caroline holzberger

It’s Just a Quarter

(Before you read, please picture me hugging your neck, giddy with excitement, as we sit down across from each other over a couple large bowls of ice cream. Or cups of coffee, if that makes you feel better. I’ve missed you. How are you!?! How’s the fam? What’s new? we say to each other as we kick off our shoes and get comfy…)

So.

I haven’t written a blog in almost a year. Well, I mean, technically I haven’t sat down and typed words onto the computer screen to be published for you lovelies. If there are any of you lovelies still out there. I have been in a busier season that ever before. Which, I would have committed murder for, just a few short years ago.

I will spare you the excuses as to why I haven’t carved out time to sit down and type all of the words. You’re welcome. But, I will say that God has still been speaking to me, without fail, every single time I will stop long enough to listen. That, I am beyond thankful for. Our conversations usually are centered around me taking in His beauty around me, serving whatever injustice in our community I am faced with that day, how to improve my marriage, how to deal with a strong-willed child for.the.love. and so on and so forth.

He speaks. I listen. But, I haven’t taken the time to type. Until today.

Recently I was at my super-favortite grocery store, Aldi. Y’all. I love me some Aldi. Now, don’t get me wrong, if the hubs were to spontaneously get a raise he works in the public school system, so I’m not holding my breath then I would perhaps drop Aldi like a bad habit for his organic cousin, Sprouts. But, for now, Aldi and I are besties.

Why you ask? Simple. They provide quality food (including the gluten-free stuff I need!) at a ridiculously good price.

Milk $1.59 (that is no typo, friend)

Eggs $0.89

Bread $0.99

Cheese $1.89

I kid you not when I tell you that me and Mr. Budget save $100 per month thanks to our new pal, Aldi.

You do have to get over a few things – like they have mostly their own brand of stuff. The labels are all brilliantly marketed to be the same colors and fonts of major national brands – they just aint.

You also have to bag your own groceries, (gasp.) they don’t carry everything you may need all the time…and you have to rent a grocery cart. What!?! Rent a grocery cart? Who do these people think they are? Brilliant, that’s who.

This, friend, is where God spoke to me. You see, in order to save money on having to pay tons of employees, including a teenager to go round up all the grocery carts that people can’t seem to return to their rightful place, Aldi has created an interlocking system to connect their grocery carts.There is a slot to insert a quarter into the cart’s handle, much like you would have done to play Galaga circa 1984. Once you insert said quarter, the lock pops off and you can release your cart to go blissfully overflow it with inexpensive grocery staple goods.

So, you better believe there are no rogue carts scattered around Aldi’s parking lot because I’ll be darned if people want to get their quarter back!

It’s just a quarter, y’all.

You can’t even buy half a pack of gum with a quarter anymore. But, the system is brilliant. Aldi wins by saving money. I win by saving money. That, by sheer definition, is a win-win.

Some time ago, while I was struggling to get the locking thingy back into the cart, God said to me “Wow. That’s a lot of effort for a quarter. I wonder if maybe the nice lady walking up would like this cart?”

2×4 to the head.

So, from that day on, I haven’t ever taken my quarter back. Oh wow, Caroline, what an amazing servant you are, thanks for sharing. 

No, friend, not the point. Again, it’s a quarter. I think I’m roughly out about $9.75 at this point. I’ll be fine. Here’s the point – I have found myself stuck sometimes because I can’t write the big check to support a worthy cause. I can’t donate my car for a kid. I don’t have an extra few hundred bucks to sponsor not just the one, but twenty kids in the orphanage in Uganda our church supports. But, God reaffirmed to me what he already taught each of us in Mark 12:41-44. Jesus was watching the wealthy give and give tons of money, none of which they’d even miss. It didn’t even affect them. It didn’t hurt. But, this precious woman was giving all she had.

Even when we can’t seem to give in a big way – we can give a little in many ways – and God will bless it, still. 

Now, friend, don’t be disillusioned that my family is in the same dire financial need as the poor widow. Notsomuch. We are a solid middle-class family living in a solid upper-class community. We may “feel” poor sometimes. But, we aren’t poor. But, the truth is, we can’t give ‘big’ like we wish we could. So often, that stops us dead in our tracks right there.

We can’t afford to adopt a child. Ok, but can you be a foster parent?

I can’t afford to serve every week at church. Ok, can you serve once a month?

We can’t afford $2,500 to go on a mission trip! Ok, well can you afford to give $30 a month to pay for a child’s entire schooling?

I can’t afford to give away every Wednesday morning for Bible study. Ok, well can you meet one Wednesday morning a month with other ladies who are in your same season of life?

We can’t afford to write a huge check to help this worthy cause. Ok, well can you consistently pray for their ministry?

That’s the thing, friend. We get so disillusioned by what we can’t do, we don’t focus on what we can do.

We can give one quarter every week to a different person, most of whom we will never meet. And God will bless it.

Because, my friend, to us, it’s just a quarter. But, to God, it is so. much. more.

I Stank Up the Place

Ok, so I haven’t written in a while because I have all of these lots of so many kiddos and they have the gymnastics, and the baseball (oh! the baseball.) and the choir and the homework and the daily reading shoot me now and the vocabulary words now beat with a club and the birthday parties and the laundry, and the packing the lunches, and the expectation to be fed like three separate times every single stinkin’ day. Ok, I distinctly remember feeding you yesterday. Faker.

So, alas, my writing has shifted to the bottom of the totem pole. I’m cool with it. This is my season of life. Not too long ago I would have committed murder to be this busy. I am thankful.

