"Made you look."

There is a scrapbook in my head from twenty years of Christmases at Blue Monarch, but this year’s page will have the corner turned down. I don’t think I will ever forget it. It was as if Jesus held my face in his hands and said, “Open your eyes. I want you to see this.”

I found a safe spot in the corner of the great room and poised my phone to begin recording as soon as the families burst into the room to be directed to the pile of gifts for their individual families. As I gazed across the quiet room with Christmas music peacefully playing in the background, I was completely overwhelmed by the demonstration of generosity from so many faceless people who selected angels off angel trees in the community, and the church that added abundance on top of that. There were literally hundreds of carefully wrapped presents filling the room. It was truly spectacular.

My aunt and uncle used to have an enormous chicken house and I couldn’t help but have flashbacks of very calmly walking among the hundreds of clucking chickens until one quick movement suddenly turned the place into a tornado of squawking and flying feathers, creating a cloud of complete chaos. That’s what it feels like when we open the doors. We go from zero to a hundred in a split second as kids run wide open through the gifts while their mothers try to keep up.

This moment is powerful every year and always puts a lump in my throat. But something happened this year that opened my eyes in a completely new way. 

As the kids were ripping into brightly colored packages and screaming over the surprises inside, there was one boy across the room who was crying his eyes out. We immediately assumed he was disappointed about a gift for some reason, but when Deanna went over to check on him, with big ole' tears streaming down his face and dripping off the tip of his nose, he yelled, “This is the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!” This boy was completely overwhelmed by the presents he received and was literally moved to tears, which he couldn’t control. He seemed shocked that his boxes were filled with all the things he wanted! 

As I fought back my own tears, I couldn’t help but note this was the one-year anniversary of the day that boy’s baby sister tragically died while he and his siblings watched. Wasn’t it great this day was creating a good memory to hopefully make that traumatic memory less painful.

When I looked around the room, it was as if a veil was pulled back and the powerful significance of the moment made the entire room suddenly fill with brighter light. I was keenly aware of the joy in the room that was bringing healing for every woman and child.

• I watched as a grown woman (who had lived in the woods for an entire year) marched around the room showing off her new tennis shoes, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

• Another woman who had suffered severe trauma as a child and probably had no fond Christmas memories whatsoever, was moved to tears when she saw that a perfect stranger, "someone who believes in you," had given her the very Bible she wanted.

• One mother who is still waiting to be reunited with her children could have been sitting alone grieving for her kids, but our graduates recognized how painful this might be and circled around to celebrate with her as she opened each gift. Hopefully this is her last Christmas without them.

• Then, I couldn’t help but notice a woman and child who had struggled so much to bond, but they were sharing each other’s joy in the sweetest way, showing how much closer they had become.

• And of course, I couldn’t miss the little girl who struggles with sensory issues and can’t even tolerate rain on her skin, but she was prancing around the room in her new princess outfit as if she had never been happier in her entire little life.

The room was filled with countless similar stories and I had a brief vision of God scooping up every woman and child, holding each one like a baby in his arms. It was a vivid reminder that he has trusted us with his precious children, which is an honor and responsibility we must never take for granted. 

While our moms and kids transported their Christmas bounty to their rooms to enjoy all over again, our amazing staff gathered for lunch. The topic of the day was the boy who cried, and we fought back tears over that one because we all felt the tremendous significance of that child’s joy and gratitude beyond his years. He made us look. We were reminded of why we do what we do – despite the frustrations and challenges we face every day, which can sometimes cause us to question whether we're really making a difference.

Suddenly, with no one coming or going, the most unbelievable fragrance filled the space, and we immediately agreed it had to be the sweet aroma of Jesus. It felt like a gentle pat on the back for our hard-working team, from the very one we celebrate in this season, and there cannot be a greater gift than that.

**********

As I drove home reflecting on all that had happened, the song, “The Prayer” came on the radio. If you haven’t heard it, you should grab a tissue and listen to the version recorded by Natalie Grant and Danny Gokey. Here are just a few lines that summed up our day pretty well...

I pray You'll be our eyes
And watch us where we go
And help us to be wise
In times when we don't know

Let this be our prayer
Just like every child
Needs to find a place
Guide us with Your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

"Your grandma's in jail this Thanksgiving."

Last week I was about to leave my office for the day when I found one of our residents crying hysterically on the phone. In the lives of the women we serve, this could mean just about anything. I immediately reflected on all the times I have witnessed this scene through the years. My word, how many of our moms have gotten bad news while they were with us? Children's fathers who have overdosed, parents who have died unexpectedly, friends who have gone missing. Even an occasional homocide.

Turns out, Andrea had just learned that her grandfather, the only stable and healthy support system in her life, had died suddenly. But what made it even more tragic was that he had passed away three weeks earlier and she had no idea. How could this happen? Well, unfortunately, there was no one capable or sober enough to let her know. 
 
