The Jesus I Know

I picked up a library book the other day by Kathie Lee Gifford entitled The Jesus I Know: Honest Conversations and Diverse Opinions about Who He Is.  The premise was intriguing to me -- interviews with famous and not-so-famous people about their perception of Jesus. Before I start reading the book myself, I wanted to reflect a bit and formulate my own response to that question.

Who is Jesus to me?

My first thought was of a verse I've memorized from Exodus that doesn't actually mention Jesus by name (since it's in the Old Testament): 

He is strength and song. 

He has become my salvation.

He is my God and I will praise Him,... and I will exalt Him.

I've always loved Jesus; I can't remember a time not loving Him.  And another verse -- we love because He first loved us.  

He wooed my heart during Booster Band renditions of "Only a boy named David" and "Deep and Wide" and "The windows of heaven are open, the blessings are falling tonight..."  He is my Song.

He led me through the words of my grandma encouraging me to "say my prayers" as I went to bed on sleepover nights. He is my Leader and Shepherd. 

He gave me an early passion for His Word -- the stories I learned and the individual verses I memorized. He is my Living Word.

He proved Himself to be the Way, and the Truth, and the Life when I came face-to-face with my sinful heart. Despite being a teacher's pet and pretty obedient kid, I knew I couldn't save myself and that it wasn't enough to be a happy church attender. He is my Savior.

He prompted me to pray for a Christian friend as I headed into third grade, where I met my best friend from childhood who also had a heart for Jesus.  He is my Coach.

He not only gave me Penny in the 3rd grade, He gave me Kate, Thomas, Rachel, Katie, Anthony, Megan, and Kara over the years who were also following Him. He is my Faithful Friend and my Friend-Giver.

He cheered me on through high school and college as I bloomed after prunings. He is my Gardener.

He has expanded my world as I had the opportunity to serve in Thailand, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, Montana, Colorado, Utah, and Mississippi.  He is my Adventure Partner and Model for Service.

Just when I thought I might spend my whole life alone, He gave me my wonderful husband and four fun-loving sons who sharpen me and root out my selfishness and bring me so much joy.  He is my Potter and Joy-Deliverer.

When I walked through gloomy seasons of job failure and a miscarriage, He held my hand and never left me.  He is my Refuge and Shield and Healer and Defender.

He came alive to me in new ways in my 30s as my hunger and thirst for Him increased, and He filled me and continues to do so. He is my Bread of Life and my Living Water.

I feel like I'm barely scratching the surface of describing 30+ years of walking with Jesus. He's the same, yet He's constantly surprising me. He is both gentle and fierce. He is a safe place but speaks the truth in love. He knows me better than anyone else does, yet He chooses to love me, again and again.  I'm forever grateful to have found such a Friend.  

Who is Jesus to me? All this and more. And one day, 

this Friend I've known and loved and experienced and studied

and with whom I've conversed and held hands and laughed and walked  

will no longer by contained in a book, or in my imagination, or in my deepest longings

but will be face to face.

Oh what a day that will be!

  

2021 Reading Reflections and Top Two Books of the Year

    2021 is in the books! And it was a year of books! Here's what Goodreads calls "My Year in Books".  I love looking through the covers of all the books I've read this year.  They've become a part of me.  The characters have become my friends.  The insights have re-oriented the way I view and live life.  

    I started tracking my reading seriously on the Goodreads website in 2017 when I landed my teaching job as a 4th grade teacher.  I knew that if I wanted my students to be voracious readers, I had to be a voracious reader.  I set my goal that year at 100 and read 109.  For 2021, I set my goal at 150 and read 261.  And yes, I count any chapter book (or poetry collection) but not picture books.  I want to track even the simple early chapters books so that when my two youngest are in that stage, I'll know which ones are tried-and-true!  Now that we're homeschooling, I have more time to read (since it's part of what we do all day!).

I've taken the time (mostly for my own records and reflection) to compile lists of my favorite books of the year:

5 Best Middle Grade Nonfiction/Historical Books Read in 2021

6 Best Middle Grade Fiction Books Read in 2021

5 Best Graphic Novels Read in 2021

5 Best Series Read in 2021

5 Best Audiobooks in 2021

All our Audiobooks from 2021

All our Read Alouds from 2021

6 Best Adult Books Read in 2021

But which were my VERY favorites?

Well, I'm going to start with "the Sunday School answer" (you know, when every kid says "Jesus" or "God" in Sunday School because that's always the right answer?).  My very favorite book was/is the Bible.  I try to read it every year, and it wins top spot in my heart and in my mind every year.  

