Shelter Point Retreat

“Brother, let me be your shelter.

I’ll never leave you all alone;

I can be the one you call

when you’re low.

Brother, let me be your fortress

when the night winds are driving on,

be the one to light the way,

bring you home.”

{Needtobreathe in “Brother”}

We want our lake house to be a refuge from the hustle of life. We want to make memories there with our friends. We want to step away from everyday routine and be refreshed. We want to appreciate a different pace.

And we want our lake house to be that for other people.

We had a hard time naming it. Wait, why does a lake house need a name, you ask? I guess it doesn’t have to have a name, but naming it seemed like the thing to do if we were going to invite people to rent it. With names, come identities, so I kept listing words that described what we wanted the lake house to be.

Greg was the one who threw out “shelter.” YES! I knew when he said that “shelter” was part of this house’s identity. I like the dual meaning and the fact I immediately started singing in my head Needtobreathe’s “Brother.” Of course a house is a shelter, literally, but I we want this house to be a figurative shelter – a refuge from the world where people can gather with their loved ones.

So, friends, let us be your shelter.

Shelter Point Retreat is now available to rent. On a point lot, the house has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, lots of windows in the kitchen and living room, and a beautiful view of Kentucky Lake. You can find out more about the house, rental rates, and availability at www.vrbo.com/741043. We also have a Facebook page or you can email me. {See pictures of the house here.}

“And when you call and need me near,

Sayin’ where’d you go?

Brother, I'm right here.

And on those days when the sky begins to fall,

You’re the blood of my blood;

we can get through it all.

Brother, let me be your shelter …”

{Needtobreathe in “Brother”}

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Six Things I Learned in June

As each month ends, I find myself saying I can't believe it's finished. BUT, REALLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE JUNE IS BASICALLY OVER. I recapped some of our summer earlier this month because I don't want to forget the goodness that's happening. Yes, life has been busy, but it's been sweet and joy-filled too. And I want to remember.

So before I forget, here are some things I learned in June ...

1. Naming a baby is apparently easier than naming a lake house. I wrote about names and thought about names often the past several weeks. But the short story is we're adopting a baby girl we're naming Rachel Elizabeth. {She's due Sept. 28!} And our lake house is called Shelter Point Retreat.

2. Zac Brown Band has new music! So what if I'm late to the party? It's been on repeat now that I caught up. {You should get it too.}

3. You can trap a mouse OR TWO with a Nutter Butter bar, colander, and a piece of wood. Our friend Bryan caught TWO MICE at our new lake house when we stayed out there earlier this month. He's my hero for catching them from his self-made mouse trap. Greg permanently disposed of them, if you know what I mean, and then soon after scheduled the exterminator. Two more were caught in a glue trap. So that's four, if you're counting. FOUR TOO MANY. There's evidence that indicates that may not be all. Yes, THAT kind of mouse evidence.

{You may remember from my camping trip in the spring: I don't like mice.}

4. I really enjoy reading fiction set in the South. Okay, so I didn't actually just learn this. But I remembered it as a zipped through Mary Alice Monroe's Lowcountry Summer Series. {The Summer Girls. The Summer Wind. The Summer's End.}

For what it's worth, I like musicians from the South too. Evidence: Zac Brown Band. Third Day. Needtobreathe. Darius Rucker.

But I don't drink sweet tea, just in case you're wondering.

5. Our adoption home study visit happened and went well. I don't care how many times a social worker has been in our house, interviewing us and evaluating our home, it's always a relief when it's finished and went well. Birth mom Stacy also met with the social worker this month, so our adoption process is moving along.

6. I earned my first money for speaking. Now I didn't say it was much money, but I wasn't expecting any money. I actually spoke twice this month. First, I spoke at a conference in southern Illinois. And then a few days later I spoke to a local Methodist women's group. Neither went as expected {and that's not a bad thing ...}, but both opportunities included evidence of God's presence and plan. Both groups gave me sweet gifts for coming and the local group tossed in a small check that was such a pleasant surprise.

How was your June? I'd love to hear what you learned.
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I'm linking up with Emily Freeman. Here are previous Things I Learned posts :: {From 2013} June. July. August. September. October. November. {From 2014} January. February. March. April. May. June. July. August. September. October. November. December. {From 2015} January. February. March. April. May. 