But, today…sister friend got to play at my folks’ house. Nana and Grandpa are saints. Truly. These people cannot be inconvenienced. They help out more than they should and always with a smile. I hope to serve my kids this well someday.

So, tonight one brother had baseball and the other got to spend some one-on-one time with Daddy, so baby girl got to go to Nana and Grandpa’s house, aka “Disney world-Keller location”. She paints, she plays dress up, she bakes, she plays games, she does makeup, she makes crafts, she eats all manner of junk – and then she comes home. It’s literally heaven for this child. Tonight was no different.

But, tonight when I arrived to snatch her away from said theme park, as soon as I entered the house, something hit me. No, not my Dad, as a delayed reaction to my years of smart-talk and rebellion. Although, who would blame him? It wasn’t a physical thing that hit me. It was a smell. Not the kind of smell you wanna partake, like freshly baked cookies, a pumpkin spice candle, or the oven roasting honey ham to perfection. No, this smell stopped me dead in my tracks.

Pungent. Startling. Gag-relex-inducing.

What was it, my friend?

Perfume.

Nana has some nice things. Nothing too flaunty, of course. Often these things are purchased on QVC, which she single handledly keeps in business. But, her perfume, along with her jewels  has always been among her nicer stuff. And she, Godloveher must have had a brief aneurism because she said “Yes!” when my darling rascal asked her if she could spray her own ‘puhfume’. Jesus come save us now.

This girl child is mine. No doubt about it. Lest I forget, my man reminds me daily. Love you for that snookums. So, I really can’t fault her too much. She, too, lives by my motto of “anything worth doin’ is worth over-doin’. She proved herself yet again tonight.

Nana had assumed (you know what happens when yo do that!) since she simply let her have the ‘sample spritzers’ they give away for free, not much damage could be done. Ya. Notsomuch.

My poor father isn’t going to be able to sleep in his own bedroom for a solid week.

When she proudly ran up to me for big hugs, I almost fainted from exposure. Make that, over-exposure.

“Mama, don’t I smell so pwetty!”

Um, no. You smell like Calvin Klein and Brittany Spears just had a perfume baby. And then it threw up. Twice.

“You (gasp) sure do, (hold it in…), baby girl.” (whewwww) (run awaaaaaaay)

This little girl did not stink, my friend. She stank.

Then, as she grabbed her little bitty sample spritzer, now almost e.m.p.t.y. and began the motion to spray it again– I dove at her as if slow motion, yelling “Noooooo…”

“Baby, You cannot keep spraying it over and over and over. Yikes! That makes the smell waaay too strong. You just spray a little every day. Not all of it in one day. Otherwise you take something that’s supposed to smell pretty, and you make it smell ugly.”

Whack!!! God did it. He, as always, hit me with a 2×4 to the head.

Lately, for the first time in my adult life, I have found myself surrounded by numerous people who don’t really claim their faith as an important part of their life. They are good people. Kind people. Fun people to be around. But, as far as God, church, Jesus or faith – they are either indifferent or it’s just irrelevant.

This has been somewhat of a culture shock for me, as I’ve been constantly surrounded by my family, my church friends, and the hand-picked school friends’ parents who also attend church somewhere. Aka – “my bubble”. Yes, I go feed the homeless. Yes, I help the needy. Those people mayormaynot be saved. I could technically check that off the list of being around non-Christians, if there were a list. Ps. There’s not a list. But, I don’t do life with them day in and day out. Because of my kiddos and their growing schedules, I am seeing some of these new darlings two or three times a week. Whether is be at gymnastics, making small talk every week. Or at the three hundredth baseball game we’ve sat together through. These once strangers have become some of my peeps.

And, I have found myself somewhat-neurotically obsessing shocking, I know about how I ‘should’ act around them.

Ok, I’m not going to order a margarita. Oh wait, maybe I should order one, and try to show them I can do this in moderation. Or, maybe not?! 

Crap, I shouldn’t have said that joke! Crap, I shouldn’t even have said crap!

Am I fact-telling or gossiping right now? Crap, I can’t decide?!?! Ahh, I said crap again!!

Ugh. Epic fail.

Then, I realized, I shouldn’t be ‘acting’ any certain way around them. In fact, I shouldn’t be acting at all. I should be the same silly, energetic, random, mildly (ahem.) sarcastic nut I always am. I shouldn’t be freaking out about what I say or don’t say – what I do or don’t do – because it doesn’t matter if I’m with them or with my Bible study homeys, Jesus is present every time anyway. He is the one I aim to please. Aim and fail a lot of times, but aim indeed.

Spoiler alert. When done with our own strength, in our own timing, using our own gauge of righteousness – it will be an epic fail every. single. time.

But, hey – that’s one the jobs of the Holy Spirit. It’s His job to remind us, correct us, encourage us and guide us. (Rom. 8:26, John 16:13, John 14:26) It’s our job to follow His lead.

I’ve been studying a lot lately about Paul and his journey discipling with the people of Thessolonica and Rome and Philipi. How he came to them, met them, lived with them, loved them, and missed them when he left. He didn’t just enter the town, yell “You people need Jesus!” for an hour or so and leave. He did life with these sinners. He knew he was just another one of them. And, then, tonight, God in His constant way – reminded me of His desire for us, as believers.

He doesn’t want us to just spray on a ton of Jesus No. 5 and then walk up to these friends, making them want to puke with our over-indulgent smell.

He doesn’t want us to take something that is supposed to smell pretty and turn it into something ugly.

He wants us to do our very best to wake up each day and spray just enough Jesus No. 5 on ourselves so that the aroma of love, peace, joy, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control smell pleasant to others. We don’t want them gasping for air and running away from us, swearing off the Maker of that perfume forever!