Andrea’s heart was broken and the expression on her face showed how crushed she was. At this point I’m sure she felt completely abandoned. Her Blue Monarch family rallied around her, and in that moment, Andrea probably believed we were the only family she had left.
 
We deal with complicated family issues every single day at Blue Monarch, but naturally, the holidays highlight them in new and unexpected ways. 
 
I often feel that our moms play a constant game of musical chairs with their family members. “Who’s in charge here?” The grandmother may be the matriarch presiding over Thanksgiving one year, but sitting in jail the next year. For some of our ladies, any one of their siblings, cousins, aunts, or uncles could be in jail on any given day. Even Grandma.
 

Just like musical chairs, the family roles can switch places every time the music stops. Some of the kids who show up at our door have been taking care of their moms and solving big grownup problems, so they feel like they are the parents. Perhaps the moms have been behaving more like the children. With loads of time, patience, and many ups and downs, we do see them settle into their appropriate roles, but it's quite a struggle while they fight over the same chair.
 
At the same time, the ground beneath the family outside of Blue Monarch is shifting as well. As the woman we serve gets sober, healthier, and more mature, her family members don’t know where they fit in. Perhaps the parent who was the rescuer is no longer needed in that way, or the sibling who looked great in comparison no longer shines as bright. “Who’s in my chair? Move over!”

Occasionally, there is another dimension to this shift that is not so obvious. As our moms become healthier parents to their children, we often see them act like parents toward their own mothers and fathers at the same time, but not because of their ages. How many times have I heard a resident talk to a mom or dad in jail, who is still struggling with addiction or criminal behavior, offering advice she wishes she had gotten as a child? It’s so complicated.

So, basically we have a woman still longing for a childhood she never had, who never observed healthy parenting growing up, and yet she's trying to be the best mother she can to children and parents at the same time. Just imagine how overwhelming that must feel. No doubt, it's a tough place to be and there's no textbook for that. Thankfully, that's where the incredible Blue Monarch team steps in to walk alongside her through this uncharted territory.
 
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the beautiful gift Blue Monarch offers for healing and restoration, and I say a special prayer for our courageous moms as they settle into their new seats at the table. May they find peace in who they have become, wisdom to lead their children well, and strength to nurture their new family trees.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

"Too bad she wasn't willing to wait."

If you have ever heard me speak or if you have read my book, From My Front Row Seat, you may already know that as a child I had a very unhealthy, unexplainable fascination with Elizabeth Taylor. I found it completely intriguing she had so many husbands – and apparently, even recycled one.

 

So, it comes as no surprise that I have been married three times.  

 

I never talk about my first brief marriage and in many ways it’s as if it never happened. In fact, shortly after we split up, there was a day when I discovered someone (who thought was helping me) burned every shred of evidence this man ever existed in a big bonfire with no warning. Every letter, card, photograph, and every cassette tape. Remember those? In a puff of smoke that entire painful, complicated chapter of my life vanished. 

 

Many years later, it occurred to me that my aunt, who kept everything, might have saved a wedding picture. I needed something to document this period of my life to prove it really did happen. Sure enough. She had a wedding photo that included my cousin who was an unfortunate bridesmaid. When I looked at the faded image, I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe there were other reasons all evidence was destroyed.

 

This wedding was at Christmastime and for some crazy reason I thought it made sense to have my bridesmaids dress up like Santa. So, for every woman out there who wants to whine about her ugly bridesmaid dress she will never wear again...you have no idea how bad it can get. Each bridesmaid was dressed in red with white fur around the cuffs and neckline. In fact, I remember how hard I worked to find white boas to create these masterpiece garments. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they carried flowers that looked like big snowballs. No doubt every single bridesmaid hated my guts in that moment, and for the life of me, I can’t imagine what I was thinking. So, I carry this photo on my phone now, just to validate there was this crazy season in my life and it really did happen. 

 

My mother asked me recently if I thought God had blessed that marriage. Not hardly. In fact, I honestly don’t remember even asking God what he thought about it. Nor did I ask his opinion the second time, either. (The third time I prayed a lot and we’ve been happily married twenty-eight years.)

 

I can only imagine when I made the decision to get married my second year in college to someone that I clearly had no business marrying, God must have told his angels, “You might as well have a seat. This will take a while.” No doubt it would take many years before my life got back on track in the direction God intended all along. I sometimes wonder how different my life might have been if I had asked for his thoughts way back then instead of forging ahead with my own plan.

 

Recently I had a powerful vision that I want to share with you. I had been praying for a miracle that I felt God had promised me. But it was taking way longer than I ever thought it would and I was impatient. It was tempting to take control and act on my own, even though I felt strongly this was not God’s plan and he was telling me to wait.