Want more insights? "Peace in the Process: How Adoption Built My Faith & My Family" is available on Amazon. Like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, peek into my life on Instagram, follow 152 Insights at Bloglovin', or subscribe to receive "Insights in Your Inbox."

Three Word Wednesday :: Children of God

In high school, a friend called me Grace because I was clumsy. I also didn’t make room in my life for grace – for myself or others – although I’m not sure he was referring to my judgmental ways. Either way, thankfully, this ironic name didn’t stick.

Really, I’ve never been much for nicknames, probably because sometimes names that describe our faults do stick and weigh us down.

For several weeks, I’ve been thinking about names because we’re adopting a baby girl due Sept. 28. We also are trying to come up with a name for our lake house. Turns out naming a baby is easier than a house.

(We’re naming her Rachel Elizabeth. Rachel has been at the top of my baby name list for a while now and Elizabeth is the middle name of both Greg’s great-grandmother Della and my sister Cassie.)

Names are about identity. They are how people know us and what we’re called. They’re part of our stories.

Of course, there are labels to which we’ve clung too tightly and the ones we’ve let define us.

Regret. Shame. Liar. Addict. Infertile. Failure. Klutz. Perfectionist. Class clown. Introvert. Extrovert. Abandoned.

Those nicknames aren’t the name by which God knows us and calls us. Those aren’t the labels that should tell the world who we are.

We are children of the one true king. {Tweet that.} We are chosen and adopted and called and blessed and redeemed.

And we can change our perspective of ourselves – not because of what we’ve done but because of who God is. So let’s strip off the name tags that hinder us and display the ones that matter.

While this has been in my mind, I’ve been hearing – on the radio and in my head – songs that proclaim this message of our true identity ::

“Hello, My Name Is ...” by Matthew West

“That Was Then, This Is Now” by Josh Wilson

“Wanted” by Dara Maclean

“Children of God” by Third Day

Oh, and the lake house still doesn’t have a name, so feel free to offer suggestions. And I love hearing stories about names, so share in the comments about your name or how you chose your kids’ names.
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An InLinkz Link-up

Want more insights? "Peace in the Process: How Adoption Built My Faith & My Family" is available on Amazon. Like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, peek into my life on Instagram, follow 152 Insights at Bloglovin', or subscribe to receive "Insights in Your Inbox."

Calling, whispering, knowing my name

My name is often misspelled. It used to bother me. Although I do still cringe when someone spells it wrong in a Facebook comment because my name is right there. Seeing my name written countless times with an "en" instead of an "in" has made me more sensitive to making sure I spell other people's names correctly.

You'd think I wouldn't have named my daughter Cate. But I like it that way because she's named after my mom, who is Cathy not Kathy. She's 5, and she already corrects people: "My name doesn't start with a K. It's Cate with a C."

Cate is actually Catherine, so sometimes we find cute souvenirs with her name on them. That's an improvement over all my often fruitless childhood searching for K-R-I-S-T-I-N. I did get a free hamburger, thanks to my name, a few years ago.

I like my name. I'm not a big fan of nicknames in general, so I've always gone by my actual name. My family and friends know my name, and most don't spell it wrong, but there is one who has always known my name. And he even whispers when I'm still enough to hear.

I have written your name on my hand ... {Isaiah 49:16}

And the Shepherd calls his sheep by their name. Not as a herd. ... And the sheep listen to the voice of the shepherd. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. {John 10:3}

My name.

Kristin.

Quite a thought, isn't it? Your name on God's hand. Your name on God's lips. Maybe you've seen your name in some special places. On an award or diploma or walnut door. Or maybe you've heard your name from some important people -- a coach, a celebrity, a teacher. But to think that your name is on God's hand and on God's lips ... my, could it be?

Or perhaps you've never seen your name honored. And you can't remember when you heard it spoken with kindness. If so, it may be more difficult for you to believe that God knows your name.

But he does. Written on his hand. Spoken by his mouth. Whispered by his lips. Your name.

{From "When God Whispers Your Name" by Max Lucado}

I read this in the introduction of the book our small group is beginning to study. And these thoughts about my name, a name I prefer to any nickname version even when it's misspelled. I thought about my daughter's name and how it honors two people we love dearly. I remembered being excited to officially change my last name 10 years ago.