Now, before you get  your pew-sittin’-panties in a wad – I am in no way encouraging us to blend in with the world so they can’t tell us apart. I’m not saying we go buy Worldly by Calvin Klein and douse ourselves with it so we can ‘fit in’. Don’t go there.

I’m all about the water in the boat mentality. Here’s what I mean – Boat in the water – that’s good. That’s by design. Water in the boat. That’s bad. That’s a sunken ship, actually. We, the boat, are called to be in the world, the water, but not of it. (Rom. 12:2) But, I truly and wholeheartedly feel like we, as Christians don’t wanna live ‘in’ the world anymore. We have our church, we have our tight-knit fellowship of believers who build us up, push us along and align themselves with all of our beliefs. My pastor calls that ‘us four, no more, shut the door’ kind of ministry. And I know one guy who hates that stuff – Jesus.

Read the New Testament and see what kind of people Jesus hung out with. Robbers. Theives. Prostitues. Liars. Those cast-out, judged and dismissed. And, yes, while I am VERY passionate about getting out of your church walls and serving those in need – mainly because JESUS TOLD US TO – I also think that if we are going to claim His Name, we better make sure we’re claiming it to some everyday people who don’t know it yet, too. Like, the guy across the street. The soccer Mom who always chats with you at practice. The divorced Dad who moved to your street and no one quite knows how to be-friend.

These are the people we can’t forget about.

And, these are the people who could be getting a pleasant sniff of Jesus each time we see them. Yes, each and every time.

Unless you’re me, and occasionally you choose to wear Pride by Gucci or Georgio Allaboutme. Sheesh – I really stank sometimes.

If this is going to be the life we say we’re going to live – let’s try to live it out to people all around us who really need to sample it. People who see us when we wear Selfish by Brittany Spears, but also who se us the next day wearing Grace for Women. WHat would happen if we let them smell us each and every day, knowing that some days, in our sin, we stank. And other days, because of Jesus, we smell a little better. Who knows? Maybe, God willing, after we’ve lived life with them for a while – they’ll ask – “Hey, where did you get that perfume? I love it.”

Lord, please make it so.

Amen and amen.

Ps. If you run into a older man at the store, probably wearing a Rangers shirt and camo pants – and he happens to smell like Chanel No. 5 – cut him some slack – it ain’t his fault. Poor Grandpa!

All You Who Are Weary

oh. em. gee.

Is it just me friend, or has the last two weeks run you over like a mack-truck on a mission?

Has it been fun? Yes.

Did you have tens of moments you enjoyed yourself? Sure.

Were you able to soak up every last drop of summer before that blessed school bell rang? You bet.

But, did it make you remember the days of feeding a newborn? Where you felt you were feeding that thing for all of the minutes of all of the hours for all of the nights you used to get to sleep through? Heck to the yes.

For some reason, after blissfully enjoying our summer together, filled with lazy afternoons at the pool, excited days at the baseball field, and sleepy mornings in our beds until the crazk of ten o’clock – summer bolted out the door on us. Like, he was here, chill in’ out with us by the pool, sippin’ some lemonade…and then summer went and just grabbed his towel and jumped over our fence, running for his hot little life. It hit me – Holy cow, we only have two weeks left. We haven’t gone to Hawaiaan Falls. We still want to go spent time with the grandparents. What about snow cones? And sleep overs? Summer!?! Come baaaaack.

So we did it. We shoved three months of summer excitement chaos into two weeks of time. All the while, trying to re-train the little bodies in our house to go to bed before 10pm.

Epic. Fail.

We had fun, though. And while today, Day Three of school, I feel like intravenous coffee wouldn’t even be enough, we will survive.

We made it through Day One with smiles and clean crisply clean soon to be stained new clothes.

(Bless the middle child and his freaking shoe laces. He be so blissfully unaware. Love him.)

But, y’all. I am weary.

Not just I-ain’t-twenty-no-more physical body kind of weary. I’m weary in my heart too. For many of us, we had to say goodbye to our baby this year. Whether our baby went to kindergarten, like mine. Or our baby crept into the jungle of middle school or high school, or godforbid college – we had to say goodbye. And it. hurt. our. hearts.

Now, I am fully aware that someday I will be feeling much more like my friend, Jen Hatmaker on the first day of school. See pic below of her Facebook post with she and her friends. Then pee your pants.

I am super excited for my little baby girl. She is gonna rock kindergarten. She isn’t intimidated or weepy or sad to leave me. One tear wouldn’t kill ya, kid. In fact…when getting ready for her kindergarten assessment last week, I asked “Sister friend, would you like to read your special books this morning to turn your brain on? Maybe it will help you have more confidence today?” Her reply. “Mom. (insert five-year-old-teenager face) It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. I’m confidence…and I’m awesome.” She gets her humility from her mother.

As God would have it, I have been handed the best job ever this year. I get to nanny for the most perfect little baby. Not perfect like my kids. See…with the humility? But perfect in her behavior. This baby girl doesn’t cry hardly ever. She is filled with smiles and baby giggles. She loves diapers changes. Loves the car. Loves the swing. Loves bath. Loves life. She is so very mellow it ain’t even funny. Basically not preparing her folks for parenthood at all. Plus, she is barely four months old so I’m getting my crack cocaine fix in the form of baby snuggles. Life is good.

So, while I thank God daily for this role, I am weary for my own babies not being here in the day. I like my kids. I like to hang with them. Not enough to homeschool of course God, don’t you dare put that on my heart. Ps. I love you, thanks for Jesus. But, I really do enjoy having them around. And yes, I felt VERY MUCH like this blog describes many minutes of many of the hours of many of the days this summer – but still. I miss them. My heart is weary for this reason. And others…

It is weary for my friend who just suddenly and tragically lost her husband of four decades.