 

Suddenly I had the most amazing vision, which was like a dream with my eyes open. I saw Jesus sitting at a small craftsman’s table. I could see him from the side, leaning over the table, carefully and meticulously stringing beads onto a long necklace. The beads were beautiful colors, each one with its own unique, intricate design. I could see there were still some beads on the table and the necklace was not yet full.

 

He held up the necklace by both ends and said, “You can take it now if you want, but it won’t be the perfect gift I had in mind for you. In fact, it may not last and may even fall apart. But it’s up to you.” I realized in that moment that he really wanted to bless me with something greater than anything I could imagine – if I could just trust him and be patient.

 

Many times, I feel this is exactly what happens with the women we serve. They have lost custody of their children, perhaps through mistakes of their own, but once they are going through the steps to make things right, this can feel like an eternity. No doubt for each mother, it’s tempting to take matters into her own hands, drive over to the foster home and snatch up her child right now rather than wait through difficult months and perhaps even years to jump through the necessary hoops and navigate the complicated process to regain custody. It takes supernatural faith and patience. This is especially challenging for those with a history of addiction who have been accustomed to acting impulsively for a very long time. It’s incredibly difficult. And painful. They wake up each morning with the same empty hole in their hearts that was there when they went to sleep.

 

But time and time again, when that miracle comes in God’s timing and not ours, it is more beautiful and spectacular than anything we could have imagined or manufactured on our own. Those are the times when a sudden, unexpected shift or event happens, or all the hundreds of moving parts just amazingly fall into place in the most remarkable way. And I’m certain that’s when Jesus gets the greatest joy – when he’s able to give the perfect gift he had in mind all along. "Here you go. Now it's finished." 

 

Don't you know when Jesus saw the Santa dresses, he must have shaken his head and mumbled to himself, “That is NOT what I had in mind. Too bad she wasn’t willing to wait.” Maybe that's why I keep that photo on my phone.  

 

Lord, thank you in advance for the perfect gift you have in mind. May we have the patience that only true faith can bring. Amen

 

“Is that really you, Mama?”

For some unexplainable reason, I seem to be packing a backlog of questions for God that I’m saving until I can see him face to face. I realize I can ask them now - but in the interest of time, perhaps it makes sense to wait until we have eternity to chat.

 

Of course, there are the big ones, such as “Where did you come from?” but there are others that I just really want answers for one day.

 

I often wonder if God wishes he had done things differently when he sees how we flounder. For instance, I don’t think I’m the only one confused by Israel the man and Israel the nation. Does he ever wish he had made that easier to keep straight? 

 

Or there’s the armadillo. I’m dying to know; did he make that creature just for fun from leftover parts of other animals? The eyes of one, the ears of another, etc. Did he chuckle to himself when he decided to throw on an armored shell - and then, even better, make it jump three feet straight up in the air when it’s startled? And why not make it stink just to finish it off.

 

But there’s another question I ask all the time and hope to hear the answer one day. Why does he allow children to suffer? I wish I had an answer for that one. 

 

For the past two decades, I have heard stories of gruesome trauma that are mind boggling. In fact, we had a graduation recently and all our amazing women shared portions of their personal stories, which included the impact on their children. It stood out to me that multiple testimonies included the death of a loved one, primarily from drug overdose, abuse from a partner, and neglect as children. But I was aware there were still other stories withheld that were too shocking to share in that setting. I looked across the room and imagined the facial expressions if those events had also been described. 

 

So, I am not unfamiliar with stories of profound trauma. But if I were looking at a graph to measure the level of intensity, it would have spiked a couple of years ago and stayed at that heightened level ever since. I believe the isolation due to lengthy quarantine did significant damage to the social development of our children and created the perfect petri dish for abuse of all kinds to grow out of control. The kids most at risk had no outside eyes to protect them. Therefore some of the children we serve are showing up with extreme anger and behavior that is off the charts. It is not what we already expect. It is beyond that, in direct proportion to the trauma the children have endured, yet they have every right to feel the way they do. 

 

Let’s take just one example. As a three-year-old, Nicholas saw his mother beaten countless times and even stabbed. He was abused by the same man and basically lived with Freddy Krueger, never knowing what was around the corner or in the dark. He didn’t live on the periphery of his mother’s chaos; he was in the middle of it for most of his little life and the details are horrendous.  

 

But then Nicholas and his mother eventually come to Blue Monarch because she bravely decides to get help and build new lives for both of them. Nicholas, on the other hand, still views the world through eyes that see the ghost of Freddy Krueger. Imagine the conflict. He looks to his mother for comfort, but the very sight of her brings him back to the horrific trauma they endured together. He despises her and yet he loves her. He wants to trust his mother but fears she’s actually Freddy Krueger in disguise. “Is that really you, Mama?” He doesn’t know when the monster will reappear and sometimes can’t go to sleep without asking this question one last time before closing his eyes.