I typically don't like to reread books, but this is the book that I will read over and over until the day I die.

On the occasion that I do reread a book, there are often new insights and perspectives.  With the Bible, though, this is exponentially true because it's not just any book.  I believe that it is the inspired Word of God and that it is living and active.  

I read it because it teaches me about God and His story.

I read it because it shows me how to live.

I read it because I'm supposed to.

I read it because I love to.

I didn't always love reading the Bible.  It used to be a check-off chore.  And there are still times that I go to it out of duty than out of devotion.  

2015 is when everything changed.

I had been memorizing and meditating on Scripture for the first six months that year without actually reading the Bible much (except to find my next verse to memorize!).  And then, as if I had been stacking stick upon twig upon log upon log that whole time, the Holy Spirit ignited in me a passion and hunger for His Word like never before.  And it has become food to me.  Manna that I need every day, or I starve.

Just about every year since then, I've read through the whole Bible.  I usually pick a different study Bible or translation.  For 2021, I listened to the audio of the Bible in the CSB translation.  Since "faith comes by hearing," I wanted to experience what it would be like to hear the whole Bible in entirety.

So, the Bible is my #1 favorite book of the year.  It's the book I will continue rereading. It's the book I read every single day.  It's the book I recommend to everyone.  It's the book I teach to my boys and the book I strive to live by.  

But after the Bible, which was my favorite?  That would have to be All Thirteen by Christina Soontornvat. Here's why:

3:30 p.m. - pick up book from library. A little disappointed with the format -- the book is so large (width, height) that it almost looks like a textbook

before bed that night - open it up and read a few chapters. Pulls me in right away.

6:30 a.m. the next day - start reading again after my morning Jesus time while everyone's still asleep. Should be getting read to go to family Christmas celebration

1:00 p.m. - after meal and presents, I park myself on the couch in the middle of family time and keep reading, even if I'm interrupted every other sentence. I even carry the book with me while I walk across the room to pick up some oreo balls. I even tear up on more than one occasion (even though the title is kind of a spoiler).

7:30 p.m. - neglect family back at home, hurry through bedtimes so that I can return to finish the book (I eventually locked the door to stop from being interrupted).

In other words, I devoured this book. Best book I've read in a long time. I didn't realize it was classified as middle grade (probably a little too technical and detail-y for my 5th grade son, but I'll have him read it eventually), but I loved all the charts and details and science and profiles of some of the thousands of volunteers and here-are-the-million-reasons-why-this-was-an-almost-impossible-rescue. Having been to northern Thailand added to the allure for me. Wow. I'm planning on watching the documentary and the Netflix movie.

I also was intrigued with the boy named Adul, who was the only Christian (the rest were Buddhists) and the only one who spoke English. I’ve read some articles about him and am looking forward someday to meeting this brother in the Lord.

And now that 2021 is officially over, I have my sights set on 2022: 200 books including these 60. 

My Musical Heritage (Happy birthday, Dad!)

[My dad, ever the English teacher, enjoys anecdotal stories more than any gift. Well, that and hearing/seeing his three kids sing and play instruments together. Here's a little of both for his birthday]

Take a load off Fanny...

You're my blue sky; you're my sunny day...

No, no, no, it ain't me, Babe...

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you for all my life...

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man...

You can't always get what you want...

Let it be, let it be...

Such was the soundtrack of my childhood.  Dad would be in the kitchen with his patriotic apron singing into his spoon/microphone as he whipped up a batch of snickerdoodles or beef stew or "meat, corn, and potatoes."  I've often wondered how the three of us kids could've ended up so musical when our dad's musical prowess didn't make it past the kitchen or the confines of the van (with a good ol' tape deck).  Two things come to mind: we were around music and we were supported in our musical endeavors.

Music, from the Byrds to Bob Dylan to Buddy Holly to the Beatles, filled our home.  It was the marriage of Mr. Tambourineman and Mrs. Robinson.  Dad was a teen during the 60's and finished college in the 70's, and, as a family, we never really moved on to anything from the 80's or 90's.  This lines up with what the New York Times found when they analyzed Spotify data: the songs you like as a teen set your musical tastes as an adult.  Dad belted out the tunes; we sang along.  I still remember many of the lyrics -- the nostalgia runs deep. Being around music doesn't in and of itself lead to becoming a musical person, but it definitely set the foundation for us.

