Labor Day at the beach

This weekend, the Mason family set off for the beach to celebrate Labor Day. I must admit that as a child (a very young child) I thought that Labor Day was to commemorate the day that George Washington went into labor. And who said there was something wrong with the public school system??

I headed down Friday with my parents and KK and we met Megan down there. I haven't seen the Megster since school started back, so I was VERY excited to hug her neck and Kendall was thrilled to see her "Mimi". James joined us on Saturday and we truly had a great time just hanging out as a family.

I've been semi-boycotting the beach ever since there has been talk about my parents moving down there to plant a church. I know, I know - how selfish of me. Ronnie has been preaching down there for a few summers and I guess it should have dawned on me that the natural progression would be that they start a "full-time" church, but I was so comfortable in my routine of my precious parents being 20 minutes away that when they started talking about making the beach their permanent home, I sort of freaked. For those that don't know me too well, let me explain that I have a FABULOUS relationship with my parents. Like we're the type that will sort of make you sick because we get along so well. I'd rather be with them than pretty much anyone else on the planet. So, a few months ago when they came to me and told me that the Lord was doing a work in their hearts and leading them to be more permanent at the beach, I did what every other mature, Christian woman would do. I got into an argument with Ronnie, stopped reading my Bible for a while and decided that I'd never go to the beach again as long as I lived. Fabulous reaction, right? WRONG!

Listen - I know I was wrong, but I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest when my mom called me, full of excitement, to tell me that the Lord had clearly spoken to her and that she just knew they were being called to build a year-round church down there. But then the Lord started opening my eyes to the ministry that they have been called to.

I've been going to the Atlantic Beach/Emerald Isle area almost every weekend in the summer since I was a sweet little infant laying in my mommy's arms. I know the island like the back of my hand. We've been in this particular spot in Indian Beach (about halfway between EI and AB) since I was 12. These people have witnessed the unmistakable power of Jesus Christ working in the life of my family. They've sought out my dad and asked him to be their pastor during the summer months. They've come to the deck of our modest trailer and sought counsel. Some of them have shunned my parents, some of them have loved my parents, but all of them have seen the Lord at work - whether they wanted to admit that it was the Lord or not. The group of people that have come to hear the Lord speak through Ronnie has continuously grown. There are some there that have a relationship with Jesus and some that dabble in the whole "religious" thing. And then there are those that are very much against the thought that God wants something from them...that God wants them to come to Him. Since my parents have started pouring their lives into these people, change has taken place. Whether that be in the rich man that realized his need for a Savior or the proud man that only recently allowed my dad the opportunity to even share the gospel, there has been change. We've seen (yes, I say "we" even though I'm certainly not worthy of being a part of something like this) the numbers of those coming out on Sunday morning increase, we've started a Kid's Church to start building into the lives of the little ones around the area, we've given back to the community with food and service - we've been the church. And I have peace. Peace came a few weeks ago, actually. But it was confirmed this Sunday when I heard my daddy preach. I've heard him bring messages for a while now, but this Sunday was different because the Lord spoke to MY heart. See - this Sunday I wasn't looking at Ronnie as my dad - I was looking to him as my pastor and I saw, maybe for the first time, how Jesus wants to use him. I was supposed to help mom in Kid's Church and I just woke up knowing that I needed to go to church. I've never gone to the waterfront service at the beach before EXPECTING to hear a word from Jesus. But, boy, I was broken by the word the Lord spoke through my dad Sunday. And not only did that word lead me to contemplate matters about my own relationship with my Savior, but it also slapped me in the face with the fact that this is what my family is supposed to be doing. We're supposed to be ministering to the people down on the coast. We're supposed to be reminding them that not too many years ago we, as a family, were a TRAIN WRECK. We're supposed to be showing them that the amazing grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient. We're supposed to love them enough to sacrifice the comfort of my mom keeping Kendall for me or my dad being a short drive away when I need some advice. We're supposed to love Jesus enough to follow Him wherever it is that He leads.

And that's what my mom, the woman I'd love to become, and my (step)dad, the man that didn't have to father me but has done a HECK of a job doing it, have chosen to do. Theirs is a labor of love on this Labor Day. They may not see the fruits of that labor in this lifetime. But they are allowing the God of the universe to use them for HIS kingdom, uncertainty and all. And my heart is nearly about to explode for love for the Father for choosing them and love for them for responding.

God is good. All the time.

And I am a blessed woman.