 

In the meantime, the slightest disappointment or aggravation sends Nicholas into an intense rage that extends way beyond the typical temper tantrum. He becomes vicious, violent, and strikes out at his mother or anyone who gets caught in the crossfire. He bites. He scratches. He destroys everything within reach. He thrashes and kicks. He yells as if he is in excruciating pain and the truth is, he is. 

 

So, is there hope for this family? Remarkably, yes. But honestly, if they were not here in this environment with the support of our gifted staff, I really don’t know what would keep this child from landing in jail by the age of ten. Even the limited outside resources available to this boy illustrate how terribly unprepared our system is for a small child with teenage behavior. 

 

The struggle for this mom is so great it is overwhelming just to watch. But she works as hard as she can to apply what she learns from our amazing parenting coach. Imagine the overload of emotions for her: regret, guilt, anger, frustration, hurt, embarrassment. The list goes on and on because she realizes her role in what has transpired and it often feels hopeless. 

But still, with tears in her eyes, she wraps her son in a big bear hug, revealing the bloody bites and scratches up and down her arms, and patiently waits for the episode to end. She tells Nicholas he is safe, and that she loves him even though her heart is pierced from the ugly things he is saying and doing to her. Together they fight the devastating nightmare they share until they both collapse from exhaustion. Little by little, they take baby steps toward healing.

 

A few days ago, Nicholas’ mom came running into my office with a smile from ear to ear. She said, “I have something exciting to tell you! It occurred to me Nicholas isn’t too young to know Jesus, so I asked him if he wanted to invite Jesus into his heart and he said, ‘Yes Mama, I do!’ So I prayed with him and he did just that!” Her face lit up as if she had seen a light at the end of the tunnel for the very first time. 

 

As I looked at this mother’s brand new smile, I knew we would be seeing great healing for this family - and it’s because she had reached for the one who knows better than anyone, the love for a child that is worth the pain. 

Lord, thank you for this beautiful place where even the most wounded women and children can find healing and comfort in your arms. Amen

 

Update: Since Nicholas invited Jesus into his heart, he has not had another violent outburst toward his mom. After twenty years of God’s miracles, they still take my breath away every single time. 

"What's behind the devil on that wall?"

 *Please note names have been changed.

Many years ago, I had the opportunity to step inside the Tennessee State Penitentiary in Nashville after it was permanently closed. The creepy, majestic, gothic structure was being used to film a movie, which was how I got my foot in the door. What I saw that day was forever burned into my memory.

The metal catwalks around and around the large center space went up several floors and endless tiny cells lined the walls with nasty toilets exposed. But what struck me the most was the hand-painted mural art in each cell. Apparently, the prisoners were allowed to paint the walls of their cells however they liked, which implied there was little turnover. Or did a new prisoner have to live with the art of another inmate whether he liked it or not? Surely they didn’t pull out an assortment of paint every time someone moved in.

 

At first glance it was an amazing collection of primitive folk art, and the drastic differences from cell to cell were striking. I remember two in particular that were side by side. One had a warm living room scene with a fireplace on the far wall. A pretend window showcased a beautiful yard with flowers. The colors were soft and pleasant, and I don’t even remember seeing the toilet that was successfully camouflaged.

 

The cell next door, however, was a stark contrast to this comforting scene. Red, orange, and black were the only colors used to illustrate angry flames of fire surrounding the artist’s grotesque rendition of the devil himself. Every inch of the cell was encased in darkness, causing it to look like a hellish cave. 

 

I’m sure, all those years ago, I immediately assumed the comfy living room scene belonged to a man who saw the glass as half full and probably read his Bible a lot. The man next door was undoubtedly a nasty, vulgar creature who terrorized anyone who crossed his path. I could only imagine who disliked his neighbor more.

 

But after twenty years of observing, studying, and loving hundreds of women at Blue Monarch, I don’t believe I would draw the same conclusions today. I could easily place a number of women in either cell, but let’s take two who immediately come to mind.

 

Kaitlyn loved to come across very angry, aggressive, and cold. I could easily see her in the “hell” cell. She even had red hair, which would have fit in perfectly with the theme. Kaitlyn was proud of her “badness,” which had protected her for many years. No one messed with her in jail, and she could part a crowd with only a look whenever she entered a room. Her very presence commanded a certain, yet unhealthy, respect. But Kaitlyn was covering up what was truly in her heart. Behind that rough exterior was a very broken child.

 

She grieved the loss of a childhood she would never have, and she experienced so much horrific trauma from people she should have been able to trust, she secretly feared everyone in her path. She was convinced every last person had nefarious intentions, no matter how many times they assured her otherwise. Kaitlyn had lived through so much hell, it was probably all she knew - or thought she deserved.