For another friend who lost her daughter this time last year and isn’t sending her off to school this week.

For another friend whose marriage is falling apart right in front of her.

For my friends downtown who live on the street, whom I haven’t gone to see regularly in months and months. Shame on me.

For the state of our world in so many areas with beheadings, murder, rape, trafficking, and so on.

For the state of my own city with so many complacent Christians who don’t care about the last two things I mentioned.

Sometimes, I am just weary.

Can you relate at all?

Thankfully Jesus has a little sumthin’ sumthin’ to say about that…

Matthew 11:28 “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Jeremiah 31:25 “I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.”

Galatians 6:9 “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

Jesus cares about our weariness. And you know what’s awesome? He cares even when the weariness is caused by our own prideful striving and works. Even when we are weary in not doing good, He still cares. And He is still the One to go to. So, while I originally looked at the kids’ school calendar and saw that we started on a Monday, only to have the very next Monday off for Labor Day, and thought Hmm..that’s dumb. Let’s just start the next week. Now, I kinda want to find the person who came up with that calendar and kiss them square on the mouth. Beautiful. Glorious. Amazing blessed person may God’s riches flow all up on you. This Labor Day weekend, though, will be a busy one for Team Holzberger. We have a baseball tournament, and a kid turning ten years old. Don’t get me started, he is my oldest and he is turning double digits. Hold me. 

I figured, the only way to truly help this weariness of mine is to serve. I know it sounds counterproductive to ‘do’ something when I just wanna rest…but God’s math doesn’t always add up. When we labor IN HIM, He blesses it.

1 Corinthians 3:8 “The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor.”

1 Corinthians 15:58 “Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.

1 Timothy 4:10 “That is why we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people, and especially of those who believe.

So…join me!?!??

I posted about a new service group I am starting at my church called Off The Pew. (short description: the rounding up of fellow believers and encouraging them to get their honeys off the pew and out in the world to serve those who are hungry, needy, homeless, imprisoned, orphaned…and BE the hands of feet of Jesus. Let’s stop simply dropping off unwanted times and calling it good. Let’s…I don’t know…actually BE like Jesus. Yes, that was the short description. Read more here.) Well, we are having our first big corporate event THIS WEEKEND. That’s right, it’s Labor Day, we have an extra day off from work!! And there was much rejoicing. Yaaaaaaaaaa. Monty Python sends me to my happy place. But, ya know what, LOTS of people don’t have an extra day off. LOTS of people don’t have a day off ever, because they work two jobs, or three jobs. So…perhaps we shall go and bless them?? Yes ma’am, don’t mind if I do.

I live in Texas God’s country and so it is roughly 114 degrees in the shade here, y’all. Bless us. So…the Off The Pew folks and I are going to drive around town and deliver ice cold water and Gatorade to all of those many men, working hard, building houses and mowing lawns. This is one of my all-time favorite things to do with my kids!! My precious middle child, Benjamin, put it perfectly last year when we did this once –

Me: (to my three kiddos) “Hey guys…thank you for contributing money from your piggy banks for this Gatorade. I know these men will be go thankful for it. Anybody know why we are doing this!?”

General response: “‘Cause it’s HOT, Mama!”

Me: ” Yes it is! Our pool felt so good today in this hot, hot sun! Do you think these men get to swim during the day to cool off?”

General response: “Nope.”

Me: Well, why should we even care if these men are hot? We don’t even know them?!”

(crickets)

Benjamin: “Well, cause God knows them and He loves them. So, we should love them too.”

Bless you, middle child. Bless you.

So, friends, let’s do this thing. Let’s take our weariness and turn it into faithfulness, shall we? Grab some friends of yours and make an event of it. Heck, throw a party if you want to! Can I come? If you live near me, Tom Thumb has 32 oz. Gatorade for $0.69 (when you buy 5) and Kroger has 24 packs of water TWO for $5.00. So…realistically, you could spend about $15 and bless TWO DOZEN different men with a Gatorade and two waters EACH. Do you have $15? Do you have thirty minutes of extra time this weekend? Ps. If you are reading this in an air conditioned house, on a computer, or on a $100 iPhone, chances are you have both. Just sayin’. Love, love.

I hope you’ll join me this weekend, Labor Day, and bless those who do labor so much. So hard. With such dignity.

Let’s give Him our weary hearts. Hand it over. Lay it at His feet. And let’s watch Him turn into blessing after blessing after blessing…

In Jesus’ Name.

Amen and amen.

**If you join Off The Pew in this awesome thirst quenching event for Jesus, comment on this post and let me know how it went! I can’t wait to hear…

If it Ain’t Broke…

Don’t fix it.

We’ve all heard the phrase many times before, especially in my neck of the woods – the South.

We aren’t known for our ‘deep thoughts’ to be grammatically sound. Quick disclaimer: I was raised by an English teaching Mom, and therefore she constantly lovingly corrected my poor grammar.

Me: “Can me and Lindsay go to the mall?”

Mom: “Can Lindsay and I?” shoot me now.

I bear the mark of a grammar nut. Notsomuch a scarlet letter…more like the red ink letter of a Bic grading pen. My former-writer big brother inherited a much keener sense for the world of grammar, especially when it comes to writing, whereas I feel punctuation rules are mere suggestions, we are a product of our environment. So, nevertheless, I have been known to correct people, yes adults, when they speak poorly. And, those of you who know me well, know that ‘broke’ is my all-time biggest pet peeve. It literally give me the chills to hear “My car’s broke.” Shudder. No, your car is brokeN. N-N-N-N – it’s only ONE more freaking, letter for goodness sake. So, in case there not their or they’re is a chance you say something is ‘broke’ and subsequently your I.Q. drops twenty points please know the correct way to announce such news is, “My car is brokeN.” Please, for the love of everything grammatically pure and holy – say the ‘n’ too not to or two. Thank you. I’m done.

