Daughter of Grace

So, I finally did it.  I have been talking for two years about getting a tattoo and I finally did it.

 Mine

Brittany's

I went back and forth on the fence about whether there was anything biblicly wrong in getting one.  I couldn't find anything that said there was.  I went round and round about if I was too old to get one.  Then, that new less people pleasing, part of me said go ahead.  I didn't have any of the normal fears of pain or needles.  I figured if I could have two kids I could handle the pain of a small tattoo.

But I didn't want to go it alone.  Since I  started talking about it I have been recruiting people to get one with me.  Tory, Elaine, Angie, Kim and Brittany, the only one I was able to convince who was here, when it came right down to time to do it was Brittany.  We went and got our ear cartilage pierced together when she turned 18, so it  seemed only right to do mother/daughter tattoos together.  

I have known since I started talking about getting one what I wanted.  I wanted the Twila Paris song title "Daughter of Grace" on my foot.  There were two purposes in this tattoo.   One to be a constant reminder to me that I am a daughter of grace, I am a daughter of the King.  And two as an opening when people see it, and ask what it means, to share part of my testimony.

God uses music and lyrics so often in my life, and this song was one of those times.  In 1999 I had three events that started a journey of healing and grace for me.  In July of 1999 my Dad passed away.  My parents divorced when I was young so my father and I didn't have a real close relationship.  So, his unexpected death caused some regret and guilt in my life.  September of that same year, Brittany was diagnosed with a tumor on her brain. All ended well but for the first time in my life there was something I couldn't fix or control.  A month later Brett was laid off from his job, another event that I had no control over and made me realize where I was placing my security.

Those 3 events knocked me for a loop.  Maybe, I wasn't in as much control of this perfect life I had created, as I thought I was.  I received a Twila Paris CD that year for Christmas.  We had started a Christmas tradition with the kids that on our 2 day, 350 mile Christmas trek we listened to all new CD's.  So, on the trip from Marion back to St Louis at about midnight Christmas night we were listening to this CD.  Actually, Brett was listening to it.  The kids were asleep and I was in and out.  But, I did catch the words to this song, and I sat up and replayed it.  I remember thinking this song is my life. "She spent half her life working hard to be someone you had to admire. Met the expectations, then added some of her own, so proud of all that she had done, where was the glory?  So proud of all that she had not done."

 I listened to that song to and from work for about a month.  I would sing those words to God and cry all the way.  Through those tears God began to speak to my heart.  He began to show me, that it didn't matter what I had done, or hadn't done.  He still loved me.  It didn't matter what I did, or didn't do in the future.  He wasn't going to love me any more or any less.  I began to realize that in the same way salvation is a free gift, so is grace.  It isn't something we can earn or loose.  It is mine for the accepting.   That song changed my relationship with God, and it changed my life.  So, it seems appropriate to wear it on my foot. "Born for a second time in a brand new place daughter of grace."

If you have time play the video and listen to the words of this song. Thank you God for salvation and grace.   Thanks Brett for the CD, and thanks Twila for a great song!!  

 

Attached is a link to a  video of my testimony regarding this song.  Click on the link to see it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIKTORRbSvQ&feature=youtu.be

GRANDMA'S FRIED CHICKEN AND GRAVY

Last week my kids all came over for supper.  Brittany had mentioned a month ago that Will had never had my fried chicken and gravy.  They have been married 9 years so not sure how that happen. But I promised her I would make it for everyone one night.

So, I stopped at the store and picked up all the fixins for fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, macaroni and cheese, and white chicken gravy.  The meal that will always make me think of my Grandma Hanks.  My grandmother was a wonderful cook but if you ask anyone what she was famous for her fried chicken, and gravy would definitely be at the top of the list.  And there was a special trick to the gravy.  I know most people eat their gravy over their mashed potatos, but for me growing up the gravy was always poured over torn up pieces of white bread.

As a little girl I not only remember the fried chicken but I also remember the whole day that was set aside to dress those chickens.  A big ole cast iron pot was set out over an open fire filled with water.  They would gather up the chickens, chop off their heads and drop them in the boiling water.  They would pluck off all those feathers, once in awhile I got to help with that.  My favorite part was cleaning out the gizzards, and playing with the feet. It all sounds strange now but those were good old days.  The days when a whole group of family, neighbors, and friends would get together to help.  Knowing at some point they would be enjoying the fruits of those labors with one of my grandma's fried chicken meals.

As I sat out to make supper that night I was reminded of the first time I attempted to make fried chicken and gravy.  Brett and I hadn't been married very long.  We were living half way across the country from everyone and I was craving some of my grandma's good ole fried chicken and gravy.  I was probably craving the family atmosphere as much as the food.  Now I had stood on a chair and "watched" my grandma make that meal probably hundreds of times, but no one had ever really taught me how.  I wrote my Grandma and asked for directions.  She mailed me directions on how to make it.  My fried chicken turned out pretty good, but my gravy was horrible.  It was thin like water. My wonderful new husband was great, he said it taste OK it is just thin gravy.  I was so disappointed I threw mine in the trash and wouldn't even eat it.

It would be many years later before I would even attempt to try it again.  But I finally did, and this time I realized what I had done wrong.  I didn't wait.  That step after you pour in the milk, and then it starts to boil, and you let it boil for a minute.  I skipped that one.  The first time I just poured in the milk let it heat up a few seconds and dumped it up.  I missed that important part where you wait for the gravy to thicken.

There are lots of areas in my life I didn't wait, where I didn't allow God to "thickened" me or the people I loved.  Times when I moved ahead like Sarah, and Rachael and tried to fix things my own way.  Times in finances where I moved ahead on my timing where if I had waited God would have "thickened" my wallet.  Or even times in the life's of my kids, when I maybe tried to fix things for them, or make things easier, when maybe God was trying to "thickened" their faith and I got in the way.

I am proud to say that I can make a decent fried chicken and gravy now.  I would never compare it to my Grandma's but I can hold my own.  And I can say that I am getting better about waiting on God.  I am learning the sweet taste of that "thickening" process.

Psalm 62:5&6 says "Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken!"

Love and miss you Grandma!!