 

But let’s look at Alexandra. She was the woman everyone wanted to follow from the minute she walked through our door. She was beautiful and presented a picture of perfection. To the others, it was puzzling why she would find herself in a program like ours. She was creative and gifted beyond her years and had grown up with opportunities and benefits the others could only imagine, which immediately gave her a certain level of honor and credibility. There was something magically intoxicating about Alexandra that naturally drew others to her, and everyone secretly hoped to be her favorite. Her influence was evident because it eventually caused some of our residents to compromise their own convictions just because Alexandra put them under some kind of unseen pressure to do so. It was a curious thing to observe. 

 

Even though Alexandra looked entirely “put together” and had the qualities of a natural leader, her heart was extremely dark, and she only cared about herself. Even her own child moved up and down the totem pole, depending on the benefits for Alexandra in that moment. You had to pay close attention to notice. The picture of perfection was a facade, and she knew it. She used her charisma to lure others down a path that looked fluffy on the outside but was ultimately destructive in the end. In fact, once caught in Alexandra’s grip, it was difficult to pry her loose. She managed to collect damaging information about her friends after coercing them to break the rules, which gave her powerful leverage and control whenever she decided to cash in. What this did to others’ recovery was of no concern to her.

 

So, how do you think the two of them turned out? 

 

Kaitlyn eventually, over a long period of time, learned to trust our staff and see that we were there to help, not hurt her. With great difficulty, she finally opened up and revealed the horrific things she experienced as a child and discovered how the pain inflicted on her at such a young age affected the choices she made as an adult. With tremendous grief, she gave up the hope that she could somehow recapture her childhood and get a do-over with loving parents, and she shifted her focus to her own children who longed for the same thing from her. Kaitlyn developed a sweet relationship with God and replaced the darkness in her “cell” with light, hope, and even joy that was evident on her face and the faces of her children. 

 

Alexandra, on the other hand, left early over something minor when she didn’t get her way and ran to her usual enablers who immediately picked up where they left off, once again preventing her from having to make any changes. She relapsed shortly after, overdosed more than once, landed herself in jail a couple of times, and yet always painted the happy, comfy scene on social media as if her life was perfect. Her posts were just as fake as the window showcasing the imaginary flowers in that cell. Sadly, this pattern will most likely repeat itself until Alexandra can be honest about what is truly in her heart.

 

Once Alexandra left Blue Monarch, the ones she had manipulated were able to see that her magic was destructive and the whole community felt healthier and happier with her out of the picture. The longer she was gone, the more they realized she had stolen from them; joy, relationships with others, quality time with their children, and growth in their recovery. They thrived in her absence and learned some discernment that will be valuable in the future. In fact, they will be able to pass that wisdom along to their children as well.

 

In many ways, posts on social media are no different than the hand painted cells in that prison. What you see may not be what you get. We should hesitate to assume the art on the wall truly reflects what is in the heart. Underneath all that paint may be a desperate cry for help and we will miss it if we aren’t listening.

Lord, help us to always look beyond the picture on the wall and into the heart where you long to be. Amen

"Did I cry too much on the stand?"

There were many times when I wished I could be more like my daughter. She didn't fret over the details, even the ones that would have made me crazy. Such as, wearing a thin "church sock" on one foot and a thick athletic sock on the other for an entire day at school. Or if her shirt was accidentally inside-out and backwards, so be it. I have longed for that gift, and it has served my daughter well through the years when she couldn't afford to let distracting inconsistencies take her eyes off the big picture.

My over-attention to detail and order sometimes feels like a curse. Having had a restaurant of my own in the past, I cannot walk into one without immediately counting the number of burned-out lightbulbs or straw wrappers on the floor, how many times the phone rings before someone finally answers it, and if there is a misspelled word on the menu, it jumps right off the page and screams at me.  
 
The grocery store often falls short of my expectations. There have been a few unforgiveable moments in the checkout line recently, ones that have been difficult to unsee. For instance, there was the clerk who made the mistake of grabbing too many produce items at one time and somehow thought it made sense to sling my green onions under her armpit until she could get to them. Needless to say, the green onions went into the trash on my way out the door. 
 
And then there was the cashier about to start her shift one day, till full of cash in her arms, and what looked like a cigarette sticking out of one of her nostrils. Apparently, she had a nosebleed and a rolled-up Kleenex stuck inside her nose that hung out about three inches. I was ever so grateful she wasn’t taking over for my own cashier and when I looked at her as if to say, “Hey, did you remember you had that thing sticking out of your nose?” she gave me a defiant look right back as if to reply with a snarky “What’s your problem?” No one seemed to be the least bit offended by what was happening, including the customers in her aisle, and even the manager who clearly saw it. What in the world? Where are the people who care about the details?
 