So…”If something isn’t broken, it doesn’t need to be fixed.” – that’s the gist. And it sounds logical, I guess. Sort of. Although, I think it truly depends on what the ‘thing’ is we’re talking about.

For instance – if we are speaking of a favorite recipe, perhaps the saying holds true. If you know the delicate affair between the sweet and the tangy offers up a perfect meal that tables of people have swooned over – then sure. If it ain’t broke(n), don’t fix it.

But, maybe the line drawn in the sand between ‘broken’ and ‘not-broken’ isn’t quite as clear?  Maybe you’re talking about the way you’ve done your hair? At different times in our lives, both my big brother and I have been plagued with the decade old hair style. Dun, dun, duuuun. His was far less fortunate than mine (sorry big bro- you know I’m right) but it always worked for us in the past. And hey, if it ain’t broke(n)…right?!? Besides, it’s quite a commitment to up and change your hair style out of nowhere. As a wise friend says, “your hair style is like an outfit you have to wear every day” Preach. After all, it’s one thing to have a bad hair day, but an entire bad hair decade?!? That’s tragic. But…is it really ‘broken’ per say? Not really…who’s to say? So…I guess don’t fix it? Or fix it? Sheesh – who knows? Find a cute hat and call it done.

But, sometimes the broken thing is far more serious. Unfortunately, over the last two weeks, I have both seen tears and shed tears over one broken thing that can’t be ignored – a broken heart.

I am not exaggerating when I say that I have literally been in contact with people who have shed real live tears in my presence over a heart that is truly broken. Not kinda broken. Not almost broken. But, bro.ken. And, every one of these people’s hearts were broken over a love that was equally as broken. Each of these people cried over a marriage – not what it used to be – not where it should be – not what they dreamt it would be. And here’s the notsofunny thing – it doesn’t matter a flying flip how long you’ve been married, either. One couple had been married three months. Another, over ten years. Another, more than four decades.

All broken.

All in desperate need of fixing.

And all with one common theme – sin.

Whether that sin was indifference or infidelity. Isolation or aggravation. Each tear cried was over how sin had broken their hearts.

And now, as I type this, I’ve cried my own tears over a broken heart. Not my own, this time, although I’ve cried many tears over my broken heart – but this time, on behalf of a treasured friend of mine. Her heart was broken Saturday as she got the news. You know the dreadful scene I’m referring to. She came face to face with the sudden and tragic reality of death. Not only of her husband of over forty years, but of the very life that she knew.

Like each of the tears I’ve seen these past two weeks, this damage was done by sin.

No, her precious husband didn’t die in sin or from sin – he died because of sin. The wages of sin is death. (Romans 6:23) The grief she is trying to not suffocate from, was never God’s intention. Ever. He wanted to be united with us for eternity. He didn’t desire death. Or separation. Or broken hearts. Or sin. But, that is what happened. That is our world now. Engulfed in sin so deep, we can’t often see out from under it.

Dear friend, may I make a humble suggestion?

If it IS broke(n) – let Him fix it.

In fact, if isn’t technically ‘broke’ yet – let Him fix it anyway. God truly is the only One who can heal a broken heart. He can mend wounds, revive love, and fulfill the longing of every one of our hearts.

Will we still cry? Yes.

Will we still hurt? Yes.

Will we still grieve? Unfrtunately, yes.

As long as we are on this earth, we will be faced with broken thing after broken thing. Whether it is a broken heart. A broken relationship. A broken home.

We will face it. But, the great news is, so will He.

I don’t say this contritely. I don’t say it with shallow words and fleeting emotions. I say it from experience.

My heart has been broken time and time again. But, even more than that, my heart has been almost broken time and time again. One sliver shy of completely shattered. By sin. By divorce. By hate. By death. By revenge. By insecurity. By fear. By abuse. By illness. By neglect. By insecurity. By infidelity. By almost each and every thing this world can throw at a person. I’ve seen it. And I’ve survived it. But, not with a nonchalant mentality of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.

To allow God to really ‘fix’ a thing – you have to invite Him into that thing.

You have to give Him your thoughts, trust Him with your fears, acknowledge your insecurities and your worst nightmares. Give it all to Him. Let it go.

Let Him do the fixing. Because one moment before something is broken, He is already there. You may not even know it is about to break, but He does. And He’s ready. He is able to keep any and every thing from breaking, but He is sovereign enough to allow a break to occur. He is with us either way. And every way.

So, on behalf of me, my heart, and my dear ones around me whose hearts are broken into two…go to Him. Reveal what He already knows. Shine light on what is about to break within you. Don’t wait one more moment. Because, as my friend learned this weekend, in a moment, everything can change.

I publish this blog today, on my thirteenth wedding anniversary.

That’s right, friend, thirteen years ago today, I said “Yes” and so did he. We vowed to take the two broken hearts we each had, and unite them as one, before God and hundreds of loved ones. We knew that two broken hearts added together did not equal one whole heart. That’s not how this math works, dear friend. And, we’ve come to realize with all we’ve been through, that we are far more broken than we ever thought. But, I can say, with joy, that although we are very broken people, our love is not broken. Our marriage is far less broken than is used to be. In fact, it’s in the best place it’s been since this date became something to celebrate.

All thanks to God.