Rock 'n Roll wasn't our only influence. The other way Dad created an environment of music was by writing songs to the tunes of hymns.  I still remember how he changed the words of "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" to "Marsha, Mommy, we adore you, wonder of the Kinser clan."  He even created two musicals with other hymn-tune-adaptations and witty lines to bring the narratives of Genesis to life.  We have a video of us singing "O Come, All Ye Faithful," one of Dad's favorite Christmas carols (and he insisted we learn and sing all the verses).

When it came to learning an instrument, that was more down Mom's alley.  She has played the organ at our church since she was a teenager.  Dad was more of an air guitarist (especially in the kitchen as he danced around belting out "Like a rolling stone" pronounced just like Bob Dylan did it).  Still, he supported us as we showed interest in playing "real" instruments.  We all began with piano but eventually all added guitar (Jon's purple electric as a 7th grader was the gateway for all of us).  We all joined band class (Matt on saxophone, Jon on percussion, me on trumpet), which turned into nine straight years of marching band.  

How did Dad support our musical endeavors? Let me count the ways... 

• paying for music lessons (and driving Jon a half hour away for guitar lessons because that's where the best teacher was), 
• buying instruments to add to our growing collections,
• being a proud member of the Pit Crew (he had a shirt made that said "My job's the pits"),
• writing articles for the local newspaper about our marching band performances,
• supplying Pez pick-me-ups for us and our friends after long practices,
• dealing with the noise and unpleasantness of practice times (the drum set in the garage had to have been annoying at times), 
• showing up at our concerts, gigs, performances, and recitals over the years (and still to this day! He loves making the drive to watch Matt play in any venue).

I don't know if Dad had the foresight decades ago to know that his investment would lead to songwriters of his own who matured from "We are the Lundquist brothers" to "Sunny Day Blues" and from "I Love to Paint" to over 300 Scripture songs to help kids and adults memorize Bible verses.  Who would have thought that he would have one son still happily playing gigs in his 40s, another son who studied classical guitar at the collegiate level, and a daughter who taught music at a Christian school for four years?  One of the greatest results of Dad's investment, though, is that whenever the three of us siblings get together, music is involved. Our styles and preferences and abilities may vary, but we enjoy jammin' and improvisin' and harmonizin' together.  If that's the end-in-mind I want for my own boys, I need to follow Dad's model of having music in the home and supporting their musical endeavors.

  

A year ago, we couldn't get together to play and sing in person, so we decided to put together a quarantined song for Mom's birthday (and surely, she's part of our musical heritage, too).  After the fun of that, we thought we'd do one for Dad's birthday, too.  When Matt e-mailed me his rendition of "The Weight," I was afraid that the song would be unfamiliar.  It may be called "The Weight," but I know it better as the "Fanny" song -- one of many that Dad sang from the kitchen.  It's about taking the load off someone else and carrying it ourselves.  Dad carried many-a-load for us over the years to set the foundation for three lifelong musicians.  Thanks, Dad!  Here it is (with my inspiring performance on the toy shakers and with a cameo at the end from the next generation of musicians in the family line):

Your Path to More

Almost exactly a year ago, Lucas and I were celebrating our anniversary with 24 hours in Indy. We ate a nice dinner together and stayed at a bed and breakfast 

(and made a mess with the waffle maker).

Our evening involved meeting up with some friends at the Cru Winter Conference. It was great to be in the thick of a ministry we support and to be energized by how God is at work. The speaker, Heather Holleman, gave an awesome talk on being seated with Christ (Eph 2:6), and I recently finished her book going more in-depth on that topic. 

Our bracelet for entry was this:

and I loved the multiple meanings of "Your path to more." I wore it for months (until I stretched it out too much), and I was often praying that I would have the grace to walk the path ahead of me. On January 1st, our anniversary, I was full of anticipation of all the "more" that 2020 would bring.  

Then January 2nd hit...

...and when Lucas went in for a routine wisdom tooth surgery, his jaw was accidentally broken, and he had to have his mouth wired shut for two months.

This is Your "more" for me, God? This is the path You have for us?

I kept praying and kept trusting.

To reach the MORE God has for me, I have to walk this path in front of me.

By the time Lucas went in for the final removal of all the wires (but leaving the metal plate and screws forever), it was mid-March, and COVID was in full swing.

