My husband is naturally humble. He doesn't even think of promoting himself. I have one daughter who takes after him. She spurns attention and is just quietly amazing in her little pursuits. My other daughter is happy to have the spotlight and point out her many attributes. She'll tell me what she plans to report to her friends upon their next meeting, and I often say, “Be careful, that sounds like bragging.” Perhaps I am saying, “Figure out how to say the same thing more creatively so it doesn't SOUND like bragging.”

I find myself caring all too much about what I'm going to post on my Facebook status. I manage to work boasting into the stories I tell at my concerts. I one-up people's stories with, “well, listen to what happened to me!” I don't think God never wants us to talk about ourselves. He's always about motives of the heart. He wants us to steadily analyze our actions that we may not conform to the pattern of the world. He wants us to deem others better than ourselves. He wants us to have a correct estimation of ourselves so that there is plenty of room for Him to dwell within us.

One of my words of the year is “VOICE.” I see that God is already teaching me something about how I use my voice. Not for boasting about myself. As I did a word study on it this morning, I realized that there are a multitude of things God hates for us to boast about: our own strength, our wealth, our purchases, our wisdom, our giving, our works, our human leaders, and our selfish ambitions. We are allowed to boast about our weaknesses, which is why I am boasting about my weakness of boasting. We can boast about the perseverance of others in times of trials and that we have not labored in vain. But really, it comes down to Psalm 44:8...

In God we make our boast all day long.

One of my 3 guiding words for this year is inheritance. It is so much easier to discern what I have inherited (brown eyes, Oma's red ruby dishes, a musical bent, German thighs- not from my mom!) than to know for sure what I will be passing on to my children. Yet I care far more about the future than the past. I don't have control, but I do have influence, and what I can be is intentional with what I pass on to my little heirs.

The power of positive parenting overwhelmed me tonight as I watched the son of one of my friends earn his Eagle Scout award at a moving and inspiring ceremony. This was their 3^rd son to earn this honor. As his friends and leaders spoke about him, they pointed out his kindness, respectfulness, organized nature, determination, and deep faith. A child does not accidentally learn these things. It is the inheritance of loving, faithful parents. Well done, Scott and Diane!

My favorite quote of the evening was this:

There are no traffic jams on the extra mile.

If I could teach my kids to go the extra mile on whatever path they take; to go the extra mile in the little things that no one but God sees; to go the extra mile to serve another...now wouldn't that be a worthy inheritance. It might be a bit lonely on that extra mile stretch, but it's the place of greater reward.

Last December as I took some time to reflect on goals for 2010, my friend suggested choosing 3 words that would represent my earnest desires without being too specific. Instead of lose weight, I chose the word portion, which could be applied to many areas of my life. The bonus was I lost 15 pounds this year! Instead of songwriting, I chose the word chronicle, which led to a diverse effort of songwriting, blogging, and letter and journal writing. My final word was respond, and God gave me many opportunities to respond to needs around me, including hosting a Haiti Relief concert in March, all because a friend said, “You should think about this” and I said, “Yes.”

The new year is upon us, and fresh words have been swirling in my head. They seem important, akin to naming a child. I've looked up synonyms, refined and expanded definitions, done biblegateway.com searches to see how the words are used in the Bible, and even prayed for confirmation. It was such a powerful exercise with a fruitful outcome last year, that I'm taking it more seriously this year. So here are my 2011 words...

inheritance

I'm always thinking about what kind of legacy I will leave for my kids. Are they going to remember a mother who was impatient, easily offended, harsh, and critical? Or can I breathe deeply each day, make a choice to control my tongue and see my children as God sees them, little unfinished works of art...angels in the marble, as Michelangelo called his sculptures. I didn't want to use the word legacy, though. Inheritance is a better word. It is biblical. It thinks forward and backward; what I have inherited and what I will pass on as an inheritance. The tangible. The intangible.

One day I was reading about the promised land being divided up among the 12 tribes of Israel. There were two little sentences that said in essence, “The tribe of Levi (the priests) gets no land. The Lord is their inheritance.” That really struck me. I don't want to care about the things of this material world. I want the Lord to be my inheritance and my children's inheritance. I want to hold loosely to land and home and things and hold tightly to faith, hope, and charity.

voice

I've noticed in recent years that people seem to care about what I say and sing. Something has welled up within me that can move people to tears or laughter or insight. Not all people, of course, but enough that I have to be thoughtful with my words, and make sure they are encouraging and salty and true.