All because we didn’t wait for the thing to be broken before offering it up to Him. We didn’t nonchalantly push it aside, assuming it would all just work out fine in the end. I’m sorry, but that’s crap. That’s not how this life works, dear friend. If you haven’t figured that out, you someday will. Living among this sinful world, and sometimes leading that pack myself – I can’t sit back and wait for something in my life to break before I take note of it. I can’t just hope I get my fairy tale ending. Marriage takes a lot of freaking hard work. So does parenting. So does working. So do friendships, and illnesses, and finances and all of it. We, as believers, need to show this dark and dreary world WHO is the Only one who can truly do the fixing. WHO can we turn to? WHO can we rely on? WHO will be there when everything around us shatters into a million pieces?

GOD.

That is the one and only answer to the question.

And for you, I don’t even know what your question is about? Maybe your marriage is broken? Maybe it’s your career, your reputation, your self-image, your hope. Please, dear one, don’t wait until your thing is broken. Go to Him now. He is waiting…

And now, I give Him thanks that heaven is now the new home to an amazing man of God. A husband, a father, a friend, and a servant. He was here with us Saturday morning and He was in the presence of our Lord that afternoon. And while I know my precious friend is grieving today, and her grief will continue for only heaven knows how long…I also know where her hope lies. I know Who her help will come from. And I know that she knows they will be united again someday. Because they both gave up their broken lives, their broken wills, and their broken hearts to the only One who can mend them not only on this earth, but for eternity. Jesus Christ.

Lord Jesus – heal our wounds. Be our refuge. Flood us with your peace. We need you. All of us. Desperately. We cannot do this life without you, nor do we want to try. Use our brokenness to point others toward You. If nothing else, be glorified. Amen.

Give Thanks

I can’t tell you how many times a day I say “Thank you!”

When sister friend obeys the first time. Ok maybe not so many times a day with this one.

When the grocery clerk ignores my children’s sassy behavior. “Thank you!”

When my husband says “Why don’t I take the kids for a few minutes.” “Thank you, thank you!”

When my friends texts me ‘just because’. “Aw, thank you!”

When my neighbor finds a new gluten free recipe she just has to share. “YUM! Thank you!!”

So many reasons to be thankful. But, I was thinking today – do I stop and thank God that many times a day?

It isn’t like I don’t have time. It takes mere seconds.

It isn’t like I don’t have anything to be thankful for.

Um, hello. I have tons.

And so do you, sweet friend.

One thing I love about God is that He takes us as we are. He doesn’t wait for us to get our act together and then seek Him. He sees our hearts. He knows our intentions. He made us. He loves us. And He delights in our grateful heart – even if it just a quick “Thanks, Lord!”

If your heart is true and your attitude is humble, we can actually honor Him by thanking Him.

Actually, come to think of it, isn’t that we do every day with everyone?

I honor the lady who helps me at the grocery store, simply by locking eyes with her and with a genuine smile, saying “Thank you, ma’am.”

I really want to honor my kids by modeling them a thankful heart in all circumstances.

And, yes, we honor God by thanking Him…for anything.

After all, every good and perfect gift is from above.

That perfect parking spot.

That promotion.

That extra thirty minutes of quiet time while they nap longer than expected.

Thank you, Lord!

So, I guess as I sit here in the quietness of my space. I am overcome with thankfulness. I confess that I don’t do this enough, God. But, you know I should. You know I could thank you all day long and it wouldn’t be enough. But, you take what I give. And somehow, Lord, you turn it into blessing.

Sweet friend, I wonder if you could start practicing this simple act of thankfulness.

You may be sitting there thinking “I don’t have one solid thing I am thankful for right now.”

I get that. I’ve been there. Done that.

I’ve been so deep in the darkest pit that thanking God was the last thing I wanted to do.

But, oh sweet friend, I do not say this lightly – when I did, if I did – I was always blessed by it. Thankfulness is a funny thing. You can’t do it at the same time as you worry. You can’t thank Him and whine at the same time. Even if all you can muster up is “Thank you God for this breath.” or “Thank you that the sun came up this morning.”

He will take it, friend.

Oh how He loves you. When you are thankful and we you are not.

Here’s hoping that you and I can remember all we have to be thankful for. And here’s praying that we give thanks to Whom it is truly due.

Replace the Space

We are in the middle of will forever be known as The Great Purge of 2014. Lord, help me. The toy room is done my kids have too. much. crap. Their bedrooms are done. Kitchen cabinets, done. Pantry, done. But, there’s still the garage, the attic, the shed. It’s all gotta go. Nothing is safe.

Oh, and we have our bedroom too. Ok, technically we have my side of our bedroom.

You see, my darling hubs and I have some things in common. We love God. We love each other. We’re crazy about our kids.  We like sports. We love the outdoors. Our core truths are lined up, our parenting styles are very similar – and most importantly, we both could eat Mexican food four times a week. Yep, I think that pretty much covers it.

Other than that, ladies and gents – we are completely opposite. Like black and white, or night and day – it’s Ryan and me. We read the Five Love Languages book early in our marriage. It is a great book! I loved how you rank your love styles in order from #1- #5. So, there we sat, giggly and in love meaning young and stupid…and I kid you not – in the order – my #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 were his exact #5, #4, #3, #2, #1. Awesome.

My step-dad does this type of stuff for a living, and used us a guinea pigs recently. He gave us a personality test that breaks your personality make-up into one or two of the four main groups. Either social, methodical, controlling, or melancholy. Most people have two dominant groups, the first being about 35% and the second being about 25%.

Not us.