On January 1st, I didn't know that my "path" would lead through...

    my husband's jaw getting wired shut

    his grandma passing away in March

    COVID disrupting everything we knew to be normal -- school, work, church, library, stores, play dates

    resigning from a "sweet spot" teaching job I loved to homeschool our boys

    my dad miraculously recovering from COVID with no complications

    not seeing my parents for half a year (after usually seeing them every month)

    going stir-crazy as an extrovert in a social distancing world

    questioning everything I know to be true and being in a tailspin of emotions

    missing the annual Christmas gathering at the farm

But I also didn't anticipate that the "more" would include...

    learning to trust Jesus for all I don't understand

    spending more time as a family than ever before

    re-discovering the great outdoors and all the awesome parks Lexington has to offer

    praying throughout the day because I was so dependent on Jesus to get me through

    enjoying simple pleasures like stopping to watch a worm on the sidewalk

    making discipleship in our home a reality, not just a talked-about, wished-for thing

    re-kindling a long-dormant desire to teach kids in China (I just didn't know it'd be from my computer)

    connecting with my husband in new ways as we walked hand-in-hand through the fire

    realizing more than ever how this world is not our home

    becoming friends and "mutual encouragers in the faith" with ladies around the country that I've never met

    choosing gratitude and contentment even when the world is upside down

What a year, what a year...

Through it all, I'm thankful. 

His path leads through the waters, rivers, and fire (Isaiah 43:2),

but He promises to be with us.

He promises that the rivers won't sweep over us.

He promises that we will not be burned by the fire (though it often felt like it).

And, as I learned this year, 

there is MORE on the other side.   

The Farm is Calling...

It's the Sunday after Christmas

    and that means one thing

        if you're a Thomas...

            the farm is calling.

I still remember the wonder

    of my first Christmas on the farm

        eleven years ago

            back when we were just dating.

I had been prepped on all the names

    of my boyfriend's 4 "G" uncles and 3 "S" aunts

        and all their spouses

            and all the cousins upon cousins

                from young kids

                    to adults having kids of their own.

I remember in detail the meandering farmhouse

    walking into the room where I played Up and Down the River with some uncles 

        or In a Pickle with some aunts

  

  with the pile-of-coats-and-shoes off to the side

    to the kitchen table with chairs for a fraction of the people

        where the scent of Sister Schubert rolls already filled the room

    to the TV room, already tuned to the UK/UofL game with Grandpa in his easy chair

        (my Christmas-y red wasn't welcome in this big blue nation)

    to the bathroom with the most unique toilet seat

        I've ever had the privilege of sitting upon (sorry, no pictures of that!)

    to the overflow bedrooms where you go

        to eat or play a game or take a nap

    to the "dining room" with easy access to the buffet line

        a smorgasbord of enough food for lunch and dinner and leftovers

            pulled pork and chicken

            Brittni's ramen noodle salad

            Grandma's famous baked beans

            the little ham sandwiches...

    to the bedrooms where the cousins find toys, hang out, and make mischief

    to the room where all the action happens

        49 stockings lined the wall

            (I didn't get mine until I was officially part of the family,

            even when our Christmas at the farm was 6 days before our wedding)

        the pool table covered in delectable dessert options

            Grandma's yellow cake

            Ann's mint brownies

            M&M rice krispies

        the massive gift exchange and subsequent wrapping paper fight

    and finally to the sunroom where I'd often sit with Grandma

        if she wasn't too busy directing the incoming platters

            or hugging one of the 49 people (now over a dozen more)

                represented by the stockings

And the food and family and frenzy and festivities

    have continued much in the same fashion

        for the past eleven Christmases

            as my boyfriend became my fiancé and then husband

                and we contributed 4 stockings over the years

This year is drastically different.

Grandma, the matriarch

    of the ever-growing clan,

        is celebrating her first Christmas in heaven.

While we would have, of course,

    preferred that she were still around to offer us a hug,

        she offered us the gift of gathering -- 

            her funeral in mid-March

                caused the whole clan to come together

                    mere days before the whole country

                        closed completely from COVID.

And, because of COVID,

    a Christmas gathering of dozens of people

        seemed unwise

    so instead of sitting in his easy chair surrounded with people today,

        Grandpa sits alone with the memories,

            decades more than mine from eleven Christmases

Yes, the farm is calling today,

    but instead of going,

        we'll be calling the farm

            and wishing Grandpa a merry Christmas.

We remember the good days

    and we hope for good days to come.

(sadly, I can't find any pictures from my dating Christmas in 2009 

or my engaged Christmas in 2010)

2011

(look at Grandpa's face in the background. Ha!)

2012

(An autographed copy of Cameron's favorite picture)

2013

2014

2015

(What a difference a year makes!)

2016

2017

(either...So many people! or So much cake!)

2018

2019

(2014 - when I insisted on a scrunched timer photo indoors)