There are other ideals that are captured in the word voice...that I would care for and develop my singing voice, that I would be a voice for those who have no voice, that I would listen to THE voice with inclined ears and a willing heart. But what I must remember most clearly is this:

If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 1 Cor 13:1

yield

However I use my time, I try to ask myself, “Did that bear fruit?” Believe me, I sit around and watch mindless fluff on TV, diddle around on Facebook, and choose plenty of other unfruitful activities, but I do try to fill the majority of my day with meaningful and intentional choices. I settled on the multi-faceted word yield because it is a verb and a noun. The harvest produces a yield, which is a noun. It's measurable and gratifying and can be attributed to God. Yield is also something I do as a verb. I yield to my husband's authority, I yield to others, considering them “better than myself,” I yield my desire to be selfish and demanding, and instead choose the way of humility and understanding. Well, this is how I WANT to be. This is a worthy goal. I will draw a little yield sign and stick it on the bathroom mirror, reminding me to pause, look around, and THINK before I accelerate into some unfruitful activity, overindulgence, or unsavory attitude.

Anyone else have some words they'd like to share?

Most early mornings, I hop in the car, ride to the athletic club, and run on the treadmill as I watch the morning news. Yesterday, two articles, broadcast side by side, gripped me and planted a seed of a new song in my head.

Elizabeth Smart, a beautiful 22-year-old, was abducted by the creepiest guy imaginable when she was 14, forced to serve as his wife for 9 months, and by God's grace, was rescued. It is clear that in these past 8 years, much deprogramming and healing has occurred in her life. Yesterday, in the company of her fiercely loving, God-fearing family, she watched the despicable man be convicted to prison. Here is what her eloquent father said, “Elizabeth was so impressed with the prosecuting team, that she wants to go on to law school and be a voice for the victims.” This girl has been restored!

 Then came the article on Bernie Madoff, the Ponzie scheme crook, who is sitting in prison. He has a new burden to bear. In the wake of lawsuits against him because of his father, Bernie's son, Mark, committed suicide by hanging himself with a dog leash. Stealing money is one thing. This is a whole other ballgame. Did Bernie ever think about what he was passing on to his children? I bet he bought them anything they ever wanted, except what really matters. What cannot be bought. What cannot be earned.

 Luke 9:25 What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet forfeit their very self?

 As I sweated out my final mile, I felt the tug of truth. I can't find a scripture that says exactly, “The stupid, mindless, insensitive, rude, cruel, and illegal things you do will be passed on to your kids, so watch out!” But it is there all over Scripture. It is in most of the stories in the Old Testament. It is the backwards version of the Golden Rule. It is IMPLIED and it is TRUSTWORTHY. You can pass on a blessing and you can pass on a curse to your children and to your children's children and beyond.

 Even new science is confirming that our choices influence the genetic code of our children. This responsibility is nothing to trifle with. It is EVERYTHING that matters. Proceed with caution, dear parents. Proceed with abounding love. Pass on the fruits of the spirit. All other things rot, wither, and fade away.

 I think this new song brewing in my heart will be called “Begin with Me.”

When I wrote the song Empty Chair, I had no idea there would be a new one in my own family this year. Grandpa Hamor passed away last week at the age of 95. Shortly before his death he drove (yes, drove!) to lunch with his good friend Don, he mowed his own lawn, and he bought a new pole saw so he could cut some branches off a tree in his backyard. A stroke took this gentle old man who was pretty much done with this life and all its aches and shakes. I am happy for him.

I had never been to a military funeral, but at the words of the dear old chaplain, at the report of a 21-gun salute, and at the tender playing of Taps, my heart was moved. A tear slipped down when they presented my mother with the flag, folded in a tight triangle.  I loved how the officer hailed Grandpa's contribution to country. Grandpa was more likely to talk about the weather than the war. He never met a stranger, and he regularly called me up to check in on the kids and husband and our life in Minnesota.

As we gathered around my aunt's table for one last dinner before my return to the midwest, I thought about the empty chair where grandpa should be sitting, laughing and nodding and talking about the dry grass and going to visit Grandma's grave. I thought about our many rides on the lawn mower and watching Lawrence Welk by his feet as a kid.

The inscription on his small gray gravestone can only be a few words according to the national cemetery guidelines. They will read: Farmer, Father, Friend.

There is no victory in death.

I know your soul is flying free,

but there is an empty kind of absence

that makes my eyes sting.