And I remembered that through it all, from when my mom and dad named their first-born daughter to when I chose a name for my first-born child, God has been working. He's into the details beyond even what we're called by those around us. He's the one who does the calling, and he uses our same name. He knows how it's spelled. He knows who we are and who we'll become. He knows our failures and wants to be glorified in our successes. He knows our name and wants us to call out his. 
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Thanksgiving: Part II

Some of my family came to visit this weekend for Thanksgiving in our new house. Well, really, probably to meet Ben. Regardless, we were glad they were here.

That's Ben with his 5-year-old cousin, Milla. She was really good with him. Cate was glad she was here too ...

Meanwhile, Jax was really into the balloon and the food, which apparently wasn't fast enough for him ...

Ben's middle name is after my grandpa, John Lucas McAdam, better known as Poppy. We were glad he made the trip down too so he could meet Ben.

There are more photos from their visit here.

K-R-I-S-T-I-N

I like my name. And I like that nobody has ever called me Kris or Kristy or any other shortened version of my name. For as long as I can remember, I've corrected people on the spelling of my name.

But I don't care. It's my name.

Maybe that's why I'm particular about spelling people's names right. Working as a reporter gave me plenty of opportunities to screw up people's names, in print. But I always made the extra effort not to.

I remember being a little girl and looking at personalized pencils, magnets and cups. Usually, they didn't sell K-R-I-S-T-I-N. Sometimes stores carried K-R-I-S-T-E-N and usually C-H-R-I-S-T-I-N-A. But those aren't my names.

Mom would get excited, and snatch up, any personalized goody she found for me.

Now I'm 29, and I still notice. Usually now I look for my name, then Cate's name. K-A-T-E is a much more popular spelling of that name. But since C-A-T-E is short for C-A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E, my daughter has hope.

On Friday, a friend told me K-R-I-S-T-I-N was the "Name of the Day" at Backyard Burger. So, even though it was served personalized, I got a free burger, thanks to my name being K-R-I-S-T-I-N. The burger is long gone, but I do have this picture to remember the occasion.

Writing Motherhood: Names

I've been reading a book called "Writing Motherhood." Like any book, some parts have particularly jumped out at me, particularly the "invitations," which are like writing prompts. Yep, I'm a nerd. Here's something I wrote the other day in my notebook/journal about names.

I've had my baby girl's name in my mind for years. And Greg even liked it too. A couple years ago, I even met a girl named Cate one Sunday at church. She'd become my friend and even quilted my Cate a blanket with their name on it. The first conversation my friend Cate and I had was about how I wanted to name my daughter -- who was no more than a prayer at that time -- Cate, with a C. She said I might regret it when I saw her name misspelled. Nah, K-R-I-S-T-I-N was misspelled more than its fair share, even by people who I know love me. So maybe I didn't have as many pretty pencils with my name down the side as the Jennifers in my class did.

But Kristin Eileen was the name my parents gave me, and for no other reason than they liked it. So I liked it too. It was my name for 23 years of my life, until I got married, dropped Eileen, and added Taylor. Kristin Hill Taylor, officially. I like how it sounds.

Yes, I think of names. But, admittedly, I didn't realize my daughter's initials would spell C-A-T until someone, rather a couple of someones, pointed that out shortly before she was born. I didn't care, though, I like her name, even if her initials spell an animal to which I developed an allergy shortly after leaving home for college that also happens to be the mascot of the college my husband and I root for during college basketball and football seasons.

Catherine Anna Taylor. Catherine is my mom's middle name. Mary Catherine. She goes by Cathy. Anna is Greg's grandma's name. I like how the names sound together and how they're symbolic of joining our families by starting our family. What's ironic is I usually don't like shortened versions of names. Well, maybe I should say, I prefer names like Matthew and Patrick to Matt and Pat. But that's just me. I figure moms and dads give their kids names, why not use them? Who knows. Because I went and named my daughter Catherine and usually call her Cate. I can't explain it.

I do know I love the name Isaac, which means "laughter," but I fear Greg would call him Ike. He told me he would. Yuck. So let's just say we'll have to do some serious discussing before we name our next child, especially if it's a boy.