So, considering the standard I try to set and maintain at Blue Monarch, one might imagine it would be hard for me to live with the natural clunkiness, chaos, and millions of moving parts that come with serving lots of women and children. I will admit, it is challenging. There is an element of surrender I must exercise every single unpredictable day, which begins with a deep breath and a prayer. I can do this. Big picture, big picture. 

Nevertheless, even though some details may occasionally fall through the cracks and the day rarely goes as planned, I have discovered this one thing: God acts on his own time and the miracle often happens in spite of us - in a way we never expect.
 
Take this incredible mother for instance. Jessie waited, and waited, and waited to be reunited with her daughter - a separation that only got more painful with each passing day, not easier. She woke up every morning to a tremendous loss - another day in her child's life she would never get back. No doubt, she must have asked herself a million times, “Should I have worn another outfit to court?”, “Did I cry too much on the stand?” She probably exhausted herself, wondering what she should have done differently to get her daughter back. What detail did she overlook?
 
And as an organization backing her throughout this process, we poured into her circumstances and made multiple out-of-state trips, consulted with professionals, sought the best advice, submitted all the required documents, supplied letters of recommendation, presented all Jessie's accomplishments, educated the court on our history of restoring families. We checked all the boxes, but her situation continued to drag on with little hope. There were days when this custody case seemed to take one step forward and two steps back as if there was an invisible force working against us. With a bit of weariness, we began to question what we might have overlooked or what we should have done better. 

It's times like this when we are tempted to ask ourselves, "Did I not pray enough or use the right words?", "Should I have fasted more?", "Did I not get the God formula right?" 
 
As we have often seen, one day with absolutely no warning, God made Jessie's situation come together by speaking to the heart of someone who could change the tide, someone we least expected. In the blink of an eye, this mother and her little girl were back together again.
 
Did we pay too much attention to the details? I don’t think so because it’s our duty to perform our jobs with excellence. That is the standard we uphold at Blue Monarch in everything we do, which honors God and the ones we serve. 

But I suspect when God was good and ready to restore this family, it wouldn’t have mattered if our socks were matching or not. He finds perfection in our imperfection anyway. Besides, you can’t tell me this picture isn’t already perfect in every way. Yep, I don't think I would change a thing.

Lord, please teach us to find peace in expectancy of your faithfulness.  Amen.

"Can we please come back here?"

As we approached our 20^th Anniversary Celebration my mind began doing somersaults. I noticed I was recalling random memories from not just the past twenty years, but my entire life. It was like a constant movie reel of things I had not thought about in many years, if ever. I finally decided to pay more attention and see if there was a common theme. Were they all related to some challenge I overcame that helped me at Blue Monarch? I thought I was onto something until I had the memory of wandering to a nearby creek as a four-year-old, scooping up tadpoles and swallowing them to see if they might turn into frogs in my stomach. Guess not.   

 

This incredible milestone walked simultaneously with the release of my new book, From My Front Row Seat, which has been another mind-blowing experience for me because it reveals personal experiences, some rather supernatural, that I have never shared in public. (My privacy bubble is quite large.) Was I the only one having nightmares of being naked on the playground? 

 

So, it’s been several weeks since our 20^th Anniversary Celebration, the random memories have ended, but I realize I have been avoiding writing about that day. As I scan through the photos from this magnificent event, I am aware of why the delay. It’s so dang emotional.

 

Twenty years is an eternity - and it is the blink of an eye. I remember thinking I wanted to do something to mark such a milestone, but “let’s keep it simple and laid back.” Ha. It turned into quite a production with an enormous tent (at the very spot we hope to build a multi-purpose building soon), hundreds of chairs, a string of food trucks, a dozen golf carts, an afternoon and evening full of activities, and a million details that I dumped on poor Deanna, with nearly 425 in attendance throughout the day. But that event will be the “happy place” in my head for quite some time. It was spectacular and this photo says it all. Just look at how the clouds dropped out of the sky and nearly landed on our tent - and I’ll let you come up with your own theory about the interesting cloud in the corner that doesn’t match the others. Yes, it’s fun to speculate.

 

I thought I’d take you on a stroll of these photos through my eyes - in no particular order.

 

Let’s take this one of Howell Adams. My word, this man believed in me when there was no reason to, and nearly a thousand women and children have been served since that day when I was nothing more than a stranger with an ambitious plan on paper. “Thank you” will always feel completely inadequate but we keep saying it anyway.

 

Our campus is named after Howell and his wife, Madeline, and through the generosity of key individuals and lots of generous folks, it has grown from 50 acres and 3 homes to 108 acres with 14 homes since we opened in 2003. We were excited to offer a first-ever tour of our entire property. Our residents were so proud to host our guests at each stop along the way and show off their beautiful home. 