No way, man, it’s go big or go home in the Holzberger house. Anything worth doin’ is worth over doin’ is my personal mantra. The results didn’t shock us. I tested as 55% social duh. and 5% methodical. My college roommate is nodding in agreement on that last one. And my dear love-bug tested 55% methodical and, you guessed it, 5% social.

Opp.o.site.

It was somewhat encouraging though, that when he combined our two results and averaged them together, we, as a unit, were almost perfectly split 25% in each area. (See, honey, there’s potential, here. Hug, hug. Kiss, kiss.)

There is one major area we have the most ‘spirited debates’ over – and that, my friend, in our house is considered the seven letter curse word.

C-L-U-T-T-E-R. Also known as my middle name, until my mom changed it to Amanda. Thanks, Mom.

Ryan hates clutter. I can create it in my sleep.

It gives Ryan genuine anxiety. I can look past it for days months at a time.

If Ryan picks up, and leaves space on shelves, desktops, counters – I fill the space. And I’ve even been known to do it within the hour. God bless that man.

Clearly, this is not my most desirable trait, (Hey, I’m fun at parties!) and it has truly been something that’s caused much stress in our marriage. He leaves space. I replace the space with stuff. In all fairness, it is my children’s fault. If they didn’t come home from school with seventy-three pieces of paper every flippin’  day and if they didn’t own 8.4 billion Legos, it wouldn’t even be an issue. See, honey, I say we kick them out. Not me. 🙂

So, in an effort to keep the peace, and learn to be a more organized grown up girl, I have made a conscious effort to not replace the space, but leave the space. Just let it be, man.

Except here.

This, my friend, is My Own Little Concordance of Truth.

Really, it’s a journal a dear friend gave me in one of my many hospital visits. She knew I loved to write, but she also knew I couldn’t sit upright and type on a computer there in the hospital. So, she bought me the journal so I could still write. I have the best friends, ever.

But, during that time of my life, while uncertainty, fear and doubt consumed my world, I didn’t have it in me to write. All I could do was lie there in that all too familiar hospital bed and pray. I would read prayerful texts from my precious friends. Facebook posts of encouragement. And, friend, God used all of that to sustain me. I would ravishingly search His Word for promises I could cling to as my only life line.

So, I began to organize these verses into my own little concordance. (For my accurate and precise friends weirdos – I will say, it is more like a Topical Index than it is a concordance…but My Own Little Topical Index of Truth didn’t flow off of the tongue very well. 🙂

But, during that season, please note the first two categories I chose to seek Truth on.

During that season of my life, fear and worry, along with healing, were the areas I so desperately needed Truth on. I needed to build a strong foundation if I was ever going to survive this madness.

So, I folded down the corner of page one and titled that section Fear/Worry. Then, I’ll never forget, I sat there (or really, lied there) and wondered how much space I would need for those verses. I looked ahead at the then-empty journal, and knew this section would need to be a big one.

Twenty-eight pages.

Front and back, I had the space on fifty-six pages to fill with His Truth.

I still wondered if this was enough.

Fast forward a few months and I’d found a way to fill most of the journal.

Faith in God, Faithfulness of God, Peace, Love, Obedience, The Holy Spirit, Humility/Pride, Patience…

I would hear a verse in a sermon, or read it as encouragement from a friend, and immediately I would find a place for it in my journal. I realized I needed more and more Truth in all of these areas. Each of them requiring their own amount of space in my life. And this time, I wanted to replace the space. I needed to replace the space – with His Truth.

Fast forward a couple more years and I had run out of room. What!?! How can I not have any more room for more sub-categories!? How is this possible?

The next section I felt led to start was  Promises of God. How can I not have room for Promises of God? That ain’t right.

Wait a minute…that first section, the one on Fear and Worry. It’s awfully big. Much bigger than any of the rest. And while, yes, I have filled the first five or six pages with dozens of verses to remind me not to fear, and not to worry…I wondered…

Maybe I could fill the space I’d left for fear and worry with something else? Maybe I could fill that space with Promises From God.

That’s when it hit me.

God’s loving 2×4 to my head.

Of course, my child. That is exactly what I want you to do. Take the space in your life that you have left for fear and worry and replace it with Promises from Me.

Thank you, Lord.

Thank you that you can turn my ability to fill any and every space, and turn it into one of my life’s greatest blessings.

I kicked satan in the teeth that day. And, I loved it.

I split that Fear and Worry section in less than half and folded me down another corner – a fresh start – Promises from My God. (Quickly followed by a section on knowing my enemy!)

Precious friend, I have watsed so. many. years. of my life living in fear. I have clinched so hard, with white knuckles, to hold everything in my world so tightly, all at the same time, hoping I could control it all. Needing to control it all.

And, it almost killed me.

Oh, how I pray you don’t do the same.

You cannot control life. You cannot really control much of anything. The weather. Your children. The ecomony. Your spouse’s fidelity. Your health.

None of it.

You, my dear, are not in control.

But, don’t let this be cause for fear.

God is in control. And He loves you. He made you. He is for you. He knows you better than you know yourself. And He wants for you what you would want for you, if you knew what He knows.

Don’t let fear and worry clutter up your thoughts, your decisions, your life.

Replace the space with Promises From God.

You will be blessed by it.

I know I was.

And, this time, my husband was blessed too.

The office desk, notsomuch.

Vacay Fake-ay

I, my friend, have officially just returned from vacation.

Ahhhh, vacation.

The word alone makes you want to find the nearest hammock, grab a book notsomuch and lose yourself in the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shoreline.

This, however, was not that type of vacay.

My darling hubs and I took the kids as in all three of the ones we made who are all still under ten years old and we went on our first annual Big Family Road Trip. (Dun, dun, duuuuuun!)

