Welcome to Quirky Faith. I'm Mindy. While it is accurate to say I'm a Christian I don't typically introduce myself as such. People expect Christians to be mad or judgmental or scared. I'd rather be unexpected. Fun and goofy. Faithful and joyful and full of hope. Quirky. Mostly I have this crazy notion that God built me as an encourager and He expects me to get on with the job.
I grew up in a Christian home. Dad, Mom, Me, little sister. Dog that kept running away. Church Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday, Bible study. Sounds boring, I know. It wasn't. My mother has eyes that sparkle with fun ideas and my Dad always says yes. And church. Wowsa. Seriously good fun at the potlucks, parades, camp, Vacation Bible School, mission trips. You name it. We did all of it. I prayed a classic prayer of salvation as a three year old and marched forward with confidence in Jesus.
Then I went to college.
And wondered aloud if it was all true.
My wise mother told me she understood. She told me to read, and talk and figure out what I believed. She advised that I not do anything I'd regret if it turned out I was all in. She prayed.
So I paused before jumping ship and I watched.
Mostly I watched my aunt. I watched as she got news that her husband had cancer. I watched as she received word that her 7 year old had leukemia. I watched as she walked through hospitals and hair loss and bone marrow transplants and two funerals and widowhood. And I watched as God and grace and hope and love and laughter were still there. The whole time.
So I prayed a messy sobbing and honest prayer and said to Jesus that I'd love to follow along if He'd still have me. I wonder sometimes where I'd be if my aunt had given up, gone bitter, angry or scared. I'm grateful she didn't. Angry, scared and bitter are not good tools for building a life. Or a church. Or a nation.
If you aren't a believer but you are curious feel free to come on in and watch like I did. Or join in and ask all those questions about things that church people say and do. In fact, I'd love it if you would email me questions - big ones or small. You certainly won't see perfect. But I'm hoping you'll see grace. Lots of grace.
If you are a part of my faith family - Come along. Be encouraged.
Time for some quality control. Send me an email if you find any typos. In fact, I'll make it a contest. First one to email me with a typo to fix gets a coffee on me. As in I'll buy you a coffee. Actual coffee dumped on me is a regular occurence already, we don't need more.
UPDATE: Goodness. My friend Sarah is a speedy editor. She wins coffee! Keep sending my typos and I'll keep buying coffee.
My three year old is taking swimming lessons at the local YMCA. I love this pool. All kinds of people. All levels of skill. The past two Saturday mornings I’ve hauled out of bed earlier than I like on Saturdays and my girls and I have gone down to the Y.
The little one is learning how to blow bubbles in the water and alligator crawl across the pool. She’s holding onto floating barbells and kicking on the side of the pool. She keeps giving strange looks to the one little boy who is crying on the sideline. The little miss is easy to read. Hope his parents aren’t watching. She’s not subtle.
Her big sister is swimming laps over in the lap pool. She had to take a test to qualify to swim in the deep water. She was nervous. She passed. Down and back. Kick. Straight. Down and back.
This week I sat on the sideline in one of those plastic stackable chairs. The chair had a crack along the back. Whenever I leaned back I fell slowly back through the chair. I would try for good posture sitting. I’d forget. Fall back though the back of the chair. Disconcerting.
My baby was kicking and splashing. My big one was tunneling through laps. Down and Back. I was watching both of them and surprising myself repeatedly with the strange bendable plastic chair. Good way to spend 30 minutes on a Saturday morning.
Made me think. Swimming lessons are fun. Splashing around in the shallow end certainly gets us used to the water. Get the feel for things. Safe and secure. Lots of eyes watching. Minimal risk. Lap swimming in the deep water lanes is harder. Better at building muscle though. Still plenty of life guards.
Some of you know that I’m working on a new venture. I’m launching a new blog called Quirky Faith. I’ve got a new website, email subscription software, photo shoot and a PO Box all lined up. I’ve got some guest bloggers and some give aways. I’m calendered up.
Right this very second I feel like I’ve graduated from the kiddie pool and swum past the lap pool. I feel like I’m standing on the cliff above the ocean like one of those deep water ocean divers. Peering down 100 feet to deep water. Wondering what is under the water and what is out past the horizon. The ocean is deep.
Mark Batterson says that if your dream doesn’t scare you it isn’t big enough. I’m terrified. And very excited. Scarecited.
www.QuirkyFaith.com launches on July 1st. Twenty Days. Swim Baby.
I love Jesus. I think my two daughters can change the world. I think you can too.
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