We had guests who traveled many hours from numerous states to share this day with us. One was very special to me, personally, and came all the way from Chicago. Alicia was my very first assistant in 2014 and she always encouraged, okay pushed me, to write my Blue Monarch experiences in the form of a blog. It was exciting to hand her a book that includes a collection of powerful stories that I am now grateful she inspired me to record. I was moved by the people who wanted a signed copy of their own and hope they will be blessed by what they read.

 

While I was signing books, someone came up behind me and gave me a big bear hug. Before I could turn around, he whispered in my ear, “Can we please come back here? I felt safe here.” It was a boy who had lived here in the past with his mom and siblings. The whole gang had come to celebrate the day with us and as the one who has probably been the man in the family from time to time, he was looking for a way to keep his family safe. It struck me how Blue Monarch creates a sense of family that stays alive as long as the ones who leave want it to. No doubt, this boy will someday be a protective father and strive to create a home like he had with us. As I looked at this young man with his siblings I was reminded of the impact they had on our program. We now have better accommodations for larger families with almost two generations of children. I made a mental note to follow up and make sure there wasn't more to that comment.

 

This was just one example of the families who returned to visit that incredible day - because Blue Monarch feels like home. In fact, this young lady and her mom surprised me and showed up. They lived with us in our first year. As this beautiful young woman sat here waiting on our program to begin, little did she know we would show a video from our first year and her four-year-old spunky self would be in it. I remember her family's struggles back then and it is so great to see them both doing so well now. Oh, my heart.

I am grateful for my “front row seat” but I wanted to be surrounded by our incredible staff and my husband who share that front row with me. There was even a seat for Alicia, of course. We had a blast! There was an almost giddy sense of joy in the air, all of us were on the verge of tears at the magnitude of the day, and we simply had loads of fun and lots of laughs. I even cracked myself up sometimes.  

Jeannie shared her experience as one of our first residents and now serving as our Program Director. Lauren described her journey at Blue Monarch that not only resulted in her serving as our Director of Case Management, but also gave her the confidence to become a pilot. And Savannah, who is currently in our program and recently regained custody of her three children after a long, painful separation, shared her story with a standing ovation. When I looked at the photos from the day, there were many of Savannah getting hugs by lots of people congratulating her afterward. 

Of course, we took the opportunity to lift up the amazing women of Blue Monarch and I think the look on Taylor’s face says it all. Just look how proud she is - and for good reason. Blue Monarch is not for sissies.   

Even from the get-go I wanted to make sure we gave God all the glory for the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miracles we have seen at Blue Monarch over the past twenty years. We ended the day with a powerful praise and worship concert and Natural State Band helped us do just that.

 

Thinking back over the past twenty years at Blue Monarch, there is only one way to ever understand it. Glory be to God. Nothing else makes any sense whatsoever and that brings me great peace as we face the next twenty years.

Now glory be to God, who by his mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of - infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes. Ephesians 3:20

"Holy cow."

"The good news is that they want to publish your book. But there are a few changes you need to make."

“Like what?”

 

“Well, they want you to take out all the profanity and gore, for example.”

 

“Are we talking about the same book?”

 

I was devastated. For the past year I had been working on a book, which was a collection of my blog posts through the years, and the process had been exhausting, confusing, and very frustrating. I thought we were near the finish line, and this felt like a huge punch in the stomach. 

 

The woman on the phone represented a well-known Christian publisher so this was like hearing I wasn’t Christian enough. And I didn’t remember any profanity or gore.

 

She sent me four pages of changes that needed to be made - and the profanity section was at the top. They were nice to provide some examples of where I had used profanity. The first two were “Holy cow" and "Oh my word." Seriously?

 

I jumped to the gore section. One example was when I described how a little girl made a huge puddle on the kitchen floor during lunch, still wearing her bathing suit after swim lessons. Is that really considered “gore?”  

 

For complete disclosure, there was one example where I had used “H - E - double hockey sticks” but it was an important component to the story and if changed, it would totally lose its impact.

 

In fact, as I scanned the four pages of changes they required, I began to get completely offended and even a little hurt. Not for myself - but for the women and children we serve. Watering down their experiences would not honor their journeys. They didn’t get the opportunity to dilute their trauma or abuse. 

 

I called the woman back and said, “This list is a great example of why some people don’t like Christians. In fact, I don’t think I want their name on my book.” Out of curiosity, I asked for some clarification on the profanity. She explained that my use of “Holy cow” and “Oh my word” was a substitution for something else that was unacceptable. I asked what we should say if we stump our toe, and she had no answer.  

 

I went on to explain how I felt about altering the stories and why that wasn’t an option. Surprisingly, she sympathized and gave me several examples of authors, even pastors, who felt the same. And then she added, “Well, just so you know, they don’t even allow talking animals in children’s books anymore.” I couldn’t let that one go without pointing out the talking donkey in the Bible. Geez. 

