, under a bed, or in someone else’s bed.  

I am quite sure that Judah is Matt’s child as well.  Last night as it was time to go through (one of) the grueling daily routines of changing into pajamas in preparation for the dreaded bedtime, he asked me if he could still wear pajamas, now that he is grown, or if he is only able to wear his underwear.  Apparently, in observation of his daddy, grown men only wear the bare necessities when they sleep.  I assured him that his Spiderman, Batman, Ninja Turtle, and monkey footie pajamas are still more than suitable for a five year old.  

The love in my heart for this kid cannot be contained. I treasure the moments with him, who he is and who he is becoming.