Since we spent most of our ‘extra’ ha! money the past five to seven years at the Hotel De Blue Cross Blue Shield, the concept of vacation hadn’t ever entered into our vocabulary. Until now. Because, friend, to God be the glory, I have been sealed and healed for two and a half years now! Wahoooo!!!

So. We’ve been planning this puppy for almost a year. We knew we wanted to see as many professional baseball stadiums (we are BIG baseball fans! Go Rangers!!) and National parks as we could, before these sweet non-babies leave our little nest. Thus, our planning commenced.

We chose one route, then another, finalizing a third time around- and we were done. The itinerary would be as follows:

Atlanta Braves game – Atlanta, GA

Myrtle Beach area – SC

Congaree National Park – SC

Great Smokies National Park – TN

Cincinnati Reds Game – Cincinnati, OH

(BEST impromptu side trip ever- Louisville Slugger Museum, Louisville, KY)

Mammoth Cave National Park – KY

Hot Springs National Park, Hot Springs, AR

We allotted ourselves three hotel nights during our planned twelve day trip.

“Well, Caroline, where in the world will you be sleeping the other days?”

In a tent, people. In. a. tent.

And while I know some of my friends may begin to hyperventilate at the thought of sleeping in a tent, ever, much less for nine nights…on your vacation. But, with Team Holzberger…that’s how we roll.

Needless to say, the trip was amazing. Truly, it was. The kids were overall a blast to be around. They did well in the car, thanks to the strategic planning of their brilliant mother, who plotted our course with no day of travel ever exceeding 5 hours in the car. And, with her sneaky hiding of all new books, games, etc. for weeks prior to the trip, so that when the highway came and the Box o’ Fun was opened, I heard a plethora of “Oh WOW, I thought I lost that game!” and “Ohhh I always wanted to read this book!”

Well, played, Mom. Well played.

We saw beaches, mountains, valleys, rivers, lakes, oceans, forests, waterfalls, natural springs, caves, swamps, and everything in between. My kids held baby crabs. Touched a live starfish. Caught lightning bugs. Hunted for millipedes. Hiked up mountains. Waded in frigid natural springs. Traveled to underground caves. Lept for home run balls. Touched pieces of baseball history. Played in the rain. Peed in the woods. And so much more.

So many memories I will treasure forever.

But, as you know, my sweet friend.

None of it was real.

I don’t mean it was a dream, of course. I mean, it wasn’t real life. It was vacation.

And, not to be Debbie Downer, but vacay is always fake-ay.

The events do occur. The memories are real. You aren’t dreaming. But, it isn’t real life.

There are no bills on vacation. No deadlines. No chores. No work. No diets. No budget. No competing schedules.

Only fun. Only dessert. Only “Yes!” said all the time.

And while vacations are enjoyable, and vacations are often deserved…at some point, you must go back to real life.

Mortgages are due. Kids deserve time-out. Although some kids find ways to get put in time out in all twelve states you travel through. Just sayin’. Traffic jams happen. Diets resume.

Real life hits us hard in the face and sometimes even knocks us flat on our back. The reality that our vacay was fake-ay and that real life has returned, is sometimes more that we can handle.

And, sadly, many of us go on ‘vacay’ every single day. As soon as our feet hit the floor, we enter vacation land. Not literally, but in some way or another. You are fake with your co-workers. Your spouse doesn’t really know you anymore. You put on your ‘smiley-happy people’ face when you pull into the church parking lot.

One day you wake up and realize, you’ve created an entire vacay life. All around you.

Friend, please don’t let that be your truth.

Jesus didn’t die so that you could wear a mask of perfection.

He didn’t suffer so that we could all act happy and peaceful all the time.

He knows we live in a sinful world. He knows every fiber of deceptive weaving the enemy is constantly doing all around us. He cares about our hearts cry, that often only He hears.

It’s time to come home from vacation, my sweet friend. Let your guard down. Be vulnerable. Let someone in. Show your scars, your flaws, your quirks. And let the chips fall where they may.

Ya know, it’s amazing how lying down on the carpet of a doctor’s waiting room will humble you. I still vividly remember the scratchy feeling under my arms as I stared at the all too familiar tile ceiling, silently begging for people to stop staring…to stop questioning…to stop judging.

I was stripped of so much pretense during the flat years on my couch. It’s tough to be prideful when you’re in your pajamas every day and can’t sit up and look people in the face. I was sort of always a ‘who cares’ kind of person when I thought about wanting to impress people or hoping they liked me. But, then, my couch time solidified it. God stripped me; and sweet friend, I wish you would allow God to strip you too. I pray it doesn’t take the medical drama I had to go through to get you there.  But…if that’s what it takes to get you home from vacation.

So be it.

You, beloved, are God’s workmanship – and as I’ve heard said many times –

“God don’t make no junk.”

You are valued. You are valuable. You are worthy. You are worth it. You are chosen. You are His.

I believe so strongly that it is way past time for people – especially those of us in the church – to STOP pretending. STOP clinging to our pride and our egocentricity. STOP acting like we have it all together. Brothers and sisters, can we please just be real? Be broken. Be authentic. Be true. This disgusted, dying, desolate world is desperate for something real. And, friend, it NEEDS to be us! Real doesn’t get more real than the love Jesus has for His people.

If we are His Church; if we are His followers; if we claim His Name – then we’d better be the real deal. With all our sins, with all our failures, with all our baggage, let’s just get out there and love people. Love their past. Love their story. Love them enough to not judge any of it.

It’s time to come home from vacation, church.

Welcome home.

And yes, I got your postcard in the mail.

Loved it.