 

So, it was back to the drawing board. I felt like an entire year had been wasted and it was tempting to give up. But through nothing less than divine intervention, I found someone who published Christian books but saw no need to water down or sugar coat the material. In fact, they totally got it. I scrolled through the books they had published before and immediately felt a connection. “Yes! Those are my people.” And now that book will be released in a few weeks!

Remarkably, as it turns out, because of the delay, From My Front Row Seat will be coming out just a few days before our 20th Anniversary at Blue Monarch, so the timing is perfect. What a wonderful way to celebrate such a powerful twenty year long journey.

 

This entire process has been an emotional one. One I had planned to experience at the end of my life, not now. For the past twenty years, when anyone asked me, “Can you believe what’s happened at Blue Monarch?” I would respond with, “I try not to think about it. If I do, I may start crying and never stop. I will think about that when I get to heaven and have more time.”

 

As I have read, re-read, and edited the stories a million times, I have relived some of my most memorable experiences at Blue Monarch over and over. They have caused me to tear up when I least expected it, and they have taken my breath away even though I knew the ending. It has been such an honor to walk alongside the women and children we serve as they navigate the treacherous road to recovery and healing. And at the very least, I hope I have honored them in the way I have shared their stories.

 

Today is such a great example of my Blue Monarch life. This morning one of our moms regained custody of her three children. It has been an uphill battle since the beginning, and there were days her fight to restore her family took the support of our entire team. It’s been a tough one. There were players involved who were unscrupulously trying to terminate her parental rights and permanently sever her relationship with them. I shudder to think of what might have happened if she had not been surrounded by strong folks to help navigate that clunky process with her. And I can’t help but think of the moms out there who may not have the support they need and needlessly lose their children forever.

 

But I want to share another Blue Monarch miracle story with you before I close. It’s one of my favorites and will be the last one I share before we turn 20 on April 15!

 

I have struggled to find a way to describe this because of the nature of the details, but I think I have figured out a way to do so. (I doubt the first publisher would approve, but that only makes it more fun to tell now. It’s not about a talking animal, but a talking dollhouse sink instead.)

Let’s say “Alyssa” was not an adorable little girl, but a dollhouse sink named, “Alice.” Alice came to Blue Monarch with her mom and siblings having suffered from neglect and suspected sexual abuse at her young age. Her family was complicated. Each one of them had severe, equally traumatic issues of their own, but as a group they hung together in their mess.

 

One of the first things we discovered was that Alice was having problems with her faucet. Her plumbing was too small, which meant lots of unpleasant visits over months and months to doctors and specialists to figure out a solution. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Needless to say, its’ no dollhouse sink’s dream to go through that.

 

Once Alice’s faucet got to working properly, she had another problem. This time with her garbage disposal. Lots of food would go down the drain but for weeks it would just get clogged in the pipes. This resulted in even more trips to doctors and specialists, yet again, no fun for a cute little dollhouse sink.

 

Finally, the clogged pipes sent Alice to the hospital. The problem had become so severe it required days in the hospital with strategic treatments of all kinds. As with any clogged sink, there are numerous approaches that increase in intensity and unpleasantness. It was no fun for Alice or her mom, who became more frantic and frightened with every day. Alice remained very brave for a young little sink, and I have a colorful birdhouse she made for me while sitting in the hospital for so many days.

 

None of the methods to unclog Alice’s pipes worked, much to the dismay of the doctors and nurses. After several days went by with no results, there was talk of surgery, which seemed to be the last resort. Oh, no. 

 

At this point it seemed there was no justice for Alice, the sweet little dollhouse sink. She didn’t deserve this. How much could a little sink take? She had been through more than many adult sinks experience in an entire lifetime. 

 

After several days with loads of prayers but no luck whatsoever, another test was done to examine the clogged pipes in preparation for possible surgery. Shortly after, however, Alice’s mother was notified they were being discharged and sent home as if the hospital was simply giving up. 

 

Alice’s mom was hysterical. “I’m not taking her home until this problem gets resolved!” Even the nurse advised her to stand her ground and refuse to be discharged until there was a plan to solve the problem. After all, what could potentially happen if she went home with no resolution to the clogged pipes?

 

Finally, the doctor came in to speak to Alice and her mom. He showed them the x-ray from that morning. “We have no way to understand or explain this, but the clog is completely gone. See, it’s no longer there.” 

 

“But where did it go?”

 

“We don’t have an answer for that.” 

 

Well, we do. It’s another Blue Monarch miracle and a great example of how God is in the details - even Alice’s clogged pipes, which have been working fine ever since. And this little sink and her mom learned the power of prayer in a way they will never forget. 

 

All I can say is, “Holy cow...oh my word...and thank you, Jesus.” Yep, it’s been a great twenty years, and it's an honor to share them from my front row seat.

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God." Mark 10:27 NIV

From My Front Row Seat is available on our online store and also Amazon, where E-book and Audiobook (in author's voice) are available.