-from Empty Chair

I am learning, inch by inch, that the key to contentment is in seeking God and not His benefits. Disappointment, pain, and brushes with failure are essential to the formula. Mathematically, it doesn't make sense. I have to be dissatisfied to be satisfied? What?

God exists outside equations. That is why math and science can't figure Him out. That's why the human heart is not a calculator. It is a sum of all things. We are carefully, tenderly knit together. Not manufactured. I have walked through the enormous IBM campus where my husband works and have peeked onto the manufacturing floor where million-dollar components are assembled into multi-million dollar computers. Impressive. Yet it is child's play compared to the workings within me. And I am not even a molecule of what I WILL be!

My eyes fell today on this scripture... Hosea 13:6

When I fed them they were satisfied.

When the were satisfied, they became proud;

Then they forgot me.

Hmmmm. Do you see? It's right there. The call to lean into hunger and hold loosely to any feelings of satisfaction.  It's how I'm recalculating contentment.

Many are the plans of a man's heart, but the Lord's purposes prevail. Prov. 19:21

This weekend was much anticipated. My band and I, eight in all, were hired by a church in Iowa to lead worship and present a concert during the NW Iowa Women's Conference. We enjoyed it so much last year that we couldn't wait to do it again. We arrived on Friday night, no problem. But as we set up our equipment and rehearsed, there was meteorological chaos outside the doors. The rain had turned to snow, whipping and whirling into a frenzy. That area of Iowa had a big bullseye on it and accumulated 6-14 inches of heavy, wet snow throughout the night.

We barely made it to the first town on the slippery country roads. Rosie prayed for us the whole way. It took nearly an hour to go 7 miles, there was “no room at the inn,” and some very kind strangers (relatives of someone from the church) put 4 of us up for the night. The rest went on another 20 miles in 2 hours to the place we were all supposed to stay...Resting Rock.

We all arose early the next morning, after fitful rest, got ready just in case there was a chance the church would go forward with the conference. But before long, we got word that it was canceled. My heart broke for my sister-in-law, Julie, who had put SO much work into this conference, which had over 200 registrants. Everything was ready to go: food was prepared, tables were set, printing was done, women from as far as Colorado had arrived to join their sisters and mothers and friends for this inspiring conference: The Word Cafe.

I had brought along my dear 16-year-old piano/synth player, who was so wide-eyed and sweet about everything. Christina asked, “Is there a Bible verse that can be used to help us right now?” Immediately, a Proverb popped into my mind, and I said, “Many are the plans of a man's heart, but the Lord's purposes prevail.”

When our best laid plans must be set aside, especially plans that have been thoroughly prayed over, plans that are meant to honor the Lord and bless others, plans that we think could make a pivotal difference in people's lives, we are often left scratching our heads and asking God, “WHY? Where was the hedge of protection?”

We see so little of God's work from our human vantage point. An occasional glimpse of glory, but mostly the tangled threads of the underside of a tapestry. He sees the distinct image from His lofty view. It all makes sense to Him. And what does He expect of us when His purposes do not align with our plans? Trust. Open palms. Praise. Perseverence. Character. Hope.

I really thought that people might avoid coming to a Christmas concert on Halloween weekend. It seemed so painfully early to be singing about the Christ child. But who am I to limit the Timeless Story? Who am I to underestimate these lovely people who came to support me and see what I had up my sleeve this time? Over 500 people showed up.

I stepped out on the stage to sing the opener, “Herald.” My 3 kids were by me, ready to quote Scripture from the Book of Luke, my husband was winking from the drum set, my band was poised for the first chord, the choir took their place to raise the roof on the chorus, and I sang the first words, inspired by 2 Timothy 1:11...”I have been appointed a herald, to sing with the angels and praise God's glory; to join in the manifold witness, and tell the story.”

And many stories I proceeded to tell and sing...stories of God's faithfulness, of grief, of loss, of hope and restoration, of trials and dry times. Between the serious parts were bursts of laughter and fun: the tongue-in-cheek music video, the race between my son, Noah, on the piano, and my husband, Dave, on the Rubik's Cube. Even embarrassing vintage photos and silly family videos.

There was Rachel, the beautiful lyrical dancer, Rosie, the worshipful artist, and Emily, the master violinist. There was Christina, the 16-yr-old musician who melted hearts, and Emma, who made everyone cry with her tender solo. The thrill of seeing hearts moved by words God wrote on my heart on random days throughout the past 10 years, was overwhelming.

 “My soul wells up with